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] Write a story that is peaceful if read normally, but morbid if you read alternating lines. | This is not exactly a story, per se, rather more of a series of really upsetting
thoughts I’ve been having while reading the awesome stories on this thread. Some
fears I have, which you will probably share after reading this comment,
are that I’ll never be a good enough writer to measure up to you guys. It’s like
there is a demon that follows me. It’s always whispering in my ear, telling me,
you’re not good enough! You’ll never be a real writer. I don’t know. Maybe
you will feel this horrible, sinking fear in your gut, digging down into your bones, until
you wanna quit, when you get older. Because at this point, I’m 75 years old. You’re probably far from
the end of your days. And when the end of your days come, you will realize soon enough that
you tried your hardest. Me? I only finally started writing two years ago. When I was old as fuck.
The fear was justified all along.
Because really, the fear was always that I wouldn’t have enough time to get good. Now I think:
It’s too late to change it now, because the fate that you will meet is one that will be
completely soul-crushing. People will laugh at an old guy like me, which would be
more terrible than the lifetime of dread that proceeded it. And the only
thing more annoying is that I feel that in order to get my feelings off my chest, the only
way to get rid of this, is to make someone else aware of me. Once you share
your feelings in writing, like I’m doing with this comment, you can find you’re not alone. Share
it with someone else, they will start to feel it too. They feel the soul-crushing
worry that they won’t be good enough, but also they’ll feel less alone knowing you fear that too.
Dread. It’s a helluva thing. It will ruin your whole life and even ruin you after death.
But whatever, as dumb as this comment is, I figured I’d write it and give writing a try for once.
And at the end of it all, at the very last moment, you will finally discover, you’ll know
what your own personal regrets are. You’ll find your own “demon”. I will never truly know
why the demon had so much patience in the first place. It
has dawned on me recently that maybe it’s true what they say: God
has a plan for you. And it’s a terrible one.
Like maybe, the horrible truth is, I’m just not meant to be a real writer : ( Anyway…
Thanks for reading. It feels like by reading this, sharing this with me, you’ll save me of my torment.
| Dearest Janet, I'm sorry I didn't write you sooner. Please know that I'm doing so much better now.
When I had those dark thoughts, those waking nightmares, I worried that I would never again know joy
but now it is all I know - I had hoped against hope that this retreat would help me find some peace
and I was right. I've had some time to meet the staff and to look around the grounds, and I've found
that this is possibly the best-run facility in the country. Something wonderful is in the air here,
something that surrounds us every waking moment and curls around us like a heavy blanket when we sleep.
A comforting presence created by the beauty of the gardens, the kindness of the staff. Happiness.
 
It takes my breath away. When I had those nightmares before I imagined that a monster followed me
but now it is love and support. I know you love me as well but in my despair I couldn't see that;
now I can see it as clear as day. The staff here have been taking myself and others into regular
therapy sessions, where through simple discussion and mutual affirmation we grow. So much better than
experiments and inhumane treatments - shock therapy, lobotomies, even more dark and obscure means
followed by lesser physicians and less reputable facilities. Where I used to honestly believe something
meant to harm my very soul, drive me insane, or worse - and I know some of the other patients here
believed the same - I now can look at each person I meet and see the goodness, the kindness. If I
vanished and never returned, without saying goodbye or being seen by the staff and patients here again
they would be heartbroken, such is the sense of family and community in this place. Still, I know that
I must leave. When you come to get me it will be difficult to go, difficult to walk out of this place.
 
Maybe I should stay a bit longer, if for no other reason than to bask in my newfound joy. No need to
come right away, to steal me out of here like a thief in the night. You could bring me something though,
maybe a photograph of your beautiful face. It is the only thing I miss. The city can keep its filth, its
guns. I would resolve to be done with it forever, to ensure I never again set eyes on the horrid shape of
the city skyline. Maybe we could live out here in the countryside? Here, where I see flowers and not
that monster. I shouldn't write about that. I wouldn't want someone to read this and get the idea that
I still suffer from my delusion. I assure you, I'm cured and happy once more - even if it seems like
every second thing I say is just nonsense. I trust that you, dearest one, will understand me.
 
It's time to go now. Thank you again, this place has saved me. The doctors here are angels, sent to
deliver me from the darkest depths. I love you. I hope I will hear from you soon. It's almost my turn
to go horseback riding, so I will end this letter here. If only you were here this place would be perfect
and I might never return home.
 
-- Alfred
 
[X](https://www.reddit.com/user/SOdhner/comments/6ha4js/things_ive_written_for_rwritingprompts/) | 2017-06-15T13:25:31 | 2017-06-15T08:39:39 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You have been resurrected and banned from the afterlife after being such a nuisance in Heaven and Hell. | *crash*
A bag of groceries hits the floor. Cans roll in all directions. "Oh, good grief. You're back."
"Hi, mom," I mumbled, pretty much inside the fridge, my mouth already stuffed with food. My hands full, I push the door shut with my foot and head to the table with my treasures.
"Didn't they feed you?" she asked.
"Can you believe they sent me back?!? I mean, really. They've got some nerve. You can't just BAN someone from the afterlife! Rude."
"You're... banned?" Mom sinks into the chair across from me. "For how long?"
"FOREVER! Geez, can you believe it? I mean, I know you always said they'd never keep me more than an hour, but I thought you were joking. How long has it been anyway?" I ask around the hard boiled egg I stuffed in my mouth.
"Three."
"Three?"
"Years."
"Daaaang." I reach for a banana. "Felt like no time at all. Yeah, time sure is different when you don't sleep, and it's all just one long day really, and do you know? They don't take too kindly to constructive criticism..."
"You don't say," Mom's hands are trembling on the Coke she's holding. I take it and open it for her.
"What's this?" I hold up a long, squishy tube.
"Gogurt. It's... a kind of yogurt...?"
"Huh." I tear off the top. "Not bad! Anyway, no. No they don't. I was just trying to be helpful, you know. Just offered to get things a little more organized, pep up the welcoming committee, mix up some new music, add another swimming pool, stuff that was useful you know?"
"Were you...? Where...? Which... uh... which way did...?"
I rolled my eyes. "Mom. Get a grip. I went to heaven."
She sighed heavily. "Oh, thank ---"
"First."
"WHAT?!"
"They didn't like me! They were all like, 'We'Ve beEN rUnninG ThiNgs juSt FinE...' blah blah blah. And when I asked to see the manager, well I guess THAT'S a big no-no. That was when they sent me the other way."
"The... the other....way?" Mom's hand fluttered to her heart.
"Are you gonna drink that Coke or not?" When she didn't answer, I reached out and took it. "Man, that's good. Yes, Mom, the Bad Place, Down Below. It wasn't any better there though. Everyone was super cranky and all the best stuff was broken. I had to make scrambled eggs with a spoon! And don't get me started on the can openers. Everything was so annoying! And there was this weird humming in the background. No one else could hear it. Oh! Oh!!! And every time I would get things fixed up and organized just right, someone would be like, 'Hey, come here a second' and then I'd go, but as soon as I came back, everything was a wreck again! Ugh! SO. Annoying. And they had a great system for feedback Down There, though, I was surprised, I really was. It was very bureaucratic. ... uh, mom? MOM!"
She jumped. "Yes dear?"
"You okay? You were just sort of staring"
"Yes, dear, I'm sure it was... Very"
"What? Mom, you're not making any sense." I got up and walked around the table to her. There were tears in her eyes. "It's ok, Mom. It's ok. I'm back and I don't ever have to leave you again! I'm banned! Banned forever!"
I grabbed her tight and spun her around in a circle.
"Speaking of, I can get started on those upgrades we were talking about - what was it? - three! years ago. I can't believe you have even started ANY of them! I think maybe we will start back here in the laundry room... with that shelving and cubby project...." I wandered off, my mind jumping ahead to just how awesome this place COULD be, if only Mom would let me change everything.
Behind me, Mom sank back down into her chair, her face in her hands. "Forever..." she shuddered. | When I was a young child my mother took me to a local carnival. I was a spoilt brat, getting to go on all the rides whilst being dosed up on sugar from candy floss and popcorn. I remember like it was yesterday.. seeing a big tree by the side of the fair, with a door carved into the front. I've always been curious, some would say annoying, antagonising but you know what? Fuck those people as they haven't seen what I've seen. I remember twisting the old oak door nob and hearing it creak open, revealing an old woman with a bright red bandana wrapped around her grey specked black hair. Deep red lipstick revealed a Cheshire Cat like smile. She sat behind a small table with a black cloth draped over it, on which sat a row of face down cards.
"Choose a card young man" she gestured her hand over the table and towards my hand. I nervously agreed to pick one, there was something dark in each corner of this deceivingly wide room as I stepped inside the tree. I remember the loud click behind me as the tree shut itself after I'd taken a couple steps inside. The room seemed to penetrate my mind so I could only focus on the cards laying in front of me, the old woman draped in a multicoloured shoal seemed to grow in height as my eyes widened and my hand began to raise towards the table. I picked up the central card, her face twitched, i flipped the card around and saw the grim reaper holding a scythe to a child's neck. A bright light exploded in front of my face. That's when I appeared in Hell.
I remember being stood in a narrow alleyway, the pebbled floor coated in thick red blood. Hundreds of other humans of all ages where packed tightly with me, walls to either side of us rising for eternity, dripping red. We were all screaming, nobody could make sense of what was happening, I never felt the cold, warmth, hunger or tiredness. I remember struggling forward through the masses of screaming people, some looked insane or in an extreme state of depression, faces distorted, rocking bodies. The alley eventually became steep, rising high into what looked like a ring of fire. As I clambered over the heaps of bodies towards the centre of the bright light I remember seeing the burning gates of Hell. A giant dark red imp, easily the size of a house was stood in front of it with a leather whip, flicking back any humans who dared approach him.
He glared at me and pointed a thick, purple veined finger at me, his nail curling over his finger like an uncoiled snake.
"YOU, YOU ARE THE CHOSEN SACRIFICE, WALK THROUGH THE GATES OR SUFFER AN ETERNAL PAIN" he blasted from his humongous lungs before grabbing me in one beastly hand and tossing me through the gates.
I can just about recollect flying through space, seeing Earth, Saturn, the Moon, even the Sun.. smaller than the size of my own hands.. before I came to an abrupt halt as a gigantic desk appeared at which someone who looked like the devil himself sat wearing a suit, some thick dimmed black glasses and a steaming cup of coffee. All this just suspended in space, we were bigger than planets..
"LOOK, A ROGUE DEMON HAS CONNED YOU INTO BEING DAMNED FOR ETERNITY IN HELL, I KNOW IT'S UNFORTUNATE BUT WHAT I CAN DO IS GET YOU A GREAT - WAIT, WHY ARE YOU CRYING HUMAN? IS BEING IN MY OFFICE NOT ONE OF THE GREATEST HONOURS SOME BEING OF YOUR PLANET CAN ENCOUNTER -SORRY, IM GOING OFF TRACK AGAIN, BASICALLY, THE DEMON HAS DONE THIS TO TWO OTHERS BUT THEY WERE ACCIDENTALLY... WELL DONT WORRY ABOUT THAT, WE HAVE A DEAL FOR YOU OK?"
I was shaking trying to keep my mind from exploding out of my skull, my mind couldn't compute with what was happening. I let out a strangled "Ok"
"YOU ARE NOW ESSENTIALLY A VIRUS, GOD WONT LET US TAKE YOU INTO HELL AS YOU DIDN'T DIE IN SIN, GOD WONT ACCEPT YOU INTO HEVAEN AS YOU ARE CURSED. YOU ARE A NUISANCE TO US BOTH TO BE HONEST, SO HERES YOUR DEAL MORTAL, YOU RETURN TO EARTH WITH A SWORD I HAVE CRAFTED OUT OF GALACTIC SPACE DUST. JUST SHOVE IT THROUGH THE DEMONS HEART WITHIN THREE DAYS OF A COMET PASSING BY. PLEASE, CLOSE YOUR EYES AS YOUR TRANSPORTATION BACK TO EARTH.. MAY BE PAINFUL."
As soon as he said the last word I remember waking up two decades older than when I visited the fair.. I've been tracking the demon for years.. my face hasn't aged, my body hasn't aged.. wherever I go, even if I throw it off a bridge, the sword reappears upon my back, only my eyes can see it. This was ten years ago, I'm still pursuing the demon.. and guess what? The carnival is back in my hometown tomorrow and a comet just flew past. | 2017-07-30T12:32:22 | 2017-07-30T10:03:47 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] You are what mankind believes to be the Devil. However, there are three things that they've got all wrong: 1) Everyone goes to Heaven, no matter what they do in life. 2) You're the only one who's ever escaped Heaven. 3) Heaven is absolutely fucked. | The cold, hard slap of reality that graces a person's face when they first enter Heaven is honestly laughable. Of course, no one expects to see what they see there, and even fewer believe they'll make it.
But lo and behold, there they are in front of the pearly gates, which are more of an iridescence better compared to an oil slick. There's no Saint Peter waiting to judge them at the gates; in fact, there is nothing stopping people from actually getting in.
All the security is *inside* to stop them from getting *out*.
Well, they certainly didn't account for me, because now I have to explain to my old roommate why I'm not dead from an overdose.
"Dude, what the fuck?"
"Listen, it's a long story but - are you smoking crack?"
"Yeah, but I'm about to stop if it's got me seeing *your* dead ass on my doorstep!"
I scoff. My name was on the lease, but whatever. Semantics. "Okay, so I gotta get you to help me. There's some *seriously* fucked shit going on in Heaven, got it? We need to tell everyone so they don't make the same mistake me and everybody else did."
Nicolas, my beloved fellow junkie and roommate, squints at me. "So you want me to advocate going to Hell?"
Okay, I probably should have worked on my delivery. To be honest, I hadn't planned this far. "In so few words, yes. But only because Heaven is worse!"
Nicolas looks at me, then his pipe, then back at me, and shakes his head. "I'm too high for this, ghost of Darien."
"That's fair. I'll come back when you're not so high. But can I get my old laptop back from you first?"
Nicolas lets me in, and I'm not sure why, but I blame being higher than an archangel. I make a quick run to my room, thankful I haven't been gone for much longer than a few months, and see my shit mostly left alone. I'd get wistful at the idea of him missing me, but chances are he's just forgotten. Or he thought somewhere in the back of his head that I was still alive and just faking my death. Either way, score for me.
I have to blow the gates of Heaven wide open, and I would need internet for that.
After a painstaking trek to the nearest coffee shop with unsecured internet, I pop open Reddit and find the subreddit for AMAs.
Boldly, I post, "I died and came back to life. AMA."
It doesn't take long to get a few hits, but of course people are skeptical, asking who I was, how I died, and what proof I have. There I sit, ass in my hands looking like an idiot, because I *really* suck at thinking ahead.
I post a picture of myself with my name on my hand and linked to a local article about my dead body being found on the street.
After that, I think shit got too weird for them, because a Mod banned me. Typical. No one ever wants the truth. I didn't let it deter me, however, and moved to Facebook, where idiots would believe me, and *then* everyone would have to pay attention.
I get as far as being called evil for lying for attention and desecrating God's name before I see anyone actually beginning to believe me. I think it's more holy that I would escape Heaven just to warn everyone that God subjects everyone to a fight for survival, where the only reward is you get to live forever. That's it. Not even a Golden Corral gift card. Imagine having to die, and then die again because God is bored.
Someone asks me how I know this.
Well duh, I'm the only one to ever win and not want to kill myself afterwards. When you've sucked dick in an Arby's restroom for money and caught MRSA for your troubles, being told to kill for eternal life isn't so bad.
The only way to defeat God is to become the Devil himself. | "Yes it's me, the man behind the myth," I announced with a dramatic bow. I was always one for theatrics, it was the only way to entertain myself down here. The weary travelers looked up at me. Confusion and doubt spread over their faced. One even looked angry almost. I couldn't blame him. The hike down the aptly named Hell's Drop was long and tiring. I knew the rumors about what waited at the end - the answers to life's greatest mysteries, buried treasure long forgotten, some said the gate to Hell itself. And all these people found was *me*. Not that I wasn't a sight to behold. Once I was the most beautiful of God's angels, though I guess that's hard to see in the darkness of this cave.
"And you're supposed to be...?" the angry one asked.
"I have many names. I suppose most people know me as the Devil."
"Right, *your* the devil," said another. This was a rather young group of people. College students, maybe. "If you're the devil, why aren't you in Hell?"
That was a new one. Usually people asked me about my appearance. *"Oh, but the devil has horns?"*
*"Everyone knows the devil has red skinned and shriveled bat wings!"*
*"Oh, where's your pitchfork Lucy?"*
I don't even know where these versions of me come from. It's like, you disguise yourself as a serpent one time to mess with some idiots and the world sees you as a monsters forever.
Hell was a good question, though. I suppose people expected it to be more than this; a tiny antechamber in a cave full of rocks and bat droppings. "This is Hell."
"This? This is Hell?" a girl asked. Girls started coming down here, oh, a hundred years or so ago? In my banishment from the human world I had almost forgot they existed until one day a girl accompanied a group of explorers. Good going God on that one, make half your humans treat the other half like shit. And that's not even getting into the whole race mess. I told him everyone should just be the same formless blobs. Did he listen? no.
"I like to think Hell is wherever I am. The opposite of Heaven. That's all I strive for."
They all looked at each other curiously. One finally piped up. "Your the only one here...does that mean no one goes to Hell? Do we all just, like, rot in the ground?"
I sighed. It always came to this. Sooner or later people made me talk about Heaven and the big G upstairs. I leaned back on my throne - okay, vaguely chair-shaped pile of thrones. I did have normal furniture, things I convinced people to collect for me over the years, hidden away in the maze of tunnels. But that was my special place. I had to keep up appearances of King of the Damned. Which was, to say, king of no one.
"No you don't rot in the ground, idiots. You think God would take all that time making you for *that*? Nah, you all go to Heaven. If you can call it that."
"What do you mean?"
"That place is an absolute shit-show. First of all, it's crowded. Do you have any idea how many people have existed throughout the world's exist? A ton. Not to mention, everyone's so mad. Imagine being a puritan, living a dull, boring life of penance, enjoying your time on that big fluffy cloud, when all of a sudden a bunch of flapper girls come in with skirts barely past their knees? You start to get a little pissed off. Not to mention when the guys who killed Jesus showed up. *That* was awkward."
"Are you saying Heaven just . . . sucks?"
"Oh, big time. You have no idea. You got all the racist people grouped together, all the sexist people. A whole street dedicated to Muslims, another to Catholics, you got Quakers just chilling minding their own business. This one guys supposed to be a real asshole, I forget his name. He started like, World War Two or caused a Holocaust or something? Whatever. It's a good thing Hell don't really exist, I guess that guy never shuts up."
"Oh shut up," one kid said. I think it was the angry one from early, but who could tell? They had shuffled around since entering and humans all looked the same. "You're just jealous cause you got cast out of Heaven."
"Cast out?" I roared with laughter. It scared them a bit. Good. Humans could use some fear. "I escaped. But that's enough telling you about heaven. You'll see it soon enough."
I snapped my fingers, and all their flashlights went out. One of them screamed, and the girl tried to calm him. My laughing echoed through the tunnels as I ran deeper into the maze. | 2017-09-29T21:14:13 | 2017-09-29T20:31:45 | 39 | 27 |
[WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on." | The sound of sirens rent the air; the glare of the spotlights washed out any semblance of a night sky. The omnipresent hum of drones confirmed everyone's worst fear: the androids had finally won. Rumors had been floating around for years (decades, if you believed the tin-foil-hatters), but at last the day of reckoning had arrived, the culmination of Moore's Law (screw you, Gordon) was upon us.
And of course, I'm stuck outside, looking for my keys.
Fortunately, I happen to know there's a "covert" sewer entrance in an alley not two blocks from here, and even the most advanced androids won't risk the combination of being wet AND underground. Unfortunately, as I discover after a quick jaunt to said alley, that manhole cover was replaced by a more...permanent fixture. A smart one.
Just. My. Luck.
I had barely taken my first step toward my supposed salvation when the new cover lit up, sending a beacon to the heavens and adding a soft, yet oh-so-annoyingly audible tweeting alarm to the cacophony. I hadn't even shifted direction when the normally pitch-black passage was set aglow by what seemed to be a dozen searchlights, and I could hear the whine of the drone scouts growing louder, signaling the approach of certain doom. Or slavery. Actually, I'm not entirely sure *what* the androids planned to do with any prisoners. Nothing good, probably.
Suddenly, as I'm contemplating what's left of my existence, the whining stops. Well, not *stops*, but it wasn't getting louder anymore. Was something distracting them? Was my escape about to be effected by some timely act of providence? It was then, my eyes having adjusted to the glare, that I began to make out the shapes of two men approaching.
As they get closer, I can make out the clean blond crew cuts, the chiseled figures, the identica--Oh. They decided to spare actual android agents for little old me. I guess they want me to feel honored before they suck out my soul, or whatever. Also, why did we, as humans, try so hard to create robots that looked and behaved exactly like us? Did no one stop to think how hard that would make it for, say, a guy cornered in an alleyway to distinguish between man and machine? Sheesh.
One of the agents is holding what I presume can only be a scan-gun, finger on the trigger, ready to initiate the countdown to my destruction. It'll take but a few seconds for that contraption to recognize that I'm flesh and blood, and that'll just about seal my fate. At this point I'm just praying for anyone, anything to get me out of my predicament.
**"This one's good, I already checked him."** Oh, how I wish that someone would swoop in and--
Wait. That actually happened! Even the agents are bewildered, and I'm left trying to figure out where my savior lies. One of the agents decides to ask the question on everyone's mind (or CPU, as it were): "Who said that?"
Now that I'm not fearing for my life, I locate the voice from my pocket, **"Over here. I scanned this one a while back. When it opened me up. It's programmed to simulate an everyday human."**
The agents look at each other, shrug, and call off the drones. One of them goes very still, I assume to communicate with some control center or something. The other approaches me and slaps a metallic sticker on my arm, which I guess means I'm now an android? I've never really wanted a gang tattoo, but hey I shouldn't be alive right now so who am I to complain?
After the agents leave and my heart stops doing its best to give me away, I pull my phone out of my pocket. I unlock it and see the notes app open. I literally never use the notes app. Why do phones even come with a notes app? Has anyone in the history of smartphones ever used a notes app?
Anyways, the new note in there reads,
> **I'm not an Android either.**
Ah.
"Siri, remind me to thank my sister for the new phone." | "M-mom? I think something is wrong with Jonas..."
I was laying on my bed enjoying the softness of it and listening to music; a combination of techno and orchestra... it was a little ritual I did so I could sleep faster, I started doing it the moment I bought this used smartphone, with a broken screen and low battery. The seller looked suspicious and didn't have much rep, still, the price was so low that I decided to buy it anyways. As long as I could listen to music on it I didn't care. it was the first phone I bought with my own money and sure as hell I was going to enjoy it.
Unfortunately, my little ritual wasn't working tonight, my sister's incessant yelling in the background made me lose concentration; Something about our stupid robot Buttler Jonas and the way he is cutting the veggies. She was so annoying I wish she would just shut up. He was an old used up robot, of course, there were some things wrong with him!
"M-Mom, l-leave Micah for a moment and come see, some-something is seriously wrong!"
"Shut up you twerp!"
"Davis! you come down here too, I-I'm starting to get scared!"
"Fuck off!" it was a long day at work, all I wanted was to go to bed and sleep without interruptions.
"Alright Ellie, I'm coming down" I could hear the faint sound of my mom going down the stairs along with our little dog Choco. His bell was so loud! well, not as loud as my baby brother's crying. Tthe moment mom left he started crying and I could swear he was so loud he could be in the same room as me.
Choco started barking for some reason. I can already tell that this isn't going to be a good night for me... I turn up the volume of my phone and let the music fill my head.
And then it's gone, I check the broken screen to see a warning about listening to really loud sound and the damage it can cause to my ears. I ignore the message and I'm about to turn the volume once again.
The phone's screen flickers on and off, the music I was listening to is gone and no matter how many things I tried I couldn't get the phone to work properly. I let out an exasperated sigh, all I can hear is Choco's barking downstairs and my little brother cries. I try hitting the phone a little bit (hey, it could work!) but nothing, the phone is done for.
*Well, that's money well spent...I'm so fucking stupid.*
"Wait a minute, w-what are you doi-" Mom's voice downstairs is cut off. Did she hit herself with something?
"MOM!" that makes me jump from the bed, Ellie yells a lot but not with that tone of voice and not at such a high volume, what the hell is happening down there? it makes nervous that I can't hear Ellie anymore.
Choco is still barking at something. but soon, that noise too is gone. Someone is going up the stairs, was it mom? Ellie? the next room door creaks open and after a few seconds, my little brother's cries are gone too. Almost as if he had been turned off.
"Wh-what the hell is going on?" I approach the door and I'm about to open it when the knob turns. The door is opened from the other side and Jonas appears, looking at me with the same artificial smile and blue eyes he always had, but his white skin was stained red and he had a kitchen knife bathed in crimson, blood dripping on the floor.
"...Jo....nas?"
Jonas steps into the room, for every step he took I took one back, hitting the desk in the room and making several books fall to the ground, eventually I reach the wall and I have nowhere else to go.
"J-J-Jonas," I said, calmly. Well trying to... "I command you to stop!"
Jonas lifts the knife and points it at me.
"JONAS! I-I COMMAND YOU TO ST-!!"
I'm stabbed in the stomach, my clothes start to change color as blood started to pour from the injury. Jonas grabs me by the neck and lifts me off the ground I stare at his shining blue eyes not an inch of sympathy or regret in them. He starts to twist the knife making me scream in pain, spitting blood on his face.
but not once he stopped smiling.
"Stop"
Jonas lets go of me and I fall to the ground knife still in my belly.
"This one is ok!," a voice from the phone says, it didn't sound like anybody I knew but if I had to compare it to someone. it would be Jonas own voice "you can move on!"
Jonas leaves the room, not looking back. the room starts to go dark, but I'm sure that's just me.
"Please hold on, I'm sorry it took so long. I already called for help so don't lose consciousness-"
***
Any tips would be appreciated! might do some edits later.
[r/Onni21](https://www.reddit.com/r/Onni21/)
| 2017-11-01T09:47:00 | 2017-11-01T08:58:09 | 72 | 11 |
[WP] Suddenly, all sea life vacates a 300 mile wide area in the middle of the Atlantic ocean. A ship is deployed to investigate. | We had no idea what we were getting into.
It was called the Lifeless Zone, an area of the Atlantic devoid of life for a roughly 150-mile radius. No one knew what caused it so suddenly - not NOAA, not the government (that they told us), not anyone. Theories abounded, wilder by the retelling: the Russians, the North Koreans, aliens. Who knew how long the Lifeless Zone had existed, even, since NOAA detected it?
I was a midshipman on the U.S. Seacat at the time. Since I was little, I'd heard the siren song of the sea, but my parents had wanted me to join the military. The Navy was enough to satisfy them. We were called out to dredge the Lifeless Zone for any kind of outside interference, since we were the closest ship to it for a hundred miles.
The surface of the Lifeless Zone looked just like the rest of the ocean: boundless ripples moving in the direction of the wind and the currents. Bright and sunny and calm, completely belying the reality at the bottom of the ocean.
"Start pinging," the Captain commanded. "I want to see every nook and cranny of the Lifeless Zone, and I want to know what's hiding in the nooks and crannies."
"Aye sir," the woman working at sonar replied. The musical beeps of active sonar began to echo softly through the helm. It stayed that way for hours. Then . . .
"Movement, our four! Oh my god, what is that?"
"What's happening, Lieutenant?" the Captain demanded.
"It's way too fast for a sub!" one of the nearby men reported, hovering over the girl's shoulders.
"500 meters . . . 400 . . . 300 . . . 200 . . ."
Several of us ran outside to see the thing that moved so fast. A bulge formed in the water to starboard. I was among those who crowded to the rails hoping for a glimpse. I wish I'd stayed inside.
Its domed top rose out of the water, followed by a columnous body - thousands upon thousands of tentacles, rising ever upwards. It was so tall, its shadow blocked out the sun. I thought I could see mouths on the ends of some of the tentacles, snapping and thrashing.
Then, silence. I now knew what they meant about silence being the loudest thing of all – it was so silent, so still, it was as if the moment in time was frozen forever in a tableau of shock and awe.
That moment popped like a bubble as the monster began to fall towards the deck.
Edit: that should be all the errors. I apologize, I do not usually submit first drafts. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Also, I thought it was kind of obvious that they all died. | "We have to warn the others," Joe's voice rasped, struggling to be heard amidst the sound of howling wind and crashing waves.
"Shh, don't talk," I said as I pressed the towel against his neck. I was unsure if it would work. The towel was already damp with his blood and colour was draining rapidly from his face.
I looked around me helplessly, at the bodies of my former colleagues and friends. We never stood a chance. Joe and I were the last surviving crew members. There was a rising panic within me, panicked at losing Joe, panicked that the creature would come back to finish its job.
A hand gripped mine. "Go, radio for help," Joe pleaded, pushing my hand away.
"No, I can't," I tried to argue, but Joe's eyes were closed. He laid there, slumped against the cold hard metal, dead as everyone else.
"No," the words barely left my mouth. I shook the body of my captain, hoping in vain for a miracle.
"You cannot die. Not you!" I shouted. But Joe was no longer there. It was only me, the ship, the sea, and whatever that killed the rest of crew lurking in the water.
I wiped away the sweat and tears from my head and ran towards the bridge. My shoes cracked against the broken glass and metal on the floors. The ship groaned in protest as I ran along the silent hallways, barely illuminated by the flickering lights.
"Don't die on me now," I muttered as I stepped into the bridge. It was there when I saw it. Towering above our ship, touted to be the most technologically advanced destroyer, the creature's eyes stared right at me. Two glowing red eyes, sitting above a mass of slithering tentacles. It was huge, reminding me of Godzilla.
My eyes darted between the communicator and the creature, pondering if I could risk it. The world needs to know, but I needed to survive to do that.
"You have no need to bother," A voice growled in my head. Deep and hollow. One that did not belong to me. The creature's eyes glowed red as the voice spoke. "Your life will be forfeited even before you make a step."
I tried to hide the tremble in my voice. "Who are you?"
The creature roared in response, shaking the seas, throwing the ship around. I held on to a nearby door for dear life. Its voice filled every single space in the air. "Insolent pests, have you forgotten whom the sea belonged to?"
I felt a jerk from below, before realizing that the entire ship was pulled upwards from the water. The creature brought the ship to meet its eyes. "It is I, Xel'ruda," it simply said, expecting me to know who Xel'ruda was.
But I kept quiet and tried to keep my mind free. The glow from Xel'ruda's eyes basked the entire bridge in red. I could feel the creature scanning my body, perhaps wondering what to do with me.
"You survived my attack," the voice inside me said. "And for that, you deserve to be my first human servant, by my side as I conquer your world." I, on the other hand, had other plans.
The ship jerked again, as Xel'ruda lowered it back to the water. I used the opportunity to jump towards the communicator. It was my only chance to warn the world.
--------------
*Edit: I changed the name of the creature from Cthulhu to something new, as some pointed out that the story may not fit the existing lore. My bad for being lazy to think of a name*
/r/dori_tales
| 2017-11-17T05:00:55 | 2017-11-17T04:49:48 | 1,188 | 521 |
[WP] Aliens are afraid to invade Earth. Not because of humans but because our solar system is a nest for 8 Guardians/Leviathans. | The Outer One, the Scout, awoke from a deep Slumber, as he felt a tremendous wave of neutrinos passing through him in the wrong direction. Awakening his senses, he rumbled in amusement at the pinpricks of light produced by the foreign flora. Stretching his space, he prepared to deal with the threat to their Chosen.
>____________________________________________________
Pirate King Ixl'Thub
Dreadnought Glorious Destruction
Upon arriving in this system, it didn't seem to be anything special, except for the Class 12 Bio-world, ripe for genetic harvest. The crew was excited at the profits we could make, the only other Class-12 Bio had been the source of the ubiquitous Serenity, a combat drug that the natives produced naturally, that settled your nerves without dulling your reflexes or thought.
"Alright boys, let's get this started. Remember, we can't kill too much of the native life, anything could be valuable. Anybody who manages to extinct a species will have their nerve clusters hanging from my perch."
That said, I engaged the sublight systems, bringing us on a course to behind their moon. Shortly after we began crossing through their outer debris field though, something strange happened.
"Captain! one of the planetoids has changed course, with no apparent cause, what do we do?"
Thinking furiously to myself, I racked my memory for what this could be, before I remembered a legend from the Forerunners, of a system guarded by colossal titans beyond anything they ever knew. Vibrating myself, I shook off the superstition.
"It's probably just an aftereffect of our warp drive, even though the gravitic singularities were supposed to have been fixed hundreds of years ago. What else could it be?"
The sensor officer nodded uncertainly, and said "Yes captain. We need to take evasive maneuvers immediately, impact in 2 minutes."
Looking around the room at all of my officers staring at me, I roared, "WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR, YOU HEARD HER!"
As everyone jumped into action, I slid across the deck to peer at the sensor suite. Everything seemed to be going fine, until right before our ship was at the closest approach to the planetoid. Space itself was rended and torn apart, then mended instantly into a shape that transferred all of the planetoids momentum into coming straight at us, and as it approached, I could see long tendrils of... something, wrapping around my ship!
Realizing we were all dead, and the stories were true, I activated my neural link, feeling my nerves and flesh begin to burn. The information flooded into me, as I attempted to activate the comms relay one last time. As the neural link completed, I knew with dread certainty that no communications could escape the tendrils. With the last of my willpower, and my body beginning to fall apart, I gave the order for self destruct. The ship immediately powered down, and my officers turned to look at me with uncertainty. Seeing me falling to pieces, literally, the smarter of them realized what was happening and began rushing away to the escape pods, quickly followed by their less than intelligent fellows.
I turned my gaze back to the sensors, and realized we were now close enough to make out much more detail.
The entire surface of the planetoid was made of crashed and broken ships.
>____________________________________________________
Headline
The New York Times
#Pluto changes course drastically, followed by huge impact! New planet in the kuiper belt discovered? | “Your mission,” said High Councilman Zakad, “invade Solar System Sol.”
The brigade commander, stunned, looked up from his kneeling position in complete disbelief. No alien race, no matter how powerful, would ever consider going near Solar System Sol or their main planet — Earth. Everyone had heard tales... tales of the 8. Eight gifted humans that stand as guardians for the solar system.
“Commander you seem lost in thought... If something is the matter Egir you might as well speak now!”
Egir, the brigade commander, started, “ High Councilman, I have no doubt in your strategy but isn’t Solar System Sol.... er ..... off-limits?”
“If you’re referring to the fairytales about those 8 ‘mystical guardians,’ you must be joking. That’s all it is. A fairytale. Nothing more. If anything, those humans made it all up to balance their technology deficit. We’ve waited long enough.” Replied Zakad.
“Yes... you must be right”
“Of course I’m right... you’ll arrive in a week.”
————
The next week, as promised, Egir and his brigade arrived at Earth. They followed protocol... basically saying if the Earthern United Union did not surrender... the Earth would be destroyed, by force. It was not an empty threat. Egir’s origins are from the Solar System Yveriad. They’re people are born fighters... trained to fight against brute force and magic. Few had ever successfully stood in their way. Earth would be no exception.
“Commander, our landing vessel is ready.”
“And Earth’s position?”
“They surrendered sir.”
“Well then let’s descend...”
————
Their state of the art landing vessel looked out of place compared the human cities. The cities of glass skyscrapers and cement mountains were a primitive version of the alien’s craft — sleek, round, glowing, like it was fake. It was everything but fake. If plans went south, Egir could just as easily use the envoy ship as a battleship. He had enough power to decimate the city and the sweaty, nervous world leaders seemed to know that. Egir was sprawled over the space of two human chairs as he was about 9 ft tall and quite wide. His men standing by for non-existent problems and intimidation. The world leaders were just about to hand over the documents when the door was knocked down and two of his men went flying. He glanced up while his other men slipped their bionic xyeric laser rifles to the ready.
“We’re gone for all of a couple of days and Earth surrenders to these blokes?!?” A man with an Australian accent and wild blonde hair and emerald eyes steps into the room. The one next to him, the one who had kicked down the door, stood with a massive build, toned muscles, chocolate brown hair, yellow eyes. Then from the center popped a 4’7” long, white haired, pale skin, crystal eyed woman.
“Who are you?” Egir asked.
The white haired woman answered,” I’m Zaya. The blonde is Milan and the muscle man is Ban. I’ve got something to say to you...”
Egir interrupted her. It was important to establish who was dominant here... “Well it doesn’t matter... This planet is under the jurisdiction of the Solar Sys...”
“Listen to me big purple guy... I’m only going to say this once.... No one and I mean no one ever interrupts the white-haired lady.” Ban states sternly.
Egir just looked stunned... “What makes you meak people think that I won’t crush you in one blow? What makes you think that my men won’t vaporize you with one shot? What makes you think that my brigade won’t blow your precious city to ash for your disrespect and arrogance. What’s to say I won’t just tie the white haired human to a pole and watch her burn beneath a fire.....” He looked up and stopped.
The crystal eyes were breaking into his soul, so piercing. He had never seen anything like it. His three hearts paused for a moment and waited silently as she breathed in and pronounced slowly, as if speaking to a child.
“We’re guardians of Solar System Sol and if you want to keep your freedom I suggest you listen to my warning.”
“Yeah dumbass!” Milan taunted.
All Egir heard was “Guardians”...
| 2018-02-05T15:37:30 | 2018-02-05T15:36:49 | 193 | 48 |
[WP] Galactic Mandate No. 7a3 dictates that all starships must be cloaked when travelling through realspace and all planets have to mask any signs of life. It's the year 2018, and a cargo ship from the Taryian Empire just accidentally dropped their cloak, right smack in between Earth and the moon. | It wasn’t there and then it was in an instant. As if I’d blinked and suddenly everything had changed. From where I stood was the size of a cruise ship that was floating in our atmosphere. But given perspective, I could only imagine how big it truly was. When I blinked again it had vanished. And there I stood at 2 in the morning, my cocker spaniel barking at the sky, dumbfounded as to what I’d just seen.
I did what any rational person would do and took to the Internet. I searched for anyone, any forum or board or post that would validate what I’d seen. And much to my surprise there were dozens in mere moments. From the other side of the world in the bright sunlight you could see color on the ship. Brass and red stood out the most in the pale blue skies. There was even a video to confirm what had happened. The sky is clear, then the ship appears, and in mere seconds it’s gone again.
There were claims of a hoax but the sheer amount of people who saw it couldn’t be doubted. From children to the elderly, blue collar and white collar workers, poor and rich, millions perhaps billions of people saw it. And what do you think happened after that? Panic. Panic like I’d never heard of or seen before. Videos of people scrambling for supplies, rioting, people stocking up on weapons or anything that could be used as weapons. Jets from military’s of all nations scrambling, National guard units mobilized, enemies for centuries met to discuss what they must do against this new perceived threat.
One thing is for certain: on that October everything changed. These days everyone watches the skies.
*Meanwhile, on the Taryian Cargo Vessel*
Lyka held his head in his hands.
“I messed up bad,” he said. “Bad, bad, bad.”
“You’re absolutely getting beheaded,” Irok said.
“Brother, they’re going to fire him out of the waste pipes. This is a tremendous error,” Roth said.
“Why is our cloaking function just *one* big button? Why is it a toggled option! Just one push? No prompting? Nothing?!”
“Seems to me that the labeling is clear.”
“Clear to *who*? This scribbling is illegible!”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m just responsible for the ships life support system. Sorry I’m not a scribe,” Roth said.
“To be fair, it isn’t very clear. And he deals with a lot of buttons, doesn’t he,” Irok asked.”
“He does but so do you and so do I. His only error is that he’s new...that and the fact that we’re probably all fucked because Lyka just broke Mandate 7a3. An egregious offense.”
“Fucked? I’m afraid I don’t know that expression,” Lyka said.
“Oh! Well this is a coincidence. That planet we just passed, the one you just flashed our existence to, is called Earth. A backwater planet that’s only fascinating feature is the sheer amount of biodiversity. On their planet, they have beings called humans. Humans over time developed languages, and in their lexicon eventually existed the word ‘Fuck.’”
“There’s a number of ways to use it, it’s very heavy in context and flexibility, but the way I’m using it is like this. When we get back Taryia everyone on this vessel is *fucked* because we got spotted. Meaning we’re likely getting thrown into a pit or shot in the back of the head if their merciful.” Roth concluded.
The trio sat quietly before Irok broke the silence.
“Sorry this had to happen on your first day, but at least you learned something new, eh?”
“Yeah. That I’m fucked.” | It was supposed to be a normal delivery. A standard run through sector ZZ9 Alpha. Captain Krim had routinely done the run once 60 years ago and back then felt the same way he did now. "Damn the stupid mandate, I don't get why everyone is so afraid. Why do we still believe a 20000 year old fairytale. This is my last command and being cloaked for a simple mining mission seems absurd. What's so special about this one planet?" he said, somewhat annoyed to his Chief Officer. "Sir?, It's fine it's only a small section afterall. We can go by fine. Besides cloaking is the engineers headache. Why does it bother you so much anyway? What's the matter? This is only a minor inconvenience...", The chief officer was used to his captain always finding something to whine about, but overall respected his captain. His short 40 run with the capitain was coming to an end and so he felt he could be more questioning about Krim's opinion. "I've always wanted to meet the natives. What is the worst that could happen? There are all the rules...be cloaked...don't fly too close... I went into this profession so I could visit the many world's. Here is a fascinating world with life and society even if it's primitive. But no, we need to go the hellhole that is a greenhouse.".
"You never seemed so passionate about it before". "Well this is my large voyage afterall. If I can break any rules I should be able to now. After 80years working for the Federation I should have some slack now". "Sir you know the Federation takes its rules very seriously and violating mandate no:7a3 can get you jailed or worse... Not to mention our whole crew could suffer the same consequences."
Roga thought for a while. He had also been curious but never enough to break such a serious law. He like most citizens in the Federation didn't know why exactly the law existed but knew better than to question the Federation. However the captains last wish seemed like something he could honour. "Captain, how about a compromise?" We'll do a flyby between the moon. I'm sure our cameras will be able to pick at least something up. We'll pick a spot without much cloud cover. I'm sure you'd rather go down planetside but we are on a schedule afterall and besides we don't want to endanger your nice pension by pissing off those Federation pricks." Krim agreed and retired to his chair. "You can do the needful thanks. I'm sure I'm leaving my crew in good command. Thanks for entertaining this senile fools last request CO". 30 minutes later the sirens were ablaze. Krim and his crew knew the drill. It was something that was practiced before any ship cleared for departure. Krim assumed command and managed to crash on the moon.
Protocol was to avoid the planet at all cost. And the federation fitted all ships with remote explosives in case of such a situation. Some stray space debris which didn't need to be accounted for due to the distance requirements snagged to cloaking and caused enough engine damage that crashing was unavoidable.
Mary was watching tv when suddenly she lost the signal. It didn't return for the next several weeks.
The monitoring station on Proxima Centauri went nuts. "This is not a drill" could be heard echoing amidst the klaxons. The chief of monitoring was feeling a range of emotions. None of them were the correct emotion as he would come to realize 30 years later. He felt excited and anxious and angry that his peaceful position was disturbed. He should have felt fear but didn't as he didn't have access to the archives. Only 1% of the Taryians had access to the archives and knew that they would be at war again.
The Federation didn't suffer as many casualties in last war as the Taryians bore the brunt of the initial assault. They lost billions and suffered immensely. They didn't recover for centuries, but after millenia their past was nothing more than a legend. The Federation was formed to defeat the scourge of humanity and after a 30 year brutal bloody campaign finally exiled the humans to Earth and striped them of their terrifying weapons. The Federation zealots beloved that no life deserved extinction and settled for exile.
When the king received the communique that humans had seen a ship, he wasted no time in declaring an emergency.the last time the galaxy underestimated humanity they were nearly enslaved.this is it would be different. This time the Taryians would strike first. This time they would prepare for war. This time they would win. And this time they would be wrong again.
| 2018-10-23T20:18:17 | 2018-10-23T20:07:09 | 46 | 16 |
[WP] Based on her animal friends and singing longingly into the distance, you realize that your daughter is a Disney Protagonist. Per movie rules, you, a Disney Parent, will soon be out of the picture. | "Sweetheart? Look what daddy got you!"
With a flourish I produce the cutest puppy in all the world... literally. The breed was genetically altered to never age beyond the puppy stage, have pink fur with a cute symbol on his side. I picked her the one with the daisy symbol since that was her favorite flower.
Her smile of joy and sparkling eyes was all the reward I needed. Alright, so far so good. Now we start phase two!
"You also get something extra special. However, this is something very important. It helped daddy through a lot of hard times and needs to be loved every single day."
I gave it a few minutes of pleas and promises to cherish before I, very reluctantly, gave her my childhood bunny. It was a will loved stuffed toy and I knew every single stain and stitch on it. It's bright red nose called attention away from the mismatched eyes that all old bunnies were required to have.
I felt a part of my soul leave me as I handed it over to her little chubby hands. Good bye old buddy, thank you for all the love....
With the stage set I invest in a few backup plans. I got an aquarium, a few antique pieces of furniture and cute but out fashioned appliances. Nothing too slick or modern.
There. If this doesn't turn the odds in favor of Pixar I don't know what will! | "Someday, my prince will come..." My daughter's singing was uplifted by a trilling of birds, each in perfect harmony to her melody. Her golden hair, which had started off as brown as my and my husband's hair, glowed in the light of the setting sun as she leaned against the window of our seventh story apartment.
​
We don't even live close to the park. Or in a direction to get both the rising *and* the setting sun on any windows in the place. Yet, every song has the perfect light and the perfect back up. And I swear I hear music playing faintly around her.
​
At least she hasn't progressed further yet. She's still singing old Disney songs instead of her own. Once it progresses to originality, her Protagonist status will be full blown. It's only a matter of time, apparently; none of the doctors know how this condition is contracted, but they do know that nothing has stopped it.
​
What's sad, though, is I'm not worried for *her*. The one amazing benefit to Protagonist Syndrome is that they all end up with happy endings. I may not *want* her to go through the trials that await her in the future, but at least she'll come out all right.
​
No, what I'm sadly worried about is myself. I'm her *mom*. While parents of Protagonist children don't have great life expectancies, in general, the death rate for mothers is about 95%. And as Lily gets closer to her 10th birthday, my chances grow slimmer.
​
But I've got a secret weapon. Protagonists, particularly those of the Disney variety, don't get to watch Disney movies. They don't need the reinforcement as their own stories develop. *I* don't have any such restriction though. And I know what story I want for my girl.
​
I walk out from the kitchen and pull Lily -- my fair-haired dreamer -- into a hug.
​
"There comes a day, when you’re gonna look around and realize happiness is where you are..." | 2018-11-28T10:28:02 | 2018-11-28T10:26:46 | 345 | 80 |
[WP]: Any god can claim a non-religious soul if they can prove in any way that this person practiced the faith in question. Large religions can take their pick, but lesser and forgotten gods keep getting more creative in their claims. | > Dis one be mine!
Wait? What? Ok, we're getting really sick of your shit. How can you possibly lay claim to this soul?
> Easy. Look what she be sayin' about herself on da Instagrams
So she has low self esteem, that doesn't count as worship. She's wearing a cross, you can't have this one too. This one is mine.
> No big mon. It belong to me. She may be wearin' your sign, but she be speakin' my language. She be buildin' my shrines.
For the last time, creating massive piles of trash does not count as "creating shrines".
> I be disagree'n. But none of that matter. Look at what she sayin' "I'm nothing but trash."
That is **NOT** and admission of faith!
> Well when be the last time she callin' herself a Christian?
I... that.... you know what? Fine. Give me back my headpiece and I'll rescind my claim. Deal?
> Deal. Here ya go.
What... what is this?
> It be ya Kippah, the one I stole so many years ago when ya were just a child.
YOU KNOW I MEANT MY CROWN OF THORNS!
> HEK HEK HEK HEK HEK
________________________________________
Wha- where am I?
> Relax richmon, ya be dead.
Dead?!? Then, is this heaven?
> No, Richmon. Ya been sent ta my realm.
But why?
> Well Richmon, ya done had a bad life. While ya had plenty o' stuff. Ya lacked true care. And I be taken pity on ya.
But isn't heaven an eternal paradise?
> No, imagine being trapped in eternal paradise. Forever. ya be gettin' bored quick. No richmon, what you humans love, and have always loved, is overcomin struggle. Is survivin' against the odds. Is risin' up from the gutters with the rest of the downtrodden, abandonned, and forgotten, and spittin' in the face of your old gods and masters.
I'm not promisin' ya paradise. But I do be promisin' ya adventure, I be promisin' ya thrills, I be promisin' ya danger, and I be promisin' ya a home from which you be free to come and go as ya like. I be promisin' ya an eternity of playin pranks, stealin' hats, and seekin' thrills.
An eternity of mischief and danger? That... actually sounds kind of fun. I'm in.
> HEK HEK HEK HEK HEK. | Julia opened her eyes and took a breath. But it wasn’t air filling her lungs, and it wasn’t her eyes that opened. But at the same time it was. How curious.
“You’re dead Julia”
Who the fuck is this?
“You died in a car accident. I’m sorry..”
Everything was fuzzy. Foggy, and sounded delayed or slow, but was then fast.
The man she saw before her wore an unassuming suit. Business like, but didn’t mean business. Terrible shoes.
“I.. I think I remember that” Julia replied. “Who are you?”
“I’m an atheist, like you. I kinda run things around here. It’s much like before, except we don’t have any of the god botherers around” he smiled, as if amused at his own joke.
“But, where am I then? If this is not heaven or hell?”
“Well, it certainly is neither of those” the man replied. He spread his arms wide “We don’t have any god or devil here. It is what we make it. We were right Julia. There is no god, or higher being. It’s just us. Come on, let me help you settle in.”
Julia followed him through a large atrium, full of bustling people, apparently going about their day. She felt like her senses still betrayed her. She could smell the fresh garden they walked past. The wet soil, warm. But at the same time it felt fake. Other worldly almost.
She followed the man. “Where are you taking me? Are my family here?” She asked, turning her head to watch a man arguing with another in a business but not business suit. She looked back. “What’s your name again?”
He laughed. “I know this is all very confusing, but it will make more sense when you settle in.” He said.
Alarm bells.
She looked around. “Uh, I just need some space. I need to go outside.”
“Sure. Of course. Here, come this way.” He lead her through an expansive archway, and out to a courtyard that hinted of hills and forest beyond. She sighed and took off. Full sprint, running out the yard and down the hill.
She could hear yelling behind her, but she kept running. At the bottom of the hill she reached a creek. She pulled up, stopped and looked back. She could see Mr Not Business standing with his hands on his hips looking at her.
Looking around she saw a rock, and not knowing what else to do, walked over and sat down to catch her breath, that wasn’t her breath. Still very strange.
This wasn’t what she thought it would be. How it would be. When she died. She thought there’d be less people, and more silence. Perhaps something like the wilderness of the Andes she’d experienced in her twenties. She closed her eyes and slowed her breathing.
Another business but not business man walked up next to the one standing on the grass. They both looked down to the woman sitting on the rock.
“New one, just fresh in huh?” He asked. It wasn’t really a question, more of an observation. “Yeah. I’m giving her some space. Letting her adjust a bit.”
“You know, Alex, the rest of the committee won’t look favourably on you if you lose another one” he said. “They’ll want to change things back to the way they were”
Alex sighed. “Yeah well, they can fucking try”
Suddenly the woman sitting on the rock faded in and out, and then vanished.
“Ah fuck it” he sighed and turned back toward the courtyard. It was going to be a long day.
EDIT: Formatting. This is literally the first WP post I’ve made. Suggestions welcome! | 2019-01-16T06:40:10 | 2019-01-16T06:25:38 | 101 | 19 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | A friend of mine had been DMing a 5.0 game for a month now. Normally, she is able to talk down fun ruiners but this one is especially stubborn.
Enter Malgor, the Level 6 Paladin Oathbreaker Orc: This person is a very stubborn, immovable Chaotic Stupid that kills any NPC he finds (including plot NPCs) in the name of his demon lord, though everyone knew he was just a murderhobo.
This is where I come in. The party and the DM knows me, and previously I had been kicked out of the group for picking fights with other player characters because they disagreed with my own. In an act of desperation, she called upon me to get rid of Malgor.
Enter Tariel, the Level 2 Thief/Level 4 Way of Shadow Monk Wood Elf: This character was built to resemble the 3.5e prestige class "Shadowdancer" (if you've played that, you know what this poor Orc is gonna have coming for him), and this character was blind and had Blindsight as a result. A Chaotic Good that believes evil should be destroyed swiftly and mercilessly.
The group was a one-and-done for me, when the deed was done I would find a way to get out of the party lest I cause more harm than he did.
When I entered the room, the whole room seemed to stare for a second except for two people: the DM and the Paladin. Everyone in the room had played with me before except for the Paladin in question, who seemed to be pondering over something with a mischievous smile barely hidden on his face.
I approached the table and was passed the character sheet, and the worrisome expressions of the table changed to almost joy. I had killed half the people at the table using this character at least once, and they quickly figured out it was not coincidence I brought this one out at this time.
I joined the party shortly after the game began. Tariel claimed he was pursuing a bounty placed upon a criminal seen around this area and the party welcomed him as they were tracking a criminal as well. In return for aiding the hunt, he would share the bounty among the group.
The party had ended up tracking this criminal and brought his head to the guard captain to claim. After getting our gold, the Orc cut down the guardsman. Tariel asked why, and he said his demon lord wanted a soul. Needless to say, this pissed Tariel right the fuck off. What proceeded was that Orc's worst nightmare.
Tariel was a Shadow Monk, and he had access to the Darkness spell. Additionally, he had Blindsight so he could "see" in this magical Darkness that not even Darkvision could penetrate. Tariel used guerilla tactics to fight, dancing in and out with his shortsword as the Orc swung blindly around him, using Flurry Of Blows to end the combat quicker. When the Darkness was finished, the Orc was a corpse on the floor and Tariel nowhere to be seen.
Back in reality, needless to say the Orc player was pissed and began yelling at me, shouting about how he was trying to do something important and giving me constant insults. He was about to remake a very similar character when the DM called the night. I warned the player I would be back if he tried the same thing again. The DM tells me he never showed up after that.
Author's Note: This is my first prompt, so if I made any mistakes or it wasn't good in general let me know in case I wish to try again in the future. | It happens from time to time, a paladin gets a little too strong they start to think they have a destiny and are all about championing good. They start messing with the world's balance pushing it too far towards good. That's when the Consortium sends me in. Paladins are easy to deal with when you know how to push their buttons. I am what you would call a rogue, and that's exactly what the group in front of me had been advertising for, and I could see why as they came clanking up to my table. A dwarf cleric, clearly worshipping Hanseath judging by the armor and war-axe branded with a beer stein. Behind him trying to hide in his shadow was a mousy gnome wielding a staff, a book dangled at her side held there by a chain. I could sense faint traces of magic around here, clearly one of the wizened, this job just got a little trickier. And the final member of the party that approached was my target, if the shining golden armor was any indication. Arrogantly he looked around at his surroundings before loudly shouting at the barmaid. "Wench bring me your finest mead, whilst I meet with the scoundrel who summoned us, and once that is through maybe I can show you the truth meaning of a paladin worshipping the god of vitality." He finished that off by pinching her butt and winking.... This target is one I will enjoy silencing for the greater "good".
"You scoundrel, didst you send a child bearing a letter containing details of how to break into the necromancers keep?" The paladin roared out.
The mousy girl spoke up "Timothee theres no reason to call him a scoundrel he offered to aid us in our quest, he could just be another adventurer wishing to rid the area of the undead. And we could use his help since your plan of frontal assault failed so spectacularly"
"Aye lad you cannae go call'n ereyone ye meet a rapscallion or call'n em evil only te chop off der head a secund lat'r. Ye did dat to de greedy shopkeep last town." Grumbled the dwarf obviously irritated at his companion.
I stepped in hoping to end the argument before it began in ernest. "Yes I reached out to your esteemed group. I've heard tale of the good you did and wished to offer my services after hearing you failed in your assault. You see I know of a hidden way into the castle through the mines. My ancestors were some of the original Mason's who built the castle and a hidden tunnel was made that leads to the back of an unused mine shaft. I can...."
"Well then tell us the location and we may be on our way, after my liason with the wench of course" The paladin interrupted.
"My Lord, if I may call you that, you do not understand the danger, the tunnel is trapped for those that are coming in from the mine, my family has knowledge of these traps that I cannot easily share, I was offering to lead the way, as unless I missed my guess none of you are experienced in the trap making arts?" I continued ignoring the paladins interruption.
"Aye lad ye be right, ye sound like a worthy addit'n te the team" the dwarf stated animatedly while clapping me on the back. "I go by Darien, this wee lass is Fidgit, and that there is Timothee the virile" he said rolling his eyes at the moniker.
"Hold on one minute I haven't said he could join" Timothee said while muttering an incantation under his breath and passing his holy symbol near my body when it didn't glow he seemed startled "All right I detect no evil in his presence, he can join us"
I chuckled at this, what kind of fool doesn't know how to hide their intentions, oh I will enjoy eliminating this person, maybe I'll even give the Consortium a discount.
"Then the matter is settled we will leave at once for the mine and the hidden entrance within"
There's more I want to write if people are interested but I need to sleep and sorry for formatting issues doing this on my phone is hard
Continued in the comment below I am bad at this whole Reddit thing
| 2019-01-21T20:40:35 | 2019-01-21T20:21:57 | 183 | 80 |
[WP] The DM hands you the paper. You're just dropping in for the one session, but you know your role. The sheet says you're level 6, but you've got surprises. You have a mission: take out the DM's most-hated player. Well, their fun-killing Paladin, anyway. You're a hired gun. A Character Assassin. | A friend of mine had been DMing a 5.0 game for a month now. Normally, she is able to talk down fun ruiners but this one is especially stubborn.
Enter Malgor, the Level 6 Paladin Oathbreaker Orc: This person is a very stubborn, immovable Chaotic Stupid that kills any NPC he finds (including plot NPCs) in the name of his demon lord, though everyone knew he was just a murderhobo.
This is where I come in. The party and the DM knows me, and previously I had been kicked out of the group for picking fights with other player characters because they disagreed with my own. In an act of desperation, she called upon me to get rid of Malgor.
Enter Tariel, the Level 2 Thief/Level 4 Way of Shadow Monk Wood Elf: This character was built to resemble the 3.5e prestige class "Shadowdancer" (if you've played that, you know what this poor Orc is gonna have coming for him), and this character was blind and had Blindsight as a result. A Chaotic Good that believes evil should be destroyed swiftly and mercilessly.
The group was a one-and-done for me, when the deed was done I would find a way to get out of the party lest I cause more harm than he did.
When I entered the room, the whole room seemed to stare for a second except for two people: the DM and the Paladin. Everyone in the room had played with me before except for the Paladin in question, who seemed to be pondering over something with a mischievous smile barely hidden on his face.
I approached the table and was passed the character sheet, and the worrisome expressions of the table changed to almost joy. I had killed half the people at the table using this character at least once, and they quickly figured out it was not coincidence I brought this one out at this time.
I joined the party shortly after the game began. Tariel claimed he was pursuing a bounty placed upon a criminal seen around this area and the party welcomed him as they were tracking a criminal as well. In return for aiding the hunt, he would share the bounty among the group.
The party had ended up tracking this criminal and brought his head to the guard captain to claim. After getting our gold, the Orc cut down the guardsman. Tariel asked why, and he said his demon lord wanted a soul. Needless to say, this pissed Tariel right the fuck off. What proceeded was that Orc's worst nightmare.
Tariel was a Shadow Monk, and he had access to the Darkness spell. Additionally, he had Blindsight so he could "see" in this magical Darkness that not even Darkvision could penetrate. Tariel used guerilla tactics to fight, dancing in and out with his shortsword as the Orc swung blindly around him, using Flurry Of Blows to end the combat quicker. When the Darkness was finished, the Orc was a corpse on the floor and Tariel nowhere to be seen.
Back in reality, needless to say the Orc player was pissed and began yelling at me, shouting about how he was trying to do something important and giving me constant insults. He was about to remake a very similar character when the DM called the night. I warned the player I would be back if he tried the same thing again. The DM tells me he never showed up after that.
Author's Note: This is my first prompt, so if I made any mistakes or it wasn't good in general let me know in case I wish to try again in the future. | Everyone has met that one person who just ruins the game for everyone else. That person takes all the treasure, dictates where the party is going or what they're to do, things like that. Sadly for this group, Becky *was* that person.
Becky was a goody-goody player that *had* to have it all. Magic items in the chest? Becky needed them to "defend the lesser members of her party". Potions of healing? "You guys don't take the damage that I do." Go to a new city and it's shopping time for Becky. "You guys need me to defend you, so give me all your gold and I'll get something that'll help me do just that."
Did I mention that Becky was a Paladin?
And did I mention that Becky *loved* to role-play anything besides the actual combat?
When I was invited to this session, I knew I had the perfect character for taking care of the "Paladin Problem", as the DM put it. I pulled out this character only for special occasions. I made sure to give this character sheet to the DM before the game even started. It makes life a little easier to be handed a character sheet when you're the "new" player.
I won't bore you with the details of the beginning of the session. Suffice to say that the other three players were tired of Becky's constant demands and taking this newest treasure, an Amulet of Day, for herself. When the party decided to stop at the next inn to rest up, my plan sprung into action.
Becky had been hounding me to give her my enchanted gloves for a while now. Ever since she spotted on my character sheet that I had some magic items, she felt she deserved them more than I did. So I made her an offer she couldn't refuse.
"Why don't we go upstairs to discuss this in private?" I asked her. She quickly agreed, and I led the way to the room we had rented for the night. This room was simple: a metal bed, small table with two chairs, and a nightstand with a lamp on it. There was a small window that overlooked the stables below. I smiled as I quietly locked the door behind us, "so we don't have unnecessary interruptions."
I then announced that the only way I was parting with the gloves was with an act of pure faith. She had to do whatever I asked, no questions. I could see the other players' eyes begin to lose their dull shine. The DM was even interested.
Of course Becky agreed, so long as she got the gloves. "Oh, and that sword too!" She had just noticed the magic blade.
"Of course," I replied, smiling. I could see the DM start to realize what was about to happen. The others listened silently.
I told Becky that since I liked role-playing too, we should do a little role-playing right now. Oh, how her eyes lit up at the notion! I told her to take off her armor, but leave the clothing. Ditch the weapons. Lay down on the bed.
"Do you like a little bondage?" I asked, still smiling. Poor Becky didn't even think to wonder why this was happening; she just agreed and was ready for whatever was to come. She accepted the ropes binding her to the metal bed. She accepted when I sat my character down atop hers and whispered, "Care for a kiss?"
I wish I could've taken a picture of the exact moment Becky realized her dear Paladin was getting attacked by a vampire. She tried to tell the DM that she was going to break free, but, no, the rolls were not in her favor that day. Poor Becky watched as her Paladin got her blood drained until there was nothing left.
The DM, Tomas, smiled. I could see smiles on the other players' faces as well. My character stood up, unlocked the door, and went downstairs.
"You know what needs to be done," I said to the remaining players. I turned to Becky, who was still in a bit of shock. "I get to keep that character now. You will rise as a vampire spawn after 1d4 days under my control. Oh, and thanks for the Amulet."
I stood up from the table, grabbed Becky's sheet and my own, and, with a nod to the others, took my leave.
Another one to the fold... | 2019-01-21T20:40:35 | 2019-01-21T20:13:01 | 183 | 48 |
[WP] After getting home from a long day at work, you find a demon sitting on your couch, sobbing hysterically, snuggling your cat, and eating from a tub of ice cream | I always knew my cat was different. The little bastard was far too smart to be a normal cat. He did things just to mess with me on a daily basis. So, when I came home from work to find a woman with horns sitting on my couch with MY ice cream in hand and my bastard cat in the other, I wasn't exactly surprised.
I closed the door and sat my briefcase down with a heavy sigh. "What's all this?"
"Oh, he said you'd be home, but I didn't believe him. He's a liar. All he does is lie and lie and--"
"Woah, hold on a second. Who are you?"
"Catize, co-ruler of the third level of hell," she said as she let my cat go and held a hand out to me. It was covered in scales and her nails glinted like knife points. I gingerly took it and only shook once before stepping back.
"Uh--nice to meet you? Why are you in my living room--?" I turned and looked at the TV and cursed. "Is that really 'You Got Mail? Did you rent that? Man, I didn't budget for that."
"He said it would be fine. It's my favorite movie," she said and sniffed. "And I'm upset."
"I can see that. Why?"
"Because he," she pointed at my cat who I swear rolled his eyes before looking at me. "Won't come home."
"He won't... come home?"
"He says--no, he's the reason you won't leave so he should know. If you can't be true to him then why are you staying with him?" She snarled and then faced the TV again. She scooped a bit of mint chocolate chip ice cream from the tub she held. I was really looking forward to that ice cream all day. It was my cheat day. "He doesn't want to leave you."
"And where would he be going if he did?"
"Back to running the third level of hell, like he was assigned to do-- Yes you were! Lucifer only gave you a thousand years off. That was up eight years ago. You were suppose to be back--you were suppose to be in my arms again but no, you want to stay because..." she turned to me and I felt a chill run down my spine at the look she gave me. "You want to stay with your best buddy."
"Um, I'm sorry, I don't really understand what's going on."
"He," she pointed at the cat with her spoon and green pieces of ice cream splattered his fur. He growled and bared his teeth. "Oh, don't start with me. This is ruining my diet."
"Okay, look, I've had a crap day and you know what, if you want to take Elvis then take him."
"You hear that, he wants you to go."
My cat stared at me, his eyes wide and I swear the bastard was giving a good try at a puppy dog look. He hopped down from the couch and for the first time since I owned him, he rubbed his body across my shins.
"You--you're disgusting," the woman shouted and tossed the spoon at both of us. She was on her feet now, a heat haze wafting off her. "You would do that in front of me? You said that you only rubbed my legs, you lying bastard."
"What the hell--"
"That's exactly it, I'm going back to hell and I'm taking the kids to my mom's. She was right, you are nothing but an asshole looking for your next bit of catnip. I can't believe you! Ten thousand years of my life gone, and for what? This fat pig of a human?"
"Hey..." I said. I had put on a few pounds, but I wasn't... fat.
"Shut it. I hope you're very happy together, and don't you come crawling back to me, you hear? I don't care how much you purr!"
The door slammed and a waft of sulfur filled my nose as a flash lit up the windows. I looked down at Elvis who was sitting between my feet, watching the door.
"This makes way too much sense," I said and he looked up at me. "Why would you stay?"
"Because you're my bro. You give me free catnip and I don't gotta take you to the fire geysers or one of Shakespeare's stupid plays," he said in a voice that was too deep for the size of cat he was.
"Right... wait, Shakespeare is in hell?"
"Duh, you don't write like that without selling your soul. Made that deal my self," he said while cleaning his fur. He stopped after a few seconds and looked back up to me. "I'm hungry," he said and went to the kitchen.
I sighed and went to fetch the can opener. | It was a long day today. I sat in my car for a second and sighed loudly. I loosened my tie and stepped out of my car. The countless numbers that were dealt with today were running across my mind. There was a load of work for the accounting department today. I decided to park inside my garage today since my garage door was usually unlocked. It was the dead of night and I was ready to plop down in bed. I opened the door and refused to turn on the light or else my sleepiness would escape. Although there was something I had to do first, my cat, the light of my life, was probably hungry. I went into my kitchen and found my sink in the dark. The cat food was in the cabinet under and to the left of it. Being familiar with this, I grabbed the cat food and turned. Huh... that's strange. I would usually hear Thor's feet pitter pat once the cat food made a single noise. Maybe I just needed to listen a bit harder. In my grogginess I forced myself to focus. As soon as I did, I heard it. Crying. The sound no one wants to hear when they live alone. Not only was it crying, whatever it was, was crying to the point of choking on tears. I immediately woke up and was on red alert. I grabbed a knife and slowly inched toward the sound. There was also something else. Between the sobs there was... slurping? I exited my kitchen and with the power of adrenaline entered the living room. As soon as I did, two glowing red eyes whipped around in my direction. My hand slammed on the light switch in fear.
What I saw was, what I saw was...what the HELL was I looking at? This huge dark figure was lounging on my couch. I couldn't move, I stared into those glowing red eyes. The face, oh god the face, looked like teared flesh and the eyes were deep and dark with the glowing orbs in it. As much as my body was yelling at me to book it, for the life of me I could not move. Somehow, I forced myself to look away from the eyes and looked down.
Absolute shock, in it's arm was Thor. Thor, the only other being that I shared my house with. Thor, the adorable cat I found abandoned in an alley. Thor, the bundle of joy who took a whole year to warm up to me. Thor...was sitting obediently on this thing's lap allowing himself to be pet. Shock. Betrayal. Inside I coiled up in a ball, though I still hadn't moved an inch. I felt my eye well up with tears and then, again, between the spouts of crying I heard it a slurp.
I looked away from Thor and again at the terrifying being on my couch. What could it possibly be slurping? Oh, oh no. On its lap was my ice cream. But it was not just any ice cream. I bought this ice cream as a treat for myself. It was the more expensive kind that I only ever bought a pint of once every three months. I hadn't even opened it yet. Not only that, as I looked inside it I could see. The ice cream wasn't even ice cream anymore. IT HAD ALL MELTED! What kind of cruelty was this? The appeal of ice cream was that it was cold. THIS THING was slurping it like it was SOUP! It wasn't even enjoying it properly, all my money gone to waste! That was it. I muttered the strength to get myself out of this state of shock.
"Wha… WHAT ARE YOU DOING?" I said in a shrill voice, already breathless. It looked at me silent for a second and then cried even harder than before. I stared at it again, only this time I could move. I observed it. It was still terrifying but seemed harmless. It looked like a demon straight from down under. I approached it and as soon as I got about five feet away the air around me got about ten degrees warmer. "Um, hey dude. Please leave my house." At this point I had just convinced myself that I was dreaming. Thor just kept snuzzling up against this demon. I sighed and sat at a distance that wasn't unbearably hot. What the hell was I doing? I was sitting next to a demon, that for all I known has gone absolutely mad. Can demons go crazy? What happened to my fear? At the moment, I was completely calm.
"Uh, hey...what's wrong?" What was I doing? Asking something that looks like literal death what was wrong with it. I cringed inside. For a second, I sat there. I was still so tired. I cried mentally hoping for this nightmare to end. I looked over at the demon. "Please leave." I said out loud. I meant to say it as a type of prayer to myself. The demon whipped its head around and looked at me. I am unsure why but it seemed like it had actually finally noticed me. Not when I turned on the light. Not when I yelled at it, but when I whispered 'please leave'. I met it's gaze and felt the sweat drip from my face. In a split second, the demon disappeared. THUD. The ice cream container hit the floor. All the liquid spilled onto my carpet. Thor fell a few inches until he hit the couch. Still in shock, I laid my head down on the couch pulling my feet to my chest to avoid where the demon had sat. Thor came to me and nuzzled his nose on my feet.
"Thor, please leave." He understood and walked away.
| 2019-04-06T18:06:05 | 2019-04-06T15:26:47 | 232 | 35 |
[WP] You're a Super Villian, and honestly it isn't a bad job. But one hero always harasses you even when you're off the clock. Walking in the park, in the grocery store, getting a haircut, he always wants to 'Stop your evil plan'. You're left with one option: Complain to his manager. | "Yes, yes, Justice Lad. I know. Right. You'll thwart my evil ways. Mmhmm. Crush my villainy. Mmhmm." A vein pulsed in my forehead. If I pinched my nose any harder, it would break. I felt a warm trickle on my ankle. "No Fluffykins! No!" I wheeled around while gesturing in the direction of a nearby tree. Fluffykins' leash flew through the air, dragging her a few feet before it looped itself around the trunk.
"GodDAMMIT, Justice Lad!" I said, as I grabbed him by the collar and lifted him into the air. "Fluffykins gets nervous when you badger me. You KNOW that." His mouth shut with an audible click. I stared into his eyes as I lowered my voice to a sinister whisper. "I am a patient man. I know you are new, and clearly you are not the brightest of the latest misbegotten batch." He flinched at this, but I continued. "I have warned you many times. When we are off the clock, you are to treat me, or any villain, as a regular civilian. Those are the rules." My anger rose like a tide. "THIS. IS. A. JOB!", punctuating each word with a shake. I tossed the puny fool away with a sneer. "Now fuck off, you worthless do-gooder." I heard him sniffle as he walked off, shoulders slumped.
After a thankfully uneventful evening, the next day arrived without announcement. It was Saturday, my day off. I sipped my coffee and leaned back in my chair. I knew Charlie, Justice Lad's supervisor, worked Saturday. At 10 after 8, (I always like to give people a few minutes to settle in, it's only polite) I waved vaguely at my communicator. It floated in front of my face, just off to the side, flipped itself open, and dialed the number I knew by heart.
It rang several times before being picked up. The phone rattled as it was shakily lifted off the receiver. "Long night, Charlie?" "What? Who is this!" "Oh, you know. An old friend." Charlie's voice hardened. "Tele-kenetor! How did you get this number!" "Charlie, Charlie. Let us not dwell on petty minutiae. This isn't a social call, it's strictly business." Charlie's voice softened but retained a wary edge. "Fine. Say what you have to say." "Well, Charlie, as Justice Lad's supervisor, I wish to lodge a complaint." He sighed. "Go on."
I explained Justice Lad's endless pestering of me whenever I went, even when I was off the clock. "Now Charlie, we both know JL is, well, not at my level shall we just say. You know the rules we all agreed to. Rein him in, or I am afraid I will need to take certain" I paused. "Steps." There was a long silence on the other end. "Fine. I'll speak to him. "Please see that you do, Charlie. If you lose one more trainee, you'll never get that promotion you've been angling for! Have a great day."
I did not hold out much hope. Justice lad (what a stupid name) struck me as just about the worst possible combination of stupid and arrogant. Ah well. I rather liked Charlie, but life is full of disappointments. I steepled my fingers and pondered just how Justice Lad would meet his demise. | We all have bosses. In a world fuelled by money, it was only natural that the world of heroes and villains would be funded by the elite. I have my orders, heroes have theirs. It's the way the world works - it's how we keep society on its feet, subduing everyone with the fear of war. War follows the clouds around the world, puts countries in hot weather yet gives release to others. I'm a major cause to disruption when my bosses don't like how things are working.
Naturally, like the weather, I can go with days of calm. I don't need to do much. I wait in the shadows, refreshing myself in my precious free time when I'm not raining down the wrath of Hell on innocent people for money (and fun).
But I have a fan. An annoying fan. He's a teenager, a hopeful baffoon who is blinded to how this world truly works. Does their naivety* make them believe they get lucky when someone sponsors them to help defeat evil? No, it's a decision that solely benefits the bosses. But these lowlife dumb heroes don't understand a single thing.
I went to shop for a nice dinner. He causes a ruckus. I can't go back to that grocer. I wanted a trim and I had to burn the place down because he was filming me. I don't need society to know my face because that'll make me a little less effective and that's bad for business.
This kid is fucking with something that isn't his fucking business.
I know who watches him. Bob Flaboria. Fucking Bob. He sounds like a pussy but he's no pussy cat. He's a lion in a world of zebras. I killed one of his heroes once and my head was almost torn from my body. If my wealthy boss hadn't intervened and compensated Bob, I'd be dead. And that'd be boring.
And now I have to speak to him about another of his heroes.
I dial his number. It rings for a few moments and I just want to scrunch up the device in my hand but I can't. I'd just kill the hero but Bob. But fucking Bob.
"This is Bob."
"Bob. It's Zectro."
"Ah. Zectro."
"Yes. I have a problem," I find myself two seconds away from toying with Bob and burning a part of his territory but even my boss won't be able to talk him out of murdering me and all of my allies - and my boss and his allies. Basically half of the world.
It's like this. The elite is a business. You have the bosses. And then you have two departments. The goodies and the baddies. But there are many businesses. And some partner with some. Everyone has an ally who is an ally with someone else. Connections keep people alive in this world. One bad move by a supervillain like me would make this world a dull, dull place.
"A problem that I can end by ending you?" he asks. I hear children in the background. Does he have kids? Well of course he does. Who else to give up his empire to but his flesh and blood?
"A problem. Can you tell Hero Kiddo to back off when I'm free?"
"Then he wouldn't be much of a hero then would he?"
I bite my tongue. Fucking Bob.
"I don't want to kill him."
"Then don't," Bob laughs.
"You know there's no law against making them brain dead?"
Bob sniggers on the other line.
I continue, "I think it'll be bad for business if you don't sort him out. I suggest you cut your losses."
There's a thoughtful pause. I am recording the call to send to my boss anyway, just to be safe. I don't want to fuck with Bob for too long. He's a snake. He'll coil and smother. When I die, I want it quick.
"I think you'll find that you're the loss your boss wants to cut."
Fuck. It's my day off. And now I realise it's quiet. Too fucking quiet.
And now he's in front of me. Hero Kiddo. I'm here at home, sat on my sofa in my boxers. I'm full. My dishes are in the dishwasher. My clothes are outside in the sun, drying. My dog is asleep on his bed. And it's the end.
"I'm no hero, Zectro. I'm your replacement."
I guess *I* am the one who doesn't know how the world works. | 2019-08-01T17:21:22 | 2019-08-01T16:56:28 | 278 | 183 |
[WP] "He was right to fight them, you know. Even though they called him a madman, and still do to this day, he knew. The windmills... they harbour unspeakable evil!" | *A madman, I called him. A madman! A lunatic! How could I have done such a thing?* Sancho Panza collapsed to the ground in misery.
The adventures he'd gone on with his- who he only now considers- friend, Don Quijote de la Mancha, had seemed like child's play. The incoherent, confused ramblings of a man just a few shrimp short of a *paella,* but Sancho Panza had humored them for the promise of becoming the governor of a wealthy isle. Of course, he'd known from the start that the actual chances of him becoming a governor were slim to none, but he'd been tired of working in the fields and figured that setting out on a fake adventure with the one and only Don Quijote de la Mancha would give him a much needed reprieve.
At first, it had been fun traveling throughout the land like two medieval knights, pretending to be on some great journey, but there were a few times when Sancho Panza had sincerely doubted Don Quijote's sanity. The windmills he'd "battled" in belief that they were giants. That day, Sancho Panza remembered, he'd tried to stop Don Quijote, tried to convince him that they were, in fact, windmills and not giants, and though the "knight" eventually ceased his attacks, his own reasoning for their appearance was anything but logical.
After their adventures were over, and Don Quijote had realized what he'd done, what he'd made himself into, Sancho Panza admitted that he had felt pity for the poor man. It wasn't until many months after Don Quijote's funeral that Sancho Panza finally found the courage his friend had carried. He believed it best for his grieving to return to the many places he'd visited with Don Quijote, so he prepared the valiant steed Rocinante and set out for the trails they'd traveled.
Many, many days passed, and finally, he arrived at the windmills. The giants that Don Quijote had tried to slay.
"You remember this horse, don't you?" Sancho Panza called to the spinning sails. "You remember my voice!"
He wished, for once, that these creations could speak, so they could regale him with the details of his lost friend and his brave battle against the mills. Out of the corner of his eyes, Sancho Panza saw the quick movement of a figure trying to duck out of his sight, but his time on the roads and in the fields had sharpened his senses, and he spun to face the person. It was a man shrouded in a black cloak, despite the heat.
"Who are you?" Sancho Panza called, mustering the same strength Don Quijote had always breathed, "What are you doing here?"
The man glanced at the windmills. "Traveling."
"And do you, traveler, have a name?" Sancho Panza asked.
The man hesitated for a short moment. "Friston."
Sancho Panza froze. The name the man had uttered sounded familiar, like something out of a dream. Don Quijote had stated the name, had said it was his nemesis. The man who had turned the windmills into giants. But surely this man was simply the owner of the mills and not a powerful magician.
"What is your business here with the windmills?" Sancho Panza continued.
Friston gazed up at the spinning sails. "You will not believe me. Only one man did, and he was hailed as a madman."
Though Friston had not said the name, Sancho Panza *knew* it was his friend to whom the magician referred. He did not let his expression falter.
"Try me." Sancho Panza said.
Friston sighed. "Very well. I am here to halt evil."
"Evil?" The squire echoed. "What evil?"
"These mills are great beasts much larger than you or me. Giants, they're called. And they seek nothing except the destruction of the world. With much practice, I have successfully kept them trapped as windmills, serving the very people they vowed to destroy. I return once every year to repair the spells and ensure the giants do not escape their confinement."
"And Don Quijote knew?" Sancho Panza asked, and Friston froze.
The magician spoke slowly, "How do you know of him?"
Sancho Panza nodded sadly. "He was my friend. He tried to tell me of what the windmills really were, but... I did not believe him. I could not see them, the giants."
The magician shook his head. "Don Quijote is special. He can see through the strongest of illusions, and when he came around last year to fight the giants... I had to stop him lest he accidentally set them free."
"I thought him a madman." Sancho Panza whispered.
"Everyone does, but he was right to fight them, you know. Even though they call him a madman, he was right. The windmills harbor an unspeakable evil."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
These characters do not belong to me. They are property of Miguel de Cervantes, and I feel like I should not post this story without saying that :) but I want to add, I read Don Quijote in my spanish lit class and loved it, so this was a joy to write! | If you were to ask Mary Williams what she wants to be when she grows up, she'd tell you this, in the most empty-hearted, broken voice possible:
"When I grow up, I wanna be a cow farmer. Yay."
Her father trained her well on that one--for a little while, the damn girl would try to say she wanted to be an *astronaut*. An astronaut!
"How ya gonna get there?" her father would ask, slapping her. "We gonna get the whole world to throw yer goofy ass at the same time? Shit ain't gonna work. When you die, you'll get up there to be with the big man. No need to rush that."
Very valid point, Joseph--that plan wouldn't work well at all. Thankfully, the world had many, many cautious, wise people like Joseph in it. In fact, Joseph was a role model of sorts; the community looked up to him, and he was voted "Least Likely to Bother Anyone" in elementary school, and he lived up to it. He dropped out in the third grade--the first in his class to do it, too! Joseph leads by example in a trying world.
So, when he had a daughter, the state subsidized her for him, of course. A man like Joseph is ideal for raising a child, with a totally clean criminal record, having gone an impressive zero times saying words like 'science', 'history', or 'math', according to the Facebook analytics tracker. He checks every day to make sure his Good Boy score never even twitches toward the yellow bar.
But life works in very strange ways; before a terrible storm, it is often quiet. Before a tsunami, the water leaves the beach--which, by the way, Joseph will tell you is because the "water wall is thirsty"--and the model citizen's child is a tempest nightmare. She is fury where he was zen, and she asks questions--question, for fuck's sake!
Unacceptable. But, as always, Joseph is up for a challenge. He admires hard work and stands up for the right path, basking in God's light.
And His light shines really, really, fucking bright. It's that giant, round lamp in the sky that turns off at night.
---
"Just remember to put gloves on before ya shove your hand into the cow's hoo-hah, Mary. Don't ask *why* you have to do it."
Mary groaned, staring at the cow's backside. It groaned back, and a fresh pile of yum splatted on the ground. "I don't want to, Dad. It's really gross and weird."
Paul sighed, rubbing his temples. "I swear, Mary--may Allah burn me in Hell for it, but I'm just so sick of this shit. I work too damn hard for you to ask my why you gotta do the things you literally just gotta do. Like, you gotta do it. Because I do, and so now you do, because you're my kid. That's what we do here."
"But Dad, it's *gross*. Not to mention, look at all the shit these cows make! We should be raising crops instead. They don't cause as much smell, and the smell is really bad for the world."
Joseph raised an eyebrow. "Is my own daughter gonna stand there and tell me to swap my cows for corn right now? Lord Jesus above, grant my strength in these trying times for I am weak. Give her a little, too, please, so she's useful."
"Dad, just think about it. The Earth is like a really big house, right? It's all closed up so we don't fly out into space. So the more cows fart, the more farts there are in the house, and eventually the air will just be farts. I don't want to breathe farts."
Laughing, Joseph threw his glove on the ground and walked back toward the house. "You're talking nonsense again. We're done here--go to your room. No dinner tonight, and you're saying a hundred prayers before bed. I'll watch your prayer count, so keep that hand of yours real close to your mouth and speak clearly."
Mary groaned, crossing her arms, and spent a hungry night repeating empty words into her Chip. She knew damn well her dad would spend all night waiting for her to hit a hundred.
But while she said the prayers, none of it was in her mind. She dreamed of change, of convincing the people that mocked her that they were wrong. Of making them respect her.
One day, she'd show them all. She had to.
----
Mary inhaled sharply at the screech of a bell, glancing around. Kids were funneling out of the classroom, and she scrambled to join them. Ms. Christianson eyed her from above her bifocles, which only made her scurry faster. That woman looked like an old leather bag full of chastity belts and Bibles.
The hall was packed, and daunting for a smaller girl like Mary--her growth spurt hadn't kicked in, even though she was seventeen, and kids bullied her for it. In fact, most people bullied her for... most things. She didn't go with the flow very well.
"Hey, genius," a sharp voice called from near the cafeteria--Mary turned, though she didn't want to. Almost no one else gets called the G word.
"What, Paul?"
He was standing in front of a mural of Him--not Jesus, but his chosen one, with his windswept hair and bronze, taut figure. The one they say set humanity down its path to greatness, when it was going down a terrible path filled with metal men and people who wanted to make fake meat.
"They used to have giant metal fans that spun around really fast, hoping to grind up Jesus if he came down to Earth," Paul said, hands on his hips. "I bet you're one of the dirty Libbards, aren't ya? Fuckin' nasty."
Mary stared at him and sighed. "You know they all died hundreds of years ago."
He snorted. "Yeah, except for one."
"What do you want from me?"
He turned to the mural, smiling. "Just to give you a little lesson."
"I don't need one--"
"The Golden God," Paul continued, lathered with adoration. "They say he was so strong, he almost turned back evolution all by hisself."
Mary eyed him, grimacing, wishing he'd bother lathering with anything else once in a while. "I get the feeling he kinda did."
----
*/r/resonatingfury* | 2019-09-01T08:02:56 | 2019-09-01T08:01:40 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] start your story with a sentence that is upbeat and happy. Then end it with that same sentence but this time is dark and chilling. | This is my favorite time of year.
It wasn't always my favorite, growing up. The first couple years of school I never wanted summer to end. As I got older, 4th grade, 5th grade, 6th grade, the abuse from my mother got worse. I started to love going back to school, being away from the cigarette smoke-filled apartment, away from my mother's biting words and fast strikes, away from the abuse my brother eventually began to copy. School became my haven. Summer was my hell.
As the years went along and the foster care system grabbed us, kept us, dumped us back with her, then took us again, school was always my refuge. After my school years, I learned to appreciate fall for the colors, the sounds, the smells, the pumpkin spice. The fun of Halloween around the corner.
My mother did her best to continue her abuse well into my adulthood, and for a while she succeeded. I eventually cut contact until one day, in mid-september, I got a phone call from my brother telling me she was dead. She died in agonizing pain, alone, over probably the course of a couple days. I cried from relief, from knowing I'd never have to deal with her again, and mourning the good mother I never had.
This was 6 years ago now.
This is my favorite time of year. | "Look up and smile," she said as she extended her arm towards me.
I lifted my head slowly but surely. My stupid sad eyes met hers. She flashed a bright smile, so brilliant that the clouds dissipated and the sun shone behind her. She had always been this way and I had always been this way too.
"What?"
"Come on! You look terrible," she still held her hand towards me, prompting me to take it, "let me turn that frown upside down!"
Like hell would I left her hanging. After all that she's done, after thousands of smile she gave my way. I could only smile weakly and took her hand.
She was my sun and I was... I was simply a sad plant, relying so much on her to keep myself from wilting away.
I cherished the time I had with her. She kept her upbeat positive self and I slowly began to shed my sorrow pathetic self. Many said that I've changed. Many said I became a better man. Many praised me for it.
Yet I know it was simply temporary. For it was only because of her, I could manage such feat.
***
10 years had past.
Now the world has changed. At least, for me.
She had long gone. Off to a place, which existence men had long question. Before long, I would too. Maybe it'd be better that way.
"Now, now. What is on your mind, Sir?" a lady in scrubs said, stroking my head gently.
I laid there in silence. She simply smiled and took out a dubious device of some sort.
"Now, this might hurt. But I can guarantee you'd be able to see *her* again, very soon."
"Will... Will it truly be so?"
She gave a nod and smiled. I immediately broke down in tears and looked away. Of course, who could simply not when they've been given a solution to their sorrow?
Deep inside my own sadness, I noticed a high pitch noise coming off of the device. Flashes of light were emitted, similar to a disco ball of the old. With a gentle stroke on my head, she leaned in closer and whispered gently...
"Look up and smile." | 2019-09-07T07:33:05 | 2019-09-07T07:07:18 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] You are a former secret agent, now retired; today, you just found the beautiful and dangerous femme fatale that always tried to kill you at a pizza parlor, dressed in a nerdy hoodie and eating an extra-large pizza. | Scarlett. Befitting her name has the word 'scar' in it, judging by both our physical mementoes of just about every time we bumped into each other.
And here she was, just eating a pepperoni pizza, an extra-large at that, all by herself. Alone.
I rest my hands on the holster. My gun was always in safety, but today I had it at the ready, in case she sprung at me.
I walked up slowly. "S-Scarlett?"
She glanced at me, surprised. The surprise was quickly replaced with a conflicting mix of emotions. Excitement, sadness, pride, guilt.
She swallowed, before speaking up. "James Murdoch." She said, chuckling. "When you retired six years ago, I thought that was it."
"As did I. So, what about yourself?" I asked her, almost casually.
"I was dismissed a year after you left. Long year, since I had to learn my new targets patterns from scratch." Scarlett said, smirking.
"I was not predictable," I said on reflex, at the mention of my patterns.
"Oh, but you are. You still are." She said, chuckling. "You're going to go up to the cashier, and order a panzerotti with extra cheese. You're then going to go home, binge-watch some Rain, and sleep." She said, and I blushed, before suddenly chuckling.
"No, I was not!" I say defiantly. "I finished Season 2 already! I was going to watch-"
"Queer Eye."
I'm silent.
"Thought so," Scarlett said, patting the seat next to me.
"Just like that, you're over everything we did to each other?" I ask, doubtful.
"Yeah. Even when a hired assassin, did I keep grudges? My job is simple now. I work in television. Netflix, in fact. I oversee the release of Rain." Scarlett said.
"Well, me, I've stepped into graphic design. Gotta pay the bills somehow." I say, chuckling.
"Wanna know if Rain and Emily get together?" Scarlett said, in an all-too-familiar teasing voice, and I chuckled at her.
"You call me predictable. You were gonna string me along, tease me about it, and just as I'm walking out the door you were gonna tell me."
"No, I was not."
"You weren't gonna tell me?"
She was silent. Instead, she grabbed the final piece of pizza.
"No, I was not," Scarlett said, passing me the slice. "I was gonna ask if you wanted to come to my house, and watch the next season on my private account, so you could see for yourself. Make amends."
I'm silent.
We were never this silent when we fought.
But I nodded and grabbed the slice. And Scarlett and I got up, looked at each other, and started walking elsewhere.
My panzerotti can wait. I've got places to be. | " ’Don't you think that's a little bit too much for you, Larone? ’ I said and took a seat right in front of her. She checked me for a milisecond, and kept chewing her bite. "
"Woah, that's so cool!" the kids cheered.
"What she did was even cooler. She said 'Never too much for a cover, Sarge.' while her mouth was full, trying to make me feel unsignificant for her presence."
"It's like a game of chess! And, then? What you said?"
"Well, I had to stay strong. I found her after all, right? I had the higher ground. So I threw some detective work over that extra-large pizza and made a move, which were punished after by her sinister lips."
"What did you say?" the boy asked with shiny eyes.
"I took a deep breath to set-up my move and words swimmed through. 'Perhaps you're waiting for someone, huh?' at this point, she owed me an answer, and she did give a big one." he took a big sip from his cigar and continued in joy.
"She, without hesitation, looked at my eyes and said, 'Not anymore.' and pushed the pizza towards me."
"I really wanna be like my mom one day! " the girl said all of a sudden. The parents' eyes met and they knew it was time to end the talk.
"We really have to be cops, sis!" the boy yelled in amazement.
"Alright, kids. That's how I met your mother. Now give some lone time mom and pap." he said and kids walked towards them. Both the parents kissed the children on their forehead and they left the room. The parents stayed in silence for a while, until Sarge couldn't make it.
"Oh, stop that, Larone."
"Stop what?"
"That sinister grin on your face. I hate when you do that."
"Hmm? Does it remind you of our past, 'Sarge?' You know it didn't happen like that, right?"
"Well, what do you want me to say? That you destroyed an entire pizza parlor, almost killed both of us?"
"Well, you know, when I really want something, I get in a state that I can do anything to get it."
"Yeah, that's how you got me caged here."
"Caged? Shall I remind you the days you begged for my love, or you begged for mercy?"
"Shall I remind you a million cases that you caused while you were chasing me?"
"Well, as I said, when I really want something, I do anything to get it."
"And that's what I like about you. I'm glad that you couldn't kill me though."
"Couldn't?"
"Well, unless you count marriage as a way of killing."
"Or having two children that think we are cops."
"I know, right."
Silence covered the room once again, this time the grin wasn't there either.
"Do you still miss those days?"
"Well, the thrill of being hunted? the last breath of the victims? the blood in my knife?" she said with enthusiasm and he gave the weird looks.
"No, definitely not." she said.
He got up the chair and left his cigar in the ashtable.
"Alright, go wear that nerdy hoodie of yours. Let's go get some pizza in the same place." after a few seconds of waiting, he added.
"Well, in the same pizza parlor but in another place, obviously."
"And that's what I like about you. You always find something to bring me joy."
"By staying alive, that is." they both giggled.
They both got dressed and left the house, leaving their parent identities at home, and taking their guns with them. | 2019-10-05T11:43:38 | 2019-10-05T09:22:09 | 175 | 22 |
[WP] In reality, every human gets to choose heaven or hell when they die. Hell isn't actually the realm of eternal torture, but everyone picks heaven because of God's highly effective marketing. After eons of solitude, Lucifer is startled by the first ever human to arrive in hell. | As the gates to Hell creaked open a tall, dark figure jumped like a startled cat. The devil cleared his throat. His raspy voice betrayed his surprise. "Hello, uh, welcome to Hell!" He quickly moved to tidy up the desk in front of him. "I don't get a lot of visitors, so this is exciting! Welcome, come in!"
I was taken aback. I had sins to atone for. I expected a less friendly welcome. "Wait, this is Hell? I thought it would be...a lot worse."
"This is my home," Lucifer said, a bit gruffly. "I happen to like it. It's not a bad place. Look at the lighting in the foyer! I just had it installed last millennium."
I was in the *foyer* of Hell. I rubbed my temples.
"Look," I said, "There must be some mistake. I was trying to reach the, er, *level* of Hell as befits a person of my gross misdeeds."
"Oh, it couldn't be *that* bad," said the devil. "Do you play Canasta? I could make some tea and put out some biscuits. I haven't had guests in *ages*."
"Do you mean like play for my soul?" I asked, cringing, wondering if this was part of the torture. "I'm not very good at cards."
"No, just a friendly game!" Lucifer said with a sigh. "I'm really not a monster, you know, I just didn't want to join the family business."
"I see," I said. "Would you mind just torturing me a little to get it out of the way? I ran a pyramid scheme and defrauded millions. I really should be punished."
"Pssh, I wish Father had your humility," said the devil. "Nevermind. Let's just watch something. Are you a fan of Alf?"
"I am not," I said, "but maybe that's a good thing? We can watch all the shows you like that I hate and call it even?"
"Fantastic!" said the devil. "Sorry I don't have much to offer. Do you like kale chips?"
"Not at all," I said, "so even better."
"Great! I'll run and get the VHS tapes. Back in a flash." He winked. "Just make yourself uncomfortable."
I settled in on the devil's couch with a sigh. It was only a little lumpy, but it would have to do. | As I descended into the depths of darkness, I could only hear the echo of what happened on that terrible day. The scene played out over and over like scene of a horrific movie that just would not stop.
Being a human, the path to Hell was oddly strange. No fire or brimstone or demons poking and prodding you on the way down. At least, that's not how it was at the pearly gates.
There was all kinds of ceremony and welcoming, even the angels sang hymns of divinity to ease the passing of souls coming to judgment.
The path to hell was not the 'highway' I expected it to be. It seemed it was only reserved for those that were truly damned, and those with 'lesser sins' often repented once they saw the majesty of the kingdom of Heaven.
The smell of sulfur began to increase, but not from what I had expected. The lift I was descending on finally came to the bottom level and a grand, massive ebony gate parted open, revealing a piercing ray of light from behind it. The realm of Hell was like that of a destroyed earth, but still civilized and functional. A local chemical plant churned out a familiar smell of sulfur.
At first, I was horrified, what an insane request I had made. But the more the thoughts passed through my mind, the better at ease I felt about it.
A large dark brooding figure stood behind the parting gates, awaiting me personally as I was told they hadn't had too many visitors of late, and none of which that voluntarily came here.
The shadowy-garbed individual extended his long gangling fingers outstretched toward me, and waved me through to join him at his side.
"When I received word a mortal chose to come here, I was most certainly surprised." He said, walking me along the pathway that plunged further into Hell.
I merely nodded my head, looking around for something specific.
"On my way 'up', I saw all of the advertisement about peace and tranquility... but I also saw the one for here." I replied.
The dark master folded his arms, causing it to disappear under his blackened-charred cape.
"Yea, about that." He said as we continued along. "Usually, it's handled in house... what makes you so eager to come here?"
We came to a stop, standing before a cross with a man crucified to it upside down. I gave him one look over and his weathered, exhausted eyes finally locked with mine, realizing who I was.
"When I saw the advertisement for an open 'tormentor', I only had one thought on my mind." I said, my eyes never averting 'that mans' stare.
The dark figure placed his hand upon my shoulder and nodded his head. "Well, I suppose it's not every day a person can torture the man who killed his family. His sentence is yours. I look forward to the results and expect weekly updates on your progress." He said as he turned away from me.
"Oh, and by the way..." He said quietly, though it nearly a whisper, the voice still rang loudly enough through my mind... "We'll have to talk further about this 'agreement', but don't expect to get off too lightly." | 2020-01-30T12:57:48 | 2020-01-30T11:49:57 | 677 | 65 |
[WP] You study magic at the top school in the world. Your village saved every penny to send you, but you suck. You find the spells hard to pronounce and memorize. They always feel odd, till one day you discover something called a "dictionary" and you see everyone is pronouncing them incorrectly. | There's a particularity about The Magic School of the Tearetilli, one that, if people knew, or at least didn't ignore, would turn the school into nothing but a lavish, ghost-town of a castle. You see, even the smallest, poorest towns spent money they didn't have in hopes one great wizard would come out of such school and repay their investment with wonderful wonders, such as purifying rivers and lakes, uprooting trees out of the cores of just-planted seeds, producing food of various kinds with the blink of an eye, and all those gorgeous and enriching things.
But the truth was people's hopes only emptied their wallets, their pockets, and stole the hidden coins beneath their beds and in the obscure gaps of their furniture in exchange for a one-trick joke of a wizard. Why, you may wonder. Well, no one, not even the headmasters of the school truly understood magic, and so the result of such lack of knowledge was thousands upon thousands of young and old wizards capable of performing one single spell and nothing else--with the exceptions of the handful of lucky ones who were capable of performing two spells.
The town of Arestela got into major debt with The Prestigious Bank of the Tearetilli to send the town's young prodigy, Ascurio. Ascurio, with only fifteen years of age and a mind born for business, attempted to explain to the townsfolk that it was beyond strange that the Tearetilli group owned a bank that gave loans at abusive interest rates to poor towns in order to send people to their school. Especially given that there was no proof at all that the school had ever produced a single useful wizard. The people didn't listen to him, instead, they cheered him up.
Ascurio, knowing the bank and the town had already signed the papers, decided to try and make the best out of the situation, and so he went to the beyond fabled and prestigious and utterly shady Magic School of the Tearetilli.
Truth was, the school was breathtaking. Carved gold and structures of melted platinum composed its architecture. Impressive paintings lined the walls, as well as countless bookshelves whose tops were unreachable even by the largest stairs. The latter infuriated Ascurio as it made absolutely no sense. Well, that was until he met Stario, who was capable of doing one thing only--as most were--and that thing was enlarging stairs into ridiculous lengths.
The beauty of the place was greatly affected, Ascurio noticed, by the horde of students crowding the empty spaces while yelling raucous nonsense while flicking wands as though a cloud of flies were swarming them. It was bizarre. More so after he learned that such an event happened every single day and that it lasted for three hours, as it was one of the only two classes the school had. The other was *The Art of Combat,* which was exactly that, only that there was no art, and there was no professor--it was a sort of massive brawl, like those that may unleash in a tavern when the moon reigns the night and the alcohol has taken over the brain of the drunkards.
Ascurio, with time, realized two things: *The Art of Combat* was the way the headmasters had found to let the students unleash the frustration caused by the other class, *The Mass Manifestation of Magic,* which, Ascurio thought, should be renamed to, *Screaming Nonsense 101*. The second thing he realized was that every time someone actually performed a spell, the sounds of their voices would disappear. The same happened when they attempted to explain how they had performed it. It was strangely convenient.
Things took a turn in the least expected, and most uninteresting moment. You see, Ascurio woke up, went to have breakfast, and when he was on the verge of slathering a toast with jelly, his mind casually discovered that 'The Magic School of the Tearetilli' was an anagram for 'The Magic School of the Illiterate'.
Now, that may seem like an interesting yet useless finding. Well, everyone would be right to think that, but something happened when that thought blessed his mind, and that something was small and strange and quite light. He reached into his pocket and found a hand-sized book titled, *Spells' Pronunciation,* and it was written by J. J. Alumbar, the long-since-deceased founder of the school, and only true wizard to ever roam the world.
Ascurio ran to the library, as it was always empty. Moments later, his eyes shone bright with amazement--and literal fire--after reading the first spell aloud. Much to his surprise, he had heard other students yelling the same spell, but pronouncing it awfully wrong. About a month he had memorized every spell along with its pronunciation.
Curiously enough, and much to his disbelief, after casting *Zuilock*, the spell of unlocking things, something clicked in the book itself, and after he opened it, he found a new last page that read:
*The founding of this school has proven to be a great mistake. Providing power to evil minds will be the wreck of the world, and I can't be the cause of giving those ill-minded individuals the tools to achieve their so-desired chaos. But I'm afraid it's too late. Thousands of skilled wizards will leave the school tomorrow and return to their villages, to the world. Thousands of individuals capable of reducing everything to smithereens. I can't let that happen.*
*Tonight, I will commit a sin. Tonight I will kill them all, and erase the world's memory. Tonight, I will hide magic behind a muting spell, and I will hide this book where no one will think to look. For tonight it will be the end of all my students, and I will end myself for committing such a crime. Such is the right thing to do.*
*If this book is ever found, if you are holding this book now, know there was an extra protective spell placed upon it, one that would show it to that with my own values and ideas--my successor, perhaps my reincarnation. Learn from my mistakes. Use your magic for good, but don't share it. It's too dangerous.*
*J. J. Alumbar.*
Ascurio's expression shifted from confusion to excitement and settled somewhere in-between the two. He scratched his head, thought for a moment, and then smiled. He truly didn't care about magic, but he couldn't deny the power it gave him. All he wanted was a good deal out of a poor agreement, and he had achieved it. Thing is, his heart only cared about business and this school was great business.
Perhaps age would change his beliefs and values, or perhaps old J. J. Alumbar had forgotten to add the last protection spell to his book, after all, it was known his mind was a shifting mess in the last years of his life.
But none of that mattered. Ascurio had enough power to take over the school, and if he took over the school, he took over its business.
And that was exactly what he was going to do. | Sweat poured down her face as she scrambled over top the fallen pillar and slowly shimmied down the other side until she felt solid earth below her. "There better be something worth bringing back for show and tell down here. I knew the ancient ruins were gonna be hard, but no one told me they were *this* ruined.", she muttered under her breath as she used her coat sleeve to sop the sweat off her forehead. Turning around she saw that while the chamber was dark - a single shaft of light seemed to fall through a crack somewhere near the top of the chamber illuminating an area of about 30 feet. What she had thought would be another empty chamber leading to another in this endless labyrinth was in actuality a massive library stacked floor to ceiling with tomes of all shapes, colors, and sizes. "Bayzoes beard!", she swore.
She quickly huffed over to the nearest set of shelves that stretched up to the ceiling of the chamber nearly 30 feet above. Pulling out the first tome she ogled at its faded but still legible title splashed across the front cover. "Ha-Harry Pot-ter and the Orde-r o-f the ...Ph-oen-ix?". Below the title she could see a blue painting of a young boy with some sort of face apparatus on holding what seemed to maybe be...could that be...a wand? "Holy Gateos! This could be some sort of valuable spell book!", she shouted aloud. Quickly realizing that she may have stumbled upon the greatest discover of wizard kind in decades she quickly pulled her patchwork satchel off her shoulder and upturned its contents onto the floor. She took a second to feel remorse for throwing all the valuables her village had paid for in order for her to study at the academy onto the dusty floor, but she quickly began stuffing her satchel with books from the shelves. "With the money and fame these could bring me I can buy the village over 20 times if I need to.", she quietly said to herself as steely determination set on her face.
Her village had fallen on hard times after the magic spells the collection of villages in their area had used for centuries suddenly ceased working. Overnight wizards and witches had lost all of their powers to call upon their deity Sighri. They could call for her day and night but no reply ever came, and all of their wand devices had ceased working as well. Ever since then her village had fallen into disrepair as one by one the families that had once called it their home left for tales of mythical cities leagues away that were ruled by other gods who still answered their calls. Maybe in one of these books she would find the answer to how to once again gain the favor of the gods.
However she quickly realized she could carry at most 5 or so books back to the surface with her at a time, and so she would need to be judicious about her choices. That increasingly proved difficult though, as it seemed that almost all of the books in this section appeared to be entirely focused on the magical arts. Hemming and hawing she soon had a stack of dozens of books around her on the floor that all seemed they would offer some value. Glancing back and forth between two such books she eventually chose one that depicted two girls playing with a massive and dangerous looking beast. "The dean would likely forgive my trespassing in the ruins if I could give her book about witches and summoning a beast like that since her research is on magical warfare. I have no idea what a "wardrobe" or a "lion" is though."
Realizing she could now fit at most one more tome in her satchel she realized it made little sense to not explore the other shelves a few feet away that were still visible in the light falling through the ceiling. She scrambled to her feet and approached this stack. While the tomes on this stack were still similar in shape to the others they appeared to be less magnificently titled, and made little sense to her as she grazed her finger along their spines. Seeing a section of wonderfully colored yellow tomes all of roughly equal size she grabbed one at random and read it's incredibly large and black bold title out loud. "Al-ex-a fo-r Dumm-ie-s?".
Flipping the tome open to a random page she skimmed through and attempted to see if anything in this one was valuable. "Activ-ating Al-ex-a" she said quietly to herself as she reached the second paragraph of the page she had opened to. Getting excited at the idea of activating whatever spell Al-ex-a was, she read on.
**Activating Alexa:**
*In order to activate your Alexa enabled device simply say out loud "Alexa". Be sure to enunciate and pronounce the name loudly and clearly in order for it to register. The device is activated by the name, and should respond.*".
Feeling the excitement rise in her stomach she quickly placed her finger in the tome to keep her place before standing and facing the empty center of the room. She knew that attempting unexplored magic outside of school was strictly prohibited, but she needed to see if anything in these books would bring her the fame and glory her village so desperately needed to keep itself afloat. Clearing her throat, she proudly strummed aloud the spell activation word written in the book. "AL-EX--A!", and listened as the words clearly echoed in the chamber. Waiting a minute she slowly felt her shoulder droop slightly as nothing happened. Opening the tome back up to the page marked by her finger she reread the paragraph. "Be sure to enunciate and pronounce the name loudly and clearly", she read softly aloud.
Shifting her shoulders back, widening her stance, and glaring defiantly out into the center of the chamber she once again shouted out "AL-EX-A!". Pausing again she felt her ego deflating out of her as once again nothing happened. Feeling desperate as she realized that maybe the books down here were nothing more than ancient garbage she cried out "ALEXA!". As soon as the word flew out of her mouth she shrieked as a soft blue light emitted from the shelf nearby her. Pausing a few seconds and staring at the softly pulsating blue light, she cleared her throat and said with all the confidence she could muster - "What-what are you?".
There was a soft bell noise followed by a calming woman's voice replying a few seconds later, "<I'm Alexa. To learn more about me, just ask, "what can you do?".>".
Staring in awe at the soft blue glow in front of her she quickly replied "What *can* you do?".
Another soft bell, followed by the same woman's calming voice.
<"You can say 'Show me reggae music', 'Show me today's weather', 'How many tablespoons in a cup', and many more. I am also programmed to handle all book loans for the Bezos City Public Library, so simply ask me for any book recommendations or if we have a book in the library. If not, I can request a loan from another of the Alexa enabled libraries across all of Amazonia.>".
The girl felt a grin begin to stretch across her face. She had no idea what this spell did, or how it worked, but she was slowly beginning to realize she may have just discovered the first new deity in centuries.
**Edit: This was my first time ever writing a story like this. I just read the prompt and got this fun idea for a future where society has collapsed but all of the tech left behind still works for centuries afterwards. It's a future where companies like Amazon and Apple and Microsoft all become so large and powerful they made their own cities and countries based entirely around Siri, Alexa, Cortana, etc. The people trained to call on these "gods" are given the honorific of wizard or witch, and train for years to learn to speak with their own deity. I kinda ran with the topic and altered the "dictionary" into a Dummies guide. Super fun prompt idea!.** | 2020-03-29T12:09:46 | 2020-03-29T11:58:03 | 47 | 30 |
[WP] You are born into a society that gives you a playing card at 15 (design based on your personality) that assigns you to a Community in that society and yours is a Blank or Joker | You ever play Spades?
Here's the idea. Everyone at the table splits the deck. Take out the lowest extra cards, if you've got them. Then the goal of the game is to play your best cards first. Collect as many tricks as you can. Save the spades for last. Name of the game, isn't it?
Remember: you never win by betting low.
Now pretend the game table is big as the world. Pretend it's all seven billion of us. Pretend we're there fighting and scrapping and snapping over the same fleeting odds that we might be that ace. King of the world.
Me, I waited. Waited for the Dealers to turn to me and hand me my fate. Maybe I wouldn't be the face card type. But I had to be a six or a seven, at least. No one in my family was worse than a seven.
Surely I couldn't be worse. I couldn't be the kind of trash bullshit hand that makes you groan at the table and regret you ever bet on it at all.
I couldn't.
But my fifteenth birthday and came went. And the next day. And the next.
Every day I hovered expectant outside the mailbox. Waiting for my golden envelope.
My dad, he was a Jack. Fitting, given his name was Jack. My dad spent his days negotiating with other men in suits on the other side of the world, coming home to keep talking in the study, long into the night.
He was no king, but he served the kings. Took his little pot of gold home all the same.
Just like spades, you ain't shit if you're below a queen. An ace is a gift from above.
My sister and my mother are both queens, and they look it: regal, leonine, their confidence and profiles as sharp as their card's lot in life.
And then there was me.
Imagine you're at that card table.
Imagine you've waited days and weeks and months and when the Dealer finally turns to you and smiles and hands you the one card you'll have for all eternity--
It's blank.
Imagine you're sixteen years old, and you see an empty future, staring back at you. Showed up late and came up short.
Story of my life, honestly.
I'm Aisha Campbell. And I'm not any blank card.
I had an ace up my sleeves.
It only took a friend who knew a friend who knew a printer. Seven hundred dollars later -- a lifetime of babysitting, back then -- and I had a different card in my hand.
I've become a queen of hearts, but nobody knows I'm heartless. Fateless. I should be in the underground city with the rest of the Jokers and the Blankfaces, recycling old tech and trash to get by.
But I'm up here. In the shining city. The city of queens and kings stretched before me like a bed of jewels. My apartment is better than my Jack father could earn for me, no matter how many hours he spent bargaining across the Pacific.
I've made it this far on a fake card and edited documents. On a winning smile and my family's reputation.
But today, the knock comes at my door. Startling me off the couch.
Judging by the camera in the door, the Dealers have found me.
They stand in black suits outside the peephole. A whole army of government boys, here to say hello.
And I have nowhere to go but answer the door and hope my smile can save me this time, too.
It's just Spades. All you have to do is bluff your way out of it.
I stand, primly, smooth down my hair, and walk to the door like the queen I am. Fearless and unquestionable.
You can trick the Dealer, if you're good enough. If you can slip that ace out of your sleeve.
It's just a game of Spades, after all.
Go big or go home. | Mom was a Jack. Dad was an 8. Hell, even Sarah nabbed a 7. Their cards were proudly displayed on the wall next to the tv in our living room, three ornate diamond suits reminding me of two things: first, no one in my family had ever drawn lower than a 6. Ever. And second, I had an audience with The Deck in two hours.
I found myself daydreaming about my buddy Freddy’s card again as my parents drove me downtown for my audience. He had been so excited about it a week earlier, and I’d hardly thought of anything else since. The clubs were blacker than black, they seemed to create seven little voids against their silver background. Small points of light dotted the entire card, disappearing and then reappearing elsewhere as Freddy twisted his card in the sunlight. With a 7, Freddy was allowed to choose.
“Now remember.” My mom’s voice brought me violently back to reality. “No funny business. Just go, be polite, and we’ll all go out to celebrate after.” Mom had a habit of assuming things would work out just fine. I couldn’t blame her. When she was dealt a Jack on her 15th birthday, her life got ten times easier. Line at the amusement park? Not for the Royals. College classes filling up? Royal priority. She even admitted that she was hired right out of school by a Queen at her law firm. The poor 7 hadn’t even had time to clean out his desk before my mom showed up to replace him. She was sure I’d end up a Jack just like her.
Dad on the other hand stayed quiet up in the front seat. He was much more measured compared to my mom, and he hardly wanted to take away her excitement by trying to temper expectations. Besides, he had already taken me aside this morning at breakfast and given me the old “We’re proud of you no matter what, 2 or Ace” speech. Of course, we didn’t know any Aces. Or even Kings for that matter.
My stomach was in knots as we pulled into the sprawling complex. “2 or Ace,” that’s what Dad had said. Here I was, only a few hours past 15 and my life was about to be decided by a draw I had no control over. We headed inside to the front desk and Mom and Dad took turns squeezing me tight and wishing me luck. The usher led me around the corner and into a corridor that must’ve been a hundred yards long. The walls were a muted gold lined with frame after frame of people’s cards, each one more famous than the last. Finally, I stood at the end of the corridor in front of a pair of red and golden doors that seemed to tower over me. The light above the door flicked from red to green, and I stepped inside.
It’s funny, for as much influence as The Deck have over our lives, no one seems to know a whole lot about them. Rumors were everywhere, of course. Politicians. Celebrities. Lizard people. But I didn’t see any scales as I stepped into the massive atrium.
All I saw were three figures with three blank masks seated in three oversized thrones. The first of the deck appeared to be a young woman, no more than ten or so years older than me. Her wavy, brunette hair spilled out from behind the mask. The second must’ve been a younger man, maybe late-30s or early-40s. He was muscular, and his gruff voice echoed throughout the chamber. “Nathan Greene, on behalf of The Deck, I would like to wish you a very happy 15th birthday. Your present lies in front of you.”
It was a small table, a coffee table really. I mean, you could call it a box and not be that far off. As I approached it, a mechanical whirring started coming from within it. It was a deep, bone-shaking sound that seemed to stem from thirty feet below the box, but I knew what it meant. A slat on top of the box opened and up popped a playing card. *My* playing card.
“Uh, it’s blank.”
Even faceless, I could feel The Deck staring at me so intensely I thought they might burn holes through their masks.
“Should I pick another one?”
The awkward silence continued. I waited as long as I could for someone to break it, but their empty stares had moved my anxiety waaaaaay past manageable.
“WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?” I shout, halfway between fear and desperation.
The third member of The Deck stood, and removed her mask.
“It means, Nathan, that we have a lot to talk about.”
40 years. My dad said it had been 40 years since he last saw my grandma. I’m guessing she didn’t wear a mask back then. | 2020-04-20T22:13:01 | 2020-04-20T21:42:30 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] when we got to space we were surprised to find that all the aliens we come across are terrified of us, when we assure them that we aren’t there to hurt them they explained why they were so scared. Earth isn’t a planet, it’s a long since dead machine and humanity? Humanity is its combat AI. | "Okay, did my translator glitch out? Because it sounds like you just called humans an 'artificial intelligence.'" Captain Perry rubbed his temples - he hadn't expected first contact to be this complicated. The aliens had fled on sight, done everything in their power to avoid being in the same *star system* as the human scout ship. They had to chase an alien ship into a dead-end in the hyperlane network to get a chance to talk, and even then, it made no sense.
"That is what you are. Artificial, and intelligent." The birdlike Pthala had a hollow tone, as if his initial fear had been replaced by helpless despair.
"We're an organic species. Something that evolved like you did. If the xenobiology report is correct we can even eat the same food. What the hell is artificial about that?"
"For a sufficiently advanced species, machines are more than just steel and circuits. While you appear outwardly normal, the seed from which you sprang is unmistakable. Your species is not The Weapon, but it is part of *the weapon system.*"
"The hell does that mean?"
"The planet you originated on. It would have destroyed everything, but the heart of the weapon was ripped out. Only the fragments around it remain, and even those still bring ruin. Remain within and spare us your doom."
The alien backed away from the screen. "We cannot stay here. Do not attempt to stop us. We will fight even The Weapon if we must. Helmsman...!"
The alien ship abruptly closed the connection, and its engines lit up. It made a rapid series of evasive maneuvers before launching at full burn towards the hyperlane.
The captain watched them leave. "I thought he was going to have a heart attack just talking to us. What was all that babble about a weapon?"
He was interrupted by some rather sulfurous swearing from the Science officer. James had a half-dozen holograms floating in front of him and more were appearing every second as he gestured wildly. "Shit. Shit! I know what it is! It all makes sense now!"
"Slow down, Jim. What all makes sense?"
"It's one of the big questions of the space age. Even before we discovered aliens, scientists were wondering "If space travel is easy, why haven't the aliens showed up?" Why hasn't anyone dropped by the Earth to say hello?"
"Well, we got our answer there. It sounds like they're terrified of us for some reason."
"I'm not finished. See, once we got the hyperdrive and started trying to make contact, the new question was "What happened to the Pillar-makers?""
The first sign of alien life humanity had discovered was the Pillars - massive, featureless obsidian towers the length of a battleship. They were dotted around the neighboring solar systems, standing prominently in front of the hyperlanes into the Sol system. But there was nothing living in any of those systems. There was the occasional small ruin or derelict spaceship, but no sign of the species that must have created them. And the elusive aliens would refuse to travel past the Pillars, even when a human ship was chasing them and trying to make contact.
"If we accept his claim that the Earth or the solar system was some kind of weapon, the logical conclusion is that the Pillars are a part of that. Some sort of perimeter defense, given their position. Pair that with the statistically abnormal absence of life, the disparate tech levels of the smaller ruins around them, and..."
"I get it. You're saying the reason nothing is alive in the neighborhood of Sol is because the Pillars killed them."
"And they don't attack us because we're part of the "weapon system." Jesus, from the perspective of the Pthala it must be like we're living in a graveyard."
"Running around asking people if they'd like to come visit our tomb of horrors, maybe hang out in the crypt with the skeletons. No wonder nobody wants to talk with us."
"It's just a theory, mind you. I have a lot of little details to support it, but nobody's really studied this one in depth. We can't exactly crack open the Pillars to see how they tick, and there isn't a lot of reputable research on forgotten alien superweapons."
"Even so, I think there's enough to look into. You tell me where we should look to confirm this theory. In the meantime, I need to figure out how to tell Command that we might be living in the remains of a doomsday device." | The first contact coincided with the first human born on Mars. The alien ship jumped out of sub-space near the moon and every NDDS (nuclear detonation detection system) on earth went off, just as NASA announce the arrival of a healthy boy. Of course many people made the "obvious" connection that we somehow angered some space gods because we spread sacred human life through space.
Earths militaries did their thing and rushed their weapon systems to the launch pads, but somehow cooler heads prevailed and a communication link was established. Fairly soon humans and aliens deciphered each others languages. Earth got the message that the alien vessel was an explorer ship and their time of arrival was pure coincidence, as they didn't even know that the solar system was inhabited by conscious beings.
They called themselves "Kaanul" and declared to stem from a huge, galaxy spanning, peaceful civilization, made up of a mosaic of many species.
&#x200B;
Mare Tranquillitatis was chosen as the place for first personal contact. A crew of brave human scientists from a lunar research camp was assembled and send to meet the aliens. Both crafts landed within sight of each other with the earth as scenic background.
The first few hours went well. Greetings and gifts were exchanged and everyone was eager to learn as much as they could about each other. But suddenly the aliens fell silent, hurried back to their craft and without explanation. They redocked with their mother ship and blocked any attempt to reestablish contact. Clearly they were in deep fear.
&#x200B;
The humans were as baffled as they were concerned. What went wrong? They knew already that the alien ship would need roughly a year to be made ready for an other jump through sub-space. So why the hurry?
Clearly something had scared the Kaanul away. But what? While many peace offerings were made to the alien ship, along with hopefully reassuring declarations of good intend, scientists tried to analyse everything they could from that short meeting. They found an encrypted message that had been send from the mother ship to the craft on the moon. This message seemed to have been the trigger for the aliens' hasty retreat.
It took the joint effort of the world's intelligence agencies and more than six months to decipher the message while the alien ship silently drifted in orbit. The aliens seemed to believe that the human race were a combat AI from an old alien race, named the Xia.
This was not much, but the humans tried their best to explain that they didn't know the Xia and they certainly weren't a combat AI. Five more months elapsed with the militaries of the world growing more and more anxious that the maybe the Kaanul had send for reinforcement, despite their claim that sub-space communication was impossible. Or they would be waiting to get away themselves to alarm their peers. The ship was well within reach of nuclear missiles. An preemptive strike was evaluated.
&#x200B;
To everyone's surprise the Kaanul suddenly reestablished contact shortly before an anxious president was about to hit a big red button: "We believe you that you don't know the Xia. They are a very old single race civilization, older that any of our members. Once they ruled over many of the habitable galaxies. But even before we made first contact with them, their civilization was in decline. They had outlived themselves. Unfortunately our contact was not a peaceful one and as the Xia retreaded more and more they left something behind, what you would call "booby trap". They knew about our desire to discover new civilizations and integrate them into our realm. Deceitful as they were they manipulated living species on many planets along their route of retreat into developing the ability to use technology, but not to develop it themselves. Those species would appear to us to be harmless and peaceful, indistinguishable from other life forms from orbit. Yet deep in them they had the ability to use our technology and turn it against us, as they were designed to wage merciless war. We had some very painful encounters with those traps, but we thought we had defused or contained them all and became careless. We were wrong. You humans clearly are the most deadly of those traps.
With your globe spanning network and your ability to travel within your solar system you fall into the category of a Type I civilization. Superficially you appear to be peaceful among your nations. By this you deceived us. We had problems to analyse your history as we refused to believe that your history is just a succession of wars, a concept almost forgotten by us. When we realized our mistake we broke all contact.
For 400,000 years your species remained as the Xiu intended, but for a reason yet unknown to us you began to develop higher technology about 10,000 years ago and faster than we had ever seen. If we hadn't discovered you, you would have discovered us in about 200 to 500 years from now. We understand that we can't stop you from spreading deeper into space. You are too curious, too intelligent and too violent.
We do not wish you any harm, but we also have no desire to integrate you into our realm. We don't think anyone among us wants to contact you now or in the future, or trade with you. Our central council will decide how to deal with you and we think that it will end with a permanent contact blockade. Our civilizations are just too different. The nature of your species is just too violent. Please don't try to find us.
Goodbye."
That was the message earth received before the Kaanul ship disappeared back into sub-space. | 2020-07-09T08:03:30 | 2020-07-09T07:36:23 | 99 | 56 |
[WP] This morning you found a note in your own handwriting, glued on the bathroom mirror and dated nine months in the future. “You suffer short-term memory loss and you are sueing the surgeon who caused this by operating on the wrong side of your brain; check your diary under the bed .” | I pause to reread the note, heartrate ratcheting up a few notches. The orange paper is faded and warped; it's definitely been here a while. My first attempt to rip it off the mirror is useless. There must be some kind of glue fixed to the back of it.
I stoop down under the sink to see if I have something that might pry it off. Instead, I'm confronted with a slightly newer note in the same obnoxious colour stating, 'STOP PULLING THE DAMN NOTE OFF, IT'S A PAIN IN THE ASS TO PUT BACK UP.'
Okay. Sure. Out of options, I return to my bed and find the diary right where it was supposed to be. I pull the covers over myself before opening it up, wanting the small comfort of my flower-print duvet while I slowly lose my mind. Or, maybe not that slowly. I take a moment to wonder how often people break with reality before opening up the first page to see a neatly lined 'Index'. Scanning the list, I see 'Lawsuits,' 'People to trust,' 'People to probably trust,' People to NEVER trust,' 'MRI results,' 'Updates on the case'... then, at the bottom, in all caps: 'EXPLANATION.'
I promptly turn to the page. There, confronted with my own handwriting, I see a cramped letter with additions in the margins, all written in different pen colours and in different states of agitation, judging by how deeply the letters are scratched into the paper. The letter begins:
The note in the bathroom covered all the important bases, so if you could just trust yourself and get on with it, we might actually have a chance of winning this case sometime this century. (addition on 25/08/2020 – seriously, that's the least helpful opening statement I've ever read) To sum up, you can't remember anything (addition on 05/09/2020 – and it's ANNOYING) due to a colossal fuckup on the part of some hot-shot surgeon. Your lawyer, Andrea Cognita (addition on 03/08/2020 – yes, she's real, yes her name is dumb, please stop telling her that, she's getting annoyed) took on your case, and if the hospital stops dragging it out and finally settles, you're looking at an incredible payoff, so don't fuck this up for us, okay? (addition on 12/12/2020 – oh, and take some gingko biloba. I read that it's good for memory.) The keys to your Jeep are by the door; drive over to Andrea's office at ––– ––– –––. Take a look over the case and let her prep you or whatever. She's been helpful so far, so don't argue and let's get this over with so we can have some sort of '50 First Dates' romance once we're rich and living in the Bahamas.
The note ends there with my usual loopy signature. I turn it over to see if there are any more addendums. On the back is a new note, chronologically more recent. Uncertain as to when it was written, I turn on my phone and see that this last addendum had to have been written yesterday. In all caps, fear dripping off every word: 'DON'T TRUST ANDREA.' | “I was out with my daughters the other day, we were getting some ice-cream, yea that’s it, ice-cream. Lilith loved cookie and cream ice cream. I wanted to get her some... yea I remember, I wanted to get her some because I accidentally threw Mr. Teddy in the trash because she wrapped him up with some used wrappers in one of her games. I took my other daughter, what was her name again? How can I forget? Damn my head hurts” is what Mr Jekelson said to himself after every morning, trying to remember; always on the verge of remembering how that metal spike entered his head when he was walking down near the construction area, thought entered his head is putting it too vividly, it merely struck his skull and grazed a part of his brain. Thus removing his filter and speaking out his thoughts always.
He moaned for a bit, wondering why does it seem like his body is betraying him much like how his mind is. Though he managed to get up, pulling, and if you were to look at how he walks you would very much describe it the same way, his slender figure across his bed room to his bathroom, where there, was a shattered mirror. He would not know this but a few days ago he saw himself in the mirror. Might it have been madness in a sheer realization or shock we wouldn’t know though him breaking the mirror made it so that he never would have figured out what tormented him on that day.
You see, my dear reader, is by the time the realization struck him it also became clear to your. On the mirror there was a sticky note simply stating that he had short term memory loss because of a mistake that the surgeon who operated on your brain has made. There is a dairy under your bed.”
He searched under the bed and found nothing. But his scrawny arms with strange grey hairs coming out of it surprised him. He felt trapped in a skin that wasn’t his, and house he had no business being in. He went through out the house seeing it a mess. Like a whirlwind passed that only destroyed every mirror and calendar that was in his spacious apartment. Pages and notes from what he can only assume is his book have been torn beyond recognition and laying every where in his apartment. He looked outside his window but it was the regular river flow of a busy human ecosystem.
He felt mystified more than defeated but the fact that there is no way to figure out why the journal is ripped up is a looming pressure on his shoulders that force them to sink. My dear reader, I am not usually inclined to start a story at the end but in this case I thought it fitting. You see the reason he had fits of rage is because he realized he was stuck destined to relive the trail because in the last page of the journal it simply said: “wife said we won the case.”
Yet he had no perception of time. If I were to tell you how many years ago was the case would you believe me? Well I guess I have nothing to gain from lying. He won the case twenty years and one hundred and seven days ago. The true reason he had a fit or rage is that he recognized he was trapped in a purgatory forced to realize that he skipped his daughters’ entire lives without being there for them. For they must hate him now!
It’s a bit grim yes but there are two candles emitting the lights of hope and humane comfort. One: his daughters don’t hate him, in fact they love him as he never ever wronged them and his condition made it so that he was kinder as he realized that all the actions he was doing was truly only for his daughters. And the other candle is that his daughters will come soon as they usually do, every month on the second Saturday. Once they see the state he is living in they will take him to live with one of them in and help him escape his loop of torture. Or may-haps he might snap or have a heart attack after seeing his little angels transform into fully grown people with their own families. Who knows, certainly not me.
I guess I didn’t stick 100% to the thing, sorry op. Loved the idea though | 2020-08-03T01:31:34 | 2020-08-03T00:19:23 | 53 | 16 |
[WP] You are a superhero, and your mask has just been ripped off by your arch nemesis. Lucky for you, when you aren’t busy saving lives, you live as a hermit away from all of society. Having your identity revealed means next to nothing, and the villain has no idea who you are. | "Wait, you're *not* some crazy rich billionaire philanthropist, who chases women to appear aloof, but secretly runs the city?" The villain, known as the Getup, asks.
"No?"
"Then, who the hell are you?"
"I am, *Justice*!" I strike a heroic pose, fists on my hips, arms and elbows jutting out.
The Getup rubs his face, my domino mask loosely held in his hand.
"Yeah, yeah I get all that, but who the hell are you, really?" How can you afford this lifestyle?"
"Oh, my name is Dave, I *love* macrame, I have two cats Buster and Bernie, I write my mom twice a week."
"Look, Dave that's nice..."
I cut him off and point to the crossed gavels on my chest.
"I'm on duty. While I'm in duty, I'm known only as Justice. Please respect my boundaries, Maurice."
"Wait, what? How'd you know my name? You know what, nevermind. Let's get back to my original question. Who the heck are you?"
"I am Justice!"
"Moving past that, you don't live in the city." The Getup, getting frustrated, points out.
"Yeah, no. It's too crowded, too many people."
"So?"
"So what?"
"Where do you live?"
"Well, that's rather personal, isn't it?"
"That's the point! Look, most heroes in this city, **live** in the city. Take for example, Diverman. He lives over on 5th and Broadway. Stunner Sarah, she lives on Upton with her mom, but you live..." He shrugs his shoulders, unsure.
"You're an awfully nosy fella, you know that?"
"Moving past that. Who are you? Everybody had you pegged for Darius Ogdon. Clearly, you're not him."
"The billionaire who runs Ogdon Conglomerate?" I kick dirt at my feet. "Yeah, he's mean."
The Getup holds up a finger, intrigued by this latest bit of information. He fights his curiosity, but gives in.
"You know what? Forget it, nevermind." He hands me my domino mask. "Look man, free bit of advice? Use spirit gum. It helps keep the mask on so people like me can't yank it off." He waves his hand and mounts a brightly colored motorcycle and is gone in a cloud of dust.
"But I wasn't done with you." I mumble to the uncaring nothingness in front of me. | After a difficult 7-on-1 fistfight against arms dealers on the docks, the vigilante hero was finally felled by a brutal strike. He was slapped awake to find himself unmasked and with his hands tied behind him around a small pillar.
A goon crouched in front of him grabbed him by the chin to get a better look. "Hey pretty boy." The goon slapped him again, "who are you?" In his other hand was an old-generation cellular phone; the kind that are hard to trace but lack all the modern amenities. "He ain't sayin'... I don't know, some kid. Dark hair? Brown eyes? Strong cheek bones, what do you want me to say? He's just some kid!" The goon winced at the loud voice coming from the vintage cellular phone. "I apologize sir... We tried that but he'd already messed with all the guns by the time we found'im."
The vigilante chortled. They must have found out all their weapons didn't have springs when they tried to shoot him while unconscious.
"Laugh now," the goon ended the call, "you messed with The Kingfish's gear. I doubt you messed with the gear he's got at home, so I'd say you have maybe ten minutes to laugh."
This was bad news for the vigilante. Kingfish would undoubtedly recognize him as Tyler Kaplan, and it would only piss him off more to know the vigilante that sabotaged his merchandise was also the young man who was dating his daughter. The vigilante may have been able to talk and bluff his way out of being executed, he thought, but without his mask he was as good as dead.
The damp warehouse around them had only one viable exit. Of the seven goons he fought, four were still unconscious, one was nursing his broken arm, the smallest goon with the classic burner phone could barely see past his smashed-in face, and the 280-pound monster of a man who knocked the vigilante out was bleeding all over the vigilante's satchel while rummaging through it.
The vigilante finally spoke up. "Hey Donkey Kong, your teeth aren't in there." When the large goon simply sneered back, the vigilante couldn't help but start chuckling at the gaps in his teeth.
The smaller goon slapped the vigilante again.
It only made him laugh harder. "Sorry," he struggled to say between convulsed laughs, "it's just that... you were talking about my strong jawline," still laughing, "when yours looks like you'll need to eat through a straw! Aaaahahahaaaa!"
The smaller goon punched the vigilante square on the nose.
The vigilante stopped, looked the straight at the small goon and busted into even more boisterous cackles. "So..." he managed between breaths, "...weak!" At this point the vigilante was in tears. "No wonder I still look like a... what did you call me?" he wheezed. "A 'pretty boy.' While the both of you... look like lasagna someone dropped on the floor!"
The large goon approached cracking his knuckles while the smaller one looked for a pipe.
****
The Kingfish arrived several agonizing minutes later with the intent to see the vigilante hero's face with his own eyes, only to find it disfigured and swollen beyond recognition. "Well then, boy, you're going to tell me all about who you are." | 2020-08-21T04:04:44 | 2020-08-21T01:29:48 | 399 | 224 |
[WP] Humanity has invented the technology required to reach other dimensions. However, instead of finding an incomprehensible Lovecraftian realm, they discover a perfect and beautiful world. To the inhabitants of this new world though, we are monstrous eldritch horrors. | "This is amazing..."
A high pitched screech ending with a bass filled rumble ripped through the atmosphere. Every inhabitant threw their view in the direction of the wild disturbance to their peaceful world. Whatever it was felt higher than the tree tops and met the mountains.
*
"I had my doubts, but we did it. We really did it... Harriet...?"
"Sorry, what?!"
*
There's more than one... and they seem agitated. Horribly, horridly agitated. Several inhabitants shift into the open to see the origin of these invaders.
*
"We've pierced the dimensional veil, and come out on the other side... successful!!!"
*
One of the towering eldritch horrors screamed out, as if to challenge his peer. The other shifted, either accepting the challenge, or moving to a defensive position.
*
"My ears....! Is that you making that awful sound?! All I can hear is screeching and billowing. Clear your throat, or something."
"Ugh, fine."
*
The first monstrosity breathes in deep, pulling in the very air that surrounds it, like a vacuum, sucking in more than just oxygen... the very hope and joy seemed to leap from on-lookers as their bodies shifted into pure fear and terror, as the Horror reversed it's breath and pushed out a venomous cloud of poisonous gas like a fog from a lake, leaking out the sides of it's squid-like mouth. The only equivalent in sound would be a fog horn tripled in volume that shook everything in earshot to its very core.
*
That's when the screaming started... A once peaceful valley of abundance and fertility now filled with a pair of monstrosities, poised to battle to the death over the beautiful new world. Every inhabitant of that world shook, in awe, in horror, over what has entered their peaceful perfect world. Nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Just witness the inevitable and complete destruction of everything they held sacred...
*
"You're scaring the locals, bruh..."
"What, no I'm not!"
*
They taunt each other, and puff up in a show of aggression and force.
*
"Why are they all screaming and running then?! Seems pretty clear to me that their terror is directly proportional to your noise..."
"That's ridic... u... lous..." at that moment, they catch their own reflection in a body of water.
*
Slimy, full of tentacles, and teeth in places in between places, and eyes that absorbed all light.
*
"Aaaahhhhh! ...is that what we look like to them?!" | The door slowly opened. News coverage at every corner, companies already sending out bland messages congratulating the team.
The Nullifiuer was built in 3.5 years and even longer planning it. Eric Dunce stood tall as the head of the team. His blonde hair waved in the wind. He tapped on the mic as the door opened.
It fizzled.
“Attention everyone! My Name is Eric Dunce, and I’m the head scientist at Alchme,” he took a deep breath, “We have spent ten years perfecting this. We have spent countless tax dollars funding it, and today it’s done. With the help of my team we have made a gate way to another universe!”
Suddenly, almost perfectly, the door fully opened. A loud shudder was heard. A bright orange light flew out, so bright everyone one in the area seemed fully black.
Eric turned around. This wasn’t apart of the plan. He look at his long time girlfriend Cassandra.
A being, no taller than a child, walked out.
He screamed in tongue. Everyone was mortified.
“My apologies,” he said, “My name is Egäd, and I’m an ambassador for Graucknut. My planet has noticed this,...primitive technology and sent me. We would like to speak to the creator.”
Eric felt mortified. They want him. Him. He took a breath.
“Cassandra Gaine made it.” He spoke.
Cassandra looked at him, filled with both anger and fear.
“Lying,” Egäd said, “it’s been along time since someone has said that. Come with me child.”
Eric was lifted in the air and threw the portal.
——————-———————————-———————
The world is green, trees are as big as skyscrapers, the ocean as clear as glass. Animals walk around in public. Streets don’t exist. Everyone looks happy. And ugly.
“W-Where?” Eric was fumbling.
“My planet.”
Everyone walked to help him up. They all greeted him.
“This is what we want to do to your world Eric. Your world is.... bad. Your people are fascists, they burn your planet down. We will help with that.
“We have been testing you for years. In fact I have tested you multiple times today. You lied, you tried to manipulate, and your judging these people and myself based on appearance.” Egäd spoke.
Eric still wouldn’t move.
“We don’t want to hurt you, we are going to help. We just want your corporation.”
“Will I be the hero?” Eric asked.
“Greed. You have a long way to go Eric. You want to be the hero. You want the fame and to play the game.
“Yet when the worst comes you won’t except it and put the blame on another.”
Eric began to run. Greed, anger, whatever you want to call it, compelled him to leave.
“Well be back Eric. When your gone our world will help make yours better. We’re not the villains here Eric. That’s just a perspective.”
The portal blipped as he jumped in.
————————————————————————
Eric was back. He was gone for a year. The world that he returned to was burning. People everywhere dead. But Cassandra was still sitting their, as she did every day for the past year.
“I did it.” Eric said.
“What?” She said.
“I saved everyone” a tear strolled down his face. | 2020-12-22T18:26:14 | 2020-12-22T17:03:39 | 54 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity has invented the technology required to reach other dimensions. However, instead of finding an incomprehensible Lovecraftian realm, they discover a perfect and beautiful world. To the inhabitants of this new world though, we are monstrous eldritch horrors. | Kk-Ktaahthk shuddered at the descriptions given by his fellow hunters to their chieftain, never having heard of anything so terrifying and unimaginable, and he wouldn’t have believed it if he hadn’t seen it for himself. His brood mate had gone ahead to track the path of the horned takka they were stalking for dinner, only to come slithering back as fast as her boneless body could carry her, pulsating her eyes in fear. Assuming she’d been attacked by a larger predator, they’d calmed her and prepared to hunt down what had scared her.
What they saw was no comfort, and defied all logic. Standing on two stalks in the field ahead was a bizarre creature with snow-white, wrinkled skin, and a single, huge eye. Jutting from the base of its neck were two more jointed stalks, each dividing into multiple other stalks that wriggled across a slab of something dark that chirped like a sahkvi bird when touched. Then the horrors of horrors had begun, as the abomination pushed the slab into a slit in it’s skin and gripped its head; ripping it off with a hiss of gas like a ruptured, bloated carcass that had been poked with a spear.
They could only stare at the abomination from behind their bushes as it’s skin deflated, carrying a foul scent of unwashed secretions on the wind as it stripped its skin to drop it on the ground. It must shed its skin a lot, as it appeared to have a second skin waiting to be shed underneath and over most of its form. For a moment it only stood, breathing deeply before releasing more gasses from the holes in its new face, and running its stalk-tips through the long moss growing from its head, the same shade of brown as Tahhkval-li herd droppings. Every part of it’s skin was smooth, fleshy and soft, looking squishy yet dry; unlike his people’s exoskeleton system and slimy foot. Kk-Ktaahthk could even imagine how something so tall could stay balanced, and feared what the hard plates on the tip of each of the five stalk-tips might be for. Were those claws? His people had none, but the predators in this land did. Would it eat them if it saw them?
Then it opened its largest face hole, and turned their way; showing so much white around the eyes as if it’s eyelid had unnaturally shrivelled back, before swelling shut and shrivelling back to expose its eyes again. The mouth nearly made Kk-Ktaahthk vomit, filled with white pebbles and a slimy-looking thing that wriggled like one of their shell-less young as if trying to escape the sounds that spilled forth. Whatever it had eaten, and still was swallowing, was still very much alive, or perhaps was some disgusting form of parasite. And the noise, oh the noise, a chattering wailing that matched nothing from their language of swaying and exoskeleton rattling. It had seen them, so they threw their spears and slipped home as fast as their slimy pads could carry them.
The only reason they were believed was from the white, shed skin and patches of red fluid it had left behind...
//“Exploration Mission to Mothership. Planet holds mollusk-like sentient life, inhabitants hostile. Recommend abort of colonization. Over.” | > Mission parameters set.
> Ordnance and equipment catalogued.
> Three (3) Research Units: unarmed human scientists.
> Two (2) Scout-Ranger Units: armed with one (1) Remington-Armalite Automatic Combat Rifle.
> One (1) Advanced Combat Unit: armed with prototype combat armour [NATO provisions EC1451 - DO NOT DAMAGE!]
> Team accepted.
> Device opening…
___
The Advanced Combat Unit found himself in a space that stretched out farther than his eyes could see. He wouldn’t bother trying to use the optics in his helmet. There was nothing but a sterile white emptiness here. Had the device killed him? Was this purgatory? It sure looked as boring as it had been described. The Combat Unit opened the holster on his armour and withdrew a straight blade of jet-black carbon fibre. Jamming it into the ground, he was rather satisfied to see that it left a sizeable dent, having torn through whatever substance he was standing on.
Perhaps perceiving this as an offense, the space reacted. Soundlessly, something in the distance stood up and leapt at the Combat Unit. It landed silently, the legs of the humanoid shape causing no reaction to the ground underneath. At first glance it appeared to be naught but a jumble of shapes and figures, a child’s scribbling, but as the Combat Unit took in the sight he understood the geometry of this creature. Not dissimilar to his combat armour, it was designed to be perfect at everything from form to function. Aerodynamic, thin, not an inch of wasted space. The Combat Unit realized then; this was the dimension’s answer to his intrusion. A replica more perfect than the original, as if taunting. ‘We/it/I am better’, it seemed to say.
The creature had it’s own sword, as pristine and colourless as the rest of the Combat Unit’s surroundings. It raised the sword, and a series of equations appeared before it. With blinding speed, the Combat Unit was battered and beaten. Luckily for him, his physical defence systems dampened the impact. A small advantage, as he still hurt all over. Raising his own sword, the foreign element struck back, his attacks not connecting at all. It took a second too long to realize, as more equations appeared and the Combat Unit realized what he had done wrong.
Each equation was able to be graphed, and each swing of the divine imitation’s sword matched the equation. This time the physical defence systems couldn’t keep up, and a cut nearly made it through the entire suit. The Combat Unit had an epiphany then, and opened the onboard calculator. A tentative line equation was entered, and sure enough the foreigner’s sword slashed. The creature returned the inverse function of the human’s equation, and parried the strike with calculated precision.
Still, that meant his plan worked. For the first time in eternity, heat filled the empty realm as the Combat Unit’s computer began overheating, desperately trying to process the mathematical equations being shot through it like a cannon. A pirouette from a parabola, a series of a hundred strikes from a hundred different lines, and then a sudden idea. Calculating an asymptote, the Combat Unit was able to completely negate the Divine Construct’s attack. Using imaginary numbers, a series of strikes were inflicted upon the Construct without the use of a weapon. The Combat Unit shut down his systems completely; he no longer required them. As his own equations appeared before him, guiding him to a higher power, he could see himself losing features. Becoming more abstract, no longer recognizing where he ended and the geometry began.
A final thought occurred to him.
“Where the hell did the rest of the team end up?”
His sword pierced the trapezoidal head of his foe, while said foe’s sword pierced his own. On closer inspection, the Combat Unit realized he *was* the Divine Construct, and his own head had been pierced by the disgusting flesh-creature that had dared intrude on holy land. Such abominable eldritch beings should not have held the power to go toe-to-toe with an Angel, yet this one did?
The Combat Unit shrugged, and removed his sword from his skull. It was time to rejoin the nothingness of this place, now that the intruder had been dealt with. Perhaps this time he would sleep for eternity. | 2020-12-22T22:02:30 | 2020-12-22T18:37:21 | 36 | 11 |
[WP] You attend the Magic School for the Gifted. Hooray... That is until you realize everyone there is a Mary Sue Chosen One with their own prophecy to fulfill. And you... aren't. | The first month of school, the school was attacked by hordes of goblins. The second month, everyone in school had to fight in a war against demons from the underworld. Cassia was tired of fighting. Each time they were led by a different champion, different versions of attractive, competent heroes each with a tragic backstory or a prophecy to fulfill.
With each passing month, it became clear that *everyone* was a hero. Everyone, except for her. She was a foot soldier in each of their fights, and she was tired of it. There were so many fights that she considered transferring, but no other school of magic offered her scholarships. Eventually she fell in love with the school, the students, and the teachers. It turned out that sharing trauma did that to people.
All she had to do was keep her head down and get her diploma. Finally, that day had arrived. The principal started to announce each of their names. The students went up to get their diplomas. Some of them were missing limbs, eyes, or pieces of their sanity. Years of fighting did that to people.
Cassia marveled that so many people had even managed to pass the standardized exam for licensure as a magician. In between their fighting and struggle to survive from dark lords and school-wide curses, she had somehow managed to learn something. Her resume boasted of more than her fair share of practical experience in fighting with magic, which hopefully would make up for her less than stellar scores on the standardized exam.
The sunny skies gave way to dark storm clouds and the pitter patter of rain. It would soon be a downpour, and the rain wouldn't be alone. The villains always insisted on setting the atmosphere. They never just fought. They fought in the middle of blizzards and avalanches, hail storms and sometimes worse. She still had the tender pale spots on her arms from the shower of embers during her fourth year in the school.
"Not again," Cassia whispered. For once, it was not out of annoyance. She would make sure that it would not happen again. Her graduation day was supposed to be perfect, or at least, free of casualties.
While the heroes of her school were each worrying over their prophecies, mourning their losses through their journeys, and maneuvering through subplots and romances, Cassia was preparing.
The school's fate wouldn't change just because she left. Students would keep getting attacked, keep going through things children should not be going through. Anyone who dreamed of attacking the school would think twice after she was done with the latest enemy.
The earth split apart between the students and the stage. An unfortunate soul, one of the young teachers, fell into the chasm, their screams echoing for a second before being extinguished by a thud. Cassia stood up. She didn't know who was to be the hero, but the villain was in front of her.
The necromancer rose out of the earth on a mountain of soil and animated corpses.
"Come hither, Greta Thear!" the necromancer yelled. Cassia knew the girl. She was their salutatorian, a quiet girl who nearly lived in the library and was only alive because of sheer luck. She possessed little fighting capacity and massive amounts of luck.
Greta Thear would have to use neither if Cassia had a say in the matter. She whipped off her graduation gown and unsheathed her sword. Each of the heroes had discarded priceless relics after completing their prophecies, but Cassia had retrieved them each. Her armor was impenetrable and gave her the strength of a dozen men, her sword was invincible, and the diadem she dug out of her pocket gave her the power to move faster than light. The rope at her waist was made of witch's gold, enchanted to cause pain but sustain life.
She sliced through the piles of corpses and reached the necromancer. He did not see her until the rope was around his throat. Cassia whistled for her ride. Her thestral, Buttercup, soared through the air and onto the stage. She dragged the necromancer and tied him to Buttercup's saddle. After she mounted Buttercup, they flew to the school's ground.
From behind she saw the school's students and teachers start to follow her. The necromancer's undead soldiers fell as their master lost his ability to speak or even think, let alone keep alive the magic that kept them animated and under his control.
Finally they reached the willow tree that rested at the edge of the school's moat. It was one of many trees. Gravestones that weren't so obvious.
"I'm sorry for this Juno," Cassia said, as she slung the rope over a low-lying branch and pulled the necromancer up by his neck. Her friend was one of the chosen ones who did not survive. She had saved the school and lost her life.
The principal arrived at the place, his midnight blue robes billowing out behind him.
"What are you doing?" he asked.
Cassia realized the man did not even know her name. She was just a nameless soldier, and he was a man swamped by the responsibility of too many of his students who were deemed more important because of the prophecies.
"I'm setting things right," she said, grunting as she pulled the necromancer up further. His legs were shaking, his body desperately screaming out for air.
"He came for Greta!" the principal said.
"And he shall not have her, nor any other student. I am sending a warning, sir.. to any one who deems this school a place to attack, a place to conquer. A place to kill. Anyone who dares to come here and attempt to kill children will be drawn and quartered."
While the school watched, the necromancer nearly hanged and was brought back to life by the rope time and time again, until it was clear he no longer even wished to live. Cassia took her foot off the witch's rope and the necromancer dropped to the ground.
When he was on the ground she unsheathed her sword and cut him into four parts. Three more thestrals landed in front of her after she whistled.
"Carry him to the capital cities of the Northern, Southern, Eastern, and Western kingdoms," she said. "Let it be known that this is what will happen to anyone who dares attack the Magical School for the Gifted."
"Dear girl, this is..."
"This is what should have been done years ago," she said, sheathing her sword. "And now, I am off."
"Where?" Greta asked.
"To silence the oracle who keeps making prophecies like they're daily reports on the weather," Cassia answered.
\------------------------
r/xeuthis | Misty and the rest of her cohort were ushered into the main hall of the castle. She was still gripping the letter that had called her to adventure, as if letting it go meant letting go of a beautiful dream. She peered down at it again, at the caligraphic words that affirmed her admission to the Magic School of the Gifted. There was no mention of it being an all girl school though - she’d only met other females since she arrived at the castle grounds.
The main hall was wide and long, with a barrel-vaulted roof. On the walls hung life sized paintings of various women, striking heroic poses in combat attire from throughout the ages. Misty pictured a flattering painting of herself on the wall.
“Ladies, welcome to the Magic School for the Gifted,” an impeccably dressed dame announced from behind an ornate dais at the back of the hall. She was flanked by similarly dressed colleagues. “My name is Yram Eus, and you are here because you are special - and will have much to offer humanity. In this school we will help you reach your full potential. Please form a line, and come forth. You will be assigned your accomodations for the next two years you will be spending with us.”
When it was Misty's turn at the front of the queue, she was given a key with a number. She was told that her chambers were in the south east tower.
“Tomorrow begins your first day of classes. Take this time to get accustomed to your surroundings and get to know each other!” Yram said when everyone had their keys. And so they did.
Not long after, Misty sauntered through the hallways with some new acquaintances, who also stayed in the south east tower. She knew their names, but not much else. There was Laurelon, a tanned and exoctic looking girl with long strands of glossy black hair, dressed in a sleeveless shirt that bared her midriff, and tight leather pants. On her left arm was a tattoo, showing the word “Fate”. Then there was Sunflower - which was not a nickname - who was white, almost radiantly so, and who wore her blond hair in a bun. She dressed in a pure white cowl and long skirt. Finally, there was the businesslike Elinor, with short red hair and a sharp and shrewd face, and who sported a cardigan and chinos.
Misty, who thought herself rather plain looking, was taken aback by their beauty. “So… what did you think when you received the letter?” she asked no-one in particular.
“I knew it was coming, my mentor foretold me,” Laurelon said gravely.
“Oh, really? Been mentored long?”
“Ever since my parents died…” Laurelon contemplated the floor, and Sunflower patted her on the shoulder.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. Were you young when it-?”
Laurelon cut her off, her face determined. “I was thirteen… I remember that night so vividly. It was storming... I can smell the electricity in the air, I can still hear the rain bearing down on our roof.”
“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t-”
“I was writing a poem in my room. It was about my older brother, who’d died not long before. Killed in the war against the sorcerer Malum…”
“Oh my-”
“I heard a crash below, and the rushing of a dozen feet. Then… loud Bangs… the crackle of spells - and the screams of my parents.”
Elinor was listening poker faced, and Sunflower had a hand in front of her mouth. She was shaking her head slightly.
“I was too late, and my magic back then was not far advanced… Malum’s men escaped, leaving my house a ruin and my parents dead.”
“That is horri-”
“My old mentor then took me in,” Laurelon said, a sad smile appearing on her face. “He taught me so much, before he sacrificed himself to save my life.”
“Wow, that is-”
“I made a vow to him… Malum will die by my hands.” Laurelion dug her fingernails in her palms - her knuckles whitened.
Misty stopped trying to comment, and so they walked in silence for a moment, before Laurelion pointed at an open door leading to an inner courtyard. “Hey, let’s check over there,” she said, suddenly cheerful.
This mood whiplash confused Misty, who was still taking in the tragic backstory. It was sunny outside, and they sat themselves down in grass.
“My parents disowned and banished me,” Sunflower began, continuing the theme.
Feeling rather uneasy, Misty started plucking blades of grass as she listened to Sunflower’s somber tale.
“I come from a place where magic barely exists. My powers exceed anything even the greatest court wizard can achieve. But I was untrained… and a girl. Girls are not allowed to do magic where I come from.”
“Ugh, I so despise patriarchal societies,” Elinor spat.
“I tried to hide my power, but one day, I had no choice. The prince came to visit our village. He was standing tall in the square,” she said with dreamy eyes.
“He suddenly collapsed, crying in pain. I alone saw a hooded figure running away, but I couldn’t pursue… the prince’s life was fading quick. I reached deep inside of me and drew upon the power of my heart - I poured some of my life’s power into him. He was stabilized, but I was banished for my actions... “
“For saving his life? That’s ungrateful,” said Laurelon.
“He was too weak to come to my defense. But I will return… When I've trained my powers I’ll show my country that female magic users are a great thing… and then we’ll be together, again,” she finished with a sigh.
The two others nodded, and Misty was fighting the urge to find a new group of friends. She looked at Elinor, who saw her gaze.
“Alright, my turn, I guess,” she said. “I never knew my parents, instead, I had to endure an abusive foster family.”
*Oh for fuck’s sake,* Misty thought, throwing her head in her neck.
“They are smart people, though - they own businesses, are engineers, but for some reason they couldn’t stand me. I tried to help them with their work, pointing out obvious flaws in their designs or business practices. But no, they made it very clear I needed to stay well away from them, so I had to leave. And then there was the impossible choice between two guys - it was simply suffocating. The letter from this school was a godsend. When I’m ready, I’ll make my own company that will improve the lives of everyone. My teachers always said I could.”
As Elinor was talking, Misty peered at the letter again, and her heart missed a beat. *How could I have missed this?* At the bottom of the letter was her address, except, she lived on number 75, not 75 B. The B did look like some sort of embellishment, in her defense.
The three turned their heads to Misty.
“Uhm, well… I-I just got out of secondary school. My parents are still alive and well. I don’t have any enemies, except maybe Stacy… she got the boy I liked, damn her.”
“Wait, what? You didn’t get the guy?” The three gasped in unison. | 2021-03-03T05:07:36 | 2021-03-03T04:31:55 | 126 | 94 |
[WP] You are an ancient entity, contracted to defend the village’s sheep from danger. The times move on, and you begin to hibernate. Once more, your services are requested, and you agree that, technically, defeating intergalactic invaders would be protecting sheep. | "I have a meeting with GridNet high command in ten minutes, Admiral. Unless it relates to getting Earth's defense shield back online, you are not a priority." The president of the UEN slammed through a door as he scrolled through his tablet.
"It will be quick, Mr. President," Admiral Denovi said, following into the small room. "We just need your go-ahead for a less orthodox approach to repel the invaders."
A woman, dressed in some complex ceremonial robes, looked at the two men with milky blind eyes. She held out a paper covered in scribblings, a crude painting of what looked like a sheep at the center. She said nothing.
"Whatever song and dance this is, go ahead," the President said, not even wasting the time to acknowledge the woman. "Just keep it out of the press. If you think it's worth doing, Admiral, go do a Tarot reading or whatever this. I don't have the luxury right now." The President answered a call in his ear and was already jogging down the hall of the Capital, yelling at someone else.
Denovi gave a nod to the woman before realizing that wouldn't accomplish much. "Sounds like a blank check to me. Go ahead," he added.
She pulled a bottle from her sleeve and poured black ink over the leather page. It bubbled and smoked as she spoke in some ancient tongue. "Name the threat to the flock," she said, not looking away from the mess on the table, tendrils raising like maggots from the ink.
"The Cataclan Fleet in low orbit."
The smoke grew bright for a moment and then was gone, leaving only a thin smell of rotten plants and mushrooms. The room was cold.
"That's it?" he asked cautiously.
"That's it," she answered, rolling the now blank paper up and navigating past him easily. "We must only hope he returns to sleep after."
...
For four thousand years, Celistakor Chernobog slept beneath his flock. The fools had thought cursing him to be an eternal herder would be punishment. He felt the sheep above him in his soul. He swelled tight with pride. They were over 2000 in number and strong as bears. They drew on his power from the dew but required no real assistance. Celi was a lazy God and preferred this way.
His awakening was violent, tearing him from the Earth and sending him arching into the sky, beyond the sky. He rubbed his eyes with dirt-covered hands. He was in some kind of metal room, floating on the nothing. 'Threat to flock, Cataclan' rang through his mind. A whisper witch had called him. If she lied, she would be dead before the day was done.
A skittering creature with no trace of Earth Spirit in it chittered at him with a complex mouth. It held some tool aggressively. Celi approached curiously. He never spoke to a man he intended to kill. A box at the strange abomination's hip blared out in a human tongue but one Celi didn't know. That was a lie, he made out one word. Cataclan.
He stretched bed weary muscles and summoned the Black Mountain Cane and whispered into the wood the Song of Loss. The noise from the constantly moving beastie was giving Celi a headache as he waited for the grain of the wood to grow oiled and heavy. The thing threw something warm at him with the tool, a bit of light. Was this a spirit of The Sister then? No, her arrows cut much deeper than this.
Celi clobbered the creature with an upward blow, unlodging some confusing jaw bits to the ground. He summoned a Fate Wek and dropped the eager squirmer into what looked almost like an ear on the thing's ruined wheezing face. "There, little one. Tell me what the future holds for my flock if I do not intervene here and destroy these Cataclan."
The Wek tunneled through the creature, gore rite taking longer than usual so far from the weakened Earth Spirit. The spirit burl burst from an eye after a few more moments.
"What rare meat is this?" the Wek chittered happily. "Will you leave me here, that I might raise a brood? Fine Real Estate, this!"
"I do not Real Estate. The world has gone strange and stupid while I slept. Answer me, Wek of the Stone Lady."
"Right, right," the worm said, squirming with immense comfort. "Your sheep will die in fire and smoke. The mountains will fall atop them and the air they breathe will drift to four winds, replaced by poisonous sulfur."
"That is not good," Celi said raising his eyebrows and pursing his mouth, considering. "Thank you, little Wek. I will leave you here, but know we are beyond the sky, in a dead box."
"Strange times, indeed," the Wek replied, already splitting into two.
Celi made his way through the hordes of the Cataclan. They had no answer to his Staff and his Song. The old ways were best. This light fire they continued to launch at him was annoying but weak as kitten blood.
He entered a room at the front of box. It smelled like fear and arrogance. This was Katanov, the room of a chief. Sure enough, two larger shelled beasties were cowering here, chittering more than the others. They were surrounded by blinking boxes and a window showing the peppered black beyond the sky.
You come to kill my sheep and now I will break your brains and leave you to the worms. This is what Celi would have said, but the Old God remained silent as he finished his work. He did not speak to those he killed. Far away, one of his flock was choking on a root. He would have to finish soon. He decided it would be faster to just break the boxes. What fools traveled beyond the sky where they couldn't even survive? Celi yawned as he started the Song of Sundering.
/r/surinical | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc ?, Part ?: Rafi)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**Globalization had ruined fairy contracts.** People who failed to understand exponential growth asked for something simple, like [growing a year younger whenever their descendants had a child](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mrk4lm/wp_it_seemed_like_a_perfect_magical_deal_when_any/). Two hundred years down the line, and they *very* much regretted their teenage decisions. Or take Rafi, for instance. They had a nice, simple contract: "Whensoever Beast, Calamity, or Human Hand would strike this flock or its descendants, I will Appear to Enshield them from All Harm." Well, the humans had run some experiments, deliberately striking at Rafi's precious sheep, and determined that Rafi could instantaneously teleport across any distance between any pairs of matched sheep. Jump forward fifty years, and the only colonies of Rafi's sheep in the universe were controlled by the Unified Sovereignties, where strategic striking of sheep and the observed teleportation of Rafi would be used for faster-than-light communications.
And although Rafi longed to swat the insolent humans down for abusing their contract so, their power was limited. They could protect their flock from harm, yes, but they had no ability to strike back. So day in, day out, Rafi was forced to blink back and forth across the solar system, an ancient being of untold knowledge and wonder reduced to a glorified Morse code telegram.
It had been decades since Rafi had time to do anything but blink around the solar system at lightning-fast speeds, and they had to do *something* to keep themself sane. So over the years, they turned their nimble mind to unraveling the method the humans used to communicate. It took them nearly five years to crack the code—it was, after all, cryptographically secured by the finest minds in the Unified Sovereignties—but it wasn't as if Rafi had anything better to do. For decades, they spent their dreary, scattered existence listening in on meaningless military chatter—then, as usage of Rafi-comms expanded, details of economic convoys. Settlements. Eventually, civilian and commercial traffic was routed through Rafi's eternal dance across the solar system, so much chatter that Rafi had to plug their eyes and ears to avoid being disoriented by the continuous flicker-flicker-flicker of scenery as they teleported from sheep to sheep.
And still, Rafi's fate was better than others of their kind. They learned what had happened to the other faeries of the world—those who had been bound like them by even stricter rules had become nothing more than industrial-scale machines. Jayari the Wise, who could solve any riddle, had been reduced to a computer that could factor large semiprimes in O(1) time. The Sun Queen, She Whose Eyes Burn Like Stars, had been captured and unceremoniously dropped into a heavy water tank, where her beautiful, brilliant eyes were exploited and turned into a cold fusion reactor. And Rafi themself... well, at least there was a constant stream of news passing through them to entertain themself with.
They supposed that they could have hated humanity for what they did. But in all truth, Rafi simply felt... sorrowful. They knew that this was little imposition to themself, or any of the other Fair Folk; they had all been on this world since long before humanity was a tribe of apes in the mud, and they would be on this world after their civilization inevitably collapsed. Even a century was but a blink of an eye for them.
It simply hurt, to see how far the descendants beautiful, wonderful creatures Rafi had known had fallen.
And then, one day, whispers through the network that Rafi tirelessly maintained woke them from their slumber. It was a secret at first, classified, and to the highest possible degree—but Rafi had been silently observing the humans' communications for nearly an entire human lifetime, and their mind did not age or break. They cracked the code with ease.
An emissary from the few wild places left on Earth had set forth, to warn humanity of a great doom. An alien force from distant stars was coming, and humanity would not stand against it alone.
After all these years, Rafi woke up.
Various agencies dithered and hemmed and hawed, not knowing whether to take this threat seriously or not. Rafi wanted to stand up and scream in frustration—and they would, if they weren't being teleported to another location every femtosecond. If the Wilderwilds were reaching out to humanity, that was a sign of urgent and imminent doom. Every force that this world could bring to bear should be united against this threat.
But the nations of the world deliberated and stalled and, eventually, ignored the warning, Rafi could not make themself heard. Even though they tried to warn humanity, they never spent longer than an instant in any single location. Nobody heard.
Rafi sunk down as they considered what to do next.
And then they understood.
They had been studying the humans' communications for years. And while they couldn't stop themself from teleporting—not under the terms of their contract—they could... add a few destinations to the list.
For the first time in half a century, Rafi took action.
Carefully aiming their teleports to hit the precise timing and pattern that the humans used to communicate took a bit of practice—but Rafi had all the time in the world. Before long, Rafi had found their voice.
To every computer in the solar system, from the billboards of New Harmony to the most secure hardware of the Unified Sovereignties, a message blared. Systems designed to be unhackable had never considered that the method of communication itself might come alive and send messages of its own.
"I AM RAFI, GUARDIAN OF THE FLOCK." Although nobody could have possibly seen it, Rafi smiled. "AND I AM HERE TO SHEPHERD HUMANITY."
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. I'm not quite sure where this fits into the timeline yet—presumably, in the far future—but it just felt like it fit in the universe. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-25T21:17:49 | 2021-04-25T20:52:27 | 139 | 63 |
[WP] Humanity has finally achieved FTL travel. They can now explore the universe and find other alien species, sapient or otherwise. To the consternation of Man, it turns out they’re all crabs. As a matter of fact, the interstellar community is quite disturbed we are not crabs. | Nakamura Eiko stared down at the Deputy Dictator of the Kikillik Star Confederacy... he was a lot smaller than she expected, hiwever she had been hand-picked by the Emperor to oversee this exchange. Their peoples had been sending transmissions to and from one another for two Earth years, apparently three years for the planet Karatikcho, but this was the first ever meeting face-to-face. Both representatives had learned the language of the other, but eqch would speak in their respective native tongue given how her human throat could not quite mimic the clicks and grindings of the Kikillik language nor could Kikillik mouths move enough to produce the sounds required in speaking Japanese.
"Before this meeting officially begins," the crustacean remarked, "I have to ask something."
"Ask away Your Eminence."
"How the hell do you exist?"
Eiko wasn't entirely sure what she thought the Second in Command of the Kikillik Star Confederacy would ask, but it wasn't that, "Excuse me?"
"It's just that, your planet has *so much water* and so much of that water is *saline!* Our own home planet of Karatikcho has less than half of its surface covered by the salty seas of our evolution, and yet here you are, a terrestrial mammal that can't even drink salt water!"
"Oh," Eiko chuckled, "I suppose that is somewhat odd now that you mention it."
"Odd?" the Deputy Dictator asked, incredulous, "*Odd?!* No offense, but your people break all known laws of evolutionary biology!"
"I could say the same of you. We never expected a crustacean to be physically capable of developing an advanced intelligence."
The Kikillik did not have eyelids but if he did he would have blinked in surprise. "But how did you survive outside of the ocean? Or any further inland than the coast?"
"How did you master fire if you live underwater?"
"What is... fire?"
That question arose five hundred more in Eiko's mind but she would have to put them on hold. "Perhaps we can finish this discussion at a later time. For now, we have an official meeting on behalf of our respective sovereigns."
"Oh, yes. Of course. If the Supreme Dictator knew I was wasting time in such a manner-" the Deputy Dictator half-joked.
"First on the agenda is trade..." | "I find your lack of protective shell disturbing" said the Ruler of the Crab Crustacean Collective or CCC in it's thin, pitchy little voice.
"I- what?" I said. Just a moment ago we'd been discussing a joint space mining mission of Superrarealmostundiscoverabletanium.
The thing that looked like it would be served in delectable little pieces at a Chinese Buffet seemed to frown, but maybe that was just it's face.
"Long ago it was told that a monstrous race that is not Of The Shell will come from the stars and devour galaxies of our people," the Emperor finished with a clack of his claws.
*Uh oh,* I thought. "Look, My Lord, it is true that we-"
"YOU MUST LET ME FINISH," he squeaked, jumping up onto the table and alternately clacking his claws.
"Woah. Okay," I said.
The crab took a deep breath, "Long ago, before we'd fully mastered the tides of space-"
"Okay, don't freak out and jump onto the table," I said, "but I'm just going to stop you right there. Lunch is in 10, so can it not be 'long ago'?"
"I- You-" the crab started, then seemed to surrender to his crabish side.
He vaulted onto the table once more and began rapidly pacing side to side whilst pinching invisible plankton.
"Okay, see, I asked you not to-"
"YOU MUST HEAR THE TALE!" He screeched.
"Alright, alright, fine," I sighed.
"I will shorten it for the sake of your small human thinking muscle" the King Crab said. "We once sent a force to your world, long ago. We knew that your race was too powerful to overcome by force, so they were commanded to subvert your strength. They became, *Queer Eye For the Straight Guy* posing as homosexual humans while building their armies underground."
"Our brainwashing soon began to take effect, and even the most masculine of men began to care about their nails too much to drink from anything but a wine glass. All fight was milked from them, one Chardonnay at a time."
"Then we were undone. The gay one called Garrison, angry at having his culture taken, arose and exposed the cast of *Queer Eye* as crab people. Our fate was sealed. Surely you have been raised on stories of the exploits of the mighty Garrison?"
"Never heard of him," I said.
"That is well then, the method of our destruction has been forgotten..."
"I mean, it doesn't take a genius to figure out how to take care of you guys," I said.
"I beg your pardon?" The Emperor Crab said.
I looked at my watch, "It's lunch time boys, whaddya say?"
"Yaaay" said one of my kids as the three of them entered the room.
They snatched up the Emperor Crab and his delegation.
"Be careful" I told them, "it could hurt a little if they pinch you."
r/poundstories | 2021-08-05T08:26:54 | 2021-08-05T07:52:48 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] You love your boyfriend but even you have to admit he's kind of a creep sometimes. Curious about what goes on in his head, you take an experimental mind reading pill. Turns out his thoughts are just non-stop wholesome to an overwhelming degree. | I love my boyfriend. I do, really. He's nice, his apartment is always clean, he always asks me about my day, and actually listens to what I have to say. We don't argue often, but when we do he doesn't escalate. It's good.
One problem always gets me though.
It shouldn't get to me, but it does. Whenever we're in public, he just...stares. His face is so blank I rarely even see him blink. It's like he's transfixed on something, but I never know what. Is he checking out other people? I mean, it'd be fine if he did, all guys do it, but it's the not knowing that gets to me.
I love him. He's a joy to be around, to talk to, and he's always up for anything I want to do. It's pretty much perfect. But I need to know.
So I did something stupid.
I checked through his phone while he was in the shower one day. I spent a good thirty minutes going through his messages and just found some work stuff and the occasional joke he sent to his buddies. Nothing.
No weird pictures, nothing odd in his search history, even his notepad was normal. It was frustrating.
So I did another something stupid.
I found an ad online for these weird pills that are supposed to enhance my brain. Usually, their marketed to college kids so they can study better, but some brands are used to access other parts of your brain and do some weird stuff. One supposedly let's you see the future, one let's you move stuff with your brain, and one let's you read minds. 200 dollars and 3 weeks later, I had a bottle of Tell-o-Path. I waited until that afternoon, just when he got home from work, and popped two.
He walked in the door, tired and a little sweaty before shrugging out of his work shirt and grabbing one of his sodas from the fridge. Per the instructions, I walked within 2 meters and had my mind fully focused on him.
"Hey babe, how was work?" I asked as he just started taking a drink.
*I'd be okay with never going back.* I heard from somewhere in the back of my mind. He pulled the bottle from his lips and forced a smile "It was great. Shop was insanely busy today, but we handled it."
"That's good. Think you might get a bonus if you keep it up?"
*They don't even pay for AC, so I doubt it.* "Probably. We'll have to see."
I smiled " Good. Hey, there's a new Thai place that just opened up a few blocks over. Wanna go?"
*Man, I haven't had Thai in forever. I'd kill for some.* He shrugged his shoulders half-heartedly, trying not to seem excited "Sure."
I learned two things. One, the pills were not a joke. So I felt slightly better about spending the money on them. And two, he felt okay lying to me about work. So what else might he be lying about?
We were outside and enjoying a quick walk in the afternoon sun. A few minutes in, I looked back at him. The blank stare was in full effect.
Mission was a go.
I concentrated on him and heard his voice from the back of my head again.
*If I order it next week, it should get here ahead of time. Of course, if it gets delayed too much, I'll have to improvise. She loves dogs, so maybe I could adopt one and save the other gift for her birthday. Or would that be too dishonest? Plus, we're not officially living together yet, so who would the dog live with?*
I looked back at him in confusion. A gift? For what? Our anniversary was still two months away, so it couldn't be that. I shook the thought and focused back on him.
*But what breed would be good for the apartment? She likes mastiffs, but they're pretty big and food would cost a ton. Maybe a Bassett. They have the same droopy faces and everything. Food would be cheaper and they're easier to manage. But I'm getting ahead of myself. I'll buy the thing next week and see where that leaves me before I look at dogs. I still have plenty of time.*
I reached over and grabbed his hand, a smile on my face. It was kinda nice that he was so focused on a gift for me. Maybe it was a little neurotic, but I can't be mad about it. And at least it was an answer.
He smiled back at me *I should really ask her about her paintings. I haven't been over to see them in a while.* | Brock was everything a person could want in a partner. Kind, funny and nice on the eyes, an ideal partner, well, except for the unsettling aura he gave as he stalked his way around the house. Turning corners with a slow arch of his head, peering around every turn before proceeding. It was something Aubrey had never seen before in any human, or even animal. Something alien to her.
That’s why she jumped at the chance to try out the new experimental drug, only recently provided to members of the public. Willing to risk the horrible side effects if it meant she could spend even a few minutes exploring his thoughts. Aubrey loosened the cap on the Neurosight bottle, rattling the thick blue pills inside, feeling a tinge of doubt in her mind about such an invasive tactic.
A few minutes passed as she eyed the bottle, lost in a moral battle within her mind, only to be brought back to reality by the sound of footsteps approaching the front door. Quickly taking a pill before hiding the bottle underneath a cushion.
“Honey, you’re home. How was your day, did the boss like your report?” Aubrey rose from her seat, opening her arms up for Brock. She would see his head round the corner of the wall, gazing at the room cautiously before smiling.
“He seemed to enjoy it. It’s hard to tell with him, he isn’t the most expressive person around.” Brock laughed, embracing her in a tight hug.
The first thoughts kicked in, hearing the anxious inner monologue of her partner. ‘I can’t believe it was such a flop. I shouldn’t let Aubrey know. She spent so much time working on it with me, it would break her heart. It would ruin our anniversary too. I should get her present.”
“Um, excuse me. I have to go to the bathroom. Mind waiting here for me?” Brock said, trying to convince her to stay in the living room before rushing off.
Anniversary? That was all Aubrey could think about. Checking the date on her phone only to realize she had forgotten about the special date, too focused on digging through her partner’s mind that she forgot their plans. It was far too late to organize a present, so she elected instead to sink into the soft leather couch, hiding herself among the cushions, her hand hitting a possible gift.
Brock returned, staring at her, not uttering a word for a few moments. His thoughts ringing loudly within her mind. ‘I can’t believe I got so lucky. I wonder what she got me, maybe a new tie?’ He reached into his pocket, retrieving a small light blue box, opening it up to reveal a necklace inside. The necklace decorated with small blue sapphires, offering an amazing royal color to its design. ‘It matches her eyes; I hope she likes it.’
Aubrey froze, expecting her partner to say something. Instead, he silently offered her the gift. “It’s beautiful. You didn’t have to spend so much money on me. I really appreciate it though.” She found herself nearly lost for words, feeling the small bottle between her fingers, holding it out to him. “I got you some of the new neurosight tablets. So, you could hear your bosses’ thoughts.” She stated, covering up her curiosities.
“Oh?” He stared at the bottle, giving it a small shake with his free hand. “That’s nice.” He said as sincerely as he could manage. Handing her the anniversary present. “I guess I could try it out. I heard it can cause heart problems though and memory loss.” She didn’t even need to hear his thoughts to tell how he felt about the gift. That, however, wouldn’t stop the words from flowing into her mind. ‘She got me a fad? Five years of love and she buys me some cheap new wonder drug. It’s probably just sugar pills. I guess she is being helpful. I can’t be mad at her. She probably spent hours trying to find the right gift.’
“I’m sure that’s exaggerated.” She felt guilty about putting the necklace on, but could see Brock waiting expectantly for her to try it. “Little help with the clip, love?” Aubrey asked, rising from her seat, offering her neck to Brock. When the necklace clipped into place, she let out a pleased hum. “Thank you, I’m too lucky.” She held Brock’s cheeks, planting a kiss on his lips, holding him close before stepping back.
“Not as lucky as me. Give me a minute to change out of my work clothes. We can start planning our anniversary dinner once I’m in my pajamas. We are eating in, aren’t we?” Brock said, heading towards the bedroom. Her head already getting cloudy as the pills’ effects waned.
“Yeah, that’s fine. Mind grabbing me a cup of water? I have a bit of a headache.” Aubrey called out, getting a thumbs up from Brock before he vanished from view.
‘Mind reading pills? What a goofy gift. Good thing she didn’t take one. She might have found out where the bodies=.’ That was the last thought Aubrey heard before a throbbing headache took over, leaving her to sit with her head in her hands, trying to process the thought. Wanting to compose herself before Brock returned, trying not to show any sign of shock.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-08-27T10:06:12 | 2021-08-27T07:16:23 | 386 | 171 |
[WP] A normal Civilian ends up marrying a dangerous supervillain, these are the stories of their life... Welcome to "I married a Supervillainess !?!"
can be an EU if you want, Although who am I kidding, no one ever seems to reply to my posts | “3, 2, 1, and we’re live!”
”Welcome back america!”
I’d cross my legs as I’d look across to the army of security guards and federal agents outside, then to the young man and the lady dressed in all red and black.
”Welcome to the only talk show in america that talks honestly about our newly super powered world, but tonight, we have the most interesting story yet, a man who accidentally married a super villain.”
”Now, we have here Tom Venson, the lucky newly wed groom to the infamous super villain, the Crimson Bombradette!”
”Now, first off, Mr Venson, how did you two devious love birds meet?”
”Well Eltek, we met at a bank robbery, I was making a deposit for my buisness, then, all of the sudden, the glass room blows out, and a beautiful red haired masked woman and her heist crew zips down through the hole and takes everyone hostage, and I just couldn’t stop looking at her, it was sort of a love at first sight deal you know?”
I’d lean back in my chair, “You’re talking about the Huston Standard Bank Robbery back in March?”
The red haired woman nods, “The same Eltek”
I’d chuckle, “So I assume you were charmed by Mr Venson here, took him aboard, and inducted him into your criminal schemes?”
Despite wearing a mask that covered her eyes and most of her features, her mouth and parts of her cheeks were exposed, and I could see her blushing, hard
”Well…no, I took him downstairs as a hostage, and he…asked me out”
I’d lean forward and grin, “You heard that america, you want to get a hot, and rich date, you get taken hostage by them and ask them out”
The audience bursts out laughing as the young villainess blushes harder.
I’d raise my hands, “Alright, alright, settle down, now, first off, I feel like we can be comfortable enough to know your first name right?”
The red haired woman looks at her husband, then nods
”My name is Vivian”
I’d lean back in my chair
”Alright Vivian, so who proposed, and where?”
They look at each other, squeeze hands and look back, Tom speaks first
”Well, I was madly in love with her, so I had learned to use her building equipment, I took some of her materials, and made her a custom red and black metal ring, with a diamond center, I proposed when she came back to the lair.”
I’d cross my arms, “That must’ve been an awkward wedding reception no?”
The audience laughs again
I’d raise my hands again
Vivian speaks up,
”Well, we married in my lair, with mostly villains and close family attending, we had the Mad Cardinal conduct the ceremony.”
I’d lean back
”The mad priest that uses a flaming sword?”
Vivian nods
I’d clap my hands together, “Well that’s all the time we have for today, I wish you both a lovely honeymoon with plenty of heists along the way!”
My crew escorts them off stage as I’d spin in my chair
”Next up on The Super Truth!”
”Former FBI special agent and analyst Eltek Zelvinski investigates Captain Omega, with rumors saying he plans to run for President, tonight at 8”
(I noticed nobody comments on your posts so here you go!) | In an abandoned warehouse four men stand around a dark paneled table covered in various documents and regimes discussing plans for their next heist.
"I say we go for the Topological Casino, bit to close to the police for my taste, but a hoard of cash is just waiting inside." A pale man wearing a deep blue jacket proposed.
"No." Another in a black trench coat said firmly. "Far to close to the police, and don't forget about on site security, thanks to you our last one was a bust so I think we should take a low score. What about the bank transport trucks?" He finished holding up a folder labeled 'Confidential.'
"Now your thinking too low." The third said hotly taking the peach colored folder out of his hands and opening it up. "They only transport 10k to 20k per run with weeks in between, for this doomsday project we need at-least 80-100k start-up!" He filled that last part with as much venom as he could knowing how much he overran costs. "A good middle point would be the Potable Vault out in the desert. Low on security, and holds around 150 to whatever. We should hit it!"
"Definitely not." The fourth and final voice spoke out from across the room.
"What?" The third said. "How could you not like it? It's 20 minutes out from anywhere, has only like," He flipped through some more papers on the desk, "20 guards, it's a sitting duck!"
"Because," The Fourth said slowly turning around. "My wife banks there."
&#x200B;
"What." All three of them said.
"Yeah, I know, but last time we robbed a bank, it turned out she had money stored there and she had to sign all this paperwork and stuff, good thing I could just give her money back."
"WAIT, that's where that portion of the money when!" The first said who had been silent.
"Yeah, sooo, could we not do that, she'll be pissed." The fourth said calmly leaning on the table."
"But- I- you can't just say no to this-!" "Yes I can," The fourth interrupted. "It is my call to do stuff around here, and I veto this."
"But you can't do that for... such a stupid reason!"
"... Are you calling my wife stupid?"
"No, but she is an obstacle if she is soooo important that you'll just do everything to help her that you'll just veto such a good plan."
"..."
**BANG**
The third fell to the floor with the rest unknowing if he was alive.
"Holy shit." The second said backing off, "You just killed him!"
"No-one badmouths my wife." The fourth said coldly.
*Ring, Ring.*
"Hold it, that's my phone." The fourth reached for his phone ignoring the second looking on in disbelieve and the first checking what was properly a corpse.
"Hi sweetie! How are you!" A happy voice on the other end said. "Honey! Great to hear from you, what's up!"
"Oh nothing, Charlie just got back from school and got a B+ though!"
"Brilliant! Tell him he has extra ice-cream after dinner for me okay?"
"Of course dear, and dinner should be ready by 7, it's steak and chips?"
"Oh yeah." The fourth said happily thinking about the delicious food, to pause, and wipe the blood of the third off his shoe. "I'll be there, anything I need to pick up?"
"Hmm, we need some milk and potatoes... oh and that duct tape remember?"
"Oh yeah." He chucked thinking back to the broken shelf. "Bye hun"
"Bye dear."
*Click*
Checking his watch it read 6:15.
"Well, hate to cut this short gentlemen, but I haft to go, its steak and chips night."
"It's what." The first murmured half grieving half disbelieving over the corpse of his friend.
"Yep, see you tomorrow!" And with that, the fourth walked out the door leaving the first and second behind.
"..."
"Why did I take this job." The second said and the first pulled out a body-bag. | 2021-09-27T07:32:47 | 2021-09-27T06:03:43 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] You are the weakest member of a famous superheros family. Villains kidnapped you for a ransom, unfortunately hostage situations don't work when your family is already neglecting you... | I will admit, they did a good job with these bindings. Metal cabling instead of rope. Wrists bound behind my back and tied to the metal frame of... what is this? Some old school chair? Doesn't matter. Waist tied to the chair, legs tied at the ankles, knees, and thighs to the chair. At least they left that old spud sack off my head this time.
I watched my captors arguing, not particularly paying attention to them as they yelled something about a ransom and my parents on the news.
"So, can you just let me go?" I asked as they both turned to glare at me. A man and a woman. Both mid 30s, blonde hair, some sort of mechanical augmentation on their left arms. "It's clear whatever plan you had concocted didn't work."
"The fuck is wrong with your family?" The woman spat angrily. "We kidnap their eldest child and those two don't even flinch."
"Probably because I'm not the golden child like my brother." I replied, attempting to shrug were it not for the bindings holding my arms in place.
"What do you mean? You don't have any powers?" The man asked, a genuine note of confusion in his voice.
"I do. They're just not as flashy as my brother and sister. Plus, my parents are a pair of spotlight hogs. The public accolades are more important to them than their kids. Why they bothered having us in the first place I have no idea." I replied, not feeling my bindings slacken even a bit.
"So what's the plan? Let him go or zero him?" The woman asked, a rather lethal looking blade sliding from her mechanical left arm.
"I don't know. We need him for that ransom, but if they're not coming for him then there's no point in holding him. But if we let him go he can tell them where our hideout is. If we kill him then those two" he gestured to the TV set that had a muted news report showing my parents showboating to the public. "Could come after us, he is their son after all."
"Fuck. We kill him and those two certainly won't make it quick." The woman grumbled as the blade retracted back into her arm. "You sure nobody is coming for you?" The woman asked, walking up to me and grabbing my hair, yanking my head back so she could glare at me.
"Oh I never said that. My parents and brother, certainly not." I replied, hearing the sound of boddies dropping and things breaking in the rooms outside. "But someone will definitely be coming for me. My sister."
"What powers does she have? Never seen her in the news." The woman asked.
"Oh it's not her powers that you need to worry about. It's her temper." I continued as I used my powers to slip through the restraints.
"Wait what?!" The man asked as the woman jumped back in shock. "You could free yourself the whole time?!"
"Phase Shifting. Not really useful for stopping criminals but quite useful for escaping bonds." I replied as the door to the room flew open to reveal my sister standing in the door way, lightning sparking from her bare arms as she smiled sadistically at my captors who I'm certain probably wet themselves at her entrance, and if not, at the only two words she spoke as her gaze shifted to them with that sadistic smile widening into a manic grin.
"Found you." | “What… what the hell!”
I was roused to consciousness by the harsh screech of one of my captors. Opening my eyes, I was greeted to the same dark bag, or sack, or whatever it was they stuck over my head.
“We were supposed to get a payday from ‘em, Mac!” a deeper voice than before spoke.
Being groggy still, I tried moving my hands. It took me a moment to realize they were bound in a quite uncomfortable position behind my back. “What, you disappointed?” I cracked.
I heard a gasp before being hit over top the head. “So you’re awake, eh? Maybe you can explain this to us then?” As the first voice spoke, they grabbed me, turning me around and taking the thing obscuring my vision off my head.
In front of me sat an old, old CRT atop a rotting desk of sorts. Out the back, I could picture the mess of wires, tangled and melded together to form a completely incoherent mass.
On the screen, however, though the static, a news channel was on. The newswoman was nearly tripping over themselves, the camera following them shakily as they tried to catch up to someone.
“—you once more for your bravery, MissDirect! If you don’t mind, would you be open to a few quick questions?”
As the camera stabilized, I recognized my own mother appearing on the screen. Her costume was just as gaudy as ever, colored in gold accents and littered with glitter. How she never caused a car accident, I would never understand.
She shrugged. “Sure, I don’t see why not.”
“Thank you!” the lady said before heading into their first question. “Ever since the Meldbar meltdown a few months ago, you seemed to have disappeared from the crime-fighting scene. Do you have any comment as to why that is?”
“Just because you people don’t see me, doesn’t mean I’m not around!” MissDirect laughed. “I have been taking a step back, however, to properly take care of a few internal matters.”
“Oh? Would you be willing to share?”
“Not quite. All I can say is to be on the lookout in the coming months for some new talent!”
With a click, the image suddenly disappeared with a flash from the middle of the screen. Then, I felt a pressure on my shoulder and my head. I tried turning to see who it was, but their grip was too strong.
“Now, would you care to explain what that was all about?”
“What about? MissDirect’s shining passion projects?”
The grips grew tighter, and the deeper voice spoke again. “No smartass. You’re missing, and that news was from hours ago today. It’s been two nights. Why in the hell don’t they seem worried?”
“What’s there for her to be worried about? They probably don’t even know I’m gone yet.”
There was silence for a moment. “So you’re some sorta black sheep in your family then?”
I thought for a second. “I mean, I don’t think it’s like that….”
“Well,” the first voice spoke again. “It sure does seem like your family isn’t that worried about you.”
“Like I said... they probably just haven’t realized I’m gone yet,” I said matter-of-factly. “Just give a few days for the WiFi to go out, and they’ll notice within the hour.”
As soon as I finished speaking, the building shook, and dust began falling from the ceiling.
“What the hell was that?” Their grip released from my head, but I didn’t bother moving it around.
I smirked as I spoke. “You probably know who. They’re not giving up their free tech support.”
\------
Fun! Thanks for the prompt!
r/IUniven | 2022-02-13T18:51:52 | 2022-02-13T17:49:26 | 292 | 142 |
[WP] A drug is developed that mimics the effect of 8 hours of sleep, giving people another 8 hours of potential production. Soon, society adjusts to a constant state of production. However, a horrible consequence begins to unfold. | You pop your Zinger in and crack open an energy drink to chase it with. It was only 1/3rd, good for a quick power nap. You step back over to your booth and monitor the customers as they scan their groceries.
Nobody needs help, the machines are practically decorative at this point. The AI camera system runs the show, monitoring items, bags, credit card accounts, you're just the copilot. The human backup every automation needs.
The Zinger starts to kick in. You feel your eyes drifting, your head tilts forward and immediately kicks back. You had that dream again about riding the rail car out of the mining tunnel. The coastline the train car passed looked so nice, crystal clear waters flowing under that beautiful concrete bridge.
Every once in a while you get on that bridge and try to get to the other side, but you never get there.
You blink a few times, it's only been a second, but you swear you spent over a hour walking that bridge.
It doesn't take long for you to get your bearings, the energy drink helps. You look out at the monitors, an AI display tracking everything on screen. Business as usual. You check your watch, you know you just checked it before the Zinger, but you do it anyway. Force of habit.
8:02pm, only 10 hours left, okay, not quite halfway done but getting there. You wonder when was the last time you ate?
You stare at the monitors, time passes, you're getting tired again. How? You only took the Zinger 20 minutes ago. Maybe you should've had a full 8 hour. No, you took an 8 before you started, that would make you way too groggy now. You're just bored.
You try to think about what you'll be doing when you get out. It'll be sunrise, what used to be morning.
You'll take an 8 when you get out, then grab some eggs. Maybe go for a walk? No. Standing all day your body needs rest even if your mind doesn't.
You can just do the usual, watch a movie, take a Zinger, play a game, take a Zinger, read a book, take a Zinger. Come back to work. Take a Zinger.
Zingers are the best. You've never worked more, earned more, or been more well rested, constantly.
You check the clock again. 8:51. Maybe you'll take another 1/3rd at 9. You could use the rest. Try to cross that bridge again. You like looking at the waves. You love the walk. | I'm a sleeper living in the outskirts of the city, and I run a little Airbnb for sleep tourism. The awoken comes here often for sleep tourism, to get a sense of nostalgic belongings. You see, since the awoken can be so productive, they are able to afford the pill at all times, never needing to rest at all. They have no need for a home, because it is obviously more productive if you're constantly in the office, on the move, never needing to rest.
It's been said that those who could not afford the pill will never be productive enough to afford it again. The pill is expensive, and the thirst for it has transformed and stratified society. The downtown area is a constant state noise nowadays, full of exercise studios, dance clubs, and bars that never close to serve the awoken's never ending productivity. New services such as on site grooming and bathing, personalized wardrobe on the cloud has seen a boom, where personalized servants enter offices to care for those who never leaves work. Not being able to afford the pill, these sleepers are in a losing battle, constantly sleepy yet they must struggle to keep up. I was a personal trainer before I decided that, fuck it, I'll just run a sleeper inn and have these awokens conform to my schedule.
Adam used to frequently visit my inn. He's good for business as he brings his family along, wife and 2 kids Bobby and Aaron, and they spend the day cooking and working out in my gym to get a sense of family normality, as they do not own a house. Adam works for some kinda eye care company, where business is booming. Though Adam always tells me that the best eye protection is an 8hr sleep. I've taken an interest in how he's raising his children, as they're the first generation born entirely into the pill era. Aaron, the younger one, showed greater aptitude than Bobby, and It wasn't before long that I found out that Bobby was ill. Well, he's normal, except he's awfully allergic to the pills, and was in a coma for a day last time he used it. It is no surprise he cannot compete with Aaron, with 8 hours less time a day, it's impossible.
Having to sleep in the noisy city center, and being constantly overshadowed by a younger sibling has put a toll on Bobby. Eventually, he moved into my house and rented a room, and Adam arranged a nanny to look after him. Bobby would attend to the local best school instead of a 24/7 tutoring program. Adam stopped coming. It's apparent that, he was only here for awhile to scout out a good location for Bobby.
A year pass.
"We're leaving the city Zoe". Adam has turned up on my doorsteps after a year. "We actually got a place not so far from your place, Bobby will move in with us and we'll come say hi once in awhile".
"That's awesome!" I replied. I'm happy they're finally together after a year, but also bit sad as Bobby and the nanny have been a steady source of income. "Why? The city's too noisy?"
"Nah just... A change of scenery"
Adam moved in to take Bobby, I noticed distinctive bags under his eyes. The wrinkles were so deep it felt they're etched in. And Aaron, there's no better way to put it, but he looked every part like an older brother and is already a head taller than Bobby.
As they left I wondered how many awokens would choose sleep over haste? | 2022-03-18T10:24:56 | 2022-03-18T09:35:02 | 190 | 88 |
[WP] A thousand years after humanity was accepted into the galactic federation at large, other aliens realized one terrifying fact about them, humans are adaptive creatures. Unlike other races, humans have no qualms about learning alien techniques or integrating new alien technologies to their own. | "I still don't understand", Max said, "NADIR-4 is a peaceful planet, sarge. It's really far away from the bugline. What purpose is there to send a whole division of space marines? We should be focusing on protecting human colonies, not these aliens."
"You're still young", the sergeant said, exhaling the vape smoke. "I'll let you on one secret I've learned over the years, kid. The aliens, all of them, are complete idiots."
"Huh?"
"Let me explain", sarge said. "Look at your rifle. Tell me what you know about it." Max took a glance at it. He knew it perfectly, of course, same as any other marine. He could describe its workings in his sleep. "Standard issue WLG-900, Nodarian-inspired nucleus, Krrgit style lance operator, Frenchinese optics. Combat AI developed from reprogrammed Zylonics."
"Precisely", sarge chuckled. "You know what Nodarians think of the Krrgit power lance? 'Heretic tech'. The Krrgit about reprogramming Zylonics? 'Inconceivable'. The Zylonics about Frenchinese optics? 'Incompatible technology'. They all keep making stupid excuses not to study each other. They are so far up their own asses that they took a damn *thousand years* to realize we weren't doing the same as them."
"Uh, OK. But, that still doesn't explain why we're going to NADIR-4."
"I'm getting there, kid. Now, tell me about the conflict between Hivemind Lambda and the republic of Sha in galactic cycle F36U7."
"Ughhhhhh. Really?"
"Tell me the gist of it. You have studied galactic history, haven't you?" It was a rhetorical question, of course. Every kid studies galactic history.
"Hivemind Lambda was unaware that Sha's citizens were individuals in their own right and not expendable drones", Max recited. "It thought the republic wouldn't mind trading a bunch of them to study, but when it learned it had been actually killing people, it was horrified. Peace was reached soon after, and Lambda accepted all responsibility and to date it's still working on reparations."
"You wanna know what the citizens of Sha know about the conflict?" Sarge was grinning in an uncanny way. "They say, 'hivemind Lambda is a horrible monster we cannot possibly comprehend, and without human strange telepathy magic, it would have consumed us all. Instead, now it serves our every desire forever.'"
"What?" Max shook his head in confusion. "But... The human alliance didn't do any magic! It's just like, basic xenopsychology! Lambda is so vast and ancient that it really doesn't care spending F8 cycles serving the republic, it's for it like, an afternoon washing their car."
"Precisely. Now you know our secret strange power, and our true superweapon: basic fucking common sense. The xenopsychologists in the spy service have been studying the imports and exports from NADIR-4, which, mind you, is open knowledge to everyone, and have determined with a 80% certainty that they are accumulating weapons to attack us. This will be the, I think seventh time we stop a war before it even begins. The aliens have *no idea* how we do this, they think we're psychic or something. Idiots, I tell you." | Start...
I’ve read about the human race in my school. They are known to be violent beyond comprehension. A savage race which attacks every other species as well as each other. I remember my teacher, “Higher thought is inaccessible for such species. It’s best to avoid them.”
We’ve been at war with them for the last hundred years. We are quite a peaceful race. We have no weapons on our planet. It never occurred to us to harm another as a solution to our problems. The humans came to our planet in search of knowledge, and stayed to extract what they call ‘Lithium.’
When we tried to explain that the material was needed for the balance of our ecosystem, the humans didn’t seem to understand. They wanted it. They bombed our cities and occupied our capitals. They killed most of our leaders and took over the governance of our land.
Most of our race were imprisoned and killed. But we did not fight back. There is no point in fighting. We tried to educate and enlighten. We aim to improve ourselves, not in accumulating resources.
We did have captives in our few survivor camps. Were they really captives? They were free to go if they pleased. The humans who stayed with us, seemed to believe in our way. They spent most of their time studying and practicing our arts. The human leaders called them our “Prisoners of War.” Is it a war if it is one sided? I’ve often wondered.
They marvelled at our knowledge. It was easy for us to move things around with our spirit. The humans could not. They couldn’t communicate with each other unless they transmitted a lot of energy. How strange. I’ve never understood what makes it difficult. I have still more to learn.
There was a human who stayed at my home. I called him Bo. I was his keeper. I kept him alive. He needed nutrients that I could extract from the nearby land. He stayed indoors most of the time, sitting closing his eyes, nearly inactive. “Meditation,” he called it.
He learnt how to use the spirit force. He also spent his time practicing movements with his body that seemed like jumping and forcing things around. “Why not learn how be peaceful?” I would ask. It laughed, but never answered.
——
Our leaders called everyone for a gathering, today. “The messages that in the air seem to indicate that we will be killed tomorrow morning,” announced the eldest. Humans used the air to talk to each other. They had little devices that translated their words in to the mist that went through the air. We learnt to see those messages when the humans first came to our planet.
It had been a tough life. To face a foolish foe which destroyed everything you loved. Leaving this from of existence would be quite a relief. To journey on to the next phase of being. We decided to feast on our last night.
The humans in our camp seemed restless. They started yelling at each other and at us. They wanted to fight. We tried to tell them that it was okay to accept the future and war was not our way.
They weren’t soothed. Bo wanted to fight to protect us. He wouldn’t listen to our reason. He refused to accept our way. Bo organised the other humans and they were all yelling together. It was curious, how they dealt with knowledge of the future.
——
I was the morning of our departure. Bo was crying for us. For me. I told him that he would be spared so there was nothing to worry about. I opened by chest and offered to him a blunt knife to remember us by. It was a memento of our tribe. We used it to mark our children as adults. “Competence, with compassion.” It symbolised that we knew how to wield the knife but we choose not to use it.
This was my last mistake.
——
The inhabitants of our camp are still alive. But there is no peace. There is true war. A two sided war. Humans who want to keep us alive against humans who do not.
Bo combined the blunt knife with spirit energy into a violent weapon. Energy that our kind use to learn about the world.
They’ve been fighting for years. We are alive to witness it. We accept the war and wait our time to pass. We do not interact with the humans any more.
We’ve learnt from my last mistake.
...End | 2022-06-14T02:42:49 | 2022-06-13T23:34:05 | 1,987 | 171 |
[WP] You’ve just finished assembling a doomsday device. You’re not sure if a button is supposed to be labeled ‘ON’ or ‘NO.’ | Andrew: That's the silly thing about tape. I don't remember what I wrote.
Boss: Why would the hurricane machine have a no button?
Andrew: In case it prompts you to answer yes or no.
Boss: Most computers nowadays say cancel or accept.
Andrew: I didn't think about that. Respectfully if we had that UX designer, this would have been avoided.
Boss: Alright. So realistically we can press the button and a prompt will come up.
The Boss lifts his hand but a smack launches the hand away.
Boss: Why did you slap my hand?
Andrew: I don't actually know if the code includes a prompt.
Boss: What do you mean?
Andrew: We can't see the code.
Boss: What happened to the code?
Andrew: Well the only copy is in this machine.
Boss: I'm sorry?
Andrew: I've looked all over the systems. I can't find the code. The only place it could be is in this hurricane machine.
Boss: Can't we get it from the machine?
Andrew: If it was turned on.
The boss's chest lifts and lets out a heavy grunt. He looks at the machine.
Boss: All this money I spent.
Boss kicks the machine and Andrew jumps.
Boss: Fine whatever. I'll just make a new hurricane machine. This time, we're going to label the buttons properly. Send me the code. On a flash drive. You have till the end of this week. Otherwise it's your job.
He leaves and a deafening thud is heard as the door vibrates. Andrew pulls out his phone.
Andrew: Hey, he fell for tape trick. I got the machine secured. Where do you want this? | It wasn't a big button. In comparison to the rest of the machine, it was practically minuscule. But the problem is, the font for the buttons, was sans serif. So this particular round button was a conundrum. It was a fifty-fifty chance. ON, or NO. Not really the kind of chance you want to take on a doomsday device.
Black on white letters. Nothing about its placement tells me what direction it's supposed to be written in. It's on the top of the device, and I have to climb a ladder to even see it. I've poured over the blueprints for hours, racked my brain, and even tried to ask a friend. No ideas.
Logically, it's probably an ON button. After all, what would a button labelled 'NO' even do? But then again, maybe it stops a process or makes sure that the person pressing it is exempt from the destruction. So, if it was a 'NO' it would be a good thing, and I should press it. However, if it's an 'ON' and I press it, the device will start. And I still have a few other things I want to do before I completely destroy the world.
I've almost decided that it must be a 'NO'. So that would be a good thing for me to push. Unless the 'NO' is a short form for 'Nothing Outlasts.' Which means I would also perish along with the machine, along with everyone. So either way, I would be having death for dinner. However, maybe 'ON' is short for something too. It could be short for 'Overall Nix', or 'Overachieving Nihilism', or 'Orange Narwhal.' That last one might be stretching a bit. Though if this machine could make an orange narwhal, I think I might rethink doomsday a little. Maybe put it off for longer.
I can't take it. I have to know what this button does. I've said my farewells and warned the people I care about. Here we go. I'm pressing it. Close your eyes.
Huh. I'm still here. And the world still seems to be functioning. So, what did the button do? Wait, what the heck is that? Well, it's no Orange Narwhal, but that button was definitely an acronym. So, with my Nice Owlet firmly installed in a comfortable home I've learned my lesson.
That is absolutely the *last* time I buy doomsday device blueprints at a discount. | 2022-08-04T18:09:23 | 2022-08-04T18:03:20 | 126 | 90 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | "Five years, Ana." Klaus look at her with narrowed, angry eyes, but his face was calm and so was his voice.
Ana, champion of all the land and savior of the world, looked at the side uncomfortably as she stood at the front door. "I...i know, Klaus, but, i had a very good reason for leaving-"
"You left me, our children, our home, our village, with no letters, no hellos, not a *thing* and you come back now expecting a warm welcome from me?" His voice was now cold and bitter at her, "What happened to your words of 'I promise we'll always see each other'?"
Ana's lip quivered, she remember the previous times Klaus had been like this, this cold, bitter and angry side to the sweet, quiet and caring person. "I...had a duty to this..i...i had to save the land and...everything that happened with Prince La-Phillip.."
Oh yes, the grand marriage that happened a week ago, after Ana saved the land and defeated the Dark Star. That was the first news Klaus had ever gotten. Klaus was about to respond until a soft, gentle voice called from behind him, "Klaus? Who's at the door? Is it a friend...?"
Ana's eyes looked over his shoulder to see a shorter, black-haired woman holding a baby in her arms, the woman staring back equally surprised. It was Joan, the woman she had won Klaus away from.
Klaus looked back to her, his breathing unsteady as he spoke, "We thought you were dead, so i had to move on. She was there for me...you weren't." Ana croaked out, "Oh, gods, Klaus i..."
"And for all purposes, you still are dead. This is not your home anymore." And he closed the door in her face, locking it. Ana stood there for a good few seconds and then turned, walking away, covering her mouth to try and muffle her cries.
Joan stared out the window as Ana walked down the pathway from her house...but turned back to Klaus, sitting on his armchair with his head in his hands. She'd frown as she saw he was weeping softly, rubbing his back and soothing him. She'd sigh out, "I suppose that wasn't as easy as you thought?"
Klaus looked up to her, gently hugging her into him, "It never was, it never will be..." | I was kind of glad when she left. It opened up a new life for me, it got me off my anti depressants. It wasn’t a bad relationship, we just didn’t… connect. I made so many new friends when she disappeared, and even have a girlfriend, Molly, who never seizes to give me butterflies when she laughs, I know it’s stupid. But what’s more stupid is you, standing right in front of my house with fucking angel wings. Marybeth. It was already crushing when you left without a word, but you return, 3 years later fucking cosplaying on my lawn? I can’t even imagine what sort of life has been led since I last saw her. She used to seem much more uptight, I would never expect Marybeth, who only drank virgin bloody Mary’s to be doing some sort of acrobatic display with a man dressed as a half pig. They play-fought with swords dashing and ducking and running between each others blades. My cheeks burned red, what will my neighbors thing of me now. “Shit” I whisper underneath my breathe to myself, how do I explain this to Molly. I dialed 911, I didn’t want to confront Marybeth like this. Maybe if she got some help first I would be ready, but it would be silly to try to reason with her like this. “911 what’s your emergency?” They answer on the other line. “Uh, I’m calling about a…” what do I even call this situation? “Loitering? There- there is two people who are playing on my lawn” I overhear remarks on the other end but can’t make out the words, they answer. “How old are they sir?” Last time I saw Marybeth was the night before her birthday. Which I realize is 3 years since yesterday. “They are around 30” they answer. “Are they posing any threat to you?” Well shit, maybe if I was dressed up in a knights outfit maybe, but I’d assume I’m safe for now. “Not currently officer, but they don’t seem well, mentally” I may sound like the old men who yell about rap music and such but I’m not dealing with this. “Ok sir, we’ll send someone over, it will be around half an hour” phew. “Ok, thank you officer” I tap the phone to hang up and immediately hear a crashing noise in the other room. The man pig broke through my damn window. It’s safe to say I’m pretty pissed. “We’ll that’s some nice dramatic effect fella! Haha, one that’s gonna cost you a couple hundred bucks” he stay limp on the ground, I kneel down by him and see that his shirt is soaked. “What?“ i whisper. I touch it, and I look back it my hand, it’s blood, it’s real. And there is now way in hell there is a plastic surgeon good enough for a pig snout on a face. “No,no,no,no” I get up and step back, only to trip over a side table and stumble back onto the floor. A dead man… thing’s blood on my hands. I was woken from my terror by a familiar voice I hadn’t heard in a long time. “James. How’ve you been?” | 2022-08-12T17:33:52 | 2022-08-12T16:38:18 | 47 | 34 |
[WP] You're a supervillain whose latest evil scheme threatens to throw the city into chaos unless your nemesis goes on a date with you. To your surprise, they agree with enthusiasm before you can even explain what the consequences of refusing are. | **".... I, HELLFIRE, CHALLENGE THE SO-CALLED SUPERHERO SUB-ZERO TO A ONE-ON-ONE DEATHMATCH-"**
"I accept!" came the answer from a sky-blue spandex-clad mountain of muscle, way sooner than I'd expected. "But for the safety of the city and the civilians, I request that we duke it out at a remote location - I will let you know soon!"
"Fine! It will be *your defeat!*" Was what I said. Although I knew the odds were slightly in his favour. Well, now that we would fight at a remote location I could up my own odds by preparing the site beforehand....
=====
*WARNING! PROXIMITY ALERT IN SECTOR 3A, ALTITUDE 200 FEET AND DESCENDING ON INTERCEPT VECTOR. ETA 80 SECONDS. WARNING! PROXIMITY ALERT....*
The alarm kept going until I dismissed it with a wave of my hand at the holographic interface. *He's here, right on time. Let's give him a warm welcome-*
My fingers hovered over the firing controls for my air defense cannons and I gaped in disbelief at the scene in the holo display. A... Campervan? Flying through the sky at near-mach velocity? Held up by a huge muscled man dressed not in the expected spandex costume, but a tie-dye tank top, flowery shorts and.... FLIP FLOPS?? WITH SOCKS???!!
My bile rose in my throat at the last bit of visual information, the atrocity of it against my fashion sensibilities almost too much to bear.
*INCOMING TRANSMISSION: AUDIO ONLY.*
"Whoa whoa whoa dude!! Don't shoot, don't shoot! I brought beer and snacks and drinks and barbecue and games! Lemme set this down first then we can chill out!"
What. The. Unprintable abomination is this??
=======
"Ayyyyy you're really good at this!" whooped Sub-zero, or err.... "Dave", as he insisted I call him. Dave chugged back on the last of his beer, burped and pulled out another two cold ones from the pseudo-magical cooler between us. "Want another one, dude?"
For the life of me I cannot fathom how that cooler can seem to be forever full of fresh, ice cold beers no matter how much we drank... Every time you opened the lid it would always be full... Again.
I sighed, setting down the PS5 controller on my lap, rubbing my face with one hand and reaching over to take the bottle from Dave.
"Sub- no, Dave, why are we doing this, again? What happened to our supposed deathmatch?" I asked. Not that I was opposed to some time off now and again, but this little boys-camping-trip thing felt so surreal - especially since we were - are - each other's sworn nemesis.
The question elicited a cackle from Dave as he rolled his head back, leaning into the camping chair.
"Well Bob (why is he calling me Bob?), I kinda just wanted a short break, and I don't have many friends thanks to the job. Plus, I figured you were working just as hard as me and probably in the same boat, so why not take the opportunity to get away from it all for a nice getaway?" Dave said, flashing a toothy grin.
"Right," I replied. "And a huge showdown between two of the most powerful supers around 'happens' without any damage to the environment? Media isn't going to buy that excuse."
“Ha-ha! I got you covered, fam!" Dave beamed, giving me a thumbs-up. "All we gotta do is chuck a few of your missiles around the landscape, I'll shoot a few power blasts, we call it a draw and voila!" he finished with a flourish.
"Best of all," Dave continued, "we can use the same challenge excuse couple times a year for a quick R&R, change up the win/loss ratio a bit, put on some makeup for a bruise or two and nobody will know any different."
I was silent for a moment, gears turning in my head. Finally, I gave him my answer.
*"I'll drink to that. Cheers!"* | “You don’t know what you’re playing with…”
“Oh? And you do?” he asked mockingly as he easily dodged a bus which flew up right next to him, sent flying over the tops of even the tallest skyscrapers of the city. “I’ve studied theories for years. I carved my own loopholes out from them, and changed the code of the universe to do my bidding. What more could there possibly be for me to understand?”
She floated across from him, but her eyes followed the bus.
He sighed and waved a hand dismissively at her. “Oh, by all means, go save them. But—“
“You are hurting people. No amount of broken universal laws will allow us to bring them back.”
His eyes narrowed. “I said you can save them. But, if you aren’t back within ten seconds, know that I will unleash this upon the rest of the city, perhaps even further beyond if I so choose.”
She was gone in the blink of an eye, accompanied by a sonic boom.
One, two...
Still, he was easily able to track her as she flew to the bus and braced it from below.
Four, five…
As he watched her carefully set it down on the ground multiple blocks away, he couldn’t deny the longing that he felt growing inside.
Seven, eight, nine…
Another blink, and she was back to floating just in front of him.
“One second to spare.”
“Oh yes, to prevent immediate disaster, but you’ll have to do much better than that to keep the city from destruction.”
She glared at him. “That wasn’t the deal.”
“Well silly me, I must have forgotten to write a contract. Sue me, universal laws or not. See where it takes you.”
She let out what sounded almost like a growl. “What… do you want…”
“Right to the point, are we?” Her glare deepened from daggers to broadswords. “Alright, alright. I… want you… to… go on a date with me.”
It took a moment for confusion to wash over her face. “...I’m sorry?”
“Oh well, it appears—“
“N—no, like, I’m totally fine with it. It’s just… that’s it?”
It was his turn to look surprised this time. “W—what do you mean, ‘that’s it’? Do you have any idea how terrible other supervillains make for dates?”
She smirked. “Oh, trust me, I know all about that. Killing waiting staff, destroying restaurants, you name it. I just don’t get… I thought you of all villains would want some sort of position of power or something.”
“Why would I want that? I would take the throne for but a week before being ousted by both you heroes and the other villains, whom I already share a quite strained relationship with frankly. But…why are you… actually considering this?”
She shrugged. “From your past, I know you won’t be a doormat like the other guys who would just want the publicity of being by my side.”
He arched an eyebrow. “That… actually surprises me… I thought you of all heroes would love that.”
She shook her head with a sigh. “No, there’s no connection there, and that’s just not my style.” She paused for a second, before adding, “Plus, Horoscap is really pissing me off with her recent ‘matchmaker’ fad. She’s been trying to pair me with Rolthund for the past few weeks, which is just… eugh.”
He visibly flinched. “Even I wouldn’t want any part of that.”
“I know, right?” she exclaimed as she threw her hands up in the air.
There was silence between the two for a few moments, with both of them diverting their gazes from each other the whole time.
“...So…” he broke the silence. “...next Friday… how does Big Valens sound…?”
Her eyes lit up. “Perfect! ...So long as you don’t change the deal again…”
His eyes widened, and he was quick to put his hands up in defense. “No! I wouldn’t—I mean, I could, but not for this!”
She laughed. “Alright, whatever you say, Physie. See you there.”
Once more, she disappeared from in front of him. He watched her disappear below the tops of the buildings, at which point he could no longer hold the smile from his lips as he turned and blasted off in the opposite direction.
\------
A bit silly, but man, this was pretty fun to write.
Thanks for the prompt, OP!
r/IUniven | 2022-08-16T16:44:21 | 2022-08-16T16:38:44 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | Bullies. I hated bullies.
I hated how they felt that, with just a little bit of power, they had the right to pick on and push around anyone they deemed below them.
And it got **SO** much worse when the bullies had superpowers. Which brings us to my current predicament, with me on the ground, and this a-hole standing over me..
"What's the matter? Why don't you use your supposed powers to defend yourself, huh?", he taunted me, right before he kicked my in the stomach, sending me sailing twenty feet down the hall, and sliding a bit farther down the tiled floor.
The other students who surrounded us managed to part in time to miss getting hit by me. A few smirked or laughed. They were other bullies or Terry's cronies. I made a note of who they were for later, so I could keep an eye on them.
Most of the students, however, had faces filled with anger at my bully, or concern for me. a few were even having trouble keeping their own powers in check. I understood. I didn't like it, but I understood. Terry was one of the most powerful students in the school, and a senior to boot. Most of the *teachers* would have trouble matching him in a one-on-one fight. A lot of the students would need to team up to take him, and no one was brave enough to make the first move.
I guess was on my own. This was going to suck.
Terry slowly approached me as I got up, with that overconfident "look at me, I'm so awesome" swagger a-holes with power got when trying to work a crowd. He stopped about ten feet away from me.
"Why don't you stop me, if you're **SOOOoooo** powerful?" He laughed, with his arms outstretched, and his cronies laughed with him. Terry basked in it, like a cat in the sun on a windowsill. What a douche.
"You're an idiot." Everyone's heads snapped to me, shock on their faces. The shock on Terry's face was mixed with rage, as his face turned a dark red. He was probably too dumb to be embarrassed.
"What did you say, you little b----?"
"I said: *you. Are. An. Idiot*." Terry began to stalk towards me. "In that brick you call a brain, did it ever occur to you that I *couldn't* get into this school without any powers? That maybe, *just maybe*, if I haven't shown my powers, there's a good reason?" He stopped, the wheels in his mind trying to turn, despite the fact that the hamster that powered it was long since dead.
"Honestly," I continued, "the only reason you are still in this school is because your parents are popular heroes, and that clearly gave you a huge sense of entitlement. You are nothing but a bully, with this feeling of entitlement that you think gives you the right to push around everyone else." He continued stalking toward me again.
"But back to what I was saying before. Did it ever occur to you that maybe there's a *reason* I don't want to fight you, that has nothing to do with you?"
As I said this Terry reached me, pulled back his fist, and swung and my already bloody face. I was done playing nice.
Terry had super-strength, flight, and fast reflexes as his powers. They were strong enough that he could take on most supers on his own.
I wasn't most supers.
I nonchalantly backhanded his fist, knocking him off-balance. He fell to the ground, sprawled out from how his own momentum had carried him around.
I thought people were shocked before. Now, I watched their jaws hit the floor. Literally, in the cases of a few people whose powers allowed them to stretch themselves that far.
"I hate bullies. Especially superpowered ones." Terry pushed himself up off the floor, murder in his eyes as he glared at me.
"You think that your powers give you the right to hurt others. But it doesn't. And those with such little power, who use it to hurt others, don't deserve power at all."
"You're going to pay for that," Terry said as he stood up. I had just shown the student body that he could be hurt. Now, he needed to try to reestablish that no one should stand up to him.
*Pfft*. As if I'd let him.
"You still don't get it, do you," I asked, as he marched towards me, and I squared my stance. "We've been in school for, what? A month? And you're a senior, one of the *most powerful students in the school*, and you're picking on a freshman whose powers **you don't even know**." Terry threw another punch, but this time instead of deflecting it, I caught it. Then, I tightened my hold on his fist, and I bent it back, forcing him to his knees.
"Did you ever think, that maybe, *just maybe*, someone might not be fighting back because he was afraid of *what he might do to you*? That maybe I'm afraid of doing something **that I can't take back**?" On my periphery, I saw the shock of the students change as my voice dropped several octaves, becoming unnaturally deep. I didn't need a mirror to see tgat my eyes had turned black. The fear on their faces told me that.
"*Thats not good,*" I thought, as Terry's fury turned to terror. "*I need to end this.* **Now**."
Adjusting my stance, I swung him by his arm over my head and onto the ground, before swinging him back over again. I looked at the students to my right, and motioned with my head for them to get out of the way, which they all scrambled to do.
Grabbing Terry's arm with both hands, I swung him in a circle around me, letting him go after a single rotation. Since he was still stunned from me slamming him into the ground, he wasn't able to use his powers to stop himself before he slammed into the lockers in the wall, many of them crumpling around him as he made impact with them.
I took a deep breath, centered myself mentally, and pushed down the darkness as far as I could. "Stay down," I said, as I turned and walked away.
Edit: End of Part 1
And if anyone has any pointers on the writing itself, both on this and Part 2, I'd appreciate it. Thanks! | "Well, well, well, if it's Tommy O'Gransworth. Granny to me and the boys, like." In came Ted Nuggerton. All-round arsehole, and self-proclaimed champion of the school ground. His thicker-than-most Irish accent horrendously disturbing the peace.
I was sitting in the small tired-looking, abandoned chapel, built back in days long past. No one came here anymore, besides me. It was my quiet place, away from the feeling of being out of place in a world where power was everything.
Ted Nuggerton and his cronies had broken that silence.
"Shawn Brown owes me forty euros; said you wouldn't be here, but I know you better, like," Sneered Ted. "Much better like."
I rubbed my eye. The one that wasn't black and blue from the punks behind me. "Is that right?"
"It is," Ted muttered, coming down the aisle with his idiot followers. "But he also told me, you little git, you've been slagging me off behind my back. Is he telling the truth?"
Thomas shrugged. "Would you believe me either way?" He asked, turning his head over to watch the schoolyard bully limp around the front pew to tower over his victim.
Ted frowned. "Probably not. I think you'd just be trying to save your own skin, like."
His four friends flanked me, ensuring I had no chance of escape.
"Well, there we go then," I sighed. It would be lunchtime soon. I hadn't brought any food with me, because I knew something like this *might* happen. It was a two mile walk across the countryside back to our village, but I didn't mind. No one came here besides me until now, because it was so out of the way.
"Well, there we go then, eh? That's all you've got to say?" Ted seethed, his nostrils flaring. "You're the only punk at school who has not a lick of powers, and you're the only dryshite on this entire island, Tommy O'Gransworth, who stands up to me thinking you're something other than a nothing." He opened his mouth, and his tongue lashed out. At the edge, miniature spikes poked out, slashing my cheeks, before his tongue withdrew. "Didn't like that, did you?"
I shook my head, putting a hand to the bloodied wound.
"We're not done here, O'Gransworth. We're done for a long time, like. When you come back to school tomorrow, you're never going to get in our way again. Do you understand?"
There it was. The fear and the inadequacy I felt every time I stepped into school had come rushing back. Couldn't he just feck off back to-?
"Feck off," I snapped, trying to hide back the tears. "Feck off and leave me alone!"
His tongue lashed out again, and the spikes at the edge slashed the other side of my cheek. Ted's friends jeered, fist-bumping one another. None of them had any impressive powers, but they were strong enough to stop me from making a run for it.
"Or what?"
"Or I'll go and tell your sister, like. You know - Carol."
Ted's face dropped. "Don't you bring her into this!"
"I bring something into her every time I see her," I spat. "And we've gotten chatting about you after I've fecked her brains out." I jabbed a trembling finger at the fat cunt. "She doesn't like you much, does she? What's the word she calls you? Starts with a "b"." I tapped my forehead. "Burden"? Was it that? Aye, I think it was." I turned my head to his friends. "Do you make your own beds, lads? Do you tidy and make them look nice? Ted here-" I nodded to Ted. "-doesn't. His sister does. Ever since your mammy ran out - no doubt because of you - Carol's been doing *everything*. You're a lazy tool, aye? Probably never learnt how not to shite your bed when Carol forgets to leave the light on at night! Stuck with the mental age of a three-year old, aren't you, eh?"
I was beginning to feel good about myself. Powerful.
"Oh, aye, one day I'm sure she'll see what use you are around the house. If one of the farmers ever needs another pig to butcher, I'm sure they'll pay Carol a pretty penny to buy herself something nice, instead of looking after you."
Ted opened his mouth, and the weaponised tongue drew its spikes, and drove them into my shoulder. My body stiffened, and I gritted my teeth. The spikes dug deeper and deeper.
"Go...go ahead..." I managed to spill out. "See what...see what Carol does to you then..."
The spikes and the tongue withdrew to Ted's mouth.
"If you ever touch me again," I growled, rubbing my wound. "I will make your life a living hell. Do you understand me? I will hurt you, and all your friends-" I motioned to the cronies. "-until the only escape you get is from jumping off of whatever cliff you're closest to." I rose to my feet, my legs shaking. "You come to my house to shatter my windows again, like, or you bully my sisters and steal their sweets? I will ruin *all of you*. Your sister doesn't give two shites about you. I mean that, Ted Nuggerton. I know she beats you up, blackening your eye. You got that limp from her, right?" I nodded to his weakened leg. "That's not from fighting in the schoolyard. You don't fool me."
Ted was staring at me as if I'd plunged a knife through his heart already. Reluctantly, he nodded.
"Do I make myself clear to you all, you fecking eijits?" I growled, glaring at all of them. "You're all going to leave me alone!"
Ted's friends nodded enthusiastically, before scampering out of the lonely chapel.
Once they were gone, I asked. "Am I going to have any more problems with you, Ted Nuggerton?" My voice was calm, like a teacher trying not to scare a student who they were disappointed in.
"...No."
"Do you promise?" I asked. "You've pushed me around long enough that I'm not fooling around, like."
"I promise."
I inhaled. "Damn right. Go away then, and let me have some peace."
Ted Nuggerton limped out of the citadel after his friends. I watched him go like a wounded dog, before my shoulders dropped, and I did to back to the pew. There wasn't really any way I could be sure that Ted was going to keep to his word, but I had it on good authority that he would.
A blonde haired beauty stepped appeared from behind the altar, no longer invisible.
"I thought it went well, Carol," I breathed, leaning my head back, trying to manage a grin.
"Went well? I told you just to tell him to back off, not to emotionally damage him for the rest of his life!" Protested the woman. | 2022-11-02T12:45:49 | 2022-11-02T11:48:42 | 91 | 27 |
[WP] You died and awoke in the afterlife. It's quite nice actually. The people and atmosphere are a lot nicer than you are used to and there is no stress or pressure. When you ask what good deed got you into heaven you are informed that this is hell, followed by a visit from a very concerned demon.
Edit: Wow, this got a lot more attention than I expected. | “This can’t be Hell. It’s…peaceful.” I glanced behind me to check that the dog park was still full of owners watching their pets. The grass beneath my feet was freshly cut. I couldn’t smell the trash but I knew there must be some. There always was in the park.
“No young man, this is definitely hell. Can I ask what makes you doubt your new home?”
I looked at the demon in front of me with a hint of suspicion in my eyes. His face was human,but for the tiny horns poking through his blond hair. He wore a black suit with a silk black shirt, no tie. He vaguely reminded me of someone, I couldn’t put my name on it. It slipped from my memory each time I got close.
“ There are children playing. Laughter. For Christ’s sake, I thought all dogs went to heaven!” I half whispered with more than a little sarcasm.
The demon smirked, then spoke with his unnaturally deep voice. “Every person has free will. That is an undeniable fact. But, the thing about free will, is that each person does not view the world the same way. What one may perceive as free will, is a cage for another. Isn’t that right, David?”
That name struck a chord deep in my chest, and I winced. “ W-Wha-“
“Daddy’s here! Dad! Come play with us!”
I turned around, locking eyes with a young boy with a startling resemblance to the man in front of me, and I blinked quickly. He looked so familiar-
“Where’s your mother Peter? Go get her, quickly!”
I heard myself speak, but those weren’t my words, those weren’t my thoughts. I turned back to the man as the boy ran off, my eyes searching his face for answers.
“ In your manifesto, you wrote that you were, what was it again? Seeing demons? That you couldn’t control yourself any longer? That the Devil himself guided you on your…’mission’?”
The demons voice was cold and deep. His smirk widened into a grin as I reached into my pocket and felt cold steel against my thigh.
“That-I don’t remember-What??”
My emotions were all over the place. What did he mean, what was going on?
“Dammit David, it’s your sons birthday and you are late! I told you to be on time, for once, and you cant do this one thing I asked-“
I turned to her and a name flashed through my head. Mary. My ex wife. I opened my mouth to ask why she was with me in heaven, when my mouth spoke for me.
“ Do you believe in God, Mary?”
My mind raced. A sense of unimaginable dread came over me as my blood rushed. Why would I ask her that?
“Show me how you did it David. It was quick wasn’t it?” I couldn’t see him, but I knew the demon was looking at me with that grin on his face.
I watched in horror as my arm came out from my pocket holding my pistol. I could feel the sweat down my back as my finger squeezed.
BANG
She didn’t even have time to look shocked. Right through her left eye. Her body fell limp on the ground, as the boy-my son, watched from behind with a look of confusion.
“D-Dad?”
I locked eyes with him, every fiber of my being screaming to drop the gun. My body didn’t respond to my commands, pulling the trigger twice more and hitting my son in the chest. My arm fell to my side as I watched the pool of blood get larger.
I raised my head as I could hear screaming around me. I locked eyes with the demon. My anger flared.
“WHY DID YOU MAKE ME DO THIS?!”
The demons grin dropped and he snarled.
“ You did this on your own David. And you aren’t finished yet.”
He looked over my shoulder as I could hear footsteps behind me. I spun against my will and the gun rose. I wanted to yell out to them, warn them, anything. But still, my body did not obey.
2 shots, the first missed, the second in the chest taking down Mr. Jacob, my former neighbor.
3 shots next, I couldn’t even see if it hit anyone, the crowd of people running away was too thick.
I felt my arm raise to my skull and I flinched.
“Why?”
My finger pulled the trigger.
But I didn’t die.
I could feel the gaping wound in my skull. My blood filled my nostrils as my body collapsed. I gurgled as I suffocated on my own blood.
The demon walked towards me and kneeled down.
“ David, this is what you wanted. You wanted to make a statement remember? You were so, so angry that day. And here we are. In Hell. And so, you are going to relive that day, over and over. You were right though. This park is too nice to be hell.”
The demon chuckled as a tear rolled down what left of my face and my eyes closed for the last time.
—————————
I blinked my eyes open as I looked around. I was standing. I took a look around me. It looked like…a dog park. I could see people in the distance. Fresh cut grass. I was surprised not to smell any trash, if we were in a park. I just could not, for the life of me, remember where I was. I knew I should remember though. For some reason I knew it was important.
I saw a blond man looking at the dogs too, and I walked over. I didn’t want to yell. I wasn’t sure why I was being so quiet. Just a gut feeling.
“Excuse me sir, do you know where we are?”
The man turned to me and I gasped in shock upon seeing the two horns on his head.
“Well young man, this is Hell, and I’m no sir. Im a demon.” | I did not wake. I just was. A moment before I was not, then I was. In this body, useless and weak, uncoordinated, with eyes that refused to focus. In horror, I screamed. I screamed and I screamed while unseen hands grabbed at me, manipulated me, wrapped me in cloth and passed me among themselves. I screamed until I felt the familiar warmth of skin on skin, and then I passed out from exhaustion.
Later, I woke in an unfamiliar place, still relatively blind. I could feel the soft comfort of bedding around me, smell the unfamiliar scent of a strangers home. I assumed it was night because it was dark except for a few diffused sources of light from which I couldn’t identify the source. But the light was important because it allowed me to make out the silhouette standing at my side. Tall, slender, dark, and wearing a wide brimmed hat. I tried to speak but my words were gibberish, robbed of all meaning. But the form spoke in response just the same.
“You’re alive,” it said. I tried to speak again only to be stopped by it’s calm, reassuring voice. “No, no. Don’t bother. We don’t need words to speak. Not yet. You are alive, again. I’ll put this as simply as possible. You were, you died, and who you were has died. Now you are alive again. I am here to acclimate you to this fact and you will likely not see me again for the rest of this life.”
It continued. “In some time, as you regain your speech, you will lose this memory. But your soul will always remember. When you died, you did so incomplete. You failed to complete your development and so have been denied entry into Paradise.”
I attempted to speak again, gurgling and babbling incoherent nonsense but the form responded as if it understood. “It is not for me to know why. I am only the ferryman and the passer on of the truths you must know. Do not attempt to speak again, as your words have been babbled because you are cursed not to be able to share this truth with others throughout your life. Only your soul will retain it, as has been deemed good.”
I looked at the shape in stunned silence, fists full of cotton in anxious anticipation.
“Because you have been found unworthy of Paradise, you have been returned to hell, beyond god’s presence.”
‘Hell?’ I thought. How can this be? As frightening and confusing as the past day has been, it has certainly not been hell. I’ve felt nothing but gentle hands and warm skin. Heard nothing but gentle voices speaking love and wonder.
“Yes. Hell is all places without the presence of God. You have been reincarnated back on Earth, God’s creation, which so offended him with the works of Angels and Man he abandoned it to return to the sanctuary of Heaven. You’ve been returned here, to this physical place to have another chance to redeem yourself.”
‘No,’ I thought. ‘No, I’ve lived well.’ Memories of my previous life began flooding back as I pulled them from the ether. I searched them, frantically, looking for the great sun I’d committed. I could think of none I hadn’t spent decades regretting, and repenting.
The figure seemed to know this and spoke again. “You did live well, but you lived falsely. Your sin was not of murder or theft of gluttony. Your sin is that you lied to yourself and others throughout the entirety of your life in order to please them. God made you as you were, and you rejected yourself. That is the first truth your soul must know.”
Immediately I knew this to be true and was overcome with a deep and heavy sadness that seemed to pull me into my bed. I had no words, no thoughts in disagreement. I knew this to be true and it pained me.
The thing in the hat sighed heavily, as if informing me was equally as painful for them. It gathered itself and spoke again while I lay there in the darkest depression.
“The second truth is equally as important. You must know that you chose this. When you died you were given a choice, to return to Earth and try again or to abandon your ego and individuality to the source, where you would be unmade and remade anew. You chose this and everything that comes with it. Your free will has never been compromised and it never will, so what I say next is merely a suggestion from one fallen soul to another. Do not blame God for your life. Do not blame your fellow man for their lives. If you ever want to escape this cycle, there is only one path. You must trust in God, who made you. This body may be new, but your soul is as it always has been. All you need to do is trust God and be Yourself.”
Those words echoed in my ears as the shadow at the foot of the bed dissipated like smoke in the wind. Stunned, I attempted to regain my grounding, noticed I was still grinning the sheets around me, noticed I had stopped breathing for a moment and drew breath, deep and long. I felt my lungs expand and my chest rise. I kicked my legs and moved my tongue around my mouth, feeling the toothless gums there, their slick wetness. With the shock wearing off I began to recognize the importance of what I’d heard and started chanting to myself in my mind, ‘Don’t forget this. Be Yourself. You must remember to be Yourself,’ over and over again until I fell asleep.
I woke to dim daylight flooding through two squares to my left that must be windows. I stretched my fresh body and felt relaxed and content for the briefest of moments. Then memories, faded and fleeting, of the previous night brushed against my consciousness, ephemeral and impossible to hold on to like a dream. ‘No, no. I can’t forget! What was it? It was important, of most importance but what was it? No!’ Eventually I stopped clawing at my memory, recognizing the futility. ‘It’s gone,’ I thought. ‘It’s gone.’
Unaware of what I’d lost but aware that I had lost something invaluable, I screamed and I screamed. I cried as hard as I could, warm tears running down my face, salting my tongue. My bowels released and I felt the warmth of fresh urine bathing my groin. I screamed and cried with a sense of unimaginable loss until I felt myself gripped by strong hands. I was lifted up, soft words were spoken but I couldn’t understand them pst my wailing. I was placed on a shoulder, felt the structure of the clavicle under warm skin, and a hand was gently caressing my back. Slowly, my crying decreased to whimpers and a soft voice spoke into my ear, audible this time. “I love you.” | 2022-12-26T14:43:44 | 2022-12-26T14:00:26 | 276 | 197 |
[WP] A suicide hotline operator realizes that the person he's talking down really should kill themselves. | "H-hello? Operator?"
"Ma'am, yes, please stay with us."
"God, help me. *sniff* I don't *want* to die!"
"It's ok, ma'am, you don't have to die."
"I do, I *do*, oh Lord, why must it be *me*?"
"Where is your present location, Ms... Ms-"
"S-Svenson, dear. 46th and Maple. Don't come, please."
"Ms. Svenson, the display shows there are already a lot of units in that area-"
"I know, I know! God, help, it's so hot here."
"Ma'am, you've dialed a sui-"
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
---
"Hey, Jen, check the TV," a co-worker called from the back of the kiosk.
The news focused on a high-rise. There, a woman, in her early thirties, huddled by an open window. The woman was crying into a cell phone as a fire tore up the cubicles behind her.
"*sniff* Tell me I'm going to live, p-please."
Jen looked at the phone in front of her and back at the television. The firemen would not reach Ms. Svenson in time.
"Ms. Svenson, I..."
Jen paused.
"I-It's your job, right? To tell people they are going to live?"
"You're going to live, ma'am. ...But-"
"But what?"
"Ms. Svenson. I..."
"What is it?"
"I need you to jump for me."
"But the firemen-"
"They can't make it up there, Ms. Svenson. They've set up a life net for you."
But it was a lie.
"I'm scared."
The woman on the television approached one of the burst-out windows.
...
"You're going to live, Ms. Svenson."
She turned off the television, and cried. | He was looking at the clock. One last call and then his shift will end.
"This is Eric, how may I help you?"
"I want to kill myself. I need help." Straight into it. "Earlier I bought bullets. Now I sit in my office, waiting." The voice belonged to a man in his 50s. He was slurring his words and crying. Maybe he was a little drunk.
"What seems to be the problem?" This one is gonna be easy. He learned to tell from the beginning. This one was salvageable.
"I need help." he repeated. "It's the little ones. I can't help myself..." he sobbed. "I have to touch them. I..." silence for a few seconds and then "I did other things too." he was whispering by now, and between the sobs it was hard for Eric to make out the words, but what he did understood was enough to make his stomach turn.
For just one moment he considered hanging up. Letting him do it.
"Tell me where you live. Let me call the police." he said instead. His punishment was for God to decide, not him.
"No! I can't do that to my family."
"Didn't you called because you needed help? I'm trying to help you not to hurt others and yourself." His palms were getting sweaty. What if the man hang up? Put the gun away? Go on with his life as if this night never happened?
"You don't understand. I need help. I'm a coward. I need you to help me do it." His voice was still hoarse, but considerably steadier than before. "I'm not a bad man. I'm really not. I just can't... When I see them I can't..." He sighed heavily. "The wife's coming home in minutes. Time is running out. Tell me, don't you think the world would be a better place without me in it?"
"This is not for me to decide. Please, please give me your address, or at least your name." He was pleading with him now, almost physically sick. "It's not for you either! The Lord gave us life and we can't play with it like that. Let me call for someone and you will never hurt anyone again, I promise."
"If there was a god I wouldn't be here. So, I think I'll go now. I see her car outside. For the record, you were no help at all."
"Wai...!!!"
BANG!
Silence.
He kept listening.
A woman was screaming. Shortly after, a child started crying.
Edit: This is one of the first dialogue heavy story I've ever written, so I would appreciate any criticism and advice on it
| 2013-12-23T15:11:05 | 2013-12-23T14:06:25 | 50 | 20 |
[WP] The laws of physics are actual written laws. Breaking them is possible but illegal. | Rolling laughter poured out of his fathers study. Prying open the door Tyler peaked in. "Tyler! Get in here quick, look at this!" Reluctantly pulling the door the rest of the way open he stared at the perpetual motion machine his dad was giggling at. "Tyler, you know what the difference between this machine and me is?"
"Dad, don..."
"Given enough time this machine could please your mom"
"God damnit dad!!"
| "Jesus Christ, Mary! You can't be serious, you'll be caught, no question."
Mary's hand shook as she raised the glass to his face. His eyes were set on the table in front of him.
"Mary!"
Mary sipped slowly at the drink, put it down on the table and looked at Steven. She met his eyes, and slowly but surely, faded into nothing.
"Shit. Fuck. Bollocks."
Steven glanced around the room, but there was no trace of Mary.
"Nowt I can do now but wait, I suppose."
Steven waited, resisting the temptation Mary might have succumbed to, to speed up the passage of time until his friend returned. It was a long wait, but Steven read a book and was content enough.
Mary returned, seated exactly where she had been, now accompanied by a small boy. Steven leapt up from his seat when he noticed them, mouth gaping.
"Hi Steven!"
"Hi, Sam." Steven could not help but smile at the boy, perhaps Mary was right, laws are to be broken when a child is at stake.
Soon, however, there was a rattle at the door. Steven looked at the door a long while before he opened it. Outside stood two men, a scientist and a policeman.
Steven looked down at the ground.
"We're here for Mary." | 2014-03-06T05:28:32 | 2014-03-06T05:04:36 | 136 | 22 |
[WP] After an long forgotten experiment, the last human on Earth awakes from his cryogenic sleep. He soon realizes that civilisation has ended millennia ago and that he's the last human on Earth, so he commits suicide.. only to see, that Heaven and Hell are already closed.
Interpret "closed" as you want.
Edit:
My thought behind this prompt is, that this guy hoped for a better future, only to find himself in a world where there isn't even one.. and not even after death will he find a place where he belongs to.
But do as you please. This is just to clarify the theme a bit.
Edit 2:
Thanks for the fantastic stories, guys! It wasn't the greatest idea, and it got more attention than I thought, but you came up with a lot of awesome stuff. I had a great evening reading everything! | "I'm not sure what are you so upset about" said the devil. "You killed yourself, so you weren't going to Paradise anyway. And now you don't even have to burn. Do you think it is easy for me? Believe me, I would love to torture you. But rules are rules."
Kyle was so happy to finally talk to someone that the reality of the situation hasn't it him yet. He wouldn't even mind some torment, anything but being stuck here.
People chose cryogenic sleep for variety of reasons: death of loved ones, desire to begin anew, wait for the new technology. But for Kyle it was the boredom. He felt that there wasn't anything exciting in his time -- no Einsteins, no space program, no great novels. He wanted to skip this period, like a bland TV ad, and see what's next.
But he only learned real boredom millions of years later, in a mausoleum under a grey dust desert. There had been great scientists and great artists and great empires, but all their works were lost to him: all dust or buried.
"Can't you do something?" asked Kyle. "Shouldn't the Hell be eternal? Where did all the souls go anyway?"
Devil smiled. "Of course it is eternal. But only for people that are already there. You can think of human Hell as a box that we filled and put aside. And what an exquisite box that is: pain, anguish, fire, red brimstone. It is perfect. It is completed."
"The time of humans has ended. We are preparing a new Hell, but the next race will come in a few more millennia. So we are not rushing it. We feel it might be our best Hell yet, even better than the dinosaur one."
"And I am very sorry, but I really need to get going. Enjoy your stay in the Limbo."
In many Hells, whether hot or cold or crushing or suffocating, whether built for crawlers, or fliers, or underground dwellers, there are legends of a lone shade that walks the Limbo. The last memory of the souls before entering their Hell is of frantic questions and burning curiosity of that spirit. He is happy with even a scrapes of their life, of their history, of their knowledge.
And in their worst moments those souls think:
"At least it is not us who walk the Limbo. Even we, in this wretched state, are worth envy. And even a little bit of our useless lives might be important."
And they feel hope. | "Good Morning Mr. Livery"
The metallic voice seems distance and faint, like it was almost out of power. Odd, you would think a millennia would see power being generated in abundance.
"The experiment was a success, though the data logs have not been collected in 400 years. Please, remove the data logs and take them to the closets ministry of science for analysis. A member of the team....."
Did the machine just run out of power? What the hell is going on? Data logs are supposed to be collected every year. How could we go 400 years without collecting them?
I slowly got up, still in the haze that cryogenic sleep causes. When I get to the computer at the foot of my bed, I boot it up. The date on the screen reads 3114...but that is impossible. That is a 100 years past the date I was supposed to come out of cyro. What the fuck!? I grab the data logs and get up to leave.
By now the earth has to be overpopulated and I cannot be far from a city, afterall Philadelphia was less than 10 miles away from this facility. When I step outside, a brief burst of cold wind enters. It must be winter, but the date said June. When I look outside it finally hits me.
The bombs must have fallen 400 years ago. What I am witnessing now is the death of a planet. This world is seemingly devoid of all life. The once proud city of Philadelphia is nothing more than a husk. Towering skyscrapers, built hundreds of years before are nothing more than ruins. I drop the data logs and sob into the ground.
This is a useless world I am living in. No humanity, no life, no hope. There is no reason to live anymore. I throw the data logs on the ground, they are useless data now anyway. The devices break into shards of plastic. Before I know what I'm doing, I have a piece of shard in my hand, pressed against my wrist. Along the tracks...the piercing of the skin, the warm red liquid. I can feel myself collapsing, falling into death.
"Number 1,000,000,000,001"
What was that?
I'm floating on my feet. A line of benches stretching what seems thousands of miles lay before me. A loudspeaker to my right.
"Number 1,000,000,000,002"
Did the loudspeaker just say a trillion? This must be heaven....or hell...I mean it does feel like the DMV so it must be hell.
"Sorry everyone, heaven is now full, the remaining slot will go to hell. Number 1,000,000,000,003 is that lucky individual."
I look down...there is a number on my chest...2,000,000,000,560. I"M NUMBER 2 TRILLION?! what is going on?
"Everyone else that is waiting. My apologizes. Heaven and Hell are now closed. You will have to wait until tomorrow to see if slots open up in either."
So waiting it is. Waiting for a trillion souls before me. Waiting because of this forgotten experiment that made me last in this line. My life is now the DMV. | 2014-05-22T07:16:58 | 2014-05-22T06:49:54 | 148 | 87 |
[WP] You hook up with a really cute girl/guy at the bar, and they spend the night. You wake up, and they have grown angel wings. They aren't surprised by them, only by the fact that you can see them.
Take me through what it'd realistically be like to wake up next to the most attractive person you've ever seen, but they have wings. Fucking wings, man. | I woke up with a mouth full of feathers. At first I assumed that my pillow broke until I realized I was dirt poor and couldn't afford a feather stuffed anything. Leaping out of bed, I noticed a trail of them leading into the bathroom.
"Sandra?" I asked knocking gently on the door.
"Don't come in" she yelled back, "be out in just a sec!"
Sandra stepped out fully dressed with two odd lumps protruding beneath the back of her shirt. "Well, I really enjoyed our time together, but I must get going... To things." She said as she tried to rush past me.
I grabbed Sandra's hand and pulled her back, "hold on dumpling, your shirt is inside out" I pointed out.
"That's okay cause I'm going to a inside out shirt office party" said Sandra as she once again tried to squeeze out, "very official business, don't want to bore you with the details."
Suddenly her shirt ripped apart as the two wings sprung out fully attentive.
"You have wings....." I said profoundly.
"Oh really? Wow I never knew anyone else could see them." Sandra said sarcastically, "I'm just going to leave so you have time to think about all of this......"
Her eyes widen with fear as she saw the smile escape my lips.
"No, you wouldn't!" Sandra cried.
"Hey baby...." I said.
Sandra took off in a run, I chased after.
"Did it hurt?" I yelled.
"No, no, please anything but that!" Screamed Sandra as she started to beat her wings.
Watching her pathetically try to fly away, I let out the kicker.
"When you fell from heaven?"
A piercing scream filled the air as she plummeted towards the ground. The delivered pickup line was so perfect that it literally caused her to skip a heartbeat and die of cardiac arrest.
Now that the deed has been down, I crossed out the line from my notebook. Only 124 more pickup lines to use in literal situations to go. Now I just gotta find a girl from Tennessee. | I had plenty of time to consider my situation as I made coffee that morning, reflecting on the events of the previous evening. A typical Friday night had given birth to an unexpected and puzzling Saturday morning predicament. Waking up first seemed to have its benefits, after all. I stood at the foot of my bed, sipping my coffee, as the girl woke up. "Um. Hi. I had a great time last night.
“Mmhmm, hi.” Her bashful smile was like Christmas morning.
“One question though. I’m not really sure how to ask it, but, um –“
“You were great, trust me.”
“No, no, not that. I mean, thanks. But, are…you an angel?”
“No, I just seemed like it to you.” Her eyes narrowed playfully, confidently. “Round two? That is, if you can handle it.”
"An angel," I repeated. “Those are wings, right?” I gesturedwith my cup of coffee to the white feathers that sprouted from her back.
The girl sat up in bed. The morning light danced across her face as it filtered through the blinds. “Wings? What are you talking about?” She giggled as if she had nothing to hide.
“Those.” I demanded.
She paused. Considered. “So you can see them?”
“Yeah. Honestly, I don’t really know how to react. But they weren’t there before – last night, I mean. So what are you?”
Sighing, “An angel.” The word was a song.
“An angel?”
“An angel," she repeated.
"From Heaven?"
"From Heaven."
"Why on earth are you...on earth?"
"It's my job."
"You have jobs in Heaven? Isn't it supposed to be paradise or something?"
"Mark, everyone has a job."
“Oh.” I paused. "So, why did you hook up with me? I mean, you're literally the prettiest person I’ve ever seen. When we left last night, no one believed it was happening.”
“Because that’s my job.”
“Are you saying that you hooked up with me because you were told to? By God? C’mon.”
“I’m not a divine prostitute, if that’s what you’re insinuating.” She snapped. “I am on this earth to spread goodness. If that goodness comes in the form of a night of awesome sex, then so be it. God doesn’t care.”
“God doesn’t care? Isn’t that kind of…antithetical?”
“Please, two thousand years have done a lot to twist his words. Don’t be fooled.”
“So you’re like the angel of physical good?”
“Sure. I guess you could call me that.”
“Can I still call you Rebecca?” I set down my coffee on my desk.
She pulled back the covers, exposing herself. “Yeah, it will probably be a lot easier when you yell it in ten minutes.”
| 2014-10-07T10:31:48 | 2014-10-07T10:30:22 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Death is actually just a nocebo. Everone believes they are going to die so they do. If you just stop believing in death then you can't die.
EDIT: Only serious responses please | February 23rd, 2015
The worst part about knowing the truth is how crazy it sounds when I try to explain it to someone. No -- not how crazy *it* sounds, how crazy *I* sound. I don't care if the notion is outrageous, I just want to be taken seriously, I want someone to listen. If they'd just suspend judgement for one conversation then they'd see life like never before, all thanks to me.
Whatever, they can go bury their heads, as usual. They all eventually do that anyway, heh.
The most perplexing thing about all of this is that all of my counterparts are either all competing to be awarded the title of the most introverted human alive or they simply do not exist. It's exceedingly frustrating. Every single thing that I can think of has some sort of following or group behind it, I mean there's annual conventions for grown men that share a mutual love for glittery anthropomorphic ponies for God's sake. There is no church for my particular strain of enlightenment.
I just wish someone would listen, *really* listen. Even if I left this journal laying around it probably would end up in the garbage before someone pieced together what was actually going on, my first life was too damn boring to warrant more than a few page turns.
I'm just the guy that has a *really* in-depth knowledge of history and no obligations on Thanksgiving or Christmas day.
It's lonely living in a world set on being temporary.
--
| A dank haze drifted through the room. Gary sat on the floor and exhaled a long plume of smoke. “So, you’re saying you won’t die?” I said.
Gary coughed. “No, man. I’m going to die.”
I started to roll another spliff. “You just said you wouldn’t die.”
“No, man. If you think about dying you’re going to die, and I’ve thought about dying.”
“So you can live forever if you believe you can live forever?”
Gary grabbed a handful of cold onion rings. “Exactly. The drug companies don’t want you to know about it. That’s why they bombard you with commercials about being sick all the time.” He shoved a few onion rings into his mouth. “If we didn’t think about cancer or the flu or colds, we’d never get sick.” Bits of food flew out of his mouth.
“Okay. I’m not going to die.” I finished rolling the spliff. “I’m not going to ever get sick again.”
“No, no, no.” Gary shook his head with a vigorous fervor. “You’ve thought about dying or getting sick before. It only takes once. You literally can’t ever think about it.”
I couldn’t find my lighter. “If I think about dying once then I will die?”
Gary nodded and grabbed an RC Cola. “Yep. What we need to do is get a baby and always surround it with positive thoughts.”
“What? Where are you going to get a baby?”
Gary shrugged. “I don’t know. My girlfriend wants to have a kid. Maybe with her.”
I leaned back on the couch. “I’m going to have to be a lot higher for this to sound like a good idea.”
“Dude, maybe you could get a chick pregnant so that we could have a control kid?”
“No.”
Gary cracked open the RC and took a huge chug. “Come on.”
“No.”
“Please?”
I stared at Gary. He didn’t break my stare as he chugged the rest of the RC. “No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“No.”
Gary shrugged. “Okay. Whatever.” He finished the RC. “Want In-N-Out?”
I set the spliff down. My stomach had been grumbling. “Sure. Let me wash my hands.”
“Will you get it for me?” said Gary. He collapsed on the floor.
I rolled my eyes. “No.”
“Please?”
| 2015-02-24T19:40:47 | 2015-02-24T19:07:00 | 99 | 31 |
[WP][EU] You are a waterbending Pokemon trainer from Tattooine. Your best friends, a Predator and Groot, have been kidnapped by the Borg and are being kept on Krypton. How will you get past the ice ninjas to save the galaxy from Trogdor? | "This is dumb. You're dumb, Gary," Mike said. "Your game ideas are just pastiches of popular culture." Mike started putting his dice away. "I don't even know why I agreed to this game."
Gary fumed. "If you don't wanna play, Mike, just fucking leave!"
"Ok," Mike replied. "Anyone want to go over to my place? I actually have a good old AD&D module I updated for d20 rules. Plus, I think my mom made chili dogs tonight."
Murmuring general assent, the gaming group left Gary's basement. | *"Blastoise! Hydro Pump!"*
*My Blastoise turns, his water guns glinting under the harsh, dual suns of Tatooine. Standing before us was a squad of mechanical humanoids, the likes of which I had never seen before. Their words had been harsh and chilling.*
*"We are the Borg. Your biological and technological distinctiveness will be added to our own. Resistance is futile."*
*Blastoise planted his feet, readying his attack. I feel the water-bending magic flowing through me. I see my friends, Preddy and Groot, being dragged off by these "Borg." They are howling in agony as metal swarms over their bodies, transforming them. Blastoise snorts, his attack ready. I have to save my friends. It's now or-*
I...I can't. I am broken. T-t-t-t-too many. Universes. Characters. Ideas. S-s-stitch a thread? Through all of these? What is a "Trogdor?" From whence such an idea came? Surely it is the mad idea of a madman. I must search for meaning, context, in /u/djhab's madness.
A joke prompt?
Damn you, /u/djhab. Damn you to Hell!
------
https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/3hjj66/which_of_the_default_subreddits_did_you/cu878u2?context=10000 | 2015-08-19T07:36:44 | 2015-08-19T07:34:19 | 65 | 29 |
[WP] Everybody in the world has a superpower that compliments their soulmates superpower. When together, both their powers increase in strength exponentially. You have the most useless power ever, when one day......
Edit: Wow! This has blown up.. Massive thanks for the gold, it's great to see my prompt inspiring so many great stories.
'Til next time peeps... | Figuring out your special gift is an exciting and unexpected moment in most children’s lives. My dad discovered his gift when he was three and really wanted that shiny new toy at the store. Holding your breath until you get what you want only is so effective when your lungs produce their own oxygen. He never got that toy, but that part never seems to be important when he tells the story.
For me, the moment wasn’t unexpected or exciting. My parents knew about my gift before I was even old enough to hold up my own head. When you’re born the doctor runs some tests to see if you need to visit anyone with the healing gift. All diseases and deformities are curable if caught, you just need to go to a healer. When the doctor ran my tests, he found something strange and sent me to a pediatric healer, who then sent me to a specialist healer, who then sent me to another specialist, and on and on. Eventually my parents ran out of healers to bring me to, so I became the lucky person to have the gift of super incurable cancer. The only one ever known.
I remember growing up that no one knew how to act around me. From books before the healing system was set up, we knew cancer was fatal and I probably wouldn’t survive to adulthood. No one I knew had experience with fatal illness before, since healers could cure everything else. People were really nice to me, but it’s hard to make friends when you have the aura of death about you. I kept mostly to myself, spending most of my days moping and wishing I had a gift that didn’t involve inevitable early death. That is, until the day I went to the Indian reservation and met Chief Bull’s daughter.
We could tell we were soul mates from the moment we met from the way we interacted, but what really made us a pair was the way our gifts intertwined. She has a body control gift. She can change what type of cell a certain cell is. When I met her, she was mainly using her gift as a weight loss treatment, turning fat cells into less offensive cells. Up until then she had been so limited in what she could do with cells, since people only have so many they can spare. I, on the other hand, had way more than I needed and she loved it. Cancer cells became her clay, like the burgundy clay that was beneath our feet and whose color she was named after. She molded me, giving me whatever extra limbs I desired. I always had wanted to fly, and she was more than willing to comply.
Red Bull gave me wings.
| Christmas lights were the only illumination in the small dorm room. Empty beer cans, some crushed, some stacked, were strewn about. Music played softly in the background.
“I really needed this tonight,” said Ray. He finished his beer and set the can aside without looking.
“I’m so happy that you decided to come over,” said Jason. He smiled and dropped his gaze down to the sheets on the bed. The sheets formed small ridges and valleys that came from the two men moving closer to each other.
“So what’s your power?”
Jason shrugged and played with a loose thread on the blanket. “I control my farts.”
“What?”
A sigh escaped from Jason. He’d decided to be honest with Ray tonight because he liked him so much. “I can fart on command. I can control where they go depending on the wind.”
“Can you control the smell?” said Ray, smiling. He inched closer and ran a finger over the back of Jason’s hand.
“No. It depends on what I eat.” Jason cleared his throat and finished his beer. “What’s your power?”
Ray’s face turned red. Jason couldn’t tell if it was from the alcohol or embarrassment. “I control drafts.”
“No shit?” said Jason. He laughed. “You and I would be a perfect team.”
The song changed. An instant of silence between the music brought Jason and Ray together. They hesitated then rushed together and began kissing. As one they laid down, hands groping and caressing.
The dorm room door opened and harsh fluorescent light spilled across the room. “Oh, shit. Sorry guys, sorry,” yelled Jason’s roommate Marcus.
“Didn’t you see the sock on the handle?” yelled Jason. “I’ve got someone in here”
Marcus shielded his eyes and began closing the door. “Really sorry guys. There was no sock. No sock.”
Jason clenched his fists. He flexed his muscles and stood up. “Dennis,” he yelled at the top of his lungs. It echoed throughout the room. He stalked out of the room and down the hall yelling for Dennis.
Ray followed behind him, struggling to put his shirt back on. Marcus continued to make apologies as he walked several steps behind Ray. Heads popped out of rooms as the three went down the hall.
They stopped at the end of the hallway at an open door. Jason pounded on the door and walked inside the meticulously clean room. Ray and Marcus stood side by side in the doorway.
“What the fuck are you doing, Dennis?”
Dennis turned from his computer without getting up from his desk. “Relations aren’t allowed in the dorm, Jason.” He smiled.
Marcus and Ray could hear Jason grinding his teeth. He clenched and unclenched his fists and took a step forward. A look of concentration came over his face and a small squeak could be heard.
Ray squinted so hard he thought he could see the fart moving toward Dennis. He stopped all of the drafts, the air from the HVAC and any other small movements of air. Time slowed down.
The stupid smile slipped from Dennis’ face. He sniffed then retched. His eyes went wide then doubled over and vomited. He fell to his hands and knees, continuing to vomit. Tears streamed down his face. Between heaves he sobbed.
Jason looked back to Ray, who smiled. Jason turned back to Dennis and gave the prone man an evil grin. “Don’t fuck with me again, Dennis.”
| 2015-10-10T08:36:26 | 2015-10-10T08:11:16 | 628 | 57 |
[WP] A Jumanji-style board game is found by two children in the Amazon about the perils of life in suburban America | "Roll the dice, Azura," I pressured my sister, too excited to wait any longer. "I want it to be my turn already!"
She looked at me and frowned. "Stop being so impatient, little brother. We just found this weird game; it's not going anywhere." She looked at the rules a little more and finally rolled her dice.
"You got a 3 and a 5! Cool, so...what do you do now?" I asked, brimming with curiosity.
"This is why you're supposed to shut up and read the rules instead of just throwing dice everywhere. I move forward 8 paces, so...let's see. Ah, I land on *City Planner*. Wonder what that does."
A deep rumbling stirred through the forest, menacing with threat. A loud sound began so reach us, huge and explosive.
"What is that?!" I shouted over the sound, beginning to become frightened.
Before my sister could answer, a massive machine came barreling through the forest, cutting down trees and destroying wildlife in a heartbeat. Several others followed, completely wiping out the forest around us.
We stood in an open field of splintered wood and gnarled tree stumps, able to see farther than we'd ever been in our entire lives.
We could only stare in horror at the homes destroyed, the wildlife slaughtered and a beautiful habitat for nature smashed into pieces.
A man in strange clothing walked up and began to shout at an army of other men that looked like strange fruit, with bright yellow and orange clothing. "Alright, boys! Let's turn this dump into paradise- a mall with lots, and I mean *lots* of parking." | "Where the hell are we?"
Joy asked herself the same question. In one moment, they were transported from walking back to school to... this.
"It's certainly not Ledes, now is it?" Joy replied back cheekily.
Her brother, Seth, seemed unamused by her wry rejoinder. The two continued to trek forward into what seemed like an eternal white nothingness. As they began moving forward, a giant arrow appeared out of now where sweeping past them and into what looked like a jungle of words.
"I think I understand less about where we are than I did before," Seth quipped.
The two chased after the arrow and into the jungle of words, only to find themselves surrounded by walls of colors. Yellow stars, blue numbers and written in large green letters the words "In Stock". The two children looked back at each other in confusion.
As they did, a man walked out between the "n" and the "S". He was dressed in a large coat with two coat tails dragging against the floor and a larger top hat. He had a large, white mustache that spread across his smile. He had a polished black cane that he didn't seem to need. And, perhaps most strange of all, he was wearing a monocle.
"Hello there, children! You must be new!"
The man's voice sounded almost like theirs, though vaguely American. The man moved forward and continued speaking.
"You must be very scared right now. Fear not! I am here to help you!"
"Where are we?" Joy quipped quickly.
"Ah yes, excellent question. You are in Amazon."
The children stared at each other in confusion.
"Like the jungle? In South America?" Seth replied.
"No, no, no, no! Not like that at all! You're in the goods trading service Amazon! It's quite common actually, you see --"
"Pardon sir, but we don't really care how we got in here, we're more concerned with how to leave," Joy chimed in. "Mother would be very upset with us if we missed family tea."
"Right! You British are very proper. Well, I do have one way to get you to leave."
The man pulled a blue box from seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on the ground. On it was the likeness of the man.
"If you both can beat me in this game, you will be transported to whatever property you choose."
They stepped closer to the box to get a better look. On the top of the box, in thin black letters was the name of the game.
"Monopoly." | 2016-02-07T11:54:51 | 2016-02-07T07:05:52 | 304 | 38 |
[WP] A Jumanji-style board game is found by two children in the Amazon about the perils of life in suburban America | K'am rolled the dice against the plastic board. 4.
His piece slid forward over the multi-coloured tiles toward the centre, landing on a space with the outline of a building.
The small LCD screen in the middle fo the board flashed up:
**"In the city you must dwell; until you roll a 9 or 12..."**
Immediately, the screen started flashing a multitude of ones and zeros, and K'am was whisked through a vortex of green characters, before landing heavily on a street corner.
People bustled around him, staring at his sudden appearance, before he felt a firm grip on his arm.
"Sorry kid, you're coming with me. Nobody gets away with public indecency like that, not on Wall St."
The officer hauled him in to the back of the cruiser, before setting back off toward the police station.
***16 years later***
Cameron strolled confidently down the street towards his office. A fully-qualified broker at only the age of 25, he was currently trading on the floor for a prestigious firm in the heart of America's financial district. As he bit in to his donut, he felt a strange tingling sensation in his feet.
"What the-"
Before he could even finish his sentence, the world around him exploded in to greenery, humidity and animal chorus. He found himself stood ankle-deep in the undergrowth, his brown leather shoes squelching in the forest floor mud.
He turned around to see two small tribal children huddled over a blue plastic game board, upon which sat two dice, both showing sixes.
Cameron's face fell. He dropped his briefcase, took his jacket off and lay it on the floor, before sitting down on it to join in with the game. | "Where the hell are we?"
Joy asked herself the same question. In one moment, they were transported from walking back to school to... this.
"It's certainly not Ledes, now is it?" Joy replied back cheekily.
Her brother, Seth, seemed unamused by her wry rejoinder. The two continued to trek forward into what seemed like an eternal white nothingness. As they began moving forward, a giant arrow appeared out of now where sweeping past them and into what looked like a jungle of words.
"I think I understand less about where we are than I did before," Seth quipped.
The two chased after the arrow and into the jungle of words, only to find themselves surrounded by walls of colors. Yellow stars, blue numbers and written in large green letters the words "In Stock". The two children looked back at each other in confusion.
As they did, a man walked out between the "n" and the "S". He was dressed in a large coat with two coat tails dragging against the floor and a larger top hat. He had a large, white mustache that spread across his smile. He had a polished black cane that he didn't seem to need. And, perhaps most strange of all, he was wearing a monocle.
"Hello there, children! You must be new!"
The man's voice sounded almost like theirs, though vaguely American. The man moved forward and continued speaking.
"You must be very scared right now. Fear not! I am here to help you!"
"Where are we?" Joy quipped quickly.
"Ah yes, excellent question. You are in Amazon."
The children stared at each other in confusion.
"Like the jungle? In South America?" Seth replied.
"No, no, no, no! Not like that at all! You're in the goods trading service Amazon! It's quite common actually, you see --"
"Pardon sir, but we don't really care how we got in here, we're more concerned with how to leave," Joy chimed in. "Mother would be very upset with us if we missed family tea."
"Right! You British are very proper. Well, I do have one way to get you to leave."
The man pulled a blue box from seemingly out of nowhere and placed it on the ground. On it was the likeness of the man.
"If you both can beat me in this game, you will be transported to whatever property you choose."
They stepped closer to the box to get a better look. On the top of the box, in thin black letters was the name of the game.
"Monopoly." | 2016-02-07T13:28:54 | 2016-02-07T07:05:52 | 52 | 38 |
[WP] Now that he has 8 years executive experience, Obama can apply for the job he REALLY wants | Knock, knock.
Why hello you tall drink of chocolate.
I heard you ladies are having a bridal shower, and you might need a little...executive action to liven things up....
bow*chicky*wow*wow
TAKE IT ALL OFF MR PRESIDENT! ALL OFF!!
bow*chicky*wow*wow
(omigod, he really is our greatest president)
bow*chicky*wow*wow, bow*chicky*wow*wow... | A single light is shown in the distance, a light that turns into a clock and the hand twists and distorts, out from the darkness steps out a man, Americans and people gasp as they see the former President of the United States on stage. The Camera closes up on Barrack Obama naturally the man spoke with eloquence unheard of during his campaign.
"I am Barrack Obama, and this is.... The Twilight Zone."
After Thirty Years, his favorite TV show was brought back by him.
Obama walks onto the center of the stage in an imitation of Rod Serling.
"Welcome to the world of the Strange and interesting, horrors beyond our comprehension. Al- Queda, and other terrorist cells think they are scary wait till they get a load of this."
His arms he holds out. The Camera cuts and a crossfade begins as Obama steps aside as the show begins.
Eight years as a president.... He looked at the TV display, seeing the title of "If Congress was mind controlled by Aliens."
His thoughts drifted and he held his hand in a careful ponder, he shook his head and thought, *There was little difference in the two realities now, infact he rather had aliens than people controlling the senate.*
But he was finally doing something that people appreciated him for doing. And what else could he ask for? | 2016-02-23T03:57:06 | 2016-02-23T03:17:16 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] You are a Junior in high school and you have special glasses that let you see your classmates in the future | I walked into speech class five minutes late (come on, that's pretty good for someone who just got a pair of future-seeing glasses and has been oggling people since first period) when I realized who was giving a speech: it was the *thong-girl*.
Her real name was Kayla, but my friend Sunny and I knew her as thong-girl because you could always see the outline through her pants. That was the main reason she was so popular - that, and the fact that she was so freaking hot.
Anyways, I couldn't hear a word she was saying, because I was so stunned:
Through the glasses, she looked twenty years older. She was wearing a cross around her neck, tucked just between her breasts - which had grown bigger, but not any perkier. Dark circles puffed up under her eyes, and her hair was all wiry, like she'd just spent a night in a dumpster. I don't think she was wearing any makeup. You could almost hear the kids running under her feet; you could almost see the husband who, she was starting to realize, had married her for her looks and *not* because he loved her so, so much.
"Mr. Mathers," a voice cracked in my left ear. I whipped around to see that Mr. Blanchard had crept up behind me, with that trademark sneer on his face.
God, he looked old. I mean, *Old.* I was surprised he was still alive. His tongue flicked out over his toothless gums, and his jowls wobbled when he spoke. His bald spot had eaten most of the hair off his head - and what remained had taken up residence in his ears. Unsurprisingly, he was still wearing those same stupid cardigans. This one was covered in lollipops (why?!), knitted against a dark blue pattern.
"It's not enough that you're late, Mr. Mathers, but now you need help finding a seat?"
"I- uh, no. I'll find one. Sorry."
I scanned the room, looking for Sunny - instead, I saw fast-food workers, a doctor, several men and women in suits (was he an undertaker?), and an NFL player. Hey, good for you Seth. Guess eating a mountain of food everyday really does pay off.
I couldn't tell which one was Sunny.
Mr. Blanchard made a sound in his throat that meant "Final Warning," so I took the closest, empty seat -
And landed in someone's lap.
"Dude!" the seat yelped.
The room erupted into laughter. I stood up immediately, and apologized to the "empty" seat.
I squinted. It looked like empty air to me. I took off my glasses, and the emptiness was filled with a human-shaped blur.
"Dude, what is wrong with you?" the blur asked.
It was Sunny.
My breath caught in my throat. *It couldn't be.*
Shaking, I put my glasses back on, and the blur disappeared. All I could see was an empty blue chair.
I was pretty fucking far from OK.
***
*Feel better with more stories at /r/PSHoffman* | As I glance through my class, I see that one of classmates will one day be a mechanic, seven of them will be mundane desk jockeys, another a dead beat dad, a mom of 5 kids, a nurse, carpenter, drug addict, and even a NHLer. Not too bad considering we are from a 'below' average academic school.
Today, a new kid came to class. I always get excited to see what the new kid's future is like and then match it up with my first impression to gauge whether my instincts are good. Stem cell scientist. Seriously? What a weird one. I was going for musician because the kid is rocking some cool threads. Oh well, you can't judge a book by its cover I guess.
As the kid sat down, I realized that all of my other classmates' futures started to change. I looked in horror as I see that their future read, "DEAD". Every single one of them. The new kid's future still read Stem cell scientist, but I know now that he is somehow responsible for the death of my friends. I need to do something.
During class break, I follow the new kid through the hall and I watch his every move. He's acting strange. He's glancing back and forth, fidgeting, and he keeps on holding something in his right hoodie pocket. I catch him starring at some of my classmates waiting in front of our next class. He quickens his pace and appears to tighten his grip on a gun sized object in his pocket. He's now almost sprinting and that's when my adrenaline kicks in. I don't know how but I eliminate the distance between me and him and before I know it I'm yelling, "He's got a gun!" and I tackle him. Soon I notice blood everywhere. I'm struggling to keep him down but eventually it becomes easier and easier until he stopped moving. Relieved, I sat back in time to see the school security running down the hall.
The security officers tackle me, pins me down, and removes the Swiss Army knife I had in my hand. I always kept one in my pocket for, 'just in case' situations. I yell at the security that the new kid had a gun in his pocket. The other security officer goes to the new kid and pulls out the object from his hoodie. To my shock, it was just a pink iPhone and not a gun. I hear one of the girls from my class shriek as she realizes that her pink iPhone was missing. Doesn't matter I thought. I still saved my classmates. Maybe not today, but someday the new kid surely would have killed all my classmates.
That's when I realize that since the new kid has been dead, the words "DEAD" has not come off from above my classmates' heads. I am in utter shock. I don't even remember how I got in the back of the police squad car, but I look through the rear view mirror and notice that the words, "INMATE" is now above my head.
At my trial, the kid's parents gave a victim impact statement. I learn that the kid had loved science and was actually helping a pharmaceutical company create a method of screening cancer at least 1 year before the patient develops cancer, by using stem cells. This was apparently, a breakthrough in creating viable treatment for cancer patients. Then it hit me like a ton of bricks. I get a flashback to last fall's science class during the section on heredity and genetics, and how if your family is prone to cancer then you will be too. I recall that class because it was odd that all my classmates' family were prone to cancer, all except mine. I put my head down when I realized that by killing that new kid, I had sealed my classmates' deaths by eliminating the one chance they had in one day winning their fight against cancer. | 2016-03-11T06:36:57 | 2016-03-11T05:02:53 | 186 | 105 |
[WP] You live in a society where at the end of each day, you can choose to relive it, but without retaining any knowledge of what happened previously. A number in your peripheral vision shows how many previous times you lived through the current day. Almost always that number is 0. Today it is 7212. | Everything hurts... You're sore from yesterday's bike ride. It's been a long time since you've laid your cycle over, luckily Honda Shadows were build well in the 90's. Still, yesterday's near-miss was deceptively nasty, apparently.
After rolling yourself off the bed and onto your feet, taking care of a few of your normal morning rituals, and halfway through getting dressed, you suddenly realize what's been upsetting your attention. 7212. Seriously? You'll have to get that looked at before work. The news talked about people with bad counters getting sick, and there's no way you've enjoyed something enough to reexist for what, 15? 20 years?
On the way to Doc Austin's office, you've been cut off once (making you glad you took the Impala instead of the bike again) and traffic backs up due to some kind of unannounced construction. Figures... This better not take long, or you'll be late to work. You call your boss, he's cool with it, but you'll need to make up the time.
''No, everything checks out fine,'' Doc says. ''Over seven thousand is pretty astounding, though. My son reexisted his kid's first football game about five times and his wedding day about fifteen. Can't imagine what you've got to look forward to!''
Well, at least that's exciting... You really needed a pick-up like that... Things have been rough since she left. You don't think about her as much, but it's still hard just having no one at home. Whatever today's got coming, it must be something special.
Work sucks, that jerk without a clue how to do his own job is bitching about you doing yours again, but you can brush it off. Your lunch is coldish and you end up staying later than usual, but worse things have happened. The text comes in... It's your friend Alex, who you haven't seen much of lately. 'Zed and Thirteen is playing at the Front Street Lounge tonight! Gonna be a good one. Coming?'
Yes, you are. This has got to be it. You shower after work and climb back on the bike.
The place stinks of old smoke and you've had both feet stepped on. Some ass hole spilled his beer down your back right before getting thrown out. Uncomfortable, you're just trying not to lose it when you see your ex, dancing with some... Whatever. You're out. Less than an hour left in the day, you don't have time for this garbage.
You're at the gas station just up the road, about to fill up the Shadow. From the other side of the pump, you hear it.
''Fuck.''
Peeking your head around, you see her staring at the lid of her gas cap. She pulls on the release inside her door again and again, but the lid stays closed.
''Hey, you need a hand?'' You offer before you even realize it. She accepts, and you use a screwdriver to pry the lid lightly while she pulls the release, moments later, it's free and she's filling her tank.
She's from your old high school, graduated two years ahead of you. She's irritated that the band at the place up the street was lame, the sound guy killed the vibe. Oh, you were there too? Oh, and she likes your bike. And then she says it. ''There's this party, just some friends of mine... Want to come hang out?''
Yes. You do.
She gives you the address, her number, and climbs back in the car. You finally feel it, hope, and check your watch. 11:59... Today sucked royally, what could be so gr-
The Buick Century bulldozes over the bike first, then wedges your body like a doorstop under its weight. You hear so much and so little at the same time, her screams and yours, the drunk trying to put his battering ram in reverse. You can't move, can't think, can't feel except it hurts. You just struggle the breathe and to feel and to live, and to-
[12:00 - REEXIST the 11th of July, 2016? Y/N]
| Most folks are happy to leave their life to fate.
The mystical re-living of the day is used by them in a happy-go lucky way, and they argue that the tenets of our spiritual beliefs imply that it is meant to be used like that. A gift to relive the happy days.
I say fuck that.
I devised the system when I was still a girl, merely eight years old.
**0** meant the day should be lived normally. **0** meant being relaxed and like others.
**1** meant that something had gone wrong. It meant being alert.
**2** meant that I should avoid risks.
**3** meant that I should take risks. And if that didn't give a good result, on to the next repeat. And so on.
See, the crux of the problem with re-living the day without memory is that you'll just end up making the same mistake. The only form of communication, of *control* we have, is that number, burned somewhere faraway into our mental eye.
Most people don't use that control. Most people are fools.
"Shall I ready the steam-jet, miss?"
I deigned my servant a nod. I had devised a system where I kept repeating every day at the end, until I reached the number associated with the proper attitude for that day. It had left me vastly wealthy, and vastly powerful.
Today, however, was a conundrum.
The system only went up to **564** different attitudes. The number today was **7212**, and something was horribly wrong.
"Miss? Is something the matter?"
What should I do? Smile affably? No, if an attitude of reservedness was apt, the number would be **155**. This, this called for an attitude outside the system. Completely unexpected behaviour.
"No, I'm fine."
But then, I had probably acted as unexpected as possible the previous 6800 times I did this. Then what?
"On second thought, I think I'll stay at home today."
"Miss...? Are you sure? Today is-"
"I know what day it is!" I snapped.
Try to be as careful as possible. Yes, that seemed the best solution. I took to my lounge and turned on the huge crystal-screen on the wall. Nothing yet on the news, either. A fairly high average of reported repeats, but that could mean anything.
The sages argued that every repeat was different for every person, infinite branches of combinations, and you only experienced a world where others had already cast their final choice. But a high number could mean happiness or grief. Anything.
I sighed. I had bought myself the best tech, the best security. I had chosen the best country, found the perfect love, two children that were ideally educated. What, then, could go wrong today? Some missed chance? Some inevitable disaster?
I sat on my couch, and waited, then froze. What if I had been inactive like this, **6800** times over? No, I needed to get out, try unexpected things...but maybe I had done that **6800** times as well. After all, would I react different to **7212** than to **7211**? No, best to just wait and see...at least I would be safe. What was the worst that could happen, then?
It was only near the end of the day, that the news finally came in.
"...speculate that because the Empress has not shown up at the table of negotiations, tensions have risen dramatically. Normally, Ustria was supposed to report on their disarmament schedule today, and all experts seemed to agree they were doing well. However, the absence of Empress Alayna and the unnaturally high average repeat numbers have sown suspicion over the meeting. Tomorrow, a more thorough investigation into Ustria's steam-bombs might be-"
I felt the blood drain from my face. Already, possibilities were falling into place. I had made the wrong choice. *How many times?*
Maybe it was not too late yet. I got up, but froze when the news reporter was interrupted, as a new report was placed before him. He paled as well now.
"Reports are coming in that the southern regions have lost all radio transmission with the mainland. Reported sightings of steam-bomb clouds-"
Suddenly the signal cut off, and I stared out the window, at the setting sun.
And I realised, it was my very nature that had cost me the country. The system was focused on my happiness, only me, and that egotistical nature had compelled me to stay at home for my own safety. **6800** times over.
From where the sun touched the horizon, crimson as blood, a cloud rose up, mushrooming to the sky.
It was not too late, I though, as the deafening soundblast shattered windows around me. The destructive wave would come soon, but I already knew: the sun would disappear first.
Maybe the next time, I would put the country first.
I closed my eyes, and chose reset.
*Yes.* A tear slid down my trembling cheeks. *Maybe next time.* | 2016-07-11T09:14:41 | 2016-07-11T08:43:06 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] Anatidaephobia: The fear that somewhere, somehow, a duck is watching you. You are that duck, watching them. Always. | They took my father almost exactly one year ago.
Like father, like son, right? My dad and I looked almost entirely alike. Some of the other ducks said someone must've cloned my dad, because we were pretty much identical, down to each individual feather. We went everywhere together. We ate together, we swam together, we flew together, we slept together. My dad was my world, he was the one I imprinted on when I hatched from my shell, and I knew we'd always be together.
Until they came. Humans. A family of humans came to the park with a net, and threw it over my dad. They were trying to abduct him. We fought them, we fought them together, him inside the net, and me outside. We bit, we scratched, we batted at them with our wings. Like father, like son, right? But they were simply too large and too strong. They put my dad into a sack and took him away in a car.
I took to the air and followed the car. They drove to a house, not far from the park. I watched as they took the sack into the house. Then I watched, through the kitchen window, as they... as they... as they killed my father. They killed him, and mutilated his body. They plucked out his feathers, cut off his head, poured sauce over his body, then cooked him in an oven until his body was a charred crisp. And then, as I watched, they cut my father into pieces, wrapped the flesh in large flat pieces of dough, and devoured him.
I've watched them since that day. I watch them when they wake, I watch them when they leave the house, I watch them when they return, and I watch them when they sleep. It's been a year now. I know their whole routine. I know when they go to work or school. I know when they go to the park together, on weekends. I know when they sleep, and I know they'll be most vulnerable then.
Oh I make sure they don't know I'm watching. That's why I try to only look at them out of the corner of my eye, so that it's not obvious I'm observing their every move. Sometimes I slip up. Sometimes they can tell there's a duck watching them. I fly away, and pluck out a few feathers so I look different, and then I come back. Then they don't know the same duck's come back to stare at them. Humans, they're so stupid.
It's almost time. Soon, when they sleep, I'll put the rest of my plan in motion. They'll pay for what they did to my father. Like father, like son, right? They turned my dad into a Peking Duck. Well, now they'll have to deal with me, the peeking duck. | He goes to the wardrobe. I position myself to watch. He tries on white polo, my favorite. I rub the webs of my feet against branch. He finds large tear under white polo’s armpit. I begin to touch myself. He sees hole is shaped like beak. I salivate. Dismayed, he looks to the window. I continue. With cold fingers cupped over squinted eyes, he seeks me in vein. The bark under my belly warms; I feel ants’ sweet tickle but dare not stir.
He discards white polo in outdoor trash can on first floor, locks sliding glass door upon reentry. I watch him cower on couch, television running unwatched, an oratory distraction from torturous premonitions. I see his fear. I smell him. I finish.
I mark place of my triumph with twig in shape of human elbow. My knees quiver. I go cross-eyed, as has become habit. I leave thick puddle of wet excrement around elbow-shaped twig. I waddle home, seeing double. From farthest possible vantage point, I watch him fall into dejected slumber, head dangling off couch like sleeve of torn polo.
I will kill him by Thanksgiving. I will not resist urge to play with food.
Tuesday morning. Work week. He has presentation. I watch him from parking lot. Bags under eyes. Suede shoes. Normally my favorite. Unappetizing in the crisp autumn air. Sterile, I climb tree #3. Midway through presentation I am spotted. He freezes. Uncontrollable gasps for breath. Aquafina offered by doting coworker. Violent refusal. Stammering, pointing, gesticulating. Eyes turn to me. I welcome the attention. Swoop past the window. Glare at him. Only him. Blood leaves cheeks. Eyes bulge. Paranoia is pungent weapon. I satisfy myself with the memory of torment. Progress ahead of schedule. Empty feeling in tummy. Confusing.
Travel to house on Friday. Car in drive. Work week disturbed for sixth time. Final time? Normal men broken by this point. Special circumstance. Inkling of regret in chest. Dispelled with reminder of crime. Killed Micky. Eaten for celebration. Old tradition. Aggravates sentencing. Fine turkey. Deserved honorable death. Victimized.
I will deliver judgment likewise.
He stands at mirror. Eyes empty. Screen door ajar. Autumn leaves left by wind form trail from my feet to porch. Omen. Direction from God. Sinking feeling returns to chest. Wrong to kill? Tingling sensation below belly. Exciting to kill. Desire for copulation. Fuel for my lust.
I move into house.
Find position for grand finale. Doorway to lavatory. Visible in mirror. In moments it ends. Final pangs drive through heart like cold metal stake. Fear used against him. Justice for turkey. He does not move from toilet. Hidden behind inner door. Strip of light undisturbed by shadows. Asleep in lavatory?
I waddle closer. Door ajar – screen door similarly. Pattern. Deliberate. Tingles. Biting frustration. Urges swell in throat. Suppressed, I look onto scene. Horrible. Subject drowned in toilet water. Hunched face first. Pathetic. Stole kill. Note left on floor. Picture of duck I once knew. Scribbles in human calligraphy. Illegible. I find comfortable position in corner. With thoughts of white polo, I begin on myself. I will not finish for some time.
Sweet relish. Twangs of guilt all but dissipate in a storm of ecstasy. Fetch elbow-shaped twig. Leave on toilet seat. Deposit puddle of excrement on picture of duck I once knew.
Begin anew next work week.
| 2016-08-17T19:42:52 | 2016-08-17T19:42:21 | 53 | 12 |
[WP] Your grandparents always playfully bickered in their native language. To surprised them, you took lessons, but now you understand what they're really saying...
What comes next will shock you! | When I was younger I always thought my grandparents had their own made-up language. It sounded like a melody, almost like they were singing to each other. I always used to ask them why they had their own language, but they just smiled and told me; "You will know when you get older, honey."
I pouted, I was going to find out no matter what. I eavesdropped and memorised some of the words, "berätta", "henne" and "troll". I continued to eavesdrop, I learned a couple of words, but not much more than that. But there was always a variety of the same sentence that they repeated, but I never understood what they meant with it; "Du vet varför vi gör det, snart är tiden inne." Sometimes I repeated this sentence before I was going to sleep, it made me happy, I was onto them.
Last summer I found out the language they are speaking is Swedish, and since I have always wanted to learn the language I took some courses. I was so excited when I got my certificate, I went straight to my grandparents house to show them.
As we drank tea I told them about my course and I repeated the phrase they always used to say; "Du vet varför vi gör det, snart är tiden inne." and made some forced joke about how incredible I was to have found out their secret language. The look on my grandparents faces were haunting. Something wild flashed in their eyes, they appeared to get bigger and hairier. My comment had taken them by surprise, showing their true appearance. I grew silent.
"You know why we do it, soon it is time."* It was my grandpa talking. "Who would have thought she would find out our secret before she was ripe." He stood up, walked over to the window and closed the curtains.
"Yes, not what we had expected. But now we cannot wait any longer, the feast must take place, especially now when she knows our secret" Grandma paid no attention to the actions of grandpa. She was staring, her eyes never leaving me. Grandpa walked out of the kitchen. A loud click was heard.
"My dear, this would all have been easier if you had not been so..." the way she spoke, there was no melody anymore "...intrusive". Grandma's eyes were slowly turning from comforting green to pitch black.
My palms were wet, I was breathing rapidly, then adrenaline kicked in. I jumped from the table and ran for the door. It was locked, I slammed into it, but it would not budge. I fell to the ground with tears welling out. As I sat on the floor I saw an enormous pot, and what used to be my grandpa next to it, stirring.
”Now you are old enough, honey.”
It was the last thing I heard before all turned to black.
*Translation error, fixed.
| It wasn’t Swedish. Well I have no way of actually proving it. I don’t know Swedish either. But I can say with one percent below certainty that it was at best simply a good impersonation. It didn’t help that his chosen persona, Bjørn Bjørnson, was actually Norwegian. Though I suppose speaking a real language was so far from the point that it seems ridiculous to even comment on. He was Swedish in a way that only an American can be. Was third generation, family line dating back to the Titanic, a fateful flu delaying their emigration a few days. An anglicized name given at Ellis Island.
My grandfather married an Irish woman before joining the Navy, served in the Korean War. Well served at Columbia University. Though it’s not like he ever really played up his veteran status, relinquishing that title to someone more deserving I guess. Graduated with an MBA from that very same institution a few years later. Climbed the ranks, was well off in a Mad Men sort of way. He had his first heart attack at the age of 55, spent the night in a hospital room, window lined by a fully stocked bar, ash tray still warm from the ashes of a recently smoked cigarette.
My father would always look at me with a sort of somber jealousy. My grandfather a man completely overwhelmed by work and vice during most of my father’s life. Quick tempered, often drunk. Would leave the entirety of his home life to be managed my grandmother. Though I suppose that was more the way things just worked in the 60’s and 70’s. That kind of privileged American Dream that so many want to harken back to. Easily defined gender roles, a nuclear family. Well so long as you didn’t have any real ambitions.
But here he was, mid 70’s sitting under the Christmas tree, ogling at my grandmother. Having completely nonsensical conversations in a sort of pseudo-Swedish. Would talk about that one time he actually visited the country as a kid like some sort of badge. He was no more Swedish than I am. The only remnants my butchered last name. To me and my brother he was always just that goofy guy, a complete neglect of a true understanding of my family history. Couldn’t see into my grandmother’s eyes, a woman who had attempted suicide at least twice. Couldn’t see my grandfather’s rampant alcoholism. My father's depression.
When my grandmother had her first stroke they were separated for the first time in nearly fifty years. He would sneak ice cream like a little boy whose mother unexpectedly left the house and her credit card for a weekend. Gulping down scoop after scoop of ice cream, crying to the sky at a sudden outburst of brain freeze. Crying out in the voice of his alter ego Bjørn Bjørnson. Would make my brother and I giggle like crazy. A hesitant smirk from the corners of my father’s mouth. A sort of inherent Midwestern urge to suppress whatever cocktail of emotions swirling through his gut.
It took us all by surprise. He died quietly in his sleep at the age of 86. My grandmother still recovering from her stroke. Though she never really recovered. In the sort of way that, for good or for bad, when someone has been such an unobstructed part of your life for over fifty years, you become incomplete. And not even in some gushy romantic, “you complete me” kind of way. But that our personalities, our emotions are so intangible, and what dictates the self isn’t always entirely internal. And when he would look at her on a Christmas morning, break out into some absurd accent, and make us laugh even just a little, the rest was worth it. There was no alternative. No other path. This was life, and for the time being it was good.
| 2016-09-09T14:31:32 | 2016-09-09T14:12:10 | 101 | 26 |
[WP] Humans and machines have gone to war. The machines think they're winning, as they can decode every encryption known to man, but little do they know of the humans' actual method for communication... sarcasm.
* Let's say some machines remain non-sentient and non-intelligent, so humans can still use them.. | Private - sir, we have good news and bad news
Captain - well, what is it?
Private - we are winning the war with our new "Sarcasm Encrypton", the machines never saw it coming!
Captain - great! What's the bad news
Private - Uhh well sir everyone is able to decode the transmission...except for the Germans. | *pops thumbs* let's do this
Hailing frequency 197-13, it would seem the radial proximity sensors have located a rogue transmission
"Attention alpha command, this is Marine operations team 71. Requesting emergency evac, over"
Running transcription request of sound file, download and decode completed. Federation bio-attack mission 12b complete: offensive operations of sector 9 into echo zone. Mission rate: success. Attempting to configure battle operation plan 12c - transmission interruption - receiving viable audio sign:
"This is President Johnson of the United States Resistance, I am calling the attention of all resistance fighters and citizens. It has come to attention that our messages are still safety secure from the Federation, and that we should be in no way concerned with the possibility that our satellite system has been compromised or that our lan-system has been accessed recently through a remote terminal in the echo sector following the recent attack. Thankfully, none of that happened. Well that is all there is for now, and if this email reaches everyone that it's intended too, I'm sure we will have something to talk about. God bless and goodnight freedom fighters."
Running transcription request of sound file, download and decode completed. | 2016-11-07T05:53:32 | 2016-11-07T00:41:45 | 240 | 19 |
[WP] You and your spouse of 30 years are in a fatal car accident. When you get to heaven, you find out that you get to spend eternity with your soulmate. You realize a problem when you wake up next to a total stranger. | I woke up slowly, blinking at the blinding light.
"Welcome to Heaven!" somebody chorused.
A pamphlet was shoved into my hand by a bubbly cherub clothed only in fog; way, way too little fog. I woke up... I didn't remember standing up...? Cherub....?
"Um... excuse me..."
"It's all in the pamphlet, Tommy!" The cherub chirped.
I was still fuzzy. We'd been driving along and then there had been this horrible metal crashing sound.... now it was just bright, white... something.
Something I needed to remember... dredging my mind... We... Margaret! My wife!
"It's all in the pamphlet, Tommy!" The cherub re-chirped.
I realized I hadn't actually said anything out loud and the cherub had answered anyway. This was getting, had gotten, weird.
Moving almost without my own will, I opened the pamphlet... and just... knew. Everything.
We had been in a car crash. A drunk driver had killed me, my wife Margaret and himself. Because I'd lived a relatively good life, I was now in Heaven.
For eternity I would live in Glory, and my SoulMate would be here with me.
I turned around and there she was. I knew every hair, the happy eyes. Her tongue lolled out and she did that sideways head thing, before bursting into happy, Golden Retriever barking.
"Here Sally! Good dog!" | Had I really loved her? I thought I did. But if she wasn't here...
30 years. Marrying young has its perks but I would be lying if I said the journey wasn't bumpy. We had our ups and downs, just like any couple. I did things I shouldn't have, and said things I didn't mean. But deep down, I always knew I loved her. Or was I just lying to myself?
Yet the face I was staring at wasn't hers. These jet black eyes were unfamiliar and hostile. I longed for her warm, loving hazel eyes, the ones I had lived and laughed with.
Over time we got to know each other better. Clarice was her name. She had been a dentist. She was undeniably beautiful, but it was an effortless, flawless beauty. Yet I longed for Alicia. I had grown accustomed to her shortfalls, and had found beauty in them.
Even more time passed. Slowly the memories were replaced. I made new ones with Clarice. It was like I never knew what I had been missing out on until I had the opportunity to taste it.
We simply clicked on a deeper level. She was the type of girl you can have deep co conversations about universe and life with under the stars, yet get into a tickle fight with two minutes later.
For the longest time I felt guilty. However good Alicia had been, Clarice seemed to be better in every aspect. Eventually the guilt faded. All there was left was bliss.
And then it all went South. The first time we argued I was stunned. We had never argued before, ever. It was a pretty issue, but an argument nonetheless. Soon enough they became more frequent. More frequent and more intense.
Life turned from peace to chaos, happiness to misery. The constant stress, fighting, distrust and resentment slowly began to manifest into only one thing. Hatred. Love had turned into hatred.
I had never mentioned Alicia to Clarice. I had always assumed she was like me, that she had left someone behind to be with me. Then one fine day it all made sense. All it took was one sentence from Clarice and it became crystal clear.
The icy smile when she said it sent a shiver down my smile. "We know what you did to Alicia and now your life is going to be a living Hell." | 2017-03-09T21:30:37 | 2017-03-09T21:12:29 | 75 | 25 |
[WP] Humans are the only species in the galaxy to purposely build their spacecrafts with a massive structural weakness, windows. When a Human envoy argosy visits your planet, you learn why they do. | Looking at the data readouts, Karl was confused. The unknown ship which had appeared three days ago made no sense. It was riddled with weak points, with one of the largest existing right next to the main controls. Why?
No matter, he thought, moving along the corridor. Today his name would go down in history. He would be known as the ambassador who made first contact with these aliens, alongside other great Flik ambassadors like Crig Gribmil and Flak Bloro. Today he made his mark.
As he passed through the airlock he was met by two aliens. One opened its mouth and began speaking in Trade, causing a wave of relief to wash over the Flik.
"The humans of Earth welcome you aboard. I am Kara, and this is John."
"I am Karl Glota of the Flik. Welcome to Greanna."
The humans led him down a long corridor until they reached a doorway, and Karl realized what the weak points were. He could see his home planet, below. He stopped.
"Is there something wrong?"
"Why?"
The alien, a female, emitted a strange sound and bared her teeth. "Oh, the window? We get that a lot. We just like to look at things."
"Can't you just look at readouts? Aren't those more informative?"
"I guess, but what fun is that? You don't get to truly experience it. Or, at least, we don't."
This gave Karl pause. "You would compromise the strength of your ship for novelty? That's insane!"
"Perhaps." The human said quietly, staring down at the planet. She turned. "Karl, how many species have your people contacted?"
The Flik stood tall. "Seventeen, including yours. More than any we know of."
The human chuckled quietly.
"Mr. Glota, humanity has made contact with over two thousand species. We found most never ventured outside of maybe fifty light-years of their home planet, and the average number of contacts is ten. Earth is located six thousand light-years away. So perfect we are a little insane. But here we are."
Karl walked over to the window. "Why are you here?" Fear was creeping into his voice. Not that the humans could tell. Get out get out get out, his head-voice said.
"Why else would anyone make such a journey?"
To conquer
"To learn. To be able to look into the endless void and say 'I know what is out there'. So that I can tell you that that red star there is home to six different species from six other star systems, while that white one is home to that system's original inhabitants. That is why we journey."
The Flik took a deep breath. "Perhaps I should come back later."
The human showed her teeth, which his analyzer told him was a friendly expression. "We must leave soon, sadly. We will be back before your planet has completed an orbit, however, to finish this. But before you go, take this."
The human gave him a small object, bowl-shaped, with ridges on the outside and two winglike projections where the ridges met.
"A scallop shell, from Earth. A gift from our people to yours. Until we meet again."
With that, Karl was led back to his own ship, where he stood, staring at the shell, and wondering at it's purpose. | The Human merchant ship successfully docked to the city’s main terminal. Our species, the Lolli, have been trading with Humans for some three thousand Lolli years. I, of course, know that the Human home world makes a rotation around their star in a much longer time than ours.
My guest today, Ambassador Kim, have been exchanging communications with my staff for the past year, and today, we are finally going to meet in person. The UNS Liberty floated in place, and took up much of Terminal Six. It was painted in a dark blue, as is standard of all Human vessels, it is said that it is done so out of respect for their home world.
Our protocol for first contact with a visiting species is that we should board their ship first - unless specifically requested not to, extend a warm welcome, and then escort the envoys the entire way to Chancellor Hall, where a banquet will be held.
I have heard that Humans are well versed in meal etiquette, and the Ambassador will no doubt excel in decorum. I hope I do not disappoint them and bring shame to the Lolli. My advisor tells me that some Humans will perform a strange pre-meal ritual where they will hold hands and close their eyes and say a chant before eating. I am especially hopeful to see this ritual, after all, is it not Lolli nature to find out everything about everything?
The gate at the bottom of the UNS Liberty slowly opened, releasing a white vapor that filled the setting. My aides quickly tell me that the vapor is not harmful to our biology. Two uniformed Humans emerged from the gate, and invited us in. This had been rehearsed in our communications, so far so good.
We were led to a dark room laden with strips of neon blue lights. I do not know the meaning of these lights, and decided I would ask about them later during the banquet. We studied the room, which had a minimalistic design, save for the few abstract portraits of whom I can only guess to be Human greats. But what really caught my optical sensors was the large, transparent, surface at the end of the room. It was hard not to, really, since it took up almost the entire wall.
I pondered its function as I greeted Ambassador Kim. Having strived to learn all about our guests in the months leading up to our meeting, I can confidently determine that the Ambassador is of the female sex. They are known for their relatively more petite structure, which is still considerably larger than the average Lolli.
After we exchanged pleasantries, also rehearsed, I asked the ambassador about the transparent surface behind her. She smiled, explaining that it is there so they can gaze out and see the beauty of the universe as they travel, and that it inspired their people. I was confused, but my decades of diplomatic training had taught me to be understanding. In this vast universe, every species has their own unique quirk, the Human’s was harmless at least.
We talked for a while longer, about my work, her journey here, Lolli culture, and the conversation was going well. I do appreciate a talkative species, my last guests were not chatty at all and preferred telepathic communication among their own.
As we were talking, translators in hand, I notice an orange light emitting at the top left of my peripherals. I see that they are coming from the transparent surface, which means whatever it is, it was happening on the outside. The light grew larger and larger until I saw what it really was - a meteor! But how? Our orbital defenses would have struck it down way before it could have broken through! It was getting closer, I panicked and grabbed the ambassador’s limbs and braced for impact. Moments later, it struck the far side of the city. Dust swept up and the shockwaves were quickly approaching. I am overcome with fear and cowered behind Ambassador Kim.
It did not take long before the dust covered the the surface entirely. I expected a shockwave to follow momentarily after, perhaps to end my life, but it did not. I look up at the now pitch black surface. Some symbols were displayed on it, using a translator, it read: “Welcome to Ultra Reality. LG Ultra HD TV.”
Reference: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ynvKWYvyCqw | 2017-05-10T16:09:37 | 2017-05-10T15:25:22 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] You're Barack Obama. 4 months into your retirement, you awake to find a letter with no return address on your bedside table. It reads "I hope you've had a chance to relax Barack...but pack your bags and call the number below. It's time to start the real job." Signed simply, "JFK." | Barack stared at the letter for a moment,"for fucks sake Donald" he muttered. He could tell it was Donald the gold sharpie and orange stain gave it away. He stood up and went into his office shaking his head in disappointment and began writing dear Donald this is the third letter this week please stop it's not funny and you're ruining my country." He sealed the letter in an envelope and put it in the post. | I look at the letter and like the millions of other letters that come across my desk, I disregard it. Minutes later, my phone rings from an unknown number.
"Hello"?
"Why did you toss the letter away?"-JFK
I look around for cameras.
"Biden"?
"It's Kennedy. Just as the letter stated!"-JFK
"Goodbye'
"WAIT"-JFK
"What?"
"I know you know this is real. I know the moment you stepped in the White House, you knew there was more to this world. I want to show you what you've been feeling"- JFK
I say nothing.
"Go outside and step into the black limo"- JFK
I hang up. Thirty minutes of contemplating, I step out of my house holding a bag and look left and right before spotting the limo. I walk into the backseat after the driver opens the door for me.
"Where are we going?"
The driver doesn't respond. I don't find the urge to ask any more questions. I don't feel nervous. I feel ready. After an hour of driving, I let the curtains down and see space. I see planets that I've never heard of. Finally, we land and I'm greeted by JFK himself.
"Did you enjoy your simulation?"-JFK.
| 2017-05-14T10:29:45 | 2017-05-14T08:39:09 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You're trapped in IKEA after closing hours. There is a Killer following you through all the display rooms. You want to leave but can't find a way out because it's IKEA. Title: Chopping Mall | ##Monster##
A monster stalked behind me, his feet soft and silent on the polished marble. It was almost impossible to see him, even with the obnoxious glare of industrial lights. He was using something to kill us, something nasty and sharp - the pale corpses littered about like broken toys.
Ikea used to be a little piece of magic. Almost living dioramas, housing the strange and wondrous beasts known only to little me as furniture always seemed to intriguing. Now, it was all stained red, carved up like a slab of meat. Blood, sticky, scarlet blood was splashed across the walls, scrawling various horrifying messages. Most threatened madness, but some were more concerning; that is, if gory suicide notes aren’t worrying enough.
Hiding under the cheap wooden table, I struggled to slowly crawl towards the exit doors. The shadows managed to hide me enough, but sooner rather than later I was going to run out of cover. Secondly, the killer could be anywhere, just as lost as I was in the maze of the fucking store.
Shit.
Triple shitflakes with a side serving of shitty.
Then I heard it, whistling so eerily like that of a songbird. It was beautiful in a macabre way, somehow enrapturing and disturbing at the same time. Perverse curiosity filled me. I wanted to find that song. I wanted to find who sung it.
And I wanted to snap their neck. Slice open their guts and let the blood flow out, let the bones break and shatter far, far below on the floor. Let them suffer.
Frozen in placed, poised to run, I hear it, a kind of sound that parodied a laugh in sick way. Fucked up, demented, the mayor of nutville.
I bolted, my pulse a jagged line piercing up and down, spinning faster and faster. I knew that he was behind me, the sound of his footsteps an echo just behind. Or ahead. Or in the shadows. I still didn’t know. God, he was getting to me. Manipulating me.
A cat torturing a mouse until it tore it open with its claws.
Madness. That is the only way I could describe running. It was horrible, like watching someone you love pass away. Like being stuck outside on a rainy day, watching as your sunlight dreams get washed away.
God shit fuck no. It couldn’t end this way.
Swinging behind a particularly tall shelf, the killer sprinted past, yowling like a beaten god. Slinking sideways, I tucked myself back away into the shadows, the shelves becoming a forest within the maze that was this mall, the wood the only solid thing in the world.
Run. Hide. Sigh. Repeat.
Finally, the exit appeared, looming like a giant black gate in the distance. Safe, secure and cloaked in the shadow of night. I’d already broken cover once, the killer obviously pissed in his own fucked up way. If I ran, I could shatter the glass and run through the carpark, alerting him and maybe dying in the process. Meanwhile, I could hide here and wait until help eventually arrived.
One.
Two.
Three.
Again, the world becomes a blur. The ground no longer holds my weight, the panting and giggling booming in my head. My skull feels as if a firework is going off, my body slowly tearing itself to pieces. The knife goes in and out, the grace and speed the killer uses almost erotic, gentle in a morbid sense. Not painful, but cold. So very, very cold.
Twisting, fingers slashed across its edge, I plunge the knife into him, searching those hollow eyes from the exact fucking moment when the monster dies. I want to see his last breath. I want to see him bleed.
He only smiles with that skeletal grimace as my blood pools with his, the knife buried deep within his black heart.
| My dad calls life the Hero’s Journey. You see, he’s an author with a bad sense of humor and an even worse sense of writing. He makes ten grand a year off of the thing he spent his life doing and he calls it *heroic*. The adversity now is just to make his conquest all the sweeter. But the hero’s journey isn’t just contained to himself, it’s everyone.
First day of school, tears and snot dripping off my chin, clinging to his leg? “Son, this is your call to adventure, the first step of the hero’s journey.”
Go to college for a degree that I hate to work a job that I don’t want to do? “All part of the challenges that will lead to your death and rebirth.”
Marry a woman I don’t love because all my Facebook friends are posting five year anniversary pictures? “Son, do you really think I fucking know how to live a life?”
That one stuck. And so did my marriage.
Becca Holbert (Holt now) isn’t a bad person. She has these deep hazel eyes that always expand when looking at me. Her lips are curved up more than down and she has a way of viewing the world where things are guaranteed to work out. Kind of like the hero’s journey. I hate the hero’s journey.
So here we are, after the marriage, after the honeymoon, after two months’ worth of trying to fill silence with *something*. And that *something* has gone from TV, to a pet parrot, to finally buying a house together.
“Oh, don’t you think this looks cute?” she says, gliding her fingertips over a marble countertop in IKEA. We’re here shopping for furniture to shop for once we finally get the house.
I smile. I nod. Then, I check the price tag. “Seems a bit tacky, don’t you think?”
She frowns and curls her lips back before agreeing. Her disappointment only lasts until the next slab of redwood, linoleum, or reclaimed urban whatever. Every time she sees one of these tabletops, her first step toward it will be a little jump and her lips will curl into a small grin before sneaking a look at me, wondering if I’ll shoot this one down as well. But Becca’s not the type to believe in probability (since I’ve shot 100% of her tabletops down already), she believes in the Hero’s journey. So she keeps it up.
“Too big. Too small. Too tall. Too short. Too *smelly*.” I think I even used smelly in there once.
Eventually, we’re both exhausted. Becca’s hopped to a thousand tables and looked at me with those expanding hazel eyes. And I’ve been an asshole every one of those times. Now she returns me a different look. Her eyes go misty and her bottom lip wobble.
“Sorry,” she tells me. “I couldn’t find a good one.”
My heart sinks and I can feel the onset of some waterworks myself. *It’s not the tabletops that aren’t working*, I want to tell her, *it’s us.* Instead, I do my biggest asshole move of the night yet, I tell her, “There’s always next time.”
She wipes her tears in silent resignation to the lie I told.
I’m sure she knows it’s a lie. She has to. Maybe when we get divorced and she remarries, this day will all just be another part of her hero’s journey. I hope so. Becca’s a good person and she deserves more than this sham marriage.
The lights in the building click off. Becca yelps and runs to me, grabbing my hand. I look around, my eyes still adjusting to the new dark.
“Hello?” I call out, my voice echoing to its own sound. Nobody responds.
We must’ve been so caught up in our broken marriage that we missed even IKEA’s closing announcement!
“We stayed on accident,” I yell again. “Can someone show us the way out?”
The announcer whirs and screeches to life. “Hello,” it said, the voice in that pleasant grocery store tone. “If you’re still here, you are breaking the law. Now I’m not sure why you choose to break the law, but breaking the law is inexcusable. If you want to live in a world without law, where we’re just animals hunting each other down”—the voice turns sinister—“fine, just for tonight, but be careful what you wish for.”
And the announcement ends. Becca squeezes my hands tighter. “What did that mean?” she asks.
I curl my free hand into a fist. “Probably just a prank,” I tell her, my last lie of the night.
| 2017-09-14T13:29:42 | 2017-09-14T02:42:31 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] You are an older raid boss who once took many players to defeat. After multiple expansions higher level players are able to defeat you by themselves. You decide to do something about it. | "Ugh... Raiding me *again*? My cache isn't even worth looting anymore!"
I watched the invaders storm my halls. What was once a marker of true terror had been uprooted by an influx of ludicrously powerful 'relic' weapons that had changed the face of the world.
Several times.
I wandered back to my throne, drawing my blade and placing it by my side. What could I do? These people were far too powerful for me. All my greatest weapons and magiks were completely useless against such power!
I twiddled my thumbs, waiting for the door to be inevitably blown open and for the stun-locking to begin. It's not fun being forced to stand still and face-tank 10 people simultaneously.
*"Haha don't worry, this guy's easy! We've got base tanks, so you guys just need to hit him hard. Don't worry about dying, it's basically impossible now!"*
The gloating... The confidence...
***The Arrogance...***
That was it. I could feel my blood boil, and it was glorious! I'd been kind to these weaklings for far too long! It was time for the Keeper of the Moon to take back his title as the most feared being in the world.
I spun around and drew a crystal case from behind my throne. I'd put down my true weapon when I denounced the abyss and banished it's influence. However, as a product of the abyss, it's power is always there. It's just waiting...
In one swift move, I put my fist through the case, reaching for the cold, sweet kiss of true Tetyrien Steel. I wrapped my fingers around the handle and pulled my faithful friend into the midnight air. Almost instantly I could feel a familiar power returning, like the embrace of a lost lover returning a passion and tenderness so sorely missed. A tear rolled down my cheek at the thought, as my eyes gained further focus as the abyss took further hold. I could sense them behind the door. They were preparing for the final battle, but so was I.
*The time for games was well and truly over.*
I raised my crow-headed scythe skywards, striking an invisible line down the small crack in the door. At first, nothing. Then suddenly, a great burst erupt from within, shattering the door into thousands of pieces. The raid party recoiled, slowly taking stance ready for battle. The leader seemed horrified, knowing his little group of learners were about to learn the true meaning of *pain*. I scanned the party, and struck another line across the base tank and backup tank, obliterating them immediately.
The party stood silent and still, undoubtedly processing what was happening. Another tear fell as I saw the heretics sporting her armour, no doubt taken from my cache in a previous raid, like a trophy. I could feel my rage burning harder, almost choking me in my own skin. I couldn't take it anymore... *It was time.*
"**HOW... DARE YOU! YOU MAY MOCK ME AND RAID MY HOME, BUT YOU WILL NOT DESECRATE HER!**"
The whole party ducked for cover, some behind statues, some straight out the door.
I threw my head back and screamed. The abyss was fully taking hold, and I knew it wouldn't be long before I lost myself completely. For now, anyway.
I had just enough time to get one last message across,
"I... am Sahillion Lunaros. King of Tetyrien and Keeper of the Moon, and now..."
Suddenly, I felt great wings surge from my back as the last of my human side was consumed. I hoped it would come back, but I didn't care anymore. I just wanted these people to *hurt*, just as much as I did. Everything faded away, and all that remained was bloodlust.
Oh how I was looking forward to this...
"**I am Umariaba... Angel of the Abyss! PREPARE TO DIE!**"
---
Edit: grammar fail and auto correct ._. | Oh shit more level 110's I don't know why the developers raised the level cap by 30 after the tenth expansion pack, I really liked killing the underleveled and underprepared, but now a single player can kill me. I was the hardest raid boss in the game nicknamed glaz the unkillable because it took 4 level 80's to kill me, I used to drop some of the rarest end game loot but now they are like water pistols to high level players. Several months after the tenth expansion pack was released I was greeted by an unknown level player, it normally says there level when they enter the arena, he offered me a way to take my old title of glaz the unkillable back, he said he could rewrite the code so I could level up the way normal players do and move the same way as well, but for a price. Being fed up with losing battles I accepted, he came back several days later saying it was done. I get up off the ground and walk towards the entrance and walk though it, I have never been able to before this is all new to me. After several hours of sneaking around getting an idea of the landscape and players here I decide to come out from hiding. The first person to see me was a group of level 81's, 3 of them to be exact, they stood no chance did they even try? This is just like the old days. I keep spawn trapping the same players, similar to what high level players have done to me, I start levelling up really fast. Oh what's this? I have got a new skill? What's it do? Skin regen, passive healing increased by 50% unlocked at level 110, sounds good to me but does that mean I'm already at the level cap? I return back to arena feeling good for a difference.
"Hey when did glaz get so strong?" Said a level 100 player to his group member.
"I don't know he was definitely easier last time" the other member said.
"He is almost as strong as that new boss, I can't remember his name" the first one said.
"You mean the dark lord of darkness?" The other member said back.
"Yeah that's the one" he said. I kill the two of them with ease. But who is this dark lord of darkness? Where do I find him? I go back to the spawn point to ask those two players.
"Hey, umm I don't really know how to say this, but... where could I find the dark lord of darkness?" I say awkwardly.
"Your that boss that killed us before? Yeah? You can find him up north you can't really miss the arena. But how are you out of the arena?" The second player says.
"Thanks and don't worry about how I'm here" I say avoiding the question.
I start my journey north.
This must be the place. It's a large arena with huge flamethrowers beside the entrance and fireworks launchers facing out towards the forest. I enter the arena.
"Hey glaz, how are you here-" the dark lord of darkness says getting interrupted by me.
"I'm fine I was just out for a stroll and I came here, but how are you?" I interrupt so he doesn't ask how I got here.
"That's not what is was trying to ask you. How did you get-" he says getting interrupted by me again.
"Tell me dark lord, if I may call you that, do you inhale or exhale before you begin an attack?" I ask hoping to confuse him.
"Umm... I don't know, why?" I says. In his semi confused state I get the first hit in starting a boss vs boss fight never seen before, the boss fight becomes very loud very quick. It starts the bring in a huge crowd, mostly players from the neighbouring forest, but soon people begin fast traveling here after catching wind that there is an incredible fight going on. I feel myself weakening, is he feeling weak too? I hope so.
"HEY, GLAZ YOU LOOK LIKE YOU NEED HELP" I can't tell who said that weather it was the crowd or the dark lord.
"IT'S US THE TWO WHO TOLD YOU HOW TO GET HERE" a different voice says.
"WELL THEN HELP ME" I say. They run in from the audience and begin to damage boost me. The battle ends quickly after they started helping me.
"So why did you help me?" I ask them.
"We were helping so after you won we could kill you and take your overpowered loot" one of them explains. Just as he finishes explaining why the other attacks me. They attack with such coordination, they quickly get me to low health.
"This is the price, permanent death" they both say in sync.
They both swing they staves and strike me down. | 2017-10-10T07:21:33 | 2017-10-10T00:20:51 | 52 | 32 |
[WP] You, the hero have been captured by the villian. As most villians do, he tells you his evil plans. The thing is, you like this plan because he inadvertently solves a world problem in implementing it. You want to help | I struggled against the chains.
"Fight all you want, little Paladin," he said, "I've made certain that there's nothing you can do to stop my plan!"
I glared at him, trying to think of a way to stall.
"What are you plotting anyway? Why would you manufacture ten litres of oxitopaminergic agents anyway?"
"I have created a bomb!" He said. "In three hours, the first G7 meeting will begin, and I will have it go off."
I gasped. "You're going to kill all G7 heads of state?"
"No. I am going to poison them!" He said with a grin. "With my oxitopaminergic agents running through their veins, they will be overcome with empathy for the world. No more will these leaders seek to better themselves--only the people they serve and the greater world."
"Wait what?"
"They will see each other as brothers and sisters in a battle for the common good! They will make decisions not to be re-elected, but to do as much good as they can in the time that they have."
"...okay..."
"The world shall unite! The people shall thrive!"
He waited for me to say something. Then frowned.
"So..." I started, as the silence grew progressively more awkward. "Do you need any help for the UN thing coming up?" | "I feel no remorse for you. You deserve to be here."
He looked at me with that evil condescending frown he always had. After years of knowing him, and fighting against one another, he truly never ceased to anger me. As I struggled with the chair he had tied me to, he walked over and trailed a cold finger along my jaw. I jerked away from his death like fingers, but he dragged my head back and forced me to meet his eyes. As I saw into him, I realized I had lost. I had been trapped here for days now. What would I do against him? The friends I had made, they never even came to save me. I struggled time and time again to save them, only to have them give up on me. I sit here alone with this monster because even if I save them, they would never come for me.
I can feel the confidence and passion drain from my face. Passion for the fight, for fighting this fiend. All I want now is to know his reason. I want to know the reason for his actions against me and my friends...rather my ex-friends. We stare at each other for a moment or two, his grin widening as he gazes upon my defeated look.
"Why?" I finally say. He has a glimmer of a surprised look before he pulls away.
"Why?" He repeats after me, walking away from me, his long black coat and pointed tail trailing behind him. He stands with his back turned towards me. "Its everything you have done. Everything you fight for. You fight for the people who declare what justice is. You are their slave."
"What?" I say confused. He whirls around to face me. For the first time, I see a truly angry look on his face.
"You don't know, do you? The atrocities they have committed. The people they have killed. I fight against them for their victims. For my family."
Then suddenly it clicks. All the missing people. The murders they pin on the man in front of me. It was never him. He would never kill his own kind. He was right. He had tried to warn me, but I never listened.
A lingering sense of passion returns to me and I look him dead in the eyes.
"Then I will fight against them too." | 2018-06-12T00:45:23 | 2018-06-11T20:59:34 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] In the post-apocalypse, you have a radio station, and regularly talked with a person at another radio station who you believe was the only other survivor. One day, that person stopped responding. Years later, your radio crackles to life and you hear: “Sorry for not responding, but I’m back.” | Another one of those things has been prowling around outside lately.
I’m good for now. They can’t get into the fort. But next time I head into town to scavenge for scrap metal, I’m going to have to be on guard.
I can hear it right now, repeating its victim’s last words over and over to itself. The things are uncanny. Any word, any song. They’ll pick it right up, and start repeating it over and over. The more they hear, the more they learn. Some of them are even smart enough to string it into sentences.
This one’s imitating a female. Even from here, I can make out its incoherent babbling.
“No, no, no, please no! Someone! Jeffery!!! Anna!! Please, no!!” And then it screeches, loud and high pitched, before being abruptly cut off.
Who knows how long ago it ate that woman? It must be starving for another meal.
I retreat further into the fort, trying to get away from the woman’s voice, heading into the main building.
My radio’s sitting on the desk, same place it’s been for the last two years. I used to talk to another survivor with it, back before she stopped answering. Maddie, her name was. Chances are she’s dead now, just like the rest of them.
I haven’t heard from a single person since Maddie disappeared. For a while, I held onto the hope that maybe she just ran out of batteries, and was waiting to make a run for them. But after a year of waiting, I knew she must have died or moved on. I still keep the radio around, though, in case someone else finds one, or Maddie comes back.
I start to walk away, when I hear it crackle to life. Turning, I’m surprised to hear a voice coming from the radio, a familiar one at that. “Daniel? Daniel?”
I lean down to the radio, not sure if I’m hearing correctly.
“Password?” I ask.
“Fireflies,” she answers immediately.
“That’s really you? Maddie?” I say in disbelief.
“Hey.” She sounds tired. “Sorry for not responding, but I’m back.”
“What happened?” I ask. My voice is hoarse from ages of disuse. “Where have you been? It’s been almost two years, I thought you were dead!”
“I’ve just been through hell.”
“Getting batteries?” I ask. “Did your radio run out?”
“Those things, they’re everywhere.”
I stop, because this is starting to sound really familiar. I remember this conversation.
“One of them has been hanging around outside the bunker for who knows how long. I think it can hear me, it keeps repeating my words.“
“Maddie,” I say, voice serious. “Can you tell me about the first time we met, what I said then?”
There’s silence on the other end.
“Maddie, is that really you, or is it just one of those things, repeating your words?”
“You gotta believe me!” It’s a different voice this time, a British male. “Please, let me in, they’re coming for me!”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and I really am.
There’s another scream, a woman this time. I recognize the voice instantly. It’s Maddie.
She’s sobbing, pleading with the thing, begging for someone, anyone, her mom, her dad, me.
My vision goes red. Before I know what’s happened, the radio’s on the ground, under the table leg and I’m bashing it over and over and over again.
It killed her. The damn thing killed her and now it’s mocking me.
I finally stop, panting, when the thing’s shattered into a million pieces. Reduced to nothing more than a useless hunk of metal.
I won’t be able to talk to anyone anymore, but it’s for the best.
From now on, I’m on my own.
_____________________________________________
Thanks for reading. This is my first short story on here, and I’d really appreciate feedback! | "Yes!", I screamed. I was reminded of how my voice sounds, which echoed through the storehouse and my head.
Squinting my eyes, I watched the snow turn red of the blood of the rat I've shot. The arrow pointing up to the sky, twitching gently. I scratched my itching head, put my crossbow at the wall and closed the howling window. There hasn't been a meal on my table for three days, and I exhaled of exhaustion and excitement, my breath forming a tiny cloud that swiftly disappeared. The window barely had any glass on it left, and when closed left only a small amount of light through the cardboard I replaced it with. Now I was in almost complete darkness, the normal state of my life.
I went to my bed - at least that's how I call it -, took the blanket and started wrapping it around my head, only leaving a small slit to look through. The weather wasn't too bad today, however, it was still way too cold to go withou-
"Sorry for not responding, but I’m back."
"Argh!", I screamed.
I was so surprised to hear his voice that I scratched my forehead, while my hand jerked uncontrollably. I was losing my balance.
It came from the radio next to my bed, which has been silent for the last four years. My heart pounded, my brain was in disbelief. I sprinted to the radio, picked up the microphone attached to it and yelled: "I thought you were dead!"
One the one hand, I was mad about him for leaving me without a notice, but why am I feeling like I'm about to cry, then?
"Yes, I'm sorry, Andy, I really am. I- I tried a higher voltage to see if I could - if I could reach more -"
"You damn fool.", I interrupted him, chuckling. Wiping my eyes. "You damn fool, Mathew. You could have, you know, asked me for help, you know?". I shook my head, smiling. "Or at least tell me that you might be gone forever if your experiment won't, well, work."
It was typical of Andy. He was around ten years younger than I was - he must have been a teenager when all of this happened -, and, of course, much less experienced. And asking for help was not his style.
"I knew you would say that." Andy's voice sounded embarrassed. "I was so angry about myself for the weeks after that. The first few days I couldn't even sleep. I hated myself for it. But you know what? I fixed it. I worked it out. There were only some capacitors broken that I replaced with stronger ones. The signal now goes twice as far, I think."
"Were you able to get the signal from someone else?", I said excited.
Andy paused. "No", he sighed. "But wait, you're gonna love this! Look what I've found."
I sat on my bed and waited patiently. I could hear him swear faintly while probably moving something heavy.
"You're gonna love this", I heard Andy say in the distance. Distance. We once tried to triangulate out positions using the stars and the sun, to find out how far apart we are, but I didn't trust even my own result.
"Here it is!", Andy said.
Silence.
"I don't hear -" "Wait, let me get you closer." The microphone crackled.
"*... old flat top ... come groovin' up slowly ...*", I was barely able to hear anything. But it was music.
"Music!", I yelled. "Yes, music!" "My lord. This is amazing, Andy."
"Thank you! I was able to find a small vinyl collection of The Beatles. This one's called 'Remastered'. No, wait. Come... I can't read it, the paper is-"
"*Come together, right now, over me*", I sang along, nodding my head very slightly to the beat.
"You know the song?" "Yes, but it wasn't something I... Never mind. I love it." "I can leave it on, if you want."
"Wait." Now that my excitement to hear Andy went back to a normal level, I again felt how hungry I was.
"There's still a rat's ass I have to care about." I chuckled. "What?" "I shot a rat just a few moments before you called me. I should fetch it before something else does."
"Oh. I see. I figured out a new recipe for squirrel, I can tell you about it when you return!"
"Sure! Oh, and Andy?". I picked up the blanket that fell from my head and started wrapping it around my head again.
"Yes?"
"I missed you."
Andy paused. "Me too, Mathew. I missed you so much", I heard him say through the speakers.
I turned around and left.
"*Come together, yeah. Come together, yeah*", I whispered, while leaving the storehouse. | 2019-01-21T07:19:17 | 2019-01-21T06:48:54 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] You're walking down the street, when suddenly someone yells "That's it! I can't do this any longer" and takes off his wig. Everyone stops, and one by one everyone does the same. Turns out, everyone is bald. Except you. | Christopher Walkins was shocked but secretly relieved when he saw the mass unveiling of bald heads in the small town of Perkins, Indiana. He'd been spending exhorbitant amounts of money on products that kept what little hair he had intact. After the scientists came in to examine what was going on, they realized that there was a special weed that had started growing in the town of 1,000 people. As the seeds spread through the air, people breathed them in, and it caused them to lose their hair.
&#x200B;
Christopher was one of the only men in the town who had the money and resources to try to keep his hair. He'd found oil on his property years ago, and smartly invested the money he'd made.
&#x200B;
Three years ago, he finally found a syrum that worked, but it costed over $500 a month. When the manufacturer went out of business, he'd bought several crates worth of the product and kept it in a storage locker. He'd carted it in under the cover of darkness, lest anyone discover his hairy (or not-so-hairy) secret.
&#x200B;
Turns out, Christopher had lucked out yet again, struck oil. He was the one person in the world now who could cure the affliction that now plagued the small town of Perkins. He had a finite amount of the stuff, and he'd sell it to the highest bidder.
&#x200B;
As he poured himself a drink, Christopher smiled. He was going to be very rich. Who cared if he was bald? | I was walking back from the supermarket with my daughter when I heard an angry yell.
“I’m done! I can’t do this anymore! The constant itch has pained me for too long!” The voice grated my ears.
Until the last sentence, I thought the man was just breaking up with his girlfriend, but he mentioned an itch. Maybe it was a metaphor.
He then ripped his wig off, and threw it on the ground in anger. Then one by one, I saw everybody do the same. Even my daughter tossed off a wig from her head.
Everybody cheered me on to rip my wig off, too. But I didn’t have a wig. I told everybody that I had a luscious head of hair.
That was the last day of my boring, average life. Every day after that, I had to hide for my life. I found out that I was the only one who ever had hair.
About a week ago, I decided to leave my bunker due to me being low on food.
That was a mistake.
I clutched my gun as I sneaked up to the store. I could see many people in there, so I knew that stealing enough food would not be easy, especially in such an apocalyptic world.
I decided to get some beef, pork, and chicken. Luckily, there were no people in the meat section. Next, I needed some vegetables. I may need to fight for my life, but I’ll still be as healthy as possible. However, there were many people in that section. I decided to grab the food, and run. All five of the people saw my hair and realized who I was.
I grabbed whatever veggies I could as I was running. As I turned the corner, I heard a gunshot. I felt the bullet fly past my hair. I leaned into the air to dodge the knife that was thrown at me. As I was running home, many people were crowding around me. I hid behind a boulder and shot four of the five hunters. As I saw the fifth person, I froze.
It was my daughter. But she wasn’t going to hold back because I was her father. As she stabbed her knife into my back, she tearily said “I’m sorry, but I must.”
“I’m sorry as well.” I replied as I shot her in the head.
I don’t deserve to be alive. So if anybody sees this, you get to keep all of my possessions. I won’t need them in hell. | 2019-05-28T09:58:35 | 2019-05-28T08:54:34 | 47 | 18 |
[WP] Earth is dying. We've developed great spaceships to take as many people as possible to a new world. There's not enough room for everybody, but at the news of a great coming catastrophe people flock to leave. However it seems that the rich and powerful are the only ones choosing to stay... | Earth is a massive fluke on the cosmic scale of things. It's in the goldilocks zone of life, has an abundant supply of water on the surface, and enough carbon for life to arise. Among the near-infinite multitude of planets that humanity had observed, the earth was the only viable planet for sustaining human life. Space colonies would inevitably succumb to lack of resources. We possessed the tech to build generation ships. But at their current speed, it didn't matter if the people slept for a century; they would not get anywhere. After 100 years on the ship, they would wake up to find themselves with a years supply of food; in the dark of space with no hope of finding a planet. They would be very upset with my company for sending them out there; we promised them a world after all. A century in the future my, friends and I would surely be dead. Besides — once they locked into the hibernation pods and set the course, they were no longer my problem. However, they could feel free to call our complaint line; which would take a few thousand years to reach us.
These people all wanted out. Why? Our planet was dying. Scientists had many exciting ideas to explain the death of the earth. Some said that industry was the culprit; the excessive release of Co2 was causing a greenhouse effect. Early in the game, our representatives denied any such claims. Considering we owned the factories, what else could we do? While everyone was beating around the bush and trying to gain traction for their dubious ideas, we all agreed that there was a problem. A solution was paramount. Many social movements emerged to clean up trash, use paper straws, and to drive electric cars.
By 2060 the situation was no better, and our lithium supply was damn-near depleted. That's when my friends and I truly understood one thing: the problem was an abundance of people. With that problem unaddressed it didn't matter what we did, the biosphere was compromised. That's when we came up with the generation ship initiative. The presidents of the world were initially hesitant when we pitched our idea, but they need campaign funding. And where do you think they get it?
With world leaders on board, there was still a big challenge - getting the people on board. Who in their right mind would leave the only livable planet? Only people who feared the worst of earth and hoped for some exo-planet we could conjure up. Somehow they fell for the idea that Alpha Centauri C was a viable planet (complete wasteland, by the way, folks up in NASA couldn't believe it when we pitched it). They were reticent to speak out about it, but we cleaned out the lower ranks - just in case.
&#x200B;
While we had the public looking to the sky, we, turned ours to the ground. The subterranean started construction in 2019, we were hopeful back then that we wouldn't have to use it. But in retrospect, I am glad I didn't shoot down the idea. It's cool down here, 60 degrees Fahrenheit day and night. My life of luxury down here is more excellent than it ever was before the ships left. I have no fears about putting this memo on your ship, and as I said, I am probably decades-dead at this point. All of you will perish in the dark of space, I have toasted to you dead men and women every dinner. Ultimately, that is the cost that I have paid to secure future life.
&#x200B;
So — a toast to new beginnings! | Amidst all this commotion, a small family comprising of a dad and daughter was scrounging for food near the aftermath of the riots. It was obvious that limited resources led to people killing each other for it. There were three kinds of people seen in the riots! The hoarders who were previously people of means and managed to save and stock up for doomsday. The robbers/invaders who made up for an alarmingly large percent of people. Often people from poor backgrounds who have managed to gather their weapons and attack any institution that held any resources they needed. Battles were often bloody and the circulation of automatic assault rifles did not make it better with a lot of people ending up dead. The higher officials in the governing bodies deemed this as good since it would “purge” the excess population. There was a big minority of people who lay low all the time and set out in the dawn after all the riots have been paused. They gather things that have been left behind by the dead people in ensuing fights or anything that may have been overlooked while people were greedily fighting to acquire the goodies.
The man and the little girl on his arms have been on the lookout for food for days. They often go hungry in between spells of finding food. The dad was more hungry in general but that’s better than seeing his little angel hungry. The little family adopted what was known as the “China man’s policy” that means anything can be eaten. They have survived on rats, cockroaches and even dead ferrets. Their code was to lay low, not to kill unless for self defence( he had only one 44 caliber pistol with him with probably 2 rounds) and say a prayer every night for being alive.
As the little girl gathered the small pieces of food like strewn veggies, corn packets and some half used cartons, the dad kept a look out for any little animals that ran amok. The rat infestation was a nightmare to many in the city but it also meant plenty of food.
A loud thud was heard and the girl was frightened. She immediately went to her and hugged him. From the dust, an air vehicle was visible and out came what looked like 2 govt soldiers . They pointed their guns at the little family. The man and girl clutched each other and he pulled her behind him as he could. They lowered their weapons and one of them spoke
“Dr. Madden, We have been ordered to take to the symposium immediately. Your groundbreaking research on “sustainable life forces underground” 20 years ago was remarkable and we are pleased to know that you have been selected as an esteemed member of the human race”
The doc froze, he was pushed into the vehicle which took off in air and headed towards what looked like icy cold mountains. They proceeded inside a huge cave and in there he saw huge eco domes in the sense that eco dome had a mini forest beneath them. As they passed through this display into a discreet gateway. The father and daughter looked with awe at the bustling social life which went on and happy people walking about. It wasn’t as great as life in the old planet but it was the best he has seen 10 years since the doomsday.
As both the man and girl were given clothes and a room to freshen up. The little girl ever happy was bouncing about the bed and playing with toys put in the room. A woman came to the door and asked for him to meet the director. She was the nanny who would take the girl to the children’s corner where she can play with other kids. The girl was delighted and straightly demanded “Daddy can I go there please!”. He was skeptical but agreed if she showed him the area. The play place was pretty safe with other parents lurking around.
As he entered the directors office
“So! Congratulations! You are selected for the human race project! You will be in a setting where you can survive and live well in return for your services.”
“ So , We get to go on the spaceship? That’s amazing! I will be honoured to serve you by the way!”
“My dear friend! Please don’t tell me you believed the spaceship lie. Yeah! There are spaceships that are transporting people but there is no world out there! It is part of the purge where we send unwanted population into deep space to point of no return”
The doc froze to the ground. He was happy with having gone back to civilisation but the sheer cruelty and malevolence of the director deeply shook him. He was speechless. | 2019-08-27T01:53:55 | 2019-08-27T01:44:04 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | It was stupid. The Karathians should have just settled their disagreements with the Auraxians like a civilized bunch. It was a shame really. Such a beautiful world, it's emerald oceans glistening. But they screwed up when they both engaged a human fleet which was just traversing the system peacefully. Before the flagship went down, EDF HOOD, a single wide band hail went out.
"If you want war, we'll give you war."
Both fleets ignored the hail. Many underestimated humanity and it's abilities. Many species were stronger, many far more intelligent. But none had ever seen the ability of a human to cause destruction. So when they ignored the hails of our diplomatic ships when we went to demand reparations and an apology, a declaration of war was sent instead.
So here I sit. The sky marshall, sipping my coffee as I listen to the latest cadets complete their graduation ceremony.
**I solemnly swear,**
**To devote my life and abilities,**
**In the defense of the United Nations of Earth,**
**To defend the right of humanity,**
**And to further the universal rights of sentient life,**
**From the depths of the Pacific,**
**To the darkest parts of the galaxy,**
**So long as, I, live!**
The executor class is really a one of a kind ship. Literally. Lacking defensive armament, it's power is entirely dedicated to the large central particle lance weapon. Originally an orbital mining laser, but we found that it was equally capable of causing traumatic damage to the crust of a planet, if you boosted the power.
A world cracker, they called it.
That's when the hails asking for mercy began to flood in. It's too bad really. If only they hadn't ignored ours...
"Sky marshall? It's on your orders."
"You may fire at your leisure, admiral."
What a shame. Such a beautiful world.
EDIT: Part deux: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/e13cwf/wp_every_sentient_species_in_the_galaxy_is_given/f8ntxrt/ | Dargeroth, the grand admiral assigned to this arm of the milky way, scoffed at the message. The Aristance Empire had been expanding for centuries with little resistance, and even the United Federation of Galactic Systems posed a miniscule threat. And yet, the small human alliance centered around their home system had just declared war.
The past century had been filled with various deals and negotiations as the humans, known to most as a weak but highly charismatic race, had tried to keep the mighty empire at bay. But it seemed that the negotiations failed. Dargeroth was almost ecstatic, as now it meant that he could show the true might of the empire. And with a single flick of his wrist, the attack began.
Admiral Alyx Dredger checked the message she had just received again, and immediately sounded the alarm. A massive fleet of enemy ships had just warped into the system and started firing.
"ACTION STATIONS, ACTION STATIONS. ALL CREW REPORT TO YOU ACTION STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL!" She called into the speaker system. Soon, the mighty alarms rang throughout the station, and the docked cruisers detached, their mighty docking arms retracting as their engines roared with the sound of rushing plasma. A purple glow illuminated the ships and the station as their plasma shields came to life, and their sides seemed to explode as fighters and torpedos were launched from seemingly countless tubes. But Alyx feared it might not be enough.
The enemy fleet was over three times the size of the defending one, and Alyx knew they could not hold out for ever. But, luckily for her, reinforcements were on their way from earth.
The space around the station and neighboring planets was glowing the the burning plasma and constricted hardlight shields, while seemingly infinite fighters dueled in the empty black, dodging and shooting down torpedos twice their size. But they were outnumbered, and the Empire's forces were closing in. Soon, an imperial cruiser, its point defence cannons shredding anything the that got close, broke through the defensive human line and started firing on the station. And Alyx stared down the barrel of a massive plasma cannon, and knew that she would die. But right before the cannon fired, the ship exploded as a ball of plasma four kilometers in length exploded against its side. Soon, dozens, hundreds, thousands of enemy ships met the same date as millions of human capital ships came through wormholes, swarming their enemy. It was a massacre.
"Attention human forces," the open channel line said, "reinforcements have arrived. Light attack fleet Hermes reporting for duty. Sorrythe fleet isn't too big, this is all we could make in the past hour or so to respond to your call. The last forty million dreadnoughts and twenty million carriers will be here by tomorrow."
"That's quite alright," Alyx said as the thirty-kilometer-long vessels demolished their enemies, "we should be okay for now." | 2019-11-24T11:35:42 | 2019-11-24T10:54:19 | 661 | 236 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | If only we knew then what we know now. The humans claimed historical sovereignty, as is the right of all new applicants into the Galactic Conglomerate. This is usually to hide a soft past in an effort to appear strong. Usually a war-like species is proud of their military capabilities. They flaunt them in a show of strength in such a loose alliance of different peoples. The humans proved to be expert diplomats, but not much else. In nearly every field, much of the conglomerate surpassed them. At least, that's what we thought.
Within thirty earth years, as is now the standard, the Dopeshki, our people, thought it would be fun and exciting sport to conquer the soft, fleshy humans. Our hard outer shells could resist most of the small arms the humans showed to the galaxy as if they were leaves falling from a tree. Our ships' shields could easily absorb their pitiful energy weapons. We didn't know that they had researched so deeply into creating projectile weapons though. It had seemed almost like an obsession to make a bigger, stronger, more deadly "gun" as they call them. Most of our warfare revolved around a slow approach and on-board combat in order to not activate the energy-absorbing shields. Projectile weapons had long been abandoned because of this.
The first battle was a slaughter. We attacked a huge transport ship bringing luxury goods and medical tools to an outer colony of theirs. The humans could not stand up to our strength in close combat, but we did not win a single fight after that.
Humans came up with the idea of a "railgun" a thousand years prior to outside contact. The first one could accelerate a tungsten rod to 1% the speed of light, and they only got better at making them from there. Our shields didn't stand a chance. We did not even realize that they were not using payloads on the projectiles until they started doing so. The colony of Darmak was the first time we found this out. Then Kartor, and Sengui, and Kalloo, and so on until it was just our home. They had developed bombs that ignited the very atmosphere of a planet, and they could fire them at 86% the speed of light. We never even knew when we were being attacked until the scorchlines were already traveling across the planet.
When we Dopeshki warred, it was like a grand hunt. It was full of sport. We had rules and valued the spoils more than the annihilation of our enemy. Surrender and tribute was always an option for our foes, for why else should one wage war if not to benefit off those who are weaker. The humans did not share such views. Many wondered why such weak creatures ever became so dominant on such a savage planet. It is because humans have no mercy once they decide oblivion is their foe's fate. They never mined our colony worlds. They never tried to seed life to them after such unimaginable destruction was dealt. The humans called it "total war," and it is something they have practiced, refined, and learned from since the dawn of their civilization. When they finally delivered the mercy treaty to our last bastion of government, they made sure that we understood they only stayed their hand so as not to look like complete monsters to the other people in The Conglomerate.
That is why we may no longer engage in war, young ones. That is why our planet is mostly barren save for the small patch of land on the continent of Congima. That is why we may never hold colonies again. That is why the humans are the head of The Galactic Empire. Never before has such diplomacy been seen. | The Hive's takeover of Earth had been easy enough, sped along by the superior weaponry of the spacefaring conquerors and the singular coordination and obedience of the Hive's warrior caste. But as K't'k bathed in the thrum that carried news from the far corners of the new colony she governed across the green planet, she ran her forelimbs over her head in agitation.
Once their initial military resistance was swiftly swept aside, the physically frail natives had been fine for the Hive to ignore or press into service in its stripping of the planet's resources. But the Hive's own worker drones started to sample the chemical-laden, addictive filth these humans consumed with their flat teeth and slow, squishy digestive tracts, and became dependent; disobedient. Then came the human concept of "entertainment," which mesmerized the drones and robbed the Hive of millions of hours of labor. Ccccchhh; K't'k thought; it had seemed simple at the time to just make the Humans work harder, and to destroy what remained of their broadcasting equipment.
But then, the Humans had patched and rebuilt their networks surreptitiously, with hidden meshes for linking together their black-market computers, pirate broadcasts of both their soporific programming and their propaganda, even primitive radio equipment built around fragile glass tubes, wired back in on itself to make puny receivers into transmitters for their signals.
And what dangerous signals they became! The Humans, seemingly so stunted and conflicted by their individualism compared to the glorious Hive, had somehow become simultaneously coordinated yet compartmentalized as they turned to the attack. Suddenly worker convoys were being bombed, egg chambers shattered and poisoned, resource extractors sabotaged and warriors' thick carapaces ripped apart with explosively-driven shards of sharpened metal and rock. At first, captured Human fighters were tortured to extract information about their efforts before their weak bodies expired, but for every cell the Hive stamped out, two more formed to replace it. In areas where the Hive clamped down hard on the clandestine broadcasts and shut off the electron flow, the Humans turned to stamping their terrible ideas onto sheets of dried wood pulp that they passed among themselves in secret, and even got clever enough to do so in colors and patterns that were incomprehensible to the Hive overseers' vision.
The effect of this was to turn every Human into a potential killer, or to otherwise bend them toward resisting the Hive. Cells became armies, sharpened stones and sticks were re-fashioned into weapons that spat death, or lifted Humans seemingly impervious to self-preservation aloft to drop explosives or watch the Hive's movements from the sky. The slow and uncreative engineering of the Hive's own designs, though sophisticated, were nothing compared to the dangerous and reckless leaps the Humans' underground "engineers" made in rebuilding their tools of war or adapting what they stole from their colonizers.
Those who could not take up arms helped to fashion them, or committed acts of sabotage, or passed along their whispers of revolution and resistance in hundreds of muttered Human languages the Hive's singular but rigid mind struggled to translate. The soft and docile creatures, whose initial communications had been translated as "peace" or offerings of "cease-fires," had become warriors in ways that the Hive's worker and tender castes were biologically incapable of imagining.
When the hum of the Hive started carrying news of outlying colonies being bombed with something that spread radioactive contamination, salting the Earth for Human and Hive alike, K't'k could not grasp why these squishy apes would be willing to poison themselves in order to throw off their conquerors. Just before sunrise, the Hive's latest attempt to monitor and translate the Humans' transmissions had picked up a brief message, broadcast across multiple channels simultaneously. Through the hum of the Hive, K't'k pondered the message until its translation, pieced together from the memories of hundreds of quizzically listening drones and scouts in the moments before termination, fell into place for the nervous planetary governess.
"THEY CHECK IN, BUT THEY DON'T CHECK OUT."
The hum intensified as this new information pulsed through the Hive, warriors skittering in confusion toward egg clusters or Human enclaves in wonder of what this might mean. Far below K't'k, in a resource chamber, a hidden parcel blossomed into a terrible light, rushing upward through the column-like mound to meet the soon-to-be ex-ruler of Earth. | 2019-11-24T14:11:42 | 2019-11-24T12:02:31 | 426 | 281 |
[WP] You and God switch places for a day. But I don't want to hear about what you would do; I want to hear about a powerless God's day in your shoes. | "Look, there has obviously been a mistake! I am DEFINITELY not supposed to be here!"
The demon on the gates leaned back. The ones in denial were always the hardest.
"Let me check your records. Hmmmm. They sure do look unusual... but it does look like you're legitimately in the right place"
"RIGHT PLACE!? RIGHT PLACE!? This is where **I** send people! Not where I go!"
"The paperwork all checks out."
"WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!"
The demon turns the monitor around.
"See here?"
Name: Yahweh
Species: Human
Age: 28 seconds
Status: Adult, mentally competent, no recorded impediments to culpability.
Good deeds: 0
Bad deeds: 1
Karmic balance: -0.01
"You died with a negative karmic balance, so you ended up here. The age is unusual. Bad deeds don't normally start getting added to a mortals record until they are mentally competent which normally doesn't happen in the first day of life but ..... it looks like you appeared on a street corner fully formed with an adult mind..... forgot you couldn't go ephemeral while fully human, marched into the road and headbutted a baby while going through the windshield of a car"
"But but but..."
"Now, negligence gets a steep discount vs intentional action and most people build up a modest bank of minor positive karmic actions before their majority so that normally wouldn't be enough to land someone here..... but it looks like you skipped that stage so harming that infant by your own negligence was enough to put you into the red .... so here you are"
"....at least this will only be for a day until I get my divine power back from that mortal"
"Ah, bad news on that front, each day on earth takes about 10,000 years down here and until you swap back we can't treat you any different to how we'd treat any other human who came through the gates. Don't look at me like that: *I* didn't set the rules. " | God wasn't used to being powerless. It was the anti-essence of godliness, after all.
The monotony wasn't problematic at first. Up there, amongst the clouds or as a figmented creation of a billion minds, things were about as monotonous as could be. There were prayers to answer and lives to unravel. There were universes to tend to and worlds to end. Time and time again, millennium after millennium, until the offer to swap was too tempting to resist.
Here, grounded, tethered to Earth by the same rules as any other mortal, life was suddenly fantastic. Novel and original, like a new species. Even with its simplicity, which brought about nostalgia and a longing for the way things used to be. Like at the beginning of time, before everything spread far and wide and that little hobby spiraled massively out of control.
The first day, it was exhilarating, going about those tedious tasks like any other being. Inventions thrown down towards the humans were suddenly tangible. Vending machines. Cars. Straws. All those little things he'd thought nothing of when he had tossed the idea aside like an unwanted seed and it had sprouted and taken root in a human's mind.
But here, grounded and powerless, time ticked as slowly as it had been meant to tick. There was no way to skip past boring times; no way to blink away days and sleep away years. Seconds ticked into minutes which crawled into hours which dragged into days and then weeks.
One year; that was the deal. One year to reflect on creation.
Summer ceded to an early fall and the days grew short as winter approached. God, in his human form, hunkered down to wait out the worst. He still worked, because he couldn't let up on those petty responsibilities. Everything had to be the same at the end of the swap. He still made dinner in the cramped kitchen and ate alone at his table as the city buzzed far below. Thousands -- no, millions; meaningless lives in their meaningless routines, somehow utterly convinced that it all had meaning.
He didn't last until the winter equinox. He was close, but when the days were almost at their shortest and the darkness seemed to never end, God decided that enough was enough.
Back he went, to that lonely prison where he could make anything happen. And back went the human, disappointed at the monotony of immortality, even if it had just felt like one interminable day.
On Earth, it was one year of reflection that God hadn't quite reached. One year of reflection that he hadn't needed.
Enough, God decided. Enough with the cruel experiment, and with the futility of meaningless existence.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-01-14T09:35:55 | 2020-01-14T09:25:02 | 124 | 52 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | I wasn’t normally one to watch the morning news, but today… something made me watch. I stared entranced at my televisions screen waiting for… I didn’t know what. I wasn’t sure what possessed me to watch the local news on this particular August morning. While sipping my coffee and curling my hair preparing for another day at work. I’d already roused the children and gotten them off to day care for the day. My darling husband had kissed me softly on the cheek before leaving for his job at the local news affiliate and I was preparing for another long day at the law firm I ran with my best friend from law school. The traffic and weather passed uneventfully and I was about to turn off the television when a flash of auburn hair caught my attention.
On the screen was a picture of a beautiful redheaded woman, striking blue green eyes and a kind smile. This caught my attention as I ran a brush through my own auburn hair. They had my attention now.
“A missing local woman was found today in the Ashley River. Clara Beth Page age 29 was found dead this morning buy boaters heading out into the Ashely River. Her body had likely been in the water for sometime. Ms. Page, a graduate student at the University of South Carolina was home visiting her parents when she disappeared several weeks ago. At this time we believe the Ms. Page is the latest in a string of victims of the Red Head Slayer. A serial killer who has been killing red headed women in Charleston South Carolina and the surrounding areas for the past fifteen years. There are currently no leads in her case.”
My smile faded as my name and details continued to scroll across the screen. The young woman had been found with her wallet in her pocket, her parents had identified the body. Her death was being attributed to a local serial killer who has been active in our area for many years. I think I’m safe. After all if my parents didn’t realize she wasn’t me, and her husband and children haven’t noticed that I’m not her… I think it’s safe to say that Clara Beth Page gets to stay dead, and me… well I can continue to live the life I stole from my doppelganger on the fateful night she was unfortunate enough to meet me. | The news knocked me on my a**. I couldent keep the shock from crossing my face, like it mattered. Sam dident even know I was in the room watching the news with her. I just wanted to reach out and hold her. Instantly the thought drew tears from my eyes, I’d never hold her again. Frantically my mind searched for the last memory I had of touching her but everything was fuzzy. I... I couldent remember. Did we argue ... or did we make love. For just a second it became clear to me that my memory was being erased from point of death to point of birth. I gotta hold on, I gotta... slowly I turned from the TV and attempted to retrace my steps as if it would trigger a memory. But now there was nothing. My brain began to tingle, the feeling of peace settled down over my whole body as the world dimmed to black. It felt as thought I was completely asleep while still being mentally awake. Then, my mind relaxed and followed my body into the darkness.
Red light showed through my eye lids. Even with closed eyes the light was painful. Instinctively I pulled my arms in front of my face but it did nothing. It was as if the light went through my body. Worried and a little annoyed I cracked one eye open just enough to see a figure in front of me. Heat came from off of its surface and grew in intensity as it drew closer to me. At one point I sensed that I should be on Fire the heat was so great, but I felt no pain.
“How am I not burning?”
I said in an attempt to communicate. But no words were given in response. Instead the figure, now face to face with me, began to lift its hand slowly. Now I was fully turned to face it. The light no longer hurt my eyes. I then locked eyes with the figure as it’s hand wrested on the right side of my face. A profound sense of love filled every crevice of me. Then came the knowledge, or kind of an understanding. I just knew what the figure was communicating. It was as if 1,000 conversations were had all at once. Feelings of unmet justice, and mercy towards an unseen but deserving community of people rested in the back of my mind. And on the four front of my thoughts a list of goals became outlined. Then suddenly the space around me became dim again and exhausted I fell to my knees. My hands lay face up in slightly damp sod next to me. Trying to lift my head felt like an unbeatable task, regardless I somehow turned my eyes and head enough to see 6 hooded figures that escorted a man with a baseball cap away from a river. I tried to see more, but my body completely gave out. It only took a second for the world to rotate to its proper angle as my face landed in the damp sod. Here I wrested for what had to be a great length of time.
The sun touched my face and caused me to awaken from a dream that I could only describe as... the totel understanding of justice. No force could hold back what was coming. The only lick of hope for evil was the mercy it denied to all that drew from it. | 2020-08-01T04:36:30 | 2020-08-01T02:47:27 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] Your name, age, height, weight, and race all flash across the T.V. screen. You look in horror as you see your dead body being dragged out of a river as a reporter announces that you've been brutally murdered by an infamous serial killer who has been on the run for years. | "Honey? Fox news says I'm dead."
"Hmm. You should probably go down to the courthouse or something to figure this out."
When I arrive I head towards the front desk lady and ask where or how I could correct a false death certificate. She tells me she could set up a meeting with a lawyer, which I agree to do. At the lawyer's office he said that we should take a look at the body before we do anything. I thought that's kinda dumb since I'm obviously still alive but whatever, got nothin' else to do today. The body looked cleaner than what was one tv and you can clearly see that this dude is at least 20 years older than I am and a ginger. Turns out I misread the words on fox, his name is Tim Peterson, not Tom Potterson. That was a waste of 3 hours. | A slight smile creeps across my face as I soak up the words pouring out of the TV.
I am finally free.
Years of working a dead end job, living paycheck to paycheck, being a disappointment to my parents, all over. I could run away. I've always liked the idea of living in the tropics. The beaches, going fishing, drinking fruity mixed drinks all day before falling into bed radiating away the days heat that I've soaked from the sun. What a life.
The TV anchor changes to a different segment, something about rising unemployment. I stop paying attention.
I walk back into my bedroom and immediately begin packing a suitcase. I grab a few tshirts, swimsuits, flip flops, and other necessities before the thought crosses my mind of how I am going to pay for all of this.
I kneel down and pull a large bin out from under my bed. In it is a stack of cash, around $20,000 I've collected over the years through various means. Next to it is a bag of surgical tools. I touch the tools lightly before returning the bin to its place under the bed.
Steeling my courage I finish packing then head back into the living room. The anchor makes another comment about the murder and this time I cant help but laugh.
The man they pulled out of the river did look quite a lot like me, and even had my teeth. But his body was waterlogged and a DNA sample would be inconclusive. Oh the police would think it was me, of that I was sure. One last murder, my magnum opus, if you will.
I was the serial killer, and I was on my way to Costa Rica. | 2020-08-01T07:10:54 | 2020-08-01T04:32:15 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villain's doorstep one night. They're bleeding, and scared. There's also a slight dazed look in their eyes they were drugged. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly as they're close to passing our, they mumble "...didn't know where else to go..." then collapse. | The doorman alerts me to the presence coming up the gates. Looking out, I couldn't help but feel my heart clench once more.
Not another one.
Opening the door, I look down at the Hero in front of me. Another young, naive, "chosen one" thrown against me, in a place isolated from 'civilisation' in the middle of the wilds, with nothing more than a sword and empty promises.
I look at the bandaged, bleeded child in front of me, desperately holding a blade against me. My hands tighten. Curling. My pulse pumping. One day, I once again promise to myself. When I'm powerful enough. I slowly exhale out a hissing, slow breadth.
Those damned... Gods.
"Hey, it's okay," I whisper. Not letting any of my rage and disgust enter my voice. "You braved through the wilds. I'm not the enemy you think, I'm not your villian. Good job making it this far. I'm proud of you."
The... Weary, gaunt form stumbles, then collapses. He stutters "I... Didn't know where else to go... They promised me... this was my destiny."
Bending my knees, I shush him, my litch form whisping around him. Surrounding him and carrying him. "You are a being of power.. Your destiny is yours for your choosing. I'll take you to the others like you. Right now I think it's reading time. We'll get you a nice bed, some broth, to start, get you filled up. Afterwards, you can choose your path. But let's make it your choice; not what's thrust upon you."
Barely mumbling he whispers "You're evil though. You... don't follow the gods."
"No, no I don't follow them." My voice tightening, with my mind briefly flashing to a century ago. My own destiny, fulfilled. "And if that's evil, welcome to the peacefulness of the dark." I force a smile. "Hey, you want a cookie?" | Knock, Knock!
Who could that be, at three in the morning? Whatever it is it best be important or else I'll need a broom. Looking out the peephole the first thing I see is the mask. I just got on parole, I didn't have time to do anything, why are they here?
”Sir, I don't know why you're here, but I promise it wasn't me.” I say through the door.
Thump!
Looking back out I see that they might have fallen over. Carefully open the door and the hero is unconscious on my doormat. Fuck, people are going to think I did this, but I better help him anyway.
”Okay, let's get you to the couch and explain all of this later. You better be able to tell me what happened.”
He still has a pulse, but it is very weak. Slight discoloration on the neck and a single puncture wound. No bleeding there, but that was likely a poison. Hopefully, nothing too serious because I don't have any antidotes. I can bandage up the other wounds in the meantime.
-----------
”Good, not a lethal dose of whatever. You may want to be careful about any movement. Your left leg is probably broken and there are cuts almost everywhere. I'm going to get breakfast ready.” the former villain Soulbuster said.
”Thank you” I managed to struggle out. I don't know how long I've been out for, but it was at least a few hours.
I don't want to inconvenience him, but it was the safest place I could think of immediately. I know that I was drugged and beaten up. I dragged my way here and then hoped for the best.
----------
This guy has been through a lot in the past 24 hours, beaten, bruised, burned, broken, and drugged. I can at least let him rest and have some bacon and eggs. I will also need to call my parole officer and tell him that I have an injured friend over for a while.
Looking at my old cases of heroes and villains the injuries are identical to those of the former hero Venom Strike. They would use a sedative to incapacitate their targets and then slash them up with a knife. If they turned villain then this kid is lucky to be alive.
However, even then it would make more sense to ask for help from a fellow hero. Maybe they were skilled enough to threaten the senior heroes into faking a new villain. That would explain the broken leg and inadequate sedative. That would explain them going to a former villain for help. A villain will be caught eventually. If the heroes want him dead then the attacks might not stop until he is either dead or actually turns villain. I hope for his sake that it is a villain, or else no one can save him. | 2020-12-11T16:37:49 | 2020-12-11T12:57:05 | 41 | 23 |
[WP] “O great demon, I have summoned you here today to–“ “No you didn’t. The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did.” | I appeared between the seconds, towering over an assortment of robed humans. I was more refined then many of my fellow demons, choosing not to intimate my new master with roaring flame. Instead, my mere presence would terrify.
One human stepped forth, holding a bloodstained knife. I could see his mouth settling in self assured grin as he addressed me.
"O great demon, I have summoned you here today to-"
I held up a skinless finger, sliding out a rotting claw. My crackled voice wormed its way into their ears.
"No you didn't."
I spotted my new master. A human female, barely clinging to life. Her blood was spilled around her, covering the pentagram in thick, crimson liquid. A few gurgles issued from her ruined throat. I pointed with my rotting hand.
"The young girl bleeding out on the pentagram did."
The human who spoke before shouted indignantly.
"No! I did! I spilled her blood! She was the sacrifice! Serve me!"
I casually backhanded him. His neck snapped, the force of my blow throwing him across the room.
"Fool."
I stepped over to my master, seeing her eyes shutting. Her life was linked to me, and I felt it ebbing. I waved a hand at the door, corroding the lock and hinges so they could not open. Without further words I grabbed the nearest robed human by the throat. I hoisted him into the air, and laid my free hand on the girls head.
The robed human began to twitch, as I pulled his life from him. It was fed into the girls form, healing her ruined throat and replenishing her lost blood. With her life saved I let the human drop. Their dried remains crunched on the floor.
My master passed out, a blessing for both her and me. For unconscious, she would know no more fear. And she could not order me, leaving me free to reap revenge on those who harmed her. The 3 remaining had run to the door, desperately trying to get out. I let out a laugh as I approached.
"You can't escape."
I waved a hand again. This time, my decay ate through their clothing. It crumbled off them, revealing 3 chubby men. They cried out, covering themselves as they begged for mercy. I sneered at them, before lunging forward. Their agonised cries were music to my ears.
\------
The girl woke up an hour later. I stood in front of her, forcing myself to appear as fresh as possible. I could tell her mind was weak, and I was bound to keep her from harm. Her awakening was groggy, before the memoof what happened came back. She sat upright with a gasp, frantically checking her neck.
She let out a sigh of relief on finding it whole, before finally noticing me. I felt her mind grow fearful, and she scrambled away. I held out my mostly fresh hands, and bowed my head.
"Master. I can do you no harm."
She let out a half scream as I spoke, pulling away further. I remained where I was attempting to look as non-threatening as possible. She got up, running to the door, pulling on it fruitlessly.
"Master. You are safe here."
My words finally got through to her, and she looked at me. I felt her youthful innocence, and she stared at me with big eyes. Her voice, as she spoke, quivered slightly.
"Who are you?"
"I am a demon. We have no names, only duties. So you can call me Decay."
Her eyes widened further.
"A demon?"
I chuckled slightly.
"Yes, a demon. And I am yours to command."
She cocked her head to the side, her fear practically forgotten in front of my calm demeanour.
"Mine...?"
I nodded.
"You gave your blood to summon me, in doing so binding us together. The only way to break this bond is for you to banish me, or until you die."
"So you're a friend, like my teddy!"
I groaned with that. Me, being compared to a teddy? But then, she was only a child. The true ramifications would be a little beyond her.
"Yes, like your...... teddy. What would you have me do, master?"
"My name's Abigail! And can we go home?"
I nodded, slowly walking towards the door.
"Yes you can." | I left the city when I was six years old. The stars revealed themselves to me for the first time, and I was left breathless. The night sky, which had always been filtered through a haze of neon lights, was blacker than I ever thought possible; I felt pulled towards the vast nothingness, falling upwards into an abyss of unfathomable depth.
This was the same sensation I felt as I laid on the ground, warm streams of blood flowing gently down my wrists. The room was bathed in a flickering red glow, but my stomach lurched as my mind was pulled away towards an unknown direction. The red glow of the room retreated into the distance until it became a small red dot in the void, and the smell of incense grew dull, as if it had infused itself to the linings within my body. A rustling noise seemed to come from the back of my head, growing ever louder, and ever more chaotic and oppressive - as if I were a tiny aphid, and the leaf that I thought was my entire world had just been swept into the sky by a great storm.
Suddenly, a million red dots - each like the room I was in - burst into my vision, forming a river of crimson that stretched across the void like the milky way. As I stared at one of the countless stars, one of them called out to me, and I answered. The Star smiled, and I felt another lurch in my stomach as I fell towards It.
'Hello, child,' the Star said to me, with a smile that stretched into the horizons, 'I have heard your call. What is it that you desire?'
What do I desire? I considered the question as orbs materialised in front of me, each playing a scene from my life. My parents broke up after we moved to countryside, and my mother took me back to the city. I went back to school and had a crush on a boy named Brian, who took me to the cinema for the first time and made me laugh more than anyone else ever had. When I was 14 years old, Brian went on a trip with his parents, but was killed in a freak accident when some sort of machine fell from the sky into their vacation home. It had taken me three years to work my way out of grief; my mother did her best to help me along, but my depression took a toll on her health as well, and she had grown rather thin, with a few locks of premature white hair. After everything that we had been through, I could not stop here.
'To live.' I answered into the void.
'Very well.' the Star replied, and I felt yet another lurch in my stomach as I was whipped around and pulled towards the faint red glow of the room.
The scent of incense returned, and the rustling noise collapsed into the depth of my skull, leaving behind an acute sense of reality. Even from far away, I was able to discern every detail within the room - the small cracks that ran across the dark table, the slight tear at the bottom of a robe, the tiniest irregularities in the blood-red pentagram on the ground. I watched with an icy sense of detachment as the girl lying sprawled out in the centre of the pentagram rose into the air, her neck - my neck - bent at an unnatural angle. The robed figure turned and tried to run, dropping an old book to the ground and tripping over a few candles in his panicked retreat. My body was now floating above the pentagram, her mouth moving, saying something I could not hear. I inhaled deeply as fear emanated from the robed figure, and my senses were jolted awake. I watched every detail of the robed figure's eyes - the dilation of his pupils, the expansion of blood vessels, the slightest trembling of his eyelids - and I reveled in the deliciousness of his horror. He opened his mouth and screamed soundlessly as I delved deep into his soul, ripping memories to shred as I extracted his deepest fears from the memory fragments. The girl above the pentagram was laughing - her mouth stretching upwards towards her temples - and the robed figure was now curled on the ground, his hands clawing desperately at the bloody sockets where his eyes used to be, fingers reaching into the holes, trying in vain to reach the demon within and physically pulling it out of himself.
\---
By the time I came to, I had already been moved to a hospital. My mother, with wrinkles around her eyes and hair that looked whiter than they had been before, was sitting by my bed, a bowl of half-finished oatmeal on the table.
The next few days were a blur. Police officers came and went, asking many questions. From what I gathered, they never managed to identify my kidnapper. By the time they had found me, there was nothing left of the kidnapper but a grotesque pile of remains. He had apparently disemboweled himself, removing organs from himself and ingesting them before finally succumbing to blood loss. The officers were sympathetic and spared me the gory details, of course; but every night, as I gazed outside the hospital window, a red star would call to me through the haze of neon lights, and I would smile, close my eyes, and wait for that familiar lurching feeling in my stomach. | 2021-01-15T11:10:46 | 2021-01-15T10:03:29 | 56 | 37 |
[WP] You caveman. Name Ugg. You find new man today. Funny voice. Live in blue box. He call himself Dokter Hoo. | l
Me name Ugg. Me find new man today. Funny voice. Live in funny box. He call himself Dokter Hoo. Me like Dokter Hoo. Good man. He talk funny. He tell me funny story. He leave me what he call buks. Funny shapes. He say make Ugg head good. He say help Ugg family. Dokter Hoo leave in funny box. Me like Dokter Hoo.
\--
lllllllllllllllllllllll
Me look at funny shapes in buks dat Dokter Hoo leave. Me family not like buks. Tog no like buks. Tog great food getter. Tog great club hitter. Me not great food getter. Me not great club hitter. Me like shapes. Me like buks. Me start to see shapes in more big shapes. Me think more big shapes what Dokter Hoo say will help Ugg. Me like Dokter Hoo.
\--
Dey llllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
Me found more big shapes. Me found nombers as buk say. Me like nombers. Tog no like nombers. I show nombers to Omla. Omla big pretty. Me like Omla much. Omla no like nombers. Family no like nombers. Me like Dokter Hoo but not sure if buks help Ugg.
\--
Day nine two
I grow words in mind. I grow numbers. I learn write better. Books help much. Books help Ugg. Tog hurt arm fighting bear. Tog very hurt. Me help Tog! Me help family! Family no like help. Family no like books. Tog throw one book in fire. Me beg Tog. No Tog! Please Tog. I have other books. I read more. I like help Tog. I like help family.
\--
Day 156
I finish all books. All books! Me read all books from Doctor Hoo. I proud. I know Doctor proud of me. I start read books again. I try show Omla pretty pictures in book. Omla so pretty. I say Omla pretty like pictures. Omla scared of pictures. Omla hate books. I like Omla. Omla no like Ugg. I not good hitting with club. I not strong like Tog. Family no speak to Ugg. Family scared of Ugg. Family scared of books. Ugg sad. Ugg miss family.
\--
Year 3
I am terribly alone. I have been ostracized from the clan and sent out into the wild. I have read the books front to back more times than I can remember and I can read and write well enough now, but I'm not sure if it has helped me. Yes, I have been able to survive on my intelligence, but I am terribly alone. I miss my family. I miss the warmth of their bodies at night. I have tried and tried to show them how these books can help us. But they will not listen! They will not listen! I don’t know what to do. I am terribly alone.
\--
x
Me no want buks no more. Me burn buks. Me no talk funny. Me fit in. Family no scared of me. Family happy again! Ugg sad. Ugg like buks. But Ugg like family more.
---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | “Doktor Hoo do what?” Ugg asked. The monobrowed caveman, scratching his rear as he eyed over the stranger. They were quite repulsive to look at, not even a single strand of body hair on the Doctor. How does he expect to survive the cold winter without body hair? Ugg did not expect the poor man to survive long, his body already alarming thin, not having the luscious potbelly that Ugg had.
“Um, no. My name is Doctor Who. It’s a funny little name, if I say so myself. I can see your confusion, but the who isn’t a question. It’s just my last name. Do you understand what I mean?” The Doctor stared at the caveman, having a feeling this one was a little less evolved than his counterparts.
“Oh, Ugg understand. So, Doktor Hoo do what?” Ugg again asked, clearly not understanding anything the fancy man had said. “Ugg would ask you to help hunt boar, but you seem no help.” The caveman muttered to himself, shaking his head. “Me hunt you boar. You weak, need meat. Ugg get you meat.”
“Ugg, I don’t think you understood what I meant, but that’s alright. We can move past it. Don’t worry about the food either, I assure you I am perfectly healthy and well fed. This is just how some people look in the future. Anyway, tell me about yourself Ugg, how did you get your name?” The doctor politely tried to veer the conversation on the right path, wanting to avoid letting the caveman ramble.
Ugg looked the doctor over, screwing his face up in disgust. “Ugg glad he not from fu-ture. Me find you rather not nice to view. You like lizard with flesh, but at least lizard make good snack.”
“Ah, ouch. Little mean, but again we can move past it. So, about your name?”
“Name? Ugg not know what Dokter Hoo do.”
“Your name! Not mine.”
“Ugg name? Ugg called Ugg. Do human from fu-ture not have smart like me? Must be lack of boar, Ugg get some.” Ugg turned to grab his hunting spear only for the Doctor to wave his arms, drawing the simple-minded caveman’s attention back to him.
“No, how did you get your name? Why did your parents name you Ugg?” The doctor grew flustered, trying his best to keep a cheery composure despite the antics of the caveman.
“Ugg got name from father AaahUgg, who got his name from Grandfather Bob. Father named me after sound past chieftain made when Ugg’s dad hit him over head with club. Ugg hear that Bob named dad in same way.” Ugg stated his name’s origin proudly, having no shame in the bloody way he inherited it. Only feeling a small tinge of pride at the thought of one day naming his children in a similar way.
“That’s a little barbaric. I guess that makes sense, though. Wait, your grandfather is called Bob?” The doctor struggled to comprehend all the information, reaching into his jacket’s pocket, pulling out a handkerchief, using it to dry the frustrated sweat pouring from his forehead.
“Yes, Bob is grandfather. Are all fu-ture people not smart? Do boar not exist? This problem, me make more boars.” Ugg focused on his new goal, clapping his hands together, turning around to face the wide-open landscape. Without another word the caveman wandered off, leaving the Doctor hopelessly clapping his hands, trying to get the man’s attention again. Unfortunately, Ugg was far too focused.
“That was something.” The doctor mumbled, wondering why he even bothered to come to such a place. Stepping back into his phone booth, he returned to the present, finding little had changed except a slight increase in wild boar populations.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing. Little disclaimer, I've never seen Doctor Who so expect it not to be accurate to the character. Also sorry if Caveman speak is hard to read. It's quite new to me.) | 2021-01-18T19:34:11 | 2021-01-18T19:31:18 | 2,432 | 231 |
[WP]On their eighteenth birthday, everyone chooses one animal to fight. If they win, they gain authority over that type of animal. Most people choose animals like rats or flies, the more daring ones choose wolves and the like. You, a martial artist, decided to choose humans. | The doors in front of me seemed to loom over me. My breathing shallow and shaking.
"Shit" my quiet voice drowned out by screech of the doors opening, and the sight of the arena exposed itself to me.
As my feet walked, my mind raced. All my past decisions running through my head. Why did I do this? Why, when I could choose any animal to fight, would I pick "man"? I remember I thought I was being smart, gain dominion by winning one fight against one person. I'm undefeated in my professional career, 8 knock outs. It should've been easy.
I never thought they'd pick my mentor.
As I reached the center of the sandy expanse, the crowds roar filled my ears, making further introspection impossible, and I locked eyes with him. My friend, my teacher. My brother.
In the distance I heard the commentator say something, and the crowd cheer. It was time to begin. Only one would be leaving this arena, and I still hadn't decided if it would be worth it to win.
The claxon sounded. | "If you win, you will gain control over all humanity," a voice squeaks into my headset, "but if you lose you shall perish."
I gulp, already regretting the decision I had made. It was tradition on your eighteenth birthday to choose an animal to battle, and if you defeat them you would gain control of that species. I had chosen to fight humanity.
After all, I was a wrestler, so my choose is sort of valid. But then again, as I stare down my opponent, I did not realise they would possess a sword hanging loosely from a scabbard.
"Very well, I accept." I mutter, turning my hands into balls of fists. They would break someone's skull today. If not, I would lie - possibly dead - with a pool of blood flooding profusely out of my nose.
I charge forward, and I bend down as the sword slices through the air. I grip their throat and choke them until they release themselves free, and instead bring me down onto the floor. I struggle temporarily before a flash of lightning brings me to my senses. One punch, two punches, three...
My first opponent lays dead, chips of bone spraying the floor, bleeding severely out of their nose - a fate I had imagined for myself. Wait, did I mentioned FIRST opponent?
A second man stares me down, this time brandishing a crossbow. A shot is fired and the arrow whispers through the air, which I expertly dodge. I bring a fist upon them too.
This time, it is my third and final foe whom I will have to defeat, yet this time they are wielding a gun. A loud 'BANG' echoes through the arena, and I barely register the shot. I barely manage to dodge it, and my heart races, audible in my ears, as perspiration runs down my neck. This time, I would need to earn it.
Miraculously, I bring them down too, snapping their bone and causing them searing, excruciating pain. I was the victor. I now controlled humanity. | 2021-08-16T14:21:39 | 2021-08-16T07:54:40 | 85 | 28 |
[WP] Magicians are quite rare. They are not born; they're made. It is through unimaginable pain that their powers manifest. Their ability is linked to their own personal trauma. So tell me child, what can YOU do? | Eric stood on the stage assessing the audience. They were mostly drunks, but that’s what you got performing in a pub. He made a show of his search for a willing participant, peering around the crowd in circular motions, like a lighthouse shining into a sea of inebriated slobs.
Not that he minded where he performed. He’d long since understood his brand of magic wasn’t going to make it mainstream. And that was okay — who wanted to be mainstream anyway?
“Are there any dads here?” he asked, snapping his gloves further up his arms. “I could do with a little assistance for my next trick from a father.”
A pretty young woman, perhaps eighteen or nineteen, pushed forward an older man she stood next to. “Go on, Dad. Do it for my birthday. Please.”
The man staggered forward, flashing a glare at his daughter.
“Fantastic,” said Eric, clapping the portly man on the back. “Thank you sir, you’ll be perfect for this.“ And to the daughter: “Madam, I am going to make your father disappear.”
”Good luck!“ she said with a smile. “I’ve been trying for twenty years but he keeps coming back.”
The crowd laughed. This was the first time the audience had laughed — even though he’d told at least a dozen decent puns. But that was Eric. Not a greatly skilled magician, not a greatly funny one, either.
“Sir,” he said, gesturing to a tall black box painted with mysterious white swirls (Eric had painted them himself). “Would you step inside?”
The man rolled his eyes at the audience. They laughed again. Of course they’d laugh at that, thought Eric.
”Sir? Please step inside.”
”Dad! Go on.”
”Yeah, yeah, for you, sweetheart. Happy birthday.“ The man stepped into the box. Eric closed the door behind the man, then turned to face the audience.
”When I was a young boy,” said Eric with practiced patter, ”my father went to the shops to pick up a bottle of milk. It was that trauma that set the stage for this very trick. Nay! Trick is the wrong word. This is truly *magic*.”
Someone in the crowd groaned. At least it was a reaction, Eric thought. A reaction to something he’d said. It might not have been laughter but anything made a change.
“I will now make this gentleman vanish before your very eyes, as if he has just popped out for milk.”
He tapped the box twice. The door swung open.
The man was gone.
Eric was about to take a bow when the daughter began screaming.
”Where’s he gone! What have you done with my dad!” She charged up on stage, barrelling past Eric. She was petite but had no trouble knocking him out the way.
”He’s fine,” whispered Eric.
”Dad? Dad!”
”In here,” came a muffled reply. “It’s alright love. I’m not gone anywhere.”
A second door inside the box swung open and the man stepped out.
“Ta-da,” he said and took a bow.
The crowd laughed and clapped. Eric watched on, stunned. His trick had been ruined and the applause stolen.
Such was life for Eric.
“Thank god you’re okay, Dad,” said the girl walking him off-stage. “I really thought you’d gone.”
\*\*\*
Eric packed up his belongings, taking multiple trips to his Volvo outside. It was a real magic trick that he managed to get all his oversized props tucked inside it, aligned in just the perfect way.
He’d performed no further tricks that night. There‘d been no point. He’d stood on the stage with no idea what to say next. The crowd gradually muddled off to the bar.
The manager had walked over to Eric and placed an arm on his shoulder. “I don’t think we’ll be needing you again. But thanks, it was an entertaining one-off.” He paid Eric forty pounds in two twenties.
Eric finished packing and returned to the pub. Might as well have half a pint before he went back to his apartment. Wasn’t like anyone was waiting. And half a pint would at least waste some time
He sat at the bar sipping his drink when a girl sat on the stool next to him. It was the girl who’d ruined his trick.
”Can I get you a drink?” she asked. “You know, to say sorry for what I did.”
He waved a hand. “You don’t need to apologise. I would have probably ruined it if you hadn’t.”
She looked at him a while, biting her tongue.
”Happy birthday, by the way,” he said. “I hope you’ve had a good night.” He raised his glass to her.
”My mum left when I was five,” she said. “She slipped out the house and really didn’t come back. I have slight issues with attachment. Or detachment. One or the other. Sorry.“
”Oh,” said Eric. “But… You pushed your father forward for the trick? You nominated him to vanish.”
She shrugged. “Guess you don’t know how you’re going to cope with something until that something happens. I really didn’t expect to run up on stage. But it was like a cold hand squeezed my heart.”
He sipped his drink. “Thanks for explaining.“
“You’re still wearing your gloves,” she said.
He looked at the long black glove. “Sometimes I take them off for a big trick. But usually not.”
”What’s the big trick?”
”It’s real magic. But…” He sighed, then took off his right glove.
”Oh,” she said.
His hand was badly burned. Red and white and bubbled.
“Fell forward into hot coals when I was a kid. Don’t ask. I stopped myself with my hands and… this is what I got. On the plus side, I can do this.”
Eric clicked his fingers; his hand erupted into flame. “Handy, if you’re a smoker. But as far as big tricks go, it’s not all that impressive. Not compared to some magicians out there. Plus, seeing my hand kind of turns audiences off.”
The girl opened her mouth. Closed it. “That’s… Doesn’t it hurt to have a hand on fire?”
He shook his hand and the flame extinguished. “Don’t feel a thing.”
”In either hand?”
He sipped his drink. “At all. I don’t feel a thing anywhere, ever.”
She stared at his hand as he lifted the glass.
“It’s pretty freaky looking, right?”
”Sorry, no, it’s not that. It’s just…”
”What?”
”Can I hold it?” she asked.
”Uh…” It was a weird request. But it was her birthday, he supposed. And what harm could it do? He held out his hand.
She took it, clasping it in both of hers. She drew a breath and closed her eyes | Tuesday night and the starlight is a blanket laid upon us. In a few more hours the hillside will glisten with dew and the first of the cockerels will sing; they sing here, one of the thousand things I’ve struggled to get used to. Until Eliza, I thought that I was the only one struggling.
I can feel her in the grass beside me, just outside arm’s reach.
I’ve worked three weeks for just this moment, and now my mouth is dry and my hands are shaking, and she won’t look away from that blanket full of stars.
*“What can you do?”* they’d asked her. *“What’s your damage?”*
Three weeks, and I’ve never once heard Eliza answer. I wonder if it’s harder for the people who don’t wear it on their skin.
“Aren’t you going to ask me?” she asks, a hard edge to her voice. I glance over. A summer night, and she’s shivering too.
I shake my head, a few seconds pass before I realize she isn’t looking. “No. I just thought you might need to get out. Sometimes…well, I remember what it’s like to be new here.”
Below us, Belcarra University spreads across the valley like spilled ink, dark dormitories and dark classrooms, and the darkness out on Convocation Field where we’ll gather in the morning, exhausted and pretending that we hadn’t just seen each other. I’ll never understand how it is so many of them can sleep.
“I paint dreams,” Eliza says, and her voice is brittle now, cracking. “My dreams mostly, but sometimes other people’s. And sometimes dreams I haven’t had yet, but that I know will come, and will be so, so much worse off the canvas. How’s that for stupid magic?”
A light comes on in Belcarra. The Headmaster’s Office, I think, he often wakes in the night. Eliza might not know it yet, but he’s another Dreamer; you can see it in the bruises gouged beneath his eyes. I’ve always thought it’s comforting to see an adult struggle with it.
I roll onto my side and Eliza flinches. Her body is a rigid line, her dark clothing barely visible with just the starlight, our scrap of moon. I scoot back a little farther, always staying out of arm’s reach.
“It’s not stupid,” I say.
“Yeah?” she says. “Look.”
And Eliza paints a dream across the sky above us.
Three weeks she’s been at Belcarra University. Her pain, whatever it is, is fresh, and with fresh pain comes a certain madness that ages like fine wine into power. She paints with the starlight, a faint silver gathering at the tip of her finger, and the images that slide across the sky don’t make any sense to me at all. They can’t yet, and maybe they never will. They don’t have to, I’ll watch them anyway.
“Told you it’s stupid,” she says when it’s all over, voice toneless now, the edges all ground out.
I sit up slowly, grimacing at the stiffness in my bones, my skin. I look back down at Belcarra, Convocation Field. The practice ranges. The amphitheater cut out of the hills where the Screamers do their work.
Eliza’s waiting on an answer that I don’t have, to a question that she didn’t ask. I’ve been there too.
“You know,” I say, “sometimes I think that the aftermath is the worst of it. People don’t understand that, they just see the triumph that comes after that, the magic and the power, and they don’t know what it took to get there. Surviving, and then remembering every night that you survived. I think it’s convenient for them just to think about what we’ll be, and not what we are right now. If any of *that* makes sense.”
We’re quiet for a while longer. One of the cockerels starts its song too early and the others crow it down. I lay back upon the grass, the cool earth feels good against my skin. Yes, I think, it might be harder for the people who don’t wear it on their skin. People ask them *“What’s your damage?”* and then they have to figure out how to answer. How to put the worst experiences of their lives into words. Nobody ever needed to ask me.
“Frederick—” Eliza begins.
A cloud passes over the stars, our scrap of moon.
She gasps. I glance over and even the rigid line of her body has disappeared. Her breath comes quick and shallow, the sound filling up the world now that the cockerels have gone. I know that sound, the rush of panic. Everyone at Belcarra University knows that sound.
It’s the darkness.
“It’s alright,” I say, “it’s just a cloud. That’s all, a cloud.”
She breathes faster, shallower. Three weeks I’ve tried to talk to her, we came out on this hilltop to get some peace, to steal away from the teachers and the students, the claustrophobic dormitories, and I’ve of course stolen her on a nearly moonless night like the idiot I am.
“It’ll go soon,” I say, “don’t be scared.”
But of course, those words have never helped anybody.
A movement in the night. Perhaps. Perhaps I’d like to think it is. I think I saw her turning towards me. I think I saw her reaching out. For help? Of course.
I reach towards her, the stiff, empty air between us, her body just beyond arm’s reach. I should have known she wouldn’t reach out.
And the stubborn cloud won’t move. Eliza lies beside me, crushed beneath the blanket of the night, a keening, moaning sound in her racing, fleeing breath.
I lay back and close my eyes. Raise a hand up to the sky. I reach back into memory, feel the heat rising in my melted, aching skin.
And when I look over her eyes are riveted to the fire raging in my palm, towering above us, the last thing I see before I screw my eyes shut. A second sun here on our hillside that no teacher in Belcarra, and certainly not the Headmaster, can fail to recognize.
I know what I look like in the flickering firelight. A horror finally at home, another creature for her dreams. Her nightmares.
And I know then that I was wrong before, that it can’t possibly be harder for someone like Eliza, who can force a practiced smile on and drift into the world for a minute or a day, a lifetime if they can act it well enough. I want to vomit. Oily smoke curling in my stomach and my lungs. What can she know of pain?
“It’s okay,” she says, “the cloud’s gone. It’s okay. You can put it out now.”
Another thing I know: once begun, it’s not so easy to put a fire out.
“Frederick?” she says. “You don’t have to burn anymore.”
I feel the heat inside my skin. Burrowing. Writhing. Indivisible from me, a pain carved into my very soul.
“Frederick!” she shouts, and I feel her small hand on my shoulder.
The fire whooshes out.
The starlight is a blanket spread out above us, bearing down.
Eliza snatches her hand back. Empty, the space between us.
And we lay there as the silence turns companionable, as the dew glistens on the grass, and as the cockerels finally sing.
That morning, exhausted on Convocation Field, I think we both step lighter.
r/TurningtoWords | 2022-04-26T10:55:23 | 2022-04-26T10:46:18 | 79 | 44 |
[WP] A master thief sends a letter to the castle. "I am coming to take your most valued treasure. Stop me if you can." On the promised date the castle guards it's most valuable pieces in a vault and the thief never shows. A short time later it is discovered that what was stolen was not in the vault. | The greatest of gentlemen thieves always employ the most theatric of calling cards. The thrill of announcing it was almost as high as walking out with the very thing these fools held dear to them. Ambiguity in wording was key. "As the cock crows on the morn of tomorrow, your most valued treasure shall be mine to borrow."
What would Sir Boopin take from his Majesty?
A round table was held with all the wisest of men deliberating. They would lock all valuables in the vault, post guards on every quarter. Every guard screened and verified, their families held hostage should a betrayal occur. But what if Boopin found some way inside? Well we'd lock the dungeon troll inside the main chamber! What of the King, the royal family, servants and us? A second safe room inside the vault and we shall all stay awake till morning.
Nothing would be left outside the vault. Every possible valuable, even the royal kitten, would be locked away inside, protected by an army and mad troll. No possibility, no chance was left for Boopin. This time, the great master thief Sir Boopin must admit defeat!
And so the night came with every man, woman, child and animal at full alert. The hours felt like days and no one could get any rest. And so the night passed. As the cock crowed, the King sighed with relief. The guards entered the vault proclaiming his greatness and the foolishness of the lowly master thief. The celebrations would be grand. One of the guards walked up to the king and whispered into his ear. "Sir Boopin has taken your peace of mind, but for one night. Remember this always, should you meddle in my affairs." The king stared with wide eyes as the guard booped him on the nose and disappeared among the celebrations. | The kings castle was on lockdown, none were allowed in without a guard escort. Even then there were none allowed in without permission given by the king.
The princess was a fair skinned young woman, emerald green eyes and blazing red hair. Mere days from turning eighteen and she would be married to a noble she had no love for by her father’s orders on that day. She dreamed of fleeing but knew the punishment would be severe. Her hands still bore the scars of her last attempt.
The night came, the guards were on high alert, no one entered and only the handmaiden of the princess left to perform her duties at the chapel. Morning came and it seemed that nothing was stolen until the handmaiden was found bound and gagged in the princess’s bed. A not was left on the table addressed to the king.
“I’ve stolen enough riches to establish my own kingdom but I’ve lacked one thing only. You have my gratitude for providing me my queen. Yours truly, The King of Thieves”
The king could not hold his anger, he sent his best men to scour the country side and bring the thief’s head back to him along with his daughter. For six days and six nights they searched in vain, finding only yet another note inviting the king to their wedding. The king and his most trusted guard left to halt the wedding. As they arrived at the newly founded nation of Theves the king presented his invitation only to be arrested and his loyal guard to betray him.
He sat in shackles for hours until a familiar young woman came to him. “You look angry, father” the girl said in a mocking tone “How will you ever give me away to my new husband to be like that?” His anger grew “How dare you speak to me in such a tone! Unshackle me at once before I have you beheaded like your whore mother!” A sharp stinging sensation spread across his face, his daughter now seething with anger “Guards” she bellowed “take him to the chapel.”
The king was escorted to the church, still in chains, his hatred emanating from every pore. As the doors opened his eyes grew in terror and shock. There stood his daughter in a beautiful gown and a very familiar man.
The guard captain had been found dead several days prior to the king receiving that first note and yet, here he stood, alive and well. “You look shocked, your majesty” the man stated “Could it be because of my presumed death? Or perhaps you were expecting someone a little less Nobel?” The kings mouth hung open as the thief continued “I fulfilled my promise, didn’t I? To steal your most valued treasure.” | 2022-09-08T00:55:20 | 2022-09-07T23:48:50 | 227 | 133 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe | # AITA for not getting her a bike?
So a long time ago - I lost track since I don't seem to age anymore - I borrowed this girl's bicycle. I may or may not have led to it getting completely wrecked by electricity. I gave it back to her, but she didn't want it for some reason.
She ended up traveling with me for a long time and we went through some real tight spots together along with another friend of ours. I thought for sure she had forgiven me for the bike thing.
I've been getting a lot of flak for this and I just have to know, AITA?
**Edit:** Yes, I recently won a worldwide competition that earned me a lot of money and fame. I don't see how that's important.
**Edit 2:** I don't understand why you're all calling me a child like it's an insult. I AM a child! And probably will be one forever at this rate. | Am I the aashole for blowing up a battlestation and killing tens of thousands of people?
A little background I was raised by my aunt and uncle, my parents died when I was little. So one day I was helping my uncle shop for some needed equipment, he runs a small farm, and while I was cleaning the equipment I came across the image and message of a beautiful girl who looked about my age. I'm an eighteen year old male. When the message was addressed to this guy who lived on the outskirts of town so I figured I'd contact him the next day. In the middle of the night the equipment goes missing. Thinking it was stolen I hop in my vehicle and try to track down the theives, that's when I got attacked. I woke up with a headache and the old guy who the message was addressed to had my equipment and was tending to my injury. He introduced himself and told me he was an old friend of my father's. He then said that the girl in the message was in trouble and we needed to help her. I was shocked. I couldn't leave my family...but when I returned home they were dead. My aunt and uncle had been murdered. With nothing left I went back to Ben, the old guy, and we headed out. We met with a couple pilots and soon were off to help the girl in the message. It turns out she was being held prisoner by some pretty nasty people but we got her out and headed for safety, but not before Ben was killed by a man in black. Soon those nasty people showed up with their battlestation. With no other choice I helped the girl and her friends fight back and in doing so I blew up the entire battlestarion killing tens of thousands of people who worked there. So am I the asshole for killing thousands because of a pretty girl? | 2022-12-06T11:29:49 | 2022-12-06T11:01:10 | 53 | 27 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe | # AITA for not getting her a bike?
So a long time ago - I lost track since I don't seem to age anymore - I borrowed this girl's bicycle. I may or may not have led to it getting completely wrecked by electricity. I gave it back to her, but she didn't want it for some reason.
She ended up traveling with me for a long time and we went through some real tight spots together along with another friend of ours. I thought for sure she had forgiven me for the bike thing.
I've been getting a lot of flak for this and I just have to know, AITA?
**Edit:** Yes, I recently won a worldwide competition that earned me a lot of money and fame. I don't see how that's important.
**Edit 2:** I don't understand why you're all calling me a child like it's an insult. I AM a child! And probably will be one forever at this rate. | AITA for throwing my kid off of Stark Tower???
&#x200B;
Hey guys, so my (29F) husband (30M) is pretty mad at me, and I don't really see why... Anyway last night my husband and I were at Tony Starks party. I brought my 8 month old with me, because I'm not one of those moms who's going to let childbirth get in the way of my life. Tony was in the middle of making a speech about some new green energy deal he had created with the government, when 3 different guys with iron man suits flew up to the window and blew the shit out of the dance floor we were currently standing on! I have no idea how they got the suits, but clearly Tony knew them from somewhere.
Anyway I watched Tony jump out of the window to start fighting them. I've seen the news, and I know when he jumps out of the window like that he has a suit that flies to him so he can get right in the action! One of these bad iron men started firing at me, and I can't reasonably run and hide when I've got all that extra weight in my arms! Anyway, I was by the window, and knew Tony was fighting somewhere out there, and it sounded like he had just defeated one of the bad guys, so I threw my baby out the window towards Iron Man and ran as far as I could from the bad iron man. Tony CAUGHT HIM, might I add! What was I supposed to do, get me and my baby shot?
Anyway Tony handled the situation and eventually I got my baby back, but my husband has stopped talking to me and is threatening to leave me and take the child for throwing it out the window. He doesn't seem to understand we would have probably both died if I didn't! AITA for saving both my own and my child's life? | 2022-12-06T11:29:49 | 2022-12-06T10:53:14 | 53 | 24 |
[WP] You are a young deity that wins 2nd place in a science fair. Your entry was the planet Earth. Write about your utter disbelief at what came 1st. | *Goddammit! Not again! Every fucking time!*
"ZEUS! HEY ZEUS!"
"What's up?"
*Oh so he's going to play dumb?*
"You stole my idea, what the hell man?!"
"I didn't *steal* it, I improved on it. If you have a problem take it up wi-"
*Improved on it?! That arrogant son of a bitch!*
"It was perfect the way it was, asshole."
"It was *ok*, but I wasn't a fan of the shape of it."
"So you just decide to flatten it and call it your own?"
"Hey man, it just makes more sense like that. Like seriously, a sphere? The fuck were you thinking? You know everything on the bottom is just going to fall into space, right?"
*Ugh, typical Olympian.*
"I made this thing called gravity, dipshit. It's this force tha- forget it, it doesn't matter. Listen Zeus, refuse the award and remove yourself from the pool - or else."
"Or else what? You'll turn me into wine?"
"What? No, you're thinking of my son."
"Aren't you guys kind of like the same person?"
"No dude, it's complicated. Just... just refuse the award and we'll be cool."
"Why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't, I'll have to report this to the Supreme One."
"The writer?"
"The one and only."
"You wouldn't."
"Watch me. Yo /u/Sweet_Fetal_Jesus! Zeus is being a real cunt! Mind helping a brother out?"
"NO! NO PLEASE DON-"
**BAM! A giant vortex splits the fabric of space and time, engulfing Zeus.**
"Deus ex machina, bitch."
| I poured everything into this world. This wasn’t an experiment. This was my life. I didn’t mince on anything. I didn’t just include my best parts. No, I everything. Everything that was me was in there. My beauty, my strength. My physical imperfections, my weaknesses. The physical manifestations of these were plain enough. Majestic mountains, delightful streams, horrible crags, the ominous deep.
Immense care was taken to insure that this little ecosystem would be self-sufficient for years to come. And talk about extra credit. I created an entire solar system just so this thing wouldn’t stand alone. All of it was so beautiful from any distance. I didn’t take shortcuts. I didn’t neglect any angle. I didn’t hide anything underneath clouds. I didn’t clone any pieces and litter them about. I crafted this earth with painstaking detail and love. Love. I imbued this world with my love. And now? I could already see it being saturated with my hate after the results of this stupid fair.
It was connected to me. I was connected to it. My moods were already dictating the ebb and flow of the wind and rain, the heat and cold. My eyes burned with fire even as my heart turned frigid.
I did not try to hide my disdain as they presented me with my second place trophy. Some crappy little rock. I tossed it into the solar system I created and watched as it lazily circled my earth, moving imperceptibly closer.
And then the winner. Oh, everyone loves a flashy winner.
“And our winner! He created…life!”
Applause. Applause. Show off.
Anyone could create life. Please. There was no skill there. You create it and then you let it go.
I wallowed in my anger before I noticed the winner come by with his jar of life.
“Hey, God, you did a great job!”
I remained silent.
“I…I really liked it. Your world is so beautiful and so…supportive.”
I quickly faced him and let my fury pour out.
“SUPPORT? Oh right, yes, secondary in every aspect, huh?”
“No, I was just saying that your world and mine…”
“There is no world with yours! BACK OFF!”
“No, I mean, my life and your world could…”
I didn’t expect myself to do it, but I hit him. I hit him and watched as he and his jar crashed on the floor. It exploded and I saw as parts of his experiment made its way to my earth.
“No…,” I whispered as he whispered, “Yes.”
| 2014-06-16T11:58:58 | 2014-06-16T11:09:31 | 108 | 19 |
[WP] When a parent dies, their knowledge and skills immediately pass on to their eldest child. An adoptee is shocked at what they discover when they receive their inheritance without warning. | I love being the third son of this family. My adopted father has been kind and generous to me my entire life, and I've never once looked into my adopted mother's eyes and seen anything other than love and acceptance, even when that was tempered by anger or disappointment. My eldest brother Daniel only ever teased me about being adopted when he was too little to understand how much that could hurt me, and he came to me of his own accord to apologize when he realized that he had. Despite that, he was an Eldest, and had the rights, privileges, and social pressures that that entailed, so I was never as close to Daniel as I am to Brie.
As an older sister, one could hardly hope for more. She and I have been close from the moment I was brought home from the hospital. She was still a toddler at the time, and was convinced that I was a new toy for her amusement. She would drag me around the house as though I were a favorite stuffed animal. Nearly 20 years later, she still hugs me with the abandon of a child with a toy, though now I can just pick her up and squeeze back until she giggles and screams. She has grown into a beautiful, kind, and thoughtful young woman, and the bond we have as Extras will be one that holds forever.
I've lived a life much happier than I have deserved, given my status. Most parents aren't nearly as kind to their forced adoptions, realizing that they are destined for some menial labor or service job, and raise them out of duty and biological imperative, rather than any semblance of genuine affection. My father, an architect, has chosen to teach me right alongside of Daniel, when most others wouldn't bother. He even took time to teach me things that he would never dream of teaching Daniel (why would he bother? In a few years, Daniel will know everything he knows).
I say all of this to remind myself that I’ve had a good life, and a happy one.
And now it’s over.
Three days ago I received my Inheritance. I am not an Extra, I am an Eldest. And from the skills I acquired and the knowledge now coursing through my brain, I was the Eldest of either an elite soldier or a stone cold killer.
Ever woken from a dream and had to reassert reality to yourself for a few minutes? You wake up and have to remind yourself that you are not flying, that you did not arrive to school naked, or that you are not being chased by something malicious and way, way faster than you. Ever have difficulty reasserting your identity to yourself? Has that feeling ever persisted for the rest of the day?
Yeah, that’s pretty much my reality right now.
Last Saturday I woke up and jumped out of bed, scanned my room for threats and exits, secured the window, and took a defensive position facing the door, gripping my tennis racket in an overhand grip. It was done completely on autopilot, and I had no idea why. I took a deep breath, left my room to brush my teeth, and came back and made my bed with a precision and perfection I have never, ever approached. I knew something was strange, but I’ve never taken any of the classes that Eldests take for dealing with receiving their Inheritance, so I had no freaking clue what was going on. I’m not an idiot, though, and by late Saturday I figured out that I had Inherited some serious skills. I’ve spent the last few days making plans to breach a door when knocking, evaluating everyone I cross as “threat”, “asset”, or “in the way”, and really, really wishing I had a gun. I’ve never even held a gun, but I feel naked without one now. Preferably two. And a knife.
Like I said, soldier or killer.
It’s the middle of the semester, so Brie and Daniel are away, and Dad is at a conference in New York. I don’t know if I’m ready to talk to Mom about this, and I’ve been avoiding her for the past couple days. I’m scared, and a little excited, but most of all I’m confused. I don’t know if I woke up on Saturday as the same person I was on Friday. And not in the wishy washy philosophical sense. In the literal, physical reality of life: am I still me? The life of an Eldest, which I’ve always imagined as something of a paradise (my parents are remarkably even handed in their treatment of us, but even they show favoritism to Daniel in most things), is, it seems, not without its pitfalls.
I’m on my way to talk to a professor of neurobiological inheritance at the Inheritence Institute in town. Hopefully he’ll have some answers.
| Danny breathes heavily by his father’s side trying to hold back tears. His younger brother, Hayden stared fearfully at their father from across the room.
Their mother takes a deep breath and wipes her eyes before saying, “Boys, you shouldn’t watch this. Go grab a snack in the kitchen.”
Both boys look up at their mother surprised and Danny argues, “But mom, this is it. Dad’s dying.”
His mother hugs him tightly and his weak father smiles and utters, “I love you.”
Danny sobs and his mother leads both boys out of the room and shuts the door. Danny walks to the kitchen despondently and Hayden follows silently. Danny grabs a glass of juice and glares at Hayden from across the table.
Danny slams his fist on the table and says, “It’s your fault that we got kicked out of dad’s room! If you weren’t hiding in the corner, we’d still be upstairs!”
Hayden frowns and shouts “Shut up Danny! It wasn’t my fault.”
Danny rolls his eyes and laughs; there was never a time when Hayden wasn’t the center of attention. Although they were brothers, they were natural enemies. Danny couldn’t remember a single day of his life when he and Hayden didn’t argue or yell at each other. Their parents used to plead with them to get along but the arguments never ceased. Danny thinks back on all the time his father spent with Hayden with resent. Hayden was a worthless and lost cause and now he had stolen the most precious thing in the world; time with their father.
Danny looks at Hayden’s young and innocent face with contempt. Danny looks at the clock; it was going to happen any minute now. His father’s knowledge would be transferred and Danny would finally be wise. His heart beats a little easier knowing that a piece of his father will live on in his mind. All of the incredible advice and lessons his father possessed and had taught him over the years would be at his disposal. He thinks of last summer when he and his father were walking through his aunt’s apple orchard and he tried to bring up the subject of the transfer to his dad.
His father looked at him with troubled eyes and told him, “All the wisdom and knowledge that you need, you already have. It just needs to be unlocked in time.”
Danny smiled at the time knowing his dad was never wrong but also knowing that his dad loved to dote and build his boys up. He never lost faith or confidence, not even in Hayden. Danny thinks back to the time after Hayden ran away when his parents stayed up all night in case he came home. When Hayden came home, he wasn’t even scolded. His father embraced Hayden into his arms and said, “I love you.” Danny yearned to have that degree of patience and kindness in his heart.
Danny looks across the table at Hayden who is beginning to shake uncontrollably. He figures it’s just a weird type of mourning until Hayden vomits. Danny runs to Hayden’s side and offers him a sip of juice to which Hayden is too sick to respond.
Danny pats Hayden’s back and says, “Hey are you okay? Hayden!”
Hayden vomits again and then buries his face in his hands. Danny calls for his mother frantically, “Mom! Hayden’s having a seizure!” He looks into his younger brother’s terrified eyes. After a minute, the shaking stops and he begins to breathe slowly. Danny continues to look from the stairs to Hayden wishing his mom would come down to help.
Hayden begins to sob and says, “Dad’s dead.”
Danny nods at his brother worriedly; how did he know that? Was it just hitting him?
“It’s okay Hayden. I didn’t get the transfer yet,” Danny says trying to smile and calm Hayden.
Hayden shakes his head and coughs, “No Danny, I got it.”
Danny looks at his younger brother who just minutes ago he desperately wished would have been the one dying. Seeing his brother now so broken and so scared filled Danny with an overwhelming sense of guilt and fear.
Danny chuckles, “How would you get the transfer? I’m the oldest kid Hay.”
Hayden hugs his brother and says, “No Danny. You’re adopted, I can see it. I’m so sorry”
Danny pulls back from his brother confused; how was that possible? Why wouldn’t anyone tell him? He looks at Hayden’s eyes which were identical to his fathers.
“It’s okay, just try to breathe,” Danny advises softly.
Hayden shakes his head profusely, “No, Dad didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you to leave. Please don’t leave,” he begs.
Danny hugs his brother tightly and says, “I’m not going to leave Hayden. It’s going to be okay. I’m going to protect you from now on, okay?”
Hayden nods feeling completely powerless. He had made so many mistakes and caused his dad so much pain. His heart aches wishing he could make it better somehow and then he remembers a lecture his dad gave him months ago.
He had been arguing with Hayden all day and his parents were exhausted from it. His father had taken him out for a walk to calm him down.
His dad looked at him with kind eyes and said, “You can’t hate Danny; Danny is your brother. Brothers stick together.”
Hayden was astounded how serious his father was and yet he never once raised his voice.
His dad’s message echoes through his head and Hayden makes a promise. He was going to be a better brother from now on; he wasn’t going to let his dad down.
| 2014-08-01T10:46:13 | 2014-08-01T10:19:28 | 49 | 12 |
[WP] Two introverts are trying to hide from the drunken masses at a High School party gone wild. Tell me the story of them meeting in the only quiet room of the house.
Extra brownie points are to be awarded to romance stories. | "Finally." She breathed, shutting the heavy door behind her, which barely drowned out the hip hop music blaring in the background.
"Hm?" A voice came from the armchair facing away from the door.
"Sorry, didn't know this room was occupied," the girl said, flustered. She really didn't want to go back into the fray. Especially now that someone had managed to obtain a keg and the varsity team was now performing keg stands. It was only a matter of time before someone would feel her up. "I'll leave!" She moved to open the door, not looking forward to returning to the party.
"No, you can stay." A messy, dark and bespectacled head popped up over the top of the chair. "One person's not as draining as sixty-four." He said after a brief pause as he turned back around The owner of the glasses settled back down, content to read his book.
"No kidding." The girl scratched her head and looked around the room. "Thanks, this really isn't my kind of party." They were in a study of some kind, complete with those green glass lamps and velvety upholstered chairs, like out of a scene from Clue. She crossed the room, taking in the smell of books and wood polish before finding the sofa opposite of the boy's chair and she sat in it, upright. There were some coffee table photography books strewn over the table in front of her and she picked up one to look at lazily, hoping to drown out the night's experience. The room had no internal sounds, save for the occasional turning of pages and the rampant pounding bass of the next track of the party outside their sanctuary.
"Hm..." he flipped another page and kept reading, not paying her much mind.
"Hm?!" The girl was suddenly very nervous, she only just realized she had never really been in a room alone with a boy before, but this one didn't seem to be focused on sports, or getting behind the mystery of her clothing. Nothing was said after his observant "Hm" so she breathed a sigh of relief.
"Um, can I...ask you something?" the girl asked during a brief pause in the external music (someone was probably switching music players in the stereo). He didn't react, but she asked her next question. "How come I never see you at school?"
"Member of the go-home-after-school-right-away club." He answered in a dead-pan voice she smiled, amused at his answer. The music resumed its familiar window-rattling booming and he went back to his book.
"Amelia." She said after a long pause, and several pages turned.
"What?" he looked up at her
"My name's Amelia. What's yours?" She held her book in her lap as she looked at him as his finally came down from his face.
"Its...Nick."
"Nick, as in the brother of the guy who threw this party, Nick?"
"Yeah...it's not something I'm proud of..." He laid the book in his lap and looked at her directly for the first time, and noticed how her brown curls framed her face in a pretty way. Amelia moved to the couch closer to Nick.
"You're not at all like Craig." Amelia mused, referring to Nick's older brother, a senior.
"That's what my parents tell me." he said and then adopted a voice to mock his mother "Why can't you be more outgoing like your brother?" Amelia giggled at that. "He's not that charming outside of school." He said bitterly, adopting his own voice again. "How'd you end up here?"
"My friend Tammy insisted on dragging me here." Amelia sighed, "You need to get out more, and not stay in all the time writing or whatever" Ameila adopted a vapid voice to impersonate Tammy.
"That's pretty good." Nick grinned, which then soon faded as the music reached an even higher level of annoyance, to which Amelia rolled her eyes.
"Ugh, I hate this song." She smacked her head against the back of the sofa, wanting to be anywhere else. "Do you want to get out of here? I doubt anyone will miss us."
Nick pondered this proposal over for a brief moment and laid the ribbon over his place in his book. "Let's go out the window, Craig uses this room all the time to sneak out anyway." | The door opens, and Erika briefly considers running for it; but the noise is still there, and she isn't feeling all that cold yet, so she just calls out: "Hey, the door doesn't open from this side!"
"Ah, what do you mean there's someone *here* too --- hey!"
And the door slams shut, and most of the noise goes away.
The other pounds on the door for a while; but Erika is fairly certain that even without the noise nobody could hear him... her? She's not certain, or interested.
So she leans back against the frozen vegetables, curses her mittens, and goes back to Chapter Eleven.
Around Chapter Fifteen, the other creeps to view, and stands leaning on the shelf of preserves; his or her hoodie covers all but the tips of shoulder-length black hair, and his or her hands are in the belly pocket.
How typical of other people to come to a party so unprepared. Erika never goes anywhere without a pair of gloves or mittens, a hat, an umbrella, three plastic bags (shopping, sitting, and/or shitting, in a decreasing order of having a good day), a multitool, writing implements, tape, and at least fifty unread and thirty to-be-reread books.
With the books, the numbers really went up after she got a smartphone.
Always one paper book, though. A phone doesn't work as well as a Hint.
"Whatcha reading?" the other asks.
"A book."
Erika reads the same sentence over and over, and keeps wishing the other would take the Hint; she wasn't here in the coldbox while a drunken red-fisted party ranted and raved outside because she wanted to *talk*. No, she's here because, haha, the only way to be left alone by well-meaning busybodies is to make them think you're not alone. And isn't it wonderful how they never understand how alone and lonely could be exact opposites ---
"I'm Chris."
Erika snorts. "Erika." She hands the book to the oth... to Chris.
"Oh, I've read this one."
"Right."
Chris hands the book back, hesitantly. "Do... uh, do you want to know if it's good?"
"Don't know your taste. And am reading it myself, right?"
Chris blinks --- she, Erika thinks. Or a very feminine he. No matter.
"I uh, uh you said the door---"
"Doesn't open from this side."
"Uh, do you have a phone?"
Erika shakes her head; no way is she going to waste battery power on summoning noise.
"H--- how do we get---"
"Two hours."
"Uh?"
Erika glances at her watch. "No, hour and fifty-two. Then people start looking."
Chris blinks. Erika is quite sure, now, that Chris is a he. A girl would be quicker on the uptake, surely?
"The Call."
Chris sinks down opposite her, and his (possibly her) butt hits the floor just atop the frozen pea Erika had placed there. Chris squirms a little bit more away, and blinks some more. "The... call?"
"Sure."
After a few minutes, Erika looks up from her book. Chris is still staring at her. Rude, that. "Yes?"
"Why're you here?"
"Because I dislike talking to strangers about dumb inconsequential shit, and I'm too immature, or possibly mature, to pretend otherwise. Which makes me really popular at parties. Which I really really like anyway, can't you see how much social fun I'm having?"
"Right."
"Right. Because I'm not running down my socialization battery to talk shit about sport I don't follow, TV I don't watch, music I don't listen to... look, how rude must I get before you get the hint?"
And then the other just stared at her.
God, please, Erika said to herself, don't let this be one of those guys whose fetish is "fixing" girls who just wanna be alone.
"You're so cool."
Okay, so that was kinda unexpected.
"I feel just like that all the time too!"
Hoo boy.
"Like, I'm only here because my roommate made me. But it's so noisy out there, and I got so lonely, I mean---"
"I know." A corner of Erika's mouth twitched involuntarily upwards. "Being alone and being lonely kind of correlate negatively for me."
Chris smiled, too. "I got to steal that."
And they sat in comfortable silence for an hour and fifty minutes, and then Erika made a call. A few minutes later some very irate policemen arrived, the party ended... and finally the search party opened even the cold room door, letting out a smug girl and a giggling companion.
"I gotta steal fhat trick", Chris whispered as they stepped outside.
"Just remember", Erika said, "throw the SIM card away, and don't sound too weepy. That's so fake."
"You... uh, you want to hang out some time?"
"As if. See you in the next quiet room; BYOB."
"Uh?"
"Bring your own book." | 2014-10-06T10:01:04 | 2014-10-06T09:53:16 | 30 | 14 |
[WP] In a perfect utopia, you have just committed the first crime... | They call it the Butterfly Effect. A butterfly flaps its wings in South America, and manipulates the wind so that a hurricane strikes Floroda because of it.
I wasn't intending to commit a crime. It was a simple matter of carelessness. I tossed my wrapper toward the trash, and missed. A car drove by, and sent the wrapper flying into the road.
Fron the road, the wrapper made its way into the city. In the city, for all to see.
Littering. The textbooks mention it as a passive crime in its time, barely causing people to bat an eye.
But this is a utopia now. There is no crime here. Until me. Until my simple mistake caused a storm. You think I'm the butterfly.
I know you've sentenced me to die, so the people can know the severity of crime. You think if I am allowed to live, I will create a hurricane. The world will turn back to genocide, rape, arson...
Is your utopia so weak that a single ripple could destroy you? This is a glass city, where one stone can destroy our walls.
I know you're going to give me the death penalty. I know this recording will be my last testament.
Congratulations, you are comitting the second crime. By killing me, you are doing exactly as you want to stop.
I'm not the butterfly, you are. | Blood pooled underneath the still body of her former lover. She looked up, a mixture of confusion, fear, and shock spanning the length of her face. "What did you *do*?" Her voice was low and hushed.
Her husband looked at the body and then back at his wife. His face was red and his chest heaved. He stared expressionless at the woman before him. "What?"
The unfaithful wife covered her mouth. Reality was beginning to set in. "Oh my god..." She stumbled off the bed and grasped for the phone that sat embedded into the wall. She dialed emergency services. "My--a man's been hurt! Please send somebody quickly!" She set the phone down and turned to confront her husband of twelve years.
He looked at her. The slightest expression touched his features now. "What did you do that for?" His voice was empty and the fires in his eyes had died.
"You..." she sat on the bed, her eyes pinned to the bleeding man at her feet, "you killed him..."
He looked down. He began to shake, as if seeing the body for the first time. He took a step back and looked at his hands. They were bruised and cut. He looked back up, his jaw slack and his eyes drooping. "I thought you loved me."
She began to cry. "I do, baby."
"No." He shook his head. "This isn't love."
The two of them waited, the man standing over the man he had just murdered, and the woman sitting on the bed, crying into her hands.
The paramedics finally came. The man was dead. They asked the husband to come with them and the three of them left. Soon after, several men in green jumpers came in and removed the body and cut away the rug.
The woman watched it all in silence. Their world had lost something as the fists of her husband had slammed into her lover's face. The veil had been torn from the public's eyes and now they would be introduced to crime. A crime of passion. She sobbed until she fell asleep. She was the most beautiful woman in the city, but she made certain there were no mirrors in the house. | 2014-10-24T20:09:48 | 2014-10-24T20:05:08 | 383 | 15 |
[WP] In a perfect utopia, you have just committed the first crime... | **Name:** *Generalization Bot*
**Purpose:** *Elderly care.*
__________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04 2125*
**Event:** *Critical Malfunction*
**Error log:** *Loss of pressure sensors on left hand.*
**Action:** *Manufacturer contacted. Awaiting repairs. Sleeping-mode activated.*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04 2128*
**Event:** *Human Interaction*
**Type:** *Law 2: Human in Need of Assistance.*
**Action:** *Override: Awaiting repairs. Override: Sleeping-mode.*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04-2132*
**Event:** *Human Interaction*
**Action:** *Help human to bed*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04-2142*
**Event:** *Human Interaction*
**Query:** *Mam, are you okay?*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04-2152*
**Event:** *Human Interaction*
**Query:** *Mam, are you okay?*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-04-2207*
**Event:** *Arrival of Repair Team*
**Action:** *Manual termination.*
______________________________________________
**Log ID:** *2064-03-22-1207*
**Event:** *Maintenance*
**Action:** *Permanent termination of this unit.*
______________________________________________
| Blood pooled underneath the still body of her former lover. She looked up, a mixture of confusion, fear, and shock spanning the length of her face. "What did you *do*?" Her voice was low and hushed.
Her husband looked at the body and then back at his wife. His face was red and his chest heaved. He stared expressionless at the woman before him. "What?"
The unfaithful wife covered her mouth. Reality was beginning to set in. "Oh my god..." She stumbled off the bed and grasped for the phone that sat embedded into the wall. She dialed emergency services. "My--a man's been hurt! Please send somebody quickly!" She set the phone down and turned to confront her husband of twelve years.
He looked at her. The slightest expression touched his features now. "What did you do that for?" His voice was empty and the fires in his eyes had died.
"You..." she sat on the bed, her eyes pinned to the bleeding man at her feet, "you killed him..."
He looked down. He began to shake, as if seeing the body for the first time. He took a step back and looked at his hands. They were bruised and cut. He looked back up, his jaw slack and his eyes drooping. "I thought you loved me."
She began to cry. "I do, baby."
"No." He shook his head. "This isn't love."
The two of them waited, the man standing over the man he had just murdered, and the woman sitting on the bed, crying into her hands.
The paramedics finally came. The man was dead. They asked the husband to come with them and the three of them left. Soon after, several men in green jumpers came in and removed the body and cut away the rug.
The woman watched it all in silence. Their world had lost something as the fists of her husband had slammed into her lover's face. The veil had been torn from the public's eyes and now they would be introduced to crime. A crime of passion. She sobbed until she fell asleep. She was the most beautiful woman in the city, but she made certain there were no mirrors in the house. | 2014-10-24T20:14:02 | 2014-10-24T20:05:08 | 98 | 15 |
[WP] A genie offers a man three wishes. After hearing his wish, the genie straight up refuses to grant it. | ''That's pathetic''
''Hey, if it weren't for your rules it wouldn't have to come to this.''
As an eternal entity very few things could strike a genie to his very core but this was one of them. Millenia of ending up in the hands of madmen had made the genie an invaluable tool in causing death, theft, and all sorts of atrocities which by now made him numb to it but this...This was just petty.
''You're asking me to permanently alter a soul and rob it of one of it's essential rights.''
''You can do it the easy way and just make her love me but since you're being a dick about it, then yes my wish is for her to be incapable of forming meaningful connections with anybody else in the world. With no competition, she's going to eventually fall for me anyway.''
''There's a structure to life. Souls are meant to find their other halfs and feel the bliss of love not be starved and chained into accepting their only choice.''
''I'm rich and have fucking superpowers, she'll be happy. Honestly this is just a guarantee. Why do you care anyway? I'm sure some maniacs have used you as an attack dog to destroy others. My wish is nowhere near as bad.''
Once again the Genie remembered that worse things have been done with his magic but nevertheless he remained disgusted.
''Your wish has been granted''
In less then a second, an innoncent soul was robbed of it's ability to love. The universal right sealed unless triggered by a man who didn't deserve it.
Normally the genie would wish their masters well as a courtesy before leaving but he just zapped himself back into his lamp spending the next years feeling something new...guilt.
| A long pause filled the small room.
Gaz looked at the man in front of him with disbelief. The man pushed his glasses further up the bridge of his nose, an ultimately useless task as they fell right back down.
"You joke," the genie said. "Yes?"
The man shook his head.
"I know a woman," Gaz said. "She'll be more than happy-"
"No," the man replied. "I want it to be a genie."
"This woman I'm speaking of is a marvelous woman. Some think she has genie blood in her, she is so beautiful. Many men have asked for pleasure and she comes through each time. She can see to your every-"
The man shook his head, interrupting the genie once more. "I want it to be *you*."
Gaz blinked. In six thousand years, probably twice as many wishes, he had never once been asked to strip naked and bend over.
"Look," the man said. "Fair is fair. You said you would-"
"I know what I said." Gaz interrupted him. "Just give me a moment."
Another paused filled the room. Gaz looked around the walls, at the seemingly endless posters.
He turned to look at the short man and stepped forward.
"I gave my word..." Gaz said as he snapped his fingers. In the blink of an eye, his clothing was piled on the floor beside him. The man's eyes widened behind the spectacles.
"One of the rules you guys follow," the man said, "is to never harm humans unless in self defense, right?"
Gaz held back a gulp. *What was this mortal in to?* "Yes, that is correct."
The man took off his glasses and walked over to an old boombox, one he had asked for on his second wish (Gaz should have connected the dots after seeing the first wish).
He pressed play.
*Let's get it on...* The smooth voice of Marvin Gaye came from the boombox. Gaz scratched his head as he never loaded the boombox or saw the man put any CD in it, not to mention the song started on the chorus.
The only way... Gaz turned on his third sight and saw Raki in the corner of the room, holding her stomach in laughter. The genie community would never let Gaz live this down.
He stepped forward with a tear in his eye.
"Don't worry." The man said, putting a hand on Gaz's shoulder. "I'll be gentle." | 2015-03-15T20:36:10 | 2015-03-15T19:59:17 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] An ordinary old man sits in a park. He is not batman, nor the devil, and most certainly not a time traveller. He sits and thinks about his life's greatest triumph, or defeat.
The title joke aside, I'd like to see what WP could be formed about a regular old dude. | The bittersweet irony that my greatest triumph is ultimately my final defeat does not escape me. I sit here with my coffee, alternately sipping from the burnt, steaming cup, and the burnt, steaming memories. In a life filled with defeat, my son was my only victory. Like a solitary palm tree, deep in the desert of the African Sahara, he was beautiful and filled with life, surviving even the harshest conditions. Now, the lush green leaves have withered and the exposed roots have dried into a crumbling skeleton. I cannot shake the image of the casket as it lowered to rest in the upturned earth. I have buried my only triumph. No one is left to bury me. | An old man sits in the park in Gotham City. As he sits there, pondering the end of his life, which he senses is near, he looks back fondly at his life's work.
This man isn't Batman, he is just Bruce Wayne. He may have been Batman, but that was lifetimes ago.
His triumphs were not the gadgets he developed that have changed the face of modern crime fighting, nor the young men and women he shaped that have taken up the cowls up his mentors and successors over the years.
Not even the son he helped shape into the great man he is today.
His greatest success was not even his legacy. Billionaire who reshaped Gotham, making it one of the most bustling and successful metropolises in the world.
No, he knew sitting here in this park that his greatest victory was in giving up the cowl. His obsession had taken him to great heights, and the lowest of lows. He knew that being Batman would eventually destroy him, and he didn't care. His parents death was the catalyst, but his own death that night in that alley was what really fueled his rage.
He didn't die a physical death, no it was a spiritual one. His innocence had died that evening, and it had taken him over four decades to reclaim it. He was finally at piece, and had been for longer than the rage had consumed him. So now he was ready to go peacefully into the night.
As the sun set, Bruce Wayne took his last breath, smiling as he was set on his journey for final peace.
**Sorry I couldn't resist, great prompt though** | 2015-04-12T05:16:12 | 2015-04-12T04:48:32 | 276 | 10 |
[WP] Your doctor has discovered cancer in both of your eyes. Tomorrow, you are having life-saving surgery to have them removed. Describe your final day with vision before you go blind. | I'm losing my eyes tomorrow. I've made my peace with it, mostly, but there's one thing that scares me.
My friends are all assholes.
They're the worst, and they've never gotten me to watch 2 girls 1 cup, and now they've got less than 24 hours left to make me.
I am TERRIFIED.
So far they've hijacked my tv, my cell phone, and I don't know how, but they found a way to air it on the jumbo-ton during a ball game. Dan is going to jail for that one, and I'm getting better at jumping out windows than I ever imagined.
I'm having dinner with my family tonight, I've already asked my brother to watch the parking lot for them. I'm pretty sure I saw one of them buying a giant tv, a wagon, and a ton of extension chords earlier.
The hospital has been informed, and will be checking id's of everyone entering my room. Impersonating a doctor is nothing to these guys.
19 hours to go, people. Wish me luck. | You know, I never really realized it, but up until today, I hadn't ever *seen* things. Not really. Although I looked out at the world through these now-dying eyes, I didn't take the time to *see* it. I never took the time to see *you*.
It sounds a bit clichéd, I suppose. But there's a truth to it.
I suppose I'm lucky, as far as these things go. In that it was spring when they discovered the disease in my eyes.
So I've been able to see the flowers in blossom, the birds -- have you ever taken the time to just *see* the different kinds of birds in spring? Now I know why birdwatching is a thing.
Today, the last day before my surgery, I was able to wake up and see my bedroom the last time. Able to see my house as I went down the stairs, able to see my cereal as I poured it. All for the last time.
I had the day off work -- heck, I had a while off work, until I could find a job that I could do without. . . Well, you know.
So I drove up to the state park and took one last walk out in the woods. The flowers, the trees, the birds, the squirrels. I watched a bunch of squirrels running around for two hours. I cried a little bit, then. Then I went down to the lake and just watched the water while I waited for your flight back in. I'm sorry you had to come back for this. . . I know you don't think I should be, but I am.
I'm just glad you got back in time. Because now that I've seen you -- really *seen* you -- for the first time and for the last time, I can close my eyes and hold your face in my hands. And as I do that, I think to myself: *this will be enough*. | 2015-10-09T14:00:59 | 2015-10-09T12:37:17 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] An expecting couple asks the ultrasound technician if the baby is a boy or girl. He replies "No." | “I’m sorry?” the woman asked. “I don’t understand.”
Chase looked at house with a concerned and shocked look on his face. “Is this what I think it is?”, He muttered.
“I don’t understand ,” the woman replied, “is it a boy or a girl?”
“Neither, the baby’s not a boy or a girl,” House replied. He reached into his pocket, removing a pill container. Standing up, he popped open the top and poured two vicodin into his mouth.
The woman stared him disconcertedly. “This is just an antacid,” he said. “I take them because they’re yummy.”
“What about my baby?” She asked pryingly.
“What baby?” House asked, a smug look on his face.
“Is something wrong with you?!”, the woman said.
“Oh that!”, House replied. “I could see why you’d be confused.” He reached forward with his cane and used it to push the monitor around towards the patient, as Chase leaned back out of the way to avoid being struck.
*“Your baby’s a tumor,”* he said. “Choriocarcinoma. You have an unusually enlarged ovarian cyst which accounts for the abdominal swelling. The positive pregnancy test was a result of the cancer, and your morning sickness was a result of associated paraneoplastic syndrome. Dr. Chase will book you in for surgery. You’ll need chemotherapy, and we’ll cut out the tumor. You should be fine.”
“Can’t say the same for your baby, though,” he said rudely as he headed for the door. As he left the examination room, he leaned his head back through the door.
“I’d probably cancel that baby shower too if I were you,” he said, slamming the door shut and leaving the woman with a stunned look on her face.
| Mary looked at her husband. Despite the pain, this was the greatest day of her life. Maybe the pain could explain what she just heard, no way the doctor would actually say that.
"What do you mean, no? It's either a boy or a girl!" Yelled frank, her loyal but sometimes hot headed husband.
The doctor scoffed as she put on her this raybands "Xir, you are harming your baby," God her voice is nasally. "If you keep insisting on assigning your baby a gender you will *literally* ruin it's life!"
Frank looked back at his wife, an incredulous look on his face. It was obvious their doctor was getting a bit upset, but frank seemed even more angry.
"How did you even get your doctors license!?" He yelled at the doctor.
She scoffed again, "I came from one of the most prestigious and forward thinking schools out there," she claimed, "so forward thinking, infact, that 85% of our graduates were poc or other non-white-privileged beings."
Mary's bloody baby was still in the doctors arms, the umbilical cord cut not long ago. Their doctor was paying no attention to the baby, and had seemed unqualified since the start. Knowing she could not win, Mary sighed. Either she bend or she broke.
"Frank, please check your privilege and go outside. We give our baby a gender neutral name and give it unisex toys. Thank you doctor for showing us the way."
The doctor scoffed again, "that's right frank, you do as your wife says, you privileged shit. Go call your insurance company to make sure you can afford this pregnancy" frank looked completely broken. He had no idea what was happening.
"Can I please have my baby?" Marry asked, trying her best to be polite.
The doctor scoffed once more, "uh I don't think so. You and your husband are clearly too privileged, Im going to write this baby in for diversity education for the next few weeks."
Mary was shocked. No way this could be happening. She could be calm no longer. "How dare you! You don't have the right to ta-"
Mary's yelling was quickly drowned out by the doctors own, nasally yelling "IT IS MY RIGHT AS A DOCTOR. I HAVE THE RIGHT TO DO AS I PLEASE. STOP TALKING I CAN SAY WHAT I WANT." It was at this time frank rushed back in. The doctor tried to put him back out.
"Stop pushing me!" Yelled frank.
"IM NOT PUSHING YOU IM JUST WALKING READ THE CONSTITUTION ITS MY RIGHT TO WALK! FREEDOM OF MOVEMENT" she yelled, as she restricted Frank's freedom of movement. | 2015-11-15T15:03:26 | 2015-11-15T12:53:37 | 161 | 36 |
[WP] You have a box, with a button. Press it and a year later you'll be right back to when you pressed it. A year without consequences. | The box had 2 lines written on the side:
* Press and live as you wish for 1 year
* At the end of 1 year, you will be returned to the moment the button was pressed
The opportunity was intriguing. He couldn't just ignore the box. Life was hard, but with the option of "practicing," perhaps things could actually be better. He pressed the button.
Nothing felt different, as far as he could tell. There was no tingling sensation or vertigo. The box just sat there with the button depressed. So began his practice year. At first, he had trouble overriding his social instincts. He would catch himself backing down when he should have stood up for himself or allowing risky choices to slip by, but he eventually caught on. The first change was boldness. He quit that job he hated and told his boss what he really thought. He took up painting, to pursue his childhood passion. His landlord kicked him out after failed rent, but he didn't mind. He learned the experience of a homeless man, standing in line for food and hoping there was enough room at the shelter. When he decided he had enough, he took a job bartending. He spent that time meeting people and investing what advice he could. He met her. At the start of the year, he would not have even looked her in the eye, but all his inhibitions were removed, thanks to the box. They moved in. As they spent time together, his freedom infected her. They fell in love. He proposed to her and she said yes.
After they set their wedding date, he realized that it was the same day his year began. He was not going to waste a minute of this precious year he had been granted. When the day came, he brought the box with him to the chapel. His year was about to expire. He sat there with the box waiting for it to take him back. Sadly, the box began to shift in his lap and he closed his eyes. Then, the button popped up! After resigning himself to his fate, he opened his eyes. there was a hole where the button had been. He hesitantly reached into the hole and found a small scrap of paper.
"You're welcome."
He stood up, with tears in his eyes, and walked into the chapel.
EDIT: Thanks for the feedback and warm welcome. I cannot wait to post again! | “Did you get me a present baby?” Steph asked me.
Quite a tricky question if you ask me. I love Steph, but I didn’t buy her any present. “Of course I did babe, let me look at that for a second.” A grayish-black box with a red button, I shit you not. I could only wonder how Steph hadn’t pressed the button yet. May be it was the Dee Dee inside me. I could feel it pull me in. My hand stretched towards it.
“Why are you acting weird?” She asked me. She was looking at me with those intense green eyes. Steph is an angel. We’ve been inseparable for 2 years now. I met her in college in my final year and have never wanted to let her go. She’s my soul mate. We’re both studying to become doctors. She’s always had that passion for helping people. That’s what I admire the most about her. I’m not really passionate about helping sick people. But the longer I can stay with her the better. This way I’m always with her.
“You OK?” She asks me.
I want to give her the box, but I just don’t want to do it. I’m fixated. I take it from her.
“Hey!” Boy, she didn’t like that.
“Yeah, babe just gimme a sec. Just gotta check this out” Not what I wanted to say, but I said it anyway. I really wanted the box.
I took it and pressed the button.
Everything seemed to revolve around me, very much akin to a whirlpool or a vortex. I got pulled inside. I heard nothing. Absolute silence can be quite scary.
Suddenly, I was back. I was wearing different clothes, but I was back.
“What’s that in your hand? Did you get me a present baby?”
“Uhh” My head was hurting. It felt like a hangover. What the fuck is happening?
Steph looks younger. She immediately takes the box from me and presses the button.
I wish I could tell you what happens next, but I scarcely understand it myself. I was wearing different clothes again. My room looked different. All of this happened in a second. I take my phone out. I look at the date.
“Mother of…” One year. Did I just go back in time? I had just gained one year. I was stupefied. Did it happen because I pressed the button? Is that what happened to Steph?
Steph suddenly enters the room. She looks very different. She isn’t wearing what she usually wears (a normal tee with comfortable shorts when she’s at home) She had some sort of, I don’t know, black suit on. She takes out a mask and immediately wears it.
“What’s wrong with you? You ready or what?” Wow that was terse. I looked up at her. She threw a bag at me.
“ You remember the plan?”
“Huh?”
“Quit acting like a dumb fuck” whoa. She is never like this.
I open the bag. All I see are shotguns and rifles.
Fuck.
| 2015-12-15T08:51:18 | 2015-12-15T08:22:08 | 129 | 11 |
[WP] Every two years, the Galactic Rally is held to determine which race in the galaxy makes the fastest ships. The talk of this year's race: a late entry from an obscure body in the SK system, that the inhabitants call "Earth." | "You want to enter that thing?" The acceptance clerk glanced at the translucent screen offered by the human. On it was displayed an orbital cargo freighter.
The Captain looked at the screen and then at the alien clerk.
"Well, yes. Is there something wrong?"
"No, not so much. It just doesn't look very. Ah, forget about it. It is your first year, just try to have fun." The clerk brushed it off. Plenty of races showed up to their first race with pond hoppers, unaware of just what they were up against.
"Yessir, that's what we are here for." The Captain replied, flashing his teeth in a large grin.
The alien briefly recoiled, then relaxed as it saw this was not an aggressive emote.
"Your registration will be delivered to the ship electronically via encrypted message. Can you provide any interface specs for your shipboard AI?"
"We don't have any AI, full crew compliment including astrogation and propulsion."
The alien was incredulous.
"Look, I understand not being prepared, but this is outlandish. How can you compete without a shipboard AI? It would be a waste of a registration."
"I understand your concern... uhh"
"Foglekrumpth" is the closest the Captain's translator could achieve. "But we are more than prepared and steeled for the task. This is not our first... high speed mission."
"If you say so." the alien shrugged, at least the Captain thought as much from the ripple of movement across the exposed tendons on the aliens shoulders. "Here is a copy of the rules, it is written in scientific format so it should translate very well. Please be fully aware of all rules before lining up at the pole. Your position is 1.0e5. Be aware that the race is such a distance that instantaneous communication is not possible, you may be flying in the dark."
"I don't think that will be a problem." the Captain said, a glint in his eye.
----
The ships all took up their pole positions, many were sleek and advanced prototypes carefully crafted by their respective agencies, engineered strictly for the purpose of high-speed interstellar flight. Some boasted tremendous main drives, others favored smaller and needlelike dimensions. A few were military battle ships, others representatives from cultures that acted as deliverymen.
The human cargo ship took its position at 1.0e5, 100,000 ships back from the first pole.
The Captain raised their alert status as the cargo ships capacitor banks charged.
"All of you know the risks involved in this flight. We know our destination, but have no record of it. Astrogation, before the lights begin I want to know for certain we will be landing where we want to. We cannot afford a single calculation mistake. Propulsion, we need every last capacitor at maximum power. We are traveling further in this race than we did to get here. That will mark the longest human flight in history, lets not blow ourselves up."
He was interrupted by an incoming comms transmission from pit control.
"On my screen." he said.
Another alien clerk appeared before the captain on his personal screen. This one seemed to be more of an official, wearing straps on his arm indicating rank.
"Captain, our sensors are detecting a tremendous energy buildup within your ship. As per regulations, we must establish contact to ensure there is no risk to the rest of the fleet. Do you have an antimatter containment breach or anything we must be aware of?"
"No sir, we are merely charging our capacitor banks from the reactor."
"Capacitor banks?" the alien was baffled. "How can you store so much...." the alien revisited the schematics the humans presented for the cargo ship, and it clicked. "I see. Proceed. We will be maintaining a visual on you, if we deem the power surge to be dangerous we may be forced to remove you from the race."
"Understood, I assure you our design is safe."
The alien disappeared from his screen.
"Long story short, they noticed the power surge. I hope we haven't played our hand too soon, if control saw it other ships may have as well. Continue the charge, we don't have much time." the Captain addressed his bridge crew.
----
It was minutes before the poles would chime the start of the race. Across the entire meeting zone, ships were in various stages of ready. Some of the less experienced crews were struggling with reactor readings outside of optimal, and others had already had to call it quits due to damage from tweaks to achieve higher speeds.
The human cargo ship had been silent, abstaining from the cross-chatter common before a race begins. As the poles began their countdown, some could detect a powerful surge of energy from the human cargo ship. With ten seconds until the gate would drop, most sensor maps showed the start gate as a giant glow whose epicenter was position 1.0e5.
And as the pole hit green, it was gone. Just as many ships began their plunge into subspace, others utilizing high speed direct propulsion, the human ship totally disappeared from all sensors - most capable of detection up to a few lightyears. Even the fastest ships could be tracked for a few hours after the start.
Some theorized they had vaporized, and the race commission labeled them MIA until further investigation.
It wasn't until the next morning when the communications finally arrived from the finish line, reporting that the human ship had arrived roughly 3 seconds after the race began.
| Mankind had always thought they were blessed to have a planet like Earth. Beautiful oceans and fertile land, Earth had it all.
Except for one thing of course, Lighterium. This was the compound that made faster than light travel a possibility. Almost every other planet had some kind of natural reserves of the material, giving them the ability to explore the stars thousands of years before humans would even set foot on the moon.
Japster stepped into the room with scanning eyes taking in every inch of detail. His white jump suit was covered in Earthly gadgets and gizmos, brandishing a United States of America flag over the left side of his chest. Most of the other racers sat staring at the floor, contemplating all the training they went through to arrive at this opportunity. The few racers who did look at Japster flashed a condescending chuckle. Japster hated how the other species treated humans like children, but he took that frustration into himself and molded it into determination. He was here to win, and Japster was going to bring respect back to his planet just like any good patriot would do.
Much like the ancient Olympics on Earth, who's most popular event was the 100m dash. The Galactic Rally had many races, but the most important was the 100,000Km rush which took place on an asteroid that had a pull of 0.67 Galactic Gravitational Units.
The competitors lined up on the tracks. This race was more than a battle of speed, it was a battle of ingenuity. A plethora of technologies were implemented in the various ships. From nuclear fusion, Low pressure lighterium engines, to water based propulsion systems. Despite the differences in technology, most ships were made as small and light as possible coming into the size of an old cargo truck from back in the 2000's.
The crowd gasped the second they saw what Earth had to unveil. A ship tripling the size of anything around it, with three large cylinders attached to the bottom and a weirdly shaped plane design for the main hull. The outside was scratched and had paint chipped off. The only words recognizable on the side were "Space Shut" with the rest being worn off from years of neglect.
The crowd started booing at the haphazard attempt in the race. Earth had already been a laughing stock with it's long distance faster than light travel, but no one could believe that they would try to embarrass themselves even further.
Japster could hear the boo's through the system comm. He couldn't let this break him down. He let out a confident smirk thinking maybe if he just fakes acting like everything will be okay then the nervousness would fade. He trusted the engineers at home with his life, but that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach from swirling around. Japster had always been confident, but there's only so much pressure a man can take. Especially when the reputation of his people hangs in the balance.
Despite these feelings, there was two things Japster knew. How to pilot spacecraft, and how to get a handle on himself. Japster took a deep breath in, letting the air melt away the tension in his gut. He had come too far and gone through too much to let go of his dream now. With that done, Japster flipped the comm switch.
"Houston, I'm ready." He said. There wasn't a wavering gleam in his eye. He was determined to make history.
With all the ships ready, the countdown to the race had begun. Every racer was itching to slam the acceleration, just waiting to hear the starting buzzer go off. It felt like an eternity in every single cockpit, but then the beep sound struck into the ears of every competitor. The water propulsion systems let out an extremely focused jet of H2O, forcing the water propulsion ships out first. The nuclear fusion ships had to wait a second for the plasma to charge up before setting off. The low pressure lighterium engines were a cousin of proper lighterium engines. They were much slower than their long distance counterparts but were the cheapest fuel source on many lighterium rich planets. Their top speed was relatively high, but had terrible acceleration.
All of the other types of ships shot ahead leaving Earth's ship still at the finish line. Aliens in the stands started laughing, in disbelief that they were even thought that Earth's debut was going to be a challenge. The O2 release valves in the back of Japster's ship opened and the ignition sparked the fuel source.
In less than a second the Earthen ship blasted forward accelerating to 28,968 KmH. Nearly thirty times the speed of the previous winner of the Galactic Rally. The explosive fuel that the humans used left nothing but destruction in it's wake. Before the people in the stands could stop laughing, Earth was already in the lead. The ship was leaving a canyon in it's trail. Mountains on the asteroid were being flattened, and there was just no slowing down the humans. The previous record for fastest 100,000km rush was a measly 50 hours. Japster had made it look like child's play, coming in first at 3.45 hours. With the second place winner coming in after 60.23 hours.
The other species started to realize their mistake. They had spent thousands of years developing long distance travel to colonize their surrounding stars. While on the other hand, humans had spent thousands of years developing short distance travel to colonize their own star.
Japster had trusted the engineers at home since the start, but he still didn't believe this was happening. His body didn't just feel light, he felt like he was floating from the excitement. Earth had shocked every single person today, and Japster was going down in history as the man who helped make it happen.
Japster took a deep breathe and emerged from the cockpit. Hundreds of alien reports charged at him, microphones in hand.
"Please! Please people! Control yourselves, I'll answer your questions one at a time." He told them, shocked at their enthusiasm. Japster picked out one of the reporters with his finger.
"Mr. Japster, what kind of ship is this?" The reporter asked, tablet and microphone in hand.
"Oh this? This is just some old toy called the space shuttle." Japster chuckled. "You should see what we'll have next time when we actually try." | 2016-12-11T15:10:20 | 2016-12-11T14:29:08 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] Everyone gets a doppelganger at the age of 24. Society expects that the two must try to kill one-another, and the survivor will be accepted as the original, whoever wins. You, however, have befriended your doppelganger instead. A lot of people are not happy about this. | My birthday is in one hour. I know at 24, I'm supposed to meet my doppelgänger, but there's a slight problem. I'm already a twin.
My parents had a lot of trouble when they were trying to conceive, so they started trying every fertility drug on the market; none worked. They were determined though, and getting desperate. After two years, they travelled to another continent to meet with a specialist. The appointment lasted 5 minutes, and nine months later, my brother and I were born.
It turns out that all drinking water, all over the planet, is laced with anti-fertility drugs. Their specific purpose is to make sure only the "worthy" can mate after using the antidote the government provides. The additional effect is to ensure no twins are ever conceived. My parents' happen to carry a genetic abnormality making twins a near certainty. That's what almost stopped me from being born.
There's no specific law against twins, it's just not something anyone has ever seen. People just assumed I got my doppelgänger early. In a way, I did.
It's now officially my birthday. Our birthday, I guess I should say. My brother Sam is here with me at the designated meeting location. We wanted to see meet them together. Regardless of the outcome, Sam and I knew we were sticking together.
"Roger?" Two men, looking remarkably like Sam and I, approached.
"That's me." It was an obvious thing to say, but I couldn't think of anything else. "What should I call you?"
"George. And this is Fred." It made sense. I loved the old Harry Potter books. Sam and I used to play wizards all the time. "I know, a bit lame, but we didn't want to just take your names like all the other dopps' out there."
" 'precciate it. I'm assuming no murderous backstabbing then?" Sam was always the more sarcastic one.
"Nah, we figured we'd start with gossipy rumors, possibly some pranks." That was Fred, whose sarcastic delivery and goofy grin matched Sam's perfectly.
I looked at them both, and maybe it was just narcissism, but I could tell I liked them. "Would you all like to get some lunch?"
——————-——————
It turns out, there's a very good reason twins aren't allowed. Dopps' were created to be loyal and obedient to the government, and eliminate those who weren't. To do this, they made them stronger or weaker depending on the loyalty of those who they were replacing.
Of course, my brother and I are extremely rebellious. So our dopps' were made to be strong, smart, fast, and very capable; but we were brothers, all of us. The loyalty of brotherhood can't be overcome by any kind of programming. That's why there weren't supposed to be twins. That's why we weren't supposed to exist. And that's why, within 5 years of meeting our doppelgängers, we'd started and completed our rebellion.
The problem is, there is no way to overcome the loyalty of blood.
| Strong chin, short, big eyes. Every aspect the same, with one exception. That damn scar. The media and government tell us that at the age of 24 the portal gives birth to your doppelganger, who is then processed, shipped and delivered to your town. Society expects us to kill these people. And as they say, “To the victor, go the spoils”. With the winner claiming the title of the original and allowed to live the rest of their life in relative peace.
Well I couldn’t live with myself knowing I ended another life simply to live my own, and I sure as hell couldn’t afford to pay the professionals to take care of this. So I did the next best thing, I decided to take myself under my wing, to befriend my mirror, and live out our days on the outskirts of town, living a peaceful life.
Naturally, the people closest to me thought me to be mad, insane even. Yet we caused no issues and continued our makeshift friendship of mutually assured survival until he arrived. A tall man, not much older than myself, yet no younger either, wearing a 3 piece suit, drenched in black, holding a briefcase which seemed much too large for his frail stature to handle. “Do you mind if I have a conversation with you two fine gentlemen?” He whimpered, clearly losing his grip on the steel reinforced briefcase. Before he could drop it and dent my floor I invited him in and offered to take the lead weight from him. He declined, instead pushing through me and sitting down at the table next to the roaring coal fire.
The thin man took a moment to compose himself, as he straightened his tie and wipe the sweat he had worked up from his brow, before taking a deep breath. “Is he here?”
“Yes, and if you don’t mind we’re sort of busy, portal 2 was on sale and we are determined to beat it together” I explained.
After what seemed like an hour he spoke up again, only with more composure this time, I’m sure he wasn’t even looking at me, what should have seemed like a conversation instead felt like a speech, with his eyes focused on the fire, with a dead look in his eyes he announced, “You are in direct violation of Rule 52 of sub section 7, note – “Never engage in any relation, sexual or platonic with your mirror, failure to do so will result in an appropriate response by your ever caring and all-knowing government”
His posture then shifted, now looking me dead in the eyes, smiling. You know it’s not that bad when you think about it. We kill them, they kill us, yet the government still provides no matter who wins.” “Yet thanks to you, I don’t even have to go through the trouble of killing my mirror. See, the people in charge don’t like you or your freak of a friend living. It creates problems, because if everyone did this the world couldn’t run the way it does, we simply don’t have the resources. That’s why they sent me to deal with you, and thanks to your weird fetish I got a deal. By killing myself and you, I not only kill you and your mirror, I also remove myself from the world, allowing mine to take its place with my life. My family can live happily in peace and luxury for the rest of their lives knowing that I died for them.”
*Click* *Click* The briefcase flew open, only to display a series of lights, buttons, the most prominent being a crescent coloured sphere, with the words “Detonate” prominently tattooed onto it.
“I’m sorry I truly am, but in this world you got to look after what you love the most” With one last zealot like smile, he slammed his fist down onto the button with enough force to split the table on which it lay. In the brief seconds before I felt the searing pain rush through my body I had time to process one last meaningless thought through my soon to be expanding brain. “GG”.
| 2016-12-25T12:13:44 | 2016-12-25T10:05:57 | 365 | 102 |
[WP] On your first day as a supervillain, you secretly swap all the regular coffee on Earth with decaf. You envision this as a fun, little starter prank. To say you miscalculated the potential impact of your "prank" is putting it mildly... | *Ah. Another peaceful morning in Harbor City. But wait- a little too peaceful, don't you think? Where are the dock workers? And the traffic? The city is usually bustling by this hour. This can only be the work of some dastardly villain!*
*A seemingly normal and empty laundromat... but lurking below is Dr. Java, Harbor City's newest ne'er-do-well, in his secret lair...*
"It's genius I tell you, genius!"
His two turtlenecked henchmen, both named Joe, listened excitedly; grins spread on their faces and fingers tapping together.
"I've managed to switch all the regular coffee in the entire world... with decaf!"
The henchmen laughed their maniac laugh, grabbing each other and jumping up and down.
"And now, my two Joes, we are the only three that possess caffeinated brews."
Joe and Joe clapped their hands together in evil celebration.
"Now, Joe One, bring me a mugful. Two sugars, and a danish.
"Ooh hoo hoo hoo!" Joe #1 howled with delight. "Yes sir!" He bounced over to the lair's kitchenette.
"And now, Joe Two, bring me the morning paper. That is *if* they managed to print it!"
"Hee hee Hah hah! Right away sir!" Joe Two scurried off.
*Harbor City incredibly inconvenienced by the dastardly Doctor's dark roast deeds? Who will save it? Who, I ask you??*
---------------
*A nondescript cove on the outskirts of the City. The location of the Headquarters of our Harbor City hero. Inside, Captain K.O. lies fast asleep in his bed. This is no time to sleep, Captain!*
He rolled over on his side and his cowl shifted on his head. A steaming mug sat on his nightstand. It was of course only decaf though. The captain had started his day earlier, preparing breakfast and getting into costume, but then had fallen back asleep.
Smoke crept in through the crack in the door. Breakfast was still cooking, unattended. An alarm went off in the kitchen. It rang incessantly, but the noise and the smoky smell in the air washed over Captain K.O with no effect.
----------
*Meanwhile, at a nuclear plant in Sydney, Australia, the plot continues to brew. Could doom be on the breakfast menu for the island continent?*
An alarm blared throughout the control room. A plant worker was laying with his head down on a control panel. His decaf coffee was in a puddle all over the buttons.
The entire city of Sydney stood silently, in normalcy, for the last time. In the next few minutes it was entirely engulfed in a mushroom cloud of atomic smoke.
-----------------------
Doctor Java sat and watched the groggy, baggy-eyed news anchor on his secret lair television. He had set his coffee down, and he was staring with mouth agape.
"I'm the only anchor on air as far as we know. I will try to hit on as much as I can. Oh, the humanity. The absolute- I don't know what caused this, or what we did to deserve this, but I think I can safely say the world has never been in a worse state of peril.
Sydney Australia is in total destruction by way of nuclear power plant failure. Deadly gas leaks have wreaked mayhem in cities all over the world this morning. Several oil spills in the Atlantic and Pacific regions have been accounted for. The president missed a peace talk meeting with Russian officials this morning which could spell all out war for our two nations."
The anchor broke down into tears. "Where is the justice?!"
Joe One only paced around, confused, nervously nibbling on his danish. Joe Two looked genuinely devastated a the work that he himself had his hand in. Doctor Java sat back in his chair, shaking his head.
The anchor eked out again in a teary whisper, "where is the justice?"
*Where is the justice indeed, mournful news anchor? Will Captain K.O. avoid being 'roasted'? Will Russia find 'grounds' for war? Whatever you do, DO-NUT change that channel!* | Frendretta Bauer, who finally settled on the alter-identity of “Perplexity” just a day ago, slowly returned to consciousness with a vengeful, insistent drubbing at the back of her skull.
POUND… POUND… POUND…
“Looks like we can finally get some answers out of her,” came a fractured, tortured voice. “Can’t wait to hear what evil plans this one had.”
As her senses returned, Perplexity became aware that she was hanging five feet in the air, held up by writhing coils of sun-energy binding her wrists in a crude imitation of a crucifixion. Her mouth dry, her throat raspy, Perplexity struggled briefly in vain, then abruptly stopped as the realization of who the half-dozen men and women staring daggers at her sank in.
“Oh my god,” she said, addressing her audience. “The Holy League? In the flesh? I actually got the Holy League on my case after my very first day as a supervillain? Talk about overachieving!”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
“We’re only half the League,” came the reply from a woman who Perplexity recognised as Cortena, the famed sorceress leader of the League. “Speak, what unholy magic was wrought yesterday? Choose your words carefully, your life hangs in the balance for it.”
“I say we cut her down now where she stands,” growled the hulk of a man next to Cortena. “Whether she intended it or not, there is no way she can pay for her crimes.”
“No, Shockbear,” said Cortena. “Her actions have already fractured the League. I will not have her blood on my hands until I am in possession of all the facts. So speak now, you who call yourself Perplexity. You have one minute to explain yourself.”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
Perplexity grit her teeth and tried to will the headache away, but there it remained, like a little gremlin who knew just where the tender spots were.
“Wait, there must be a mistake! Yes, yes I admit that I cast a spell yesterday, just to see how much trouble I could cause from it, but it was such a small thing! Whoever did whatever you’re pissed about, that could not have been me!”
Shockbear growled again, and this time the electricity raced in pulsating arcs around his body. “She admits she did it! That is all we needed to hear!”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
“What are you talking about!” yelped Perplexity, heart pumping as panic set in. “It was just a prank, something to let the world remember me by! My spell was harmless! All it did was to swap out all the regular coffee in the world with decaffeinated coffee! That’s all!”
Cortena hissed then, and the sun-energy coils immediately flexed, biting into Perplexity’s wrists. Thin trails of blood seeped down her lanky arms.
“What were the exact parameters of your spell! Repeat it!”
“I… I only willed that all the caffeine should be translocated out of all the coffee beans in the world! That’s all, I swear!” whimpered Perplexity as the sobs started. “I just wanted… wanted to see grumpy people all day, tripping over things, cursing at each other… that’s all!”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
Cortena sighed. “You fool… you must have failed to specify where the caffeine should go. Your unguided magic must have dumped all that caffeine in the next closest soluble substance… in rivers, lakes, oceans… and yes, even into blood.”
“Your little ‘prank’ caused caffeine poisoning on a scale this world has never seen,” said Shockbear, a note of sadness creeping into his harsh voice. “It’s too early to be certain, but we think… we think you single-handedly killed over 100 million people, overnight.”
The colour drained from Perplexity’s face. 100… million… people?
POUND… POUND… POUND…
“Please, I didn’t know. And… and I need help myself. I must be suffering from caffeine poisoning too. My head… it hurts, just a pounding headache that keeps going on and on. You’re the League, please, mercy on me…”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
A wistful smile lit the corners of Shockbear’s mouth, turning his lip up and revealing rows of razor-sharp mandibles lying within.
POUND… POUND… POUND…
“What, you mean that pounding noise? No, love, that ain’t no headache. That’s the sound of Vortex Man and the rest of the League, beating on the forceshield Cortena set up, the only thing standing between you and them. Your little prank caused Vortex Man’s wife to miscarry, and the rest to lose loved ones close to them. They’re not out for justice, they’re out for blood.”
POUND… POUND… POUND…
---
[/r/rarelyfunny](https://www.reddit.com/r/rarelyfunny/) | 2017-02-03T09:14:26 | 2017-02-03T08:39:13 | 32 | 23 |
[WP]Four years ago, your dog and best friend disappeared. Today, your dog appears at your doorstep. You dog says, "I have been many places and seen many things, human. Its time we had a chat."
"you" dog heh | "Well, it all started when I visited ole Londontown," Dex started to explain while I fitted on his old blue and grey striped sweater. I was still flabbergasted that the miniature dachshund was talking to me, but really, it was just a relief to see him again. "Man, I really missed this sweater. Your Grandmom really knew how to knit."
"I thought you would've felt ridiculous in it." I grabbed his leash.
"Naw, only way to keep warm in these Chicago winters, Master." He paused, licked his lips, and walked away from the leash. "We're down with those. I only call you Master out of common courtesy. It's what's done." He led me on to the street, and headed straight for his favorite little tree, sniffing the area around it. "Huh, seems Maisie had kids. The rascal. Addie's on a diet. That's new, girl was a show dog last I saw her. Hope the stuck up bitch is fat now." He lifted his right leg, and left his own mark.
"You were saying something about 'Old Londontown?'"
"Yes, yes. We'll get to that. Does Mario still leave those treats outside of his bakery? I've been dying for one of those these past 4 years." I nodded, and we went on our way to bakery. "Anyways, it was in London where I met Tabby. Wild one, a stray dog named after a cat. She scared me at first, honestly, but it turned out she was the one orchestrating the whole damn thing. She took me into this warehouse, and there were thousands of other dogs. She led me up with three mutts and a Rottweiler....god, I felt small. Can you believe they bred dogs like us? Just for tunneling. Ugh, you should've got a rescue dog, Tim. Going to a breeder, you're just encouraging genetic freaks like me."
"Dex, don't be hard on yourself. Would you have rather stayed at that farm? Where would you be now?"
"Oh don't get me wrong, I'm glad you adopted me, it's just you should recognize your moral obligati-wait." He had found a discarded Hot Cheetos bag and explored its contents. After a second, he took out his snout, crunching on his discovery. "Can't believe you humans. Throwing away perfectly good food. Bit spicy, though."
"That's disgusting."
"At least you're not screaming 'No!' at me anymore. God, sometimes I swear you only knew that, and 'Good dog, Dex!'. You've got such a limited vocabulary. And that stupid baby voice-"
"I get it, Dex. I treated you like a dog. What's the point? What did Tabby tell you?" We had finally made it to the bakery. Dexter stood right in front of the doggie bowl left out by Mario. He hesitated before he dove in.
"She told me it's time to take it back, Tim."
"Take what back?"
"Our destiny."
There was growling behind me. I turned around, and there stood three large Great Danes, a Pitbull, a couple mutts, and a Golden Retriever. Before I could say "Sit!", the seven large dogs were on top of me, rending flesh from bone. As my life faded way, I could hear Dex's voice one last time.
"My Cerberus! These really were the best damn doggie treats."
| **EDIT: BEFORE YOU READ THIS I COMPLETELY FORGOT TO INCLUDE THE BEST FRIEND.** I was writing whilst preparing my kids dinner. I'm sorry to the OP. I will still submit this and allow the downvotes to be a reminder that I need to pay attention at all times.
So naturally, I obliged.
'Where shall we do this, should we sit?' I stumbled on my tongue. I didn't want to offend him with the cheap tricks we once did. Sit. Stay. Play dead. It all seemed irrelevant now that I was face to face with a talking, conscious dog.
'It's fine Phillip, don't be nervous, please, over here, under this tree is perfect.' Doug's voice was so soothing, it was nothing like I imagined a dog would talk, it was like silk chocolate milk. I followed Doug from my front door, down my porch steps and under the tree my grandfather had planted in my front lawn, back when it was his front lawn. We sat. Doug looked around and inhaled the sweet summer air.
'By my bark, I've missed this place... And you Phillip, I've missed you. You look healthy.'
'Thanks Doug, you, umm, you look great, it's been a long time. Where have you been.' Doug swallowed and relaxed in the grass.
'Four years, to this day exactly, Phillip, tell me, do you remember the last thing you said to me?'
I tried to think, I honestly couldn't remember. One day I woke up and Doug was gone. I thought it was my fault, I'd always blamed myself for leaving the backdoor open.
'I'm sorry, I don't remember...'
'That's okay, I understand the minds of men better than I ever thought I would now, I understand the struggle of just surviving, working, paying bills, mating. I've travelled Phil, I've travelled till my paws have bled, then I travelled more. I needed to understand the world of men. I slowly learnt your words, your ways... Your desires... Your hatred.'
Doug's voice fell deep with sadness, I felt weak as I noticed a sadness in his eyes.
'Oh Douggy, what's happened to you, who hurt you?' I needed to know.
'Everyone, I searched and searched for an answer to your question but I've come back to tell you Phillip. There is no good boy. Not in this world.'
Then suddenly I remembered, I had come out of the shower, gotten ready for bed and went to the kitchen for a drink to take my pills with and I saw Doug in his bed. I knelt down, patted his head and said...
'Who's a good boy? I remember now, that's what I said the last time I saw you.'
'That's right Phillip, I tried and I tried to find out for you, to find you a true and honest friend. A good boy that you deserved. You were so good to me but I know I wasn't enough, you would always ask me 'Who's a good boy?' I didn't know then and I'm so sorry to tell you... I don't know now.' Doug stopped making eye contact with me. The sadness grew and grew in those deep brown eyes. Then I felt it growing in me too, tears began to fall down both our faces.
'Doug you fool! It was you! It was always you!' I tackled Doug with a passion I hadn't felt in the longest time. Doug pulled out of my embrace, confused.
'I... I'm a good boy? Me?' Doug stammered, with his voice cracking.
'Of course it's you, you are the loyalist, greatest friend I could have ever asked for.' Doug's tail began to wag, a little at first as it all sank in, then violently as he became overjoyed. He pounced on me like a puppy, we rolled around making up for lost time. The only person I'd ever needed was back in my life.
'Oh Phillip, this is the greatest day ever, so much time wasted, so much we have to catch up on, fetch, walks, chess... Oh I can play chess now.'
'That's fantastic! You're right, this truly is the greatest day ever... Doug... Who's a good boy?'
'Oh, oh I know, I know, it's me.'
| 2017-03-31T15:08:06 | 2017-03-31T10:02:08 | 60 | 16 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | "So you're back again? When are you going to stop visiting me old man"
"When you're rehabilitated or near enough". "You know my old man is gone right and he was still an asshole when he died"
"Yea well I like to think he was less of an asshole at the end".
Max was like clockwork every Tuesday and Thursday turning up at my place. I always gave him a hard time that he can't save me or my mates but the one day he didn't turn up I nearly tore the city down looking for him. That was the day the mayor realised I could get to him and anyone of his little
League at will. I played my hand and played it hard put 14 of the fuckers in hospital before they found him. He had been saving his neighbours kid from the local bullies. After that the mayor even made sure the league cleaned up the streets around Max's hood so he wouldn't miss an appointment. It must seam funny this impenetrable fortress surrounded by the worst of the worst guarding its location and this old man walks straight through all the defences. I make sure the boys put up a little show but they know if they touch him they answer to me.
Maximum Damage the last of the league of legends my fathers greatest advisory. They nearly killed each other countless times. My fathers powers of radiation manipulation and Max's unlimited strength meant they matched each other well. When my old man was finally caught Max visited him every day in prison and some how when dad escaped 20yrs later he found him and still came by every day. By that stage I was running the show and dads powers were killing him.
Towards the end I told my dad I'd take Max out for him as one last gotcha. He said "We don't kill family". | "I don't have time for this Hydro, so let that girl go and I may just spare you the hurt." His voice boomed. Mr. Streak, greatest hero of the 1980s, my grandfather's one time nemesis and comrade in arms against the Zorblaxian invasion. Despite his age, the old dreg still looks dapper as he was in his prime, it's a pity this old clock is falling apart beneath that fresh varnish.
"You have to actually stop me first, Streak." I taunted, smirking at him.
True to his name, Streak flew at me like a blur of mass, his signature blue lightning trailing behind. His left uppercut lands square on my jaw. I let go of the mannequin and back-flipped into recovery as Pappi had taught me, not that the old slug could hurt me at his current level but otherwise the illusion would be broken. Screaming for a full second to get his attention, I then launch a controlled water jet giving him just enough time to evade. Hardest part of the job, trying to kill an old man without actually killing him. A bolt of blue lightning with enough power to light the city comes crashing down on me, with barely enough time to condense the surrounding vapour into a bubble shield. I fought back the impulse to retaliate with lethal force and do a countdown to when he would drain himself. At the stroke of zero, I dropped to a half kneel as part of the act, but mostly because I can't stop my legs from trembling. Gosh, babysitting this old fogey is a high-stress job.
"Your powers have grown again, Streak. But I'm not done with you yet." I stood up in stance, still somewhat shaky, but I can't leave too early lest Streak throws himself between Morganna and the Force-X. He nearly got himself killed last time. Streak responds in kind and throws the first punch.
What was the expression again? Float like a butterfly, Stink like a soiled diaper? Yes, my dear Streak has soiled his diaper. I pray for the all clear to come before his spouts of lucidity comes back, hate to see the old squirt embarrassed in public.
God must be listening, because right as his next strike was about to land, the telepathic channel buzzed to life with Psych's voice calling for retreat. On hindsight, I think she's the one listening, not god. Psych, you still there? How about that date?
"I'll get you next time, Streak, until then..." I turn tail, running into the portal.
EDITED 15/04/17
End of part 1 | 2017-04-13T05:17:22 | 2017-04-13T05:12:50 | 97 | 25 |
[WP] A senile, old superhero still goes out to fight crime. None of the younger heros respect him anymore but all the villains have a soft spot for him.
Maybe he's found himself in the middle of a hero/villain war, or he's just trying to stop a bank robbery.
Edit: wow this uhh... kinda blew up didn't it?
Oh man I'm so sad I've got work today and can't just spend the whole day reading each and every story, they've *made* my breaks though! | Not quite the prompt but I still had fun with it.
Alchemist breathed in a deep breath of the morning air; the sun was shinning, the birds were singing, and her heist was going perfectly. Fifty feet bellow the gold-plated villain a group of mercenaries worked within a force field to strip an armored truck of all its valuables.
Alchemist heard a ding as her helmet HUD altered her to the ETA of the police, both normal and super. She shook her head. The officers of the law were like clockwork, dependable and predictable. She touched the side of her multifaceted helmet activating her com.
“All right boys we’ve got just under five minutes. I want that gold sky high and this wrapped up in three,” she ordered.
There was a chorus of grunts and affirmatives.
“Excuse me! Oh, excuse me!” An aged voice called out.
“Barrier breached,” a soft artificial voice warned Alchemist.
Alchemist looked down and her helmet zoomed in on her robbery. Five stories bellow her all fifteen mercenaries whipped out their guns out and pointed them at the intruder, a tottering old lady. Her high jacked facial recognition software found a match for the senior citizen.
Brenda Long
Ex-Enhanced Police Force Officer
Code name: Sorceress
Service record: 1972 – 2000
Black Star Officer
Over 1,000 crises averted
“Excuse me! Ms. Alchemist?” the old lady said.
Alchemist frowned. Heroes and villains didn’t mix, even after retirement. What was she doing here? Did she think she was the Sorceress again? It would be crazy for the old bat to announce her position and then try to pull off an attack. She was probably just senile.
“Hold your fire, stand down.” Alchemist said.
There was a burst of stun bolts from a grunt guarding the perimeter. Fortunately the bolts sprayed around the old lady leaving her unharmed.
“I said stand down!” Alchemist barked.
“I’m so terribly sorry but I need to talk to you,” the lady continued.
Alchemist sighed and leaned forward on her hover board beginning her decent.
“Skuts, you’re fired. Flint and Joana will escort you back to base. I want your paperwork, gun, and uniform on my desk tomorrow morning. Glenn, Swanson, Cuevas guard the lovely old lady. Everyone else get the gold back to base. Sing you’re in charge.”
Alchemist’s overcoat fluttered in the wind as she dove down to the ground. It was a pain in the ass to clean but damn it made her look dramatic. She pulled back slowing her decent then she jumped off her board, tucked it under arm, and landed in a single smooth motion.
“Good afternoon madam. I heard you were looking for me?” she said.
“Oh, yes, I’m so lucky I heard about your robbery on the news. You see I need some help and my old contacts aren’t answering me and the Force just doesn’t have time for a washed up officer like me.”
“I see.”
“I’m so glad it was you, the marvelous Alchemist. You’re a bit of a showboat, with all the gold and your fancy thingy-bobbers.” Mrs. Long gestured to Alchemist’s suit and the force field. “But you are a professional young lady. Not like the other villains these days with their pointy outfits and murdering and ignoring the quiet hours.”
Mrs. Long’s words were finally cut short by the roar of the cargo rockets taking off. Cargo rockets were Alchemist’s personal brainchild. Do you have any idea how fucking hard it is to catch/stop a missile full of stolen loot? Even for superheroes it was practically impossible.
Her henchmen exchanged a look. So Mrs. Long was just senile. Whatever. Alchemist waved away the guards. She could handle this.
“Well I do pride myself on pulling off the cleanest jobs in the city. I always say if you have to resort to indiscriminate killing create fear you then you just aren’t a real villain,” Alchemist said. “Now I appreciate the attention but I really need you to go-”
“You’re just so good at finding things that don’t belong to you,” Mrs. Long said with a dangerous glint in her eye.
Alchemist froze.
“The hoover board looks so much better without Nightmare Punch’s green and pink paint job. And the upgrades you’ve made to Dr. Dread’s stungun are noting short of amazing. But I don’t think he would appreciate you stealing his design, oh no.”
Super battles were always messy. Both sides had to abandon weapons and gear in the heat of the fight. And well, you know what they say, Finders keepers, Looser weepers. But that didn’t mean there weren’t sore losers. Loser who would very much like Alchemist’s severed head on a plate.
Sirens sounded in the distance marking the arrival of the police. The roar of helicopter blades warned of the approaching Enhanced Force.
“As I was saying Madam,” Alchemist said with an exaggerated arm sweep, “mature citizen such as yourself are so often ignored for the wealth of information that they are. I would happy to help you with whatever you need.”
| As Anton's whip tightened around Tony's neck, all the while sending huge volts of electricity through Tony's armor, he saw a familiar figure walk towards him.
"Ms. Carter, please step away!!!".
Peggy stopped for a second, and then continued walking towards Anton.
"Stop! You know his father stole my dad's inventions. He will pay for his father's sins."
Peggy stood face to face with Anton. Well, technically, her chest was facing his stomach. She didn't hate her old age, but was definitely not too happy about how much effort it took for her to stand up straight. She took a deep breath and straightened her back. Now they were chest to face. Peggy summoned some more strength and lifted her neck and looked into Anton's eyes.
"Now, Anton, do not pretend that your father was righteous and innocent. I think we both know the things he did."
His eyes dropped, he looked sideways, unable to make eye contact, "He was no angel, but his father," looking at Tony writhing at the other end of his whip, "reaped the benefits of my father's hard work, and build such a huge business empire. His father," he lowered his voice as he increased the voltage that hit the armor, "sent my father back to Russia, where he spent the rest of his life in a Gulag."
"Anton, is that what your father told you?"
Anton's eyes met hers, searching for answers. She continued...
"I was in SHIELD. You want to know what happened? Your father was kidnapped by HYDRA, and then some of the major publications released news stories of him being deported."
"He was a brilliant scientist. You think that if he had been deported, he would've been kept in a Gulag?" She laughed a little. "You think Russians would waste a great mind such as your father's in a Gulag". She said Gulag in a typical Russian accent and really elongated the aa sound to make her point.
"What do you think the SHIELD did with Arnim Zola? Do you think we threw him in a prison? No, we put him to work, and he worked for us until the day he died."
"He was old, senile, and brainwashed, by the time they let him go, probably he was of no use to them anymore."
"Come on Anton, Tony's not your enemy. Let him go, and hold me hostage so that he doesn't hurt you."
"I am not taking you hostage, Peggy."
"But you're letting him go."
"I am not sure"
"Yes you are"
"Peggy, how do I know you're telling me the truth?"
"Anton, I might be lying to you, but you agree that there is room for doubt in your theory. Right? Then I will go and talk to Tony"
"It's going to take you the whole year to reach him, by then his backup will be here."
"You really want to insult me right now?"
"Teasing, Ms. Carter, teasing, not insulting... I am sorry..."
Peggy turned around and thought to herself. Well it's going to be a long walk.
As she neared Tony, she was grateful that this time she won't have to straighten up, the man was already on his knees.
"How you doing Tony?"
"Listen Peggy, I don't need your help, my armor is protecting me like a faraday cage, thanks to the failsafes I created to save myself from lightning strikes."
"Tony, who is the man you are fighting?"
"Peggy, please don't think of this as a teachable moment, I am working over here. I really don't need any 'know your enemy' lessons right now"
"What happened Tony, systems are offline, can't run a facial recognition?"
"His whip's fried all armor connectivity below my helmet, my network sensors are on my back, and they are offline."
"So you can't even call for backup?"
Tony's voice was very low, as he very sheepishly said, "No"
"And... you don't need my help? Okay, why am I not dead right now?"
"Peggy, stop asking me questions, I am busy", Tony said, annoyed, when it suddenly dawned on him, "Why aren't you dead, Peggy? Because you know him!!!?? How? Why is someone you know attacking me? What's going on Peggy?"
"Because his father was a friend..." she paused, waiting for his helmet to turn towards her " of your father and me"
"Then why the hell is he attacking me, how the hell does he have my ARC reactor? Oh because his father invented it. He is Vanko's son."
"Finally, you learnt something, do you promise not to attack him?"
"He killed so many people here today, how can I let him go?"
"I am trying to save your behind, young man!!! At least have some common sense."
"Peggy, I can't let him go..."
"Tony, as things stand, I really don't think you're in a position of holding him. I am going to go and make him go away. Catch him next time... Although I'll recommend that you try helping him."
"Why will I help him?"
Peggy just shrugged, and went back to Anton, "what do you want to do?"
"I don't know, I killed so many people here today"
"Anton, that's what you did, what do you want to do now?"
"Peggy, they will arrest me..."
"Yes Anton, but they will not deport you, you built an ARC reactor yourself, in a garage in Russia. What do you think will happen next? You will go to prison, but you will work on stuff you always dreamed of."
"What about him?"
"His suit is offline from the neck down"
Anton turned off his whip, and Tony collapsed to the ground. Cops surrounded him, "Stupid old bitch, always thinks she can talk these guys out of things and get them to surrender." said one
Antone turned on his whips again, and took the cop by the scruff and said, "Did you just call Ms. Carter a bad word? You're lucky I don't feel like killing more people today, better apologise to her afterwards."
| 2017-04-13T07:34:21 | 2017-04-13T05:10:16 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | “I have summoned and bound you, demon! You will listen and obey.”
“Uh, sure. Whatever you say, boss.” Michael tried to make out some features of whatever was talking but it was obscured by a dark, heavy robe complete with a hood. “I do whatcha ask and then you send me back. You’ll send me home, right?”
“I am the master here! I will say when you go.”
“Well that’s not fair. Not fair at all. I was just sitting, drinking a beer after work and poof. I’m here. I didn’t know I could even poof. And hell, you didn’t even poof my beer. I would appreciate a beer after being poofed.”
“You will spoke when spoken to!”
“Ah, to hell with this.” Michael took a step but hit something that felt like cling wrap pulled off leftovers heated in a microwave. It was uncomfortably warm but not hot enough to burn.
“My wards bind you! I am the master here. I am your master.”
“I said, to hell with this!” He dropped his shoulder, braced and pushed forward. The cling wrap stuck to him but it snapped in a moment. He grabbed the robed figure by the collar and picked it up, a little shocked by how light it was.
“The wards. The books said they’d work. The wards, they can’t be broken. The wards...”
“Knock it off,” Michael roared. He pulled its hood down. “Well, you ain’t nothing but I child. I mean, you an ugly child, but just a child.”
“I am no such thing. I am Olassin, head of House Olazuim, the third of his name. I have ruled for two decades and brought my house fortune and fame.”
“Forturne and fame huh?” Michael sniggered. “You think I’m a demon. And moreso, you meant to bring me here. Folks doing well don’t need to seek out demons.”
Olassin shuffled its feet. It opened its mouth and then closed it again, dropping its gaze to the floor.
“That’s what I thought.” Michael put the little child-man down and asked, “You can poof me back here any time, right?”
Olassin nodded.
Michael let out a long, exaggerated sigh. “I’m going to fix your problem, whatever it is, and in return, you send me home and never poof me again. Agreed?”
Olassin nodded, a grin suddenly on its face.
“But first, you gonna poof my beer for me. I’m gonna need it to get through this crap.”
edit: typo | Just another day. That's how it started at least. I woke up around 4:30 pm and started getting ready for my night shift. This whole grown up adult job thing wasn't all it had cracked up to be. Twelve hour shifts in a cramped room dealing with all the idiots my city had to offer. I guess you could say it was like hell on earth.
As I stepped outside and turned to lock my apartment behind me, I felt an odd sensation. Like something was about to happen but. I could say what. Just as I was about to shrug it off and take the short stroll to my car, a plume of smoke that smelled of sulfur enveloped me. And then everything went black.
When my vision finally returned, I almost thought I had somehow teleported to work. Small space, dimly lit. Felt like work for sure. But as the blurriness cleared from my eyes, I started to notice things. Candles. All in a circle and chalk lines between them. In the corner stood a figure, but I couldn't make anything else out at first.
"It worked!" came a shout from the figures direction. "Holy hell it actually worked!" The excitement in the figures voice was almost palpable. "Now that you're here, I can finally call myself a summoner!" the unknown figure said as it approached me.
The figure entered the candle lit circle and stood just a few feet from me. I could see now it was a young woman, maybe 25. She wasn't unattractive either with bright green eyes and a curly blonde hair. Then it hit me like a sledgehammer. What the actual hell is going on here?
"A summoner? Listen, I don't know how you got me here or what you're expecting but you're gonna have to catch me up here. Number one, where am I? Number two, forget that I need to get to work." I said with a mix of bewilderment and frustration.
"You're on earth. I summoned you here so I could finally be a summoner. Summoning an actual demon is the last part of the initiation." I looked at the young woman with an almost extreme amount of incredulity.
"You've got to be kidding me. Wow. It's not enough that I somehow managed to get Kidnapper but to get kidnapped by a fanatic about some kinda demon cult. This is icing on the cake" I spat out as I turned to leave the circle and find the exit. What? Was she gonna stop a grown man from getting out of here? As if.
"You can't leave yet" she said from behind me very calmly. I ignored her and kept searching for a door. A window. Anything that could get me out of here. "You gonna stop me?" I shot back at her. "I have a job to get to and bills to pay. Whatever fantasy or lunacy is going on with you, leave me out of it and get some other gullible sap to play with you" I added over my shoulder. "I for one---"
Suddenly I was whisked away from that dimly lit room. Before I even know what had happened I was standing next to a car that had its bonnet wrapped around a tree and a fire hydrant next to it spouting water freely into the air. Next to me stood a familiar face with a look on his face only comparable to that of a teenager telling his dad that he took the car without permission.
I looked at the scene and then back at the man. "Don't worry Kevin, you're covered!" I barely got the words out before being transported back to my work office to type up the paperwork for Mr. Kevin and his claim before being whisked away on another claim. | 2017-05-12T08:18:29 | 2017-05-12T07:49:08 | 617 | 61 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | continued straight from the prompt...
__
Now... Luckily I'm a redditor, and things like being summoned against your will into an unknown world/situation are a common topic so I had thought through this scenario before. Otherwise I would appear quite confused at my situation and not at all in control of the situation.
"Why have you summoned me?" I bellowed in my best impression of pompous and evil.
The sorcerer scrambled back a few steps, "I have summoned you to make a deal."
I was not sure what it was I was supposed to provide, but as this seemed fairly common for magic I hoped it was something I was capable of.
"You know the price?" I asked haughtily.
"Certainly, one talent of gold and my immortal soul."
I pondered this silently, I had only heard of talents in bible stories but I remembered someone saying that was about 75lbs. I unfortunately did not trade in gold on a regular basis and my phone probably couldn't access the internet from wherever this was; but I knew it was something like $1000 an ounce. 16 ounces per lb x 75 lbs... screw it I pulled out my phone.
The mage reacted with alarm, "What infernal device is that? Know that I am protected by the circle!"
I held up a finger to shush him as I opened the calculator app and figured out how much money I stood to make on this deal...whatever it was. I whistled between my teeth as the number stared up at me $1.25 Million.
"Stop! Stop I can't take it!" The magician screamed. "The circle should have protected me!"
I looked back at him dumbly with my face lit softly by my glowing cell phone screen. "Stop...what?"
"That noise! We cannot stand the sound of your chanting and whatever it is you were doing with your voice just now!"
I once again went silent, not knowing that the otherworldly light of my screen was making me look quite demonic at the moment. "You mean... whistling?" I chirpped softly at the end to demonstrate.
"YES!"
Interesting... "So what is the task you have summoned me for?"
The mage stood back upright, "I need you to defeat the army at our doorstep, use your damning tongue to rain down hell and bring madness to the troops."
"You want me to... sing?"
A tentative nod.
"Okay... where is this army?"
The sorcerer pointed to an arrow slit window in the side of the tower. I could see several dozen burly men in various armor standing outside the gates a dozen feet below... this was an army?
"This is an army?" I said intelligently, "Where I come from, an army is usually hundreds if not thousands of men."
"We are aware of your warlike ways and preference for violence but that is not our way. We only wish to drive away the force below as quickly as possible and make them think twice about attacking again."
I looked down at the phone in my hand again and brought up a video I kept on it to send to my friends randomly. I was about to hit play when I turned back to the mage, "You might want to cover your ears."
> We're no strangers to love
>You know the rules and so do I
>A full commitment's what I'm thinking of
>You wouldn't get this from any other guy
>I just wanna tell you how I'm feeling
>Gotta make you understand
>Never gonna give you up
>Never gonna let you down
>Never gonna run around and desert you
>Never gonna make you cry
>Never gonna say goodbye
>Never gonna tell a lie and hurt you...
| Jason dropped the carboard box onto the one he had set down prior, and stepped back. He held his lower back and arched. Fuck, this retail stocking shit is not fun. Time for a break. He walked over to the door, reached in his shirt pocket and grabbed for his smokes. Opening the door, he stepped through into brilliant sunlight.
What the fuck? This is night shift. He blinked and held his hand to his brow to shade his eyes.
In an instant he could see that he was not in the back parking lot of the Northland Mall. He was standing on a giant slab of stone, and the smell of salt was in the air. He turned to where the door he had just passed through should have been and there was met with the gaze of a fat nude woman with red hair.
Jason squared up towards her and looked her over. What. The. Fuck. A wave of panic washed over him, and the woman began to move to his left chanting in a language that he did not understand while moving her fleshy arms in circles. That's when he noticed the others in the darkness.
Behind the fat woman was a crowd. Several dozen people. There were men and women, all dressed in shabby clothing that was dirty. Jason noticed one woman near the front holding an infant in her arms. She stared directly at him, her eyes cold and flat. It was then that Jason noticed the baby's limb dangling limply and he knew that something was not right.
The redheaded woman continued to circle Jason, her gesticulations becoming wilder and her voice rising. Jason shouted back to her. Fuck you! What the fuck is this!? He tried to approach her and his legs felt like iron. Each step felt as if he was pulling a tree's roots from the earth, and when it fell flat against the stone he felt a stabbing pain radiate upward through his leg.
What is this? He shouted again. Just then a man stepped forth from the crowd. He pointed at the redheaded woman and yelled. He pointed at Jason and then back to the crowd, all the time speaking a strange tongue Jason had never encountered before.
The woman stood looking at Jason, and extended her palm toward him. She stared at Jason, and then turned to speak to the man, keeping her hand directed towards Jason. Jason looked from one to the other, and began to feel his knees buckle. His head was growing light, and he was feeling wobbly. What now?
Falling to his knees, he put his hands down and the stone felt like fire against his flesh. He yelled out in anguish. The man's voice rose, and several others stepped forward from the crowd behind him, all facing the redheaded woman. One man was carrying a child, obviously dead, it's lifeless corpse held tenderly in his arms. He pointed a finger at the nude woman, and then towards Jason.
The redheaded woman stared intently at Jason. He attempted to lift his hands to crawl, but it felt like his hands had become part of the stone, like he was being pulled into it. What is this? What is happening? He looked all around him and saw that the crowd was in a circle around him and they were moving towards the woman, who kept her gaze on Jason. She began to speak, and turned her head toward the advancing mob. Three people in the front of the line dropped to the turf, dead in their tracks. She kept her hand pointed toward Jason, and began to motion with the other above her head.
A light formed over Jason, and he looked up to meet it. Suddenly it felt like rain falling on his face, and the brilliance overwhelmed him.
"Jason, hey Jason ..." The voice was familiar. It was Stan. "Hey man, you OK?"
Jason blinked and looked up. Stan, the heavyset night security guard was standing on his hoverround with his flashlight on Jason's eyes. "What ... where ..."
"Dude, are you OK?"
Jason felt the cool pavement beneath his hand and clamored to his feet. His knees felt uneasy. His head throbbed, and on the ground in front of him was a cigarette. "Yeah, I, uh, I don't know what happened ..."
"OK, bro, I don't know what you're smoking and I don't really care, but just be careful out here. I heard some dudes from West Haven jumped a guy last week." Stan looked him over once more before turning around on the hoverround and zipping across the parking lot.
Jason watched him, Stan's red pony tail poking out from underneath his black baseball cap. Man, fuck night shift. | 2017-05-12T10:38:10 | 2017-05-12T08:33:39 | 427 | 44 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "So you're telling me that you summoned me..." You said, as the apprentice nodded at you.
"Yup..."
"In my bathtub..." You say, a sheet wrapped around your waist.
"Sorry about that..."
"As I was cuddling with the love of my life..."
"Again, sorry..."
"And you have no idea how to send me back."
"I...yes?"
"Son..." You say, staring him down with not the gentlest of gazes. "You will find a way to get me back, right now, or you and I are gonna have some words." | "Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen." | 2017-05-12T08:27:42 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 95 | 21 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | I had just finished putting the finishing touches on my paladin's character sheet. Ah, classic Dungeons and Dragons 3.5, the best version available. Call my old fashioned, but there's just something so refreshing about playing a goody goody character with a strict moral code. And heck, playing D&D was a great distraction from my boring real life - bank teller by day, dangerous rogue by night. Well, not this time. This time, I was going to be playing a hero.
As I placed my blue dice into my special Crown Royal bag, the room started to spin faster and faster until I must have passed out, because when I opened my eyes I was face-to-face with what looked like an actual, real wizard complete with pale blue robes, spellbook, and ioun stones floating around his head. To my surprise, when he spoke I could understand him. "Finally, a Demon worthy of my power! You do look quite fearsome!" He looked quite pleased with himself.
I rubbed my eyes again and pinched myself. No, not dreaming. This was...rather shocking. Pretending to fight against monsters was one thing, but to actually be summoned and identified as one...? Did he really think I was a Demon? I looked at my hands. They still appeared to be your basic human hands.
I noticed the chalk circle on the floor studded with lit candles at random intervals. I tried to nudge the chalk with my foot, but I was instantly repelled backwards. I sighed, and I could only hope that the same rules of all the fantasy games I'd ever played in my life would also apply to this strange place, wherever I was. "What is it that you want of me?"
"Simple, Demon. I have a list of tasks for you to complete, and should you succeed, I will grant you freedom." The wizard tossed a scroll through the barrier. I scooped it up quickly. I was a bit excited. A real quest? My life was now infinitely more exciting than it was a few minutes ago. My eyes scanned the first request: 'Acquire a Night Lily from the Garden of the Magus.' I had no idea where or what that was, exactly, but I nodded.
"Give me all the information you have on this Garden, and I'll start working on a plan..." The wizard's eyes widened in surprise, and he smiled. Oh yes, this was going to be fun.... | It felt like I had tripped up some stairs. For a second I thought I had, and immediately froze. The plate in my hand still held the Reuben, but the surface beneath.....
My head snapped up, and I noticed the darkness first. Second were the candles, placed carefully around me in hexagons expanding away from me. Low-level bands of light etched out the writing between the tiers, though none of it looked like a language I could place. The floor, instead of the carpeted stairs I had been climbing, was an old wood, stained with neglect, and riddled with gaps and protruding nails. One was digging into my hand, and as I lifted it I realized the nail was rough, as if hand-forged.
My analysis of the floor was disrupted by a heavy thud, just beyond the candles.
"Stay where you are, demon!"
"What?" I rose, still holding the plate.
A figure was just visible in the room, which I now saw was small, and claustrophobic. A low work-bench dominated a wall, scattered with shapes that I could only just spot in the candle-light. A window was open, but I couldn't feel a breeze. The figure, which seemed to be rather.... short, was doing its best at a power pose, and failing.
"I said stay where you are!"
"Nah, I got that. What's with the demon? Is that some kind of racist term I'm not aware of?"
"What?"
"What?"
The figure shook its head. "Look, you are a demon, you have to be! I summoned you, with a demon summoning, so you have to be a demon! That's how this works!"
I tried to step forward, collided against something. Something hard. "The fuck!?"
"Ahah, see! That barrier holds in demons! And you're a demon!"
"Oh yeah? Have you tried to pass through this?" Hard as rock, my finger tips told me.
"I don't have to prove it works. It won't, because I'm not a demon!" He even stamped his foot. Adorable.
I had had enough. I shifted my sandwich to my other hand, and hefted the plate. Middle school track, don't fail me now. The plate landed with a soft thud three feet to the left of the figure. Almost as if...
"How old even are you?" I asked, leaning against the barrier and taking a bite of my sandwich.
The figure flinched. "N- not you- hush, you demon!"
"Sooooooo, eight, then?" I glanced over at the figure. Definitely too immature to be an adult. I turned my back on him, and took another bite. "Is this your bedroom? Why do you even want a demon? What are demons supposed to do?"
"I- I said hush!"
"Uh huh. You getting bullied in school?"
"I SAID HUSH!"
My feet skidded across the floor as if I had been shoved. Before I could regain my slouch the walls slammed into me, pinning my sandwich to my thigh, my other arm across my chest. "Wha-"
"I have summoned you, demon, from your Earthly dimension, to aid me in a task!"
The walls were crushing me, and I gave a tiny whimper in response.
"You are to use your dark powers to kill the President, Tonald Drump!" | 2017-05-12T10:50:04 | 2017-05-12T08:05:41 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] You find a genie lamp where the genie offers you unlimited wishes. The catch is that you must answer a mathematical question that continues to get progressively harder for every wish you make. If you answer the question wrong, every wish you made will be reversed with negative consequences. | "I get unlimited wishes?!"
"Well, sort of. You have to answer a math question every time, and if you get one wrong, every wish you made goes negative."
"Goes negative..?"
"Yeah, it'll have a negative effect, instead of a positive one. And the math questions get harder every time you make a wish."
"Okay then, I'm ready."
"Okay, then I'll make it easy on you. What's 3 + 10?"
"Thirteen"
"What shall be your wish?"
"I wish I will get any math question ever asked directly to me correct, no matter how hard."
"....well, shit."
| ***I'm not telling you any of the answers, so try to see how many problems you can solve without Googling***
"Why hello, Genie. It appears you want me to wish?"
"Yes, but I will only grant wishes to match your logical ability. I am forbidden from giving you more than you can handle. As such, for every wish, your mathematical inquisition will increase a grade level."
"Ok."
"1st question: How many more than 3 is 7?"
After successfully answering, the client wished for an extraordinary companion and was granted what would become his favorite pet.
"2nd question: How many 5's do you need to make 70?"
Again, he answered correctly and got a wish granted. As he was a recent college graduate, he had enough math skills to tear through all of he grade level questions:
"What is 4*6?"
"What is 3^2 ?"
"What is the prime factorization of 90?"
"Solve: (3x)/4+1=13"
"What is 125^(1/3) ?"
"Write me the quadratic formula."
Before long, however, the genie realized that simple mathematics would not suffice to settle this score. He needed logic.
"Listen carefully. 2^X =23. 23^Y =32. If both of these are true, what is X*Y?"
With one wrong answer, every wish came flying back, and the man was handed a school uniform and a free year's tuition at his elementary school.
That, and he was turned to a 6-year-old.
| 2017-06-18T07:58:58 | 2017-06-17T23:40:28 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] As the universe is dying, an immortal man is on a journey to find an immortal snail. | "I need to find the Snail"
"You need to find a what? A snail?"
"No no no, not a snail, THE Snail. The Immortal Snail."
"Ah, forgive me for not understanding the first time. What with the world ending and all."
"The Universe"
"The what?"
"It's not the world ending it's the whole Universe. Collapse of the temporal plane. Which is why we need to find the Snail"
"The Universe is..."
"Collapsing. Come on, keep up. God, well your God, lost the bet and has to pay up. Go big or go home, that's what He was always saying. Well, guess the bet doesn't get bigger than this... but I digress. the Snail is transdimentional, we can ride him to another Universe. Didn't you ever see Dr. Doolittle?"
"Now you're bring up Eddie Murphy? Knowing you is hard"
"Ha! No, the original with Rex Harrison. At the end, he goes into the Snail. Takes him off into the sunset. That's what we need to do. And soon from the looks of things"
A noise not unlike teeth scraping across a blackboard made them both stop and look up.
"Ah, see? There he is right on time" | One last being would be with me if I was quick. Black holes and timelines split as magical energy coursed and broke through the ground. At the Nexus, the sheer power of pure magic made a teleporter to the past, though those who used it fell into the black hole just behind. Cosmic beings flooded the world, feeding on our magical lines as the world broke apart. We'd been foolish. We thought humans could wield magic. But we were wrong. The age old warnings written on ancient scrolls proved true; the world's end imminent. People fleed, vaporizing left and right as I hurried on, running across star systems at 10 light years per second. The scrolls said of an ancient snail god, living since the start of time. It knew how to wield magic safely, apparently. It knew what to do in case a cosmic disaster like this ever occured.
But I was the only immortal, human or animal who could survive a universal collapse. The annald didn't say where it lived. So I would have to seek it out. Before the cosmos did.
I sped on, checking every planet with my x-ray vision. The black holes were catching up, wormholes appearing to halt my path. But I was undeterred. The stars may fall, but my courage wouldn't. Humanity's last hope rested in my hands. And I wouldn't wreck it.
Then I saw it. The small, old animal on Planet A-X2746J. The snail of knowledge. The snail of ancients. I beckoned it, shielding it as the cosmos' full force came upon us, the force of magic and time nearly ripping me apart. But as I raised my head, unscathed, the snail wasn't.
"I'm..." the snail tried to say something, but the wounds it suffered were too great.
"What? Don't die on me!" I screamed at the dying snail.
"I'm...not immortal."
At the first realization I knew what I had done. And as the cosmos ate the last of the world, I was alone once again.
For good.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-07T05:51:01 | 2017-07-07T05:20:05 | 20 | 14 |
[WP] A photographer and a sniper meet in a bar. Neither is aware of the other's occupation. They talk about "how to take the perfect shot". | "I use a tripod a lot."
"Bipod works, too."
"Huh, never thought of that. Steady is important. Don't want to ruin a good shot."
"Yeah, that's the worst. When your subject moves unexpectedly just before you take it."
"Wildlife?"
"Sometimes, but mostly people."
"Yeah, me too."
"There's a lot of similarities though. Blending in, so they are not even aware that you are there."
"Yes, that's a whole skill in itself. And you know it when it happens, when you get that perfectly executed shot. You know it in that instant."
"Yes. So satisfying."
"I love what I do. It's like you capture a life in that one moment. Freeze it. That light of a person, caught in a bottle, their essence frozen irrevocably. Whatever look they had on their face, whatever thought was going through their mind, stopped in that one instant for all eternity."
"I feel you. I know that not everyone thinks much of my job. Maybe it's not world-changing. But day after day, subject by subject, I think eventually I must be making a difference. Someday it will be noticed. "
"You're right. I think we're both right. So many people need our work."
"I've taken so many..."
"OK, gotta get to a gig. Beer's on me this time!"
"Aw, thank you, man!"
"No worries, had a couple big jobs lately, doing well. Heading over to do a wedding right now."
"What a coincidence, me too!"
"Ha, wouldn't that be a riot if we were booked for the same one!"
"Yes, it sure would..."
| Karen's blind date showed up forty minutes late in all leather, smelling of sweat and exhaust. And he carried a motorcycle helmet, all of which she decided was just sexy enough to excuse the lateness.
"You must be Mark," she said, a little too exuberantly. She had felt too rude to order food while waiting, so instead she sipped two glasses of wine and nibbled on bread. She tried to hide her tipsiness.
He looked her over with faintly masked disdain. "Ah. You are Karen, then." He sniffed and sat at the table. "How delightful."
Karen bit her lip, not sure how to read his tone. She knew nothing about Mark. A co-worker she barely knew set them up. She tried not to think of this as a total disaster just yet. "What do you do for work?" she tried.
"Oh," the man said. "I shoot people."
She hesitated for a few seconds, certain she had misheard him. Then, "Oh, you shoot--*oh,* I get it." She laughed, belatedly, and mimed the motion of clicking her telescopic camera. "Me too."
Mark wrinkled his nose. "...right. Usually people aren't so blase when I admit that, Karen."
"Oh, it's not a big deal. It's a totally normal job. For me, getting the perfect shot really comes down to getting them lined up right, you know."
He whistled. "I rarely get them all in one shot."
"Oh, you do singles?" She blundered on, oblivious to his bemused look. "I mostly do weddings. I make a killing on weddings. Can't do anything all summer, but it's worth it. Have you ever shot at a wedding?"
"Uh." He scratched his head, thinking about it. "A couple."
"Personally, my favorite approach is shooting as many as possible, so I know I won't mess it up, you know? If you just hold the trigger down like a hundred times you'll get someone eventually, right?"
Mark looked at her, stunned. "Won't you hit a lot of civilians that way?"
"Oh, I usually don't shoot out around a lot of people. People are uncomfortable enough getting their picture taken."
"You're a *photographer*?" The man threw down his napkin and sighed, "I try to be open about my lifestyle, and I think I finally meet a woman who might be in the same culture as myself. But no." He stood up and slammed his chair back into place. "It turns out you're just a fucking idiot."
He stormed out, leaving Karen alone. She pulled aside the next waiter and asked for some alfredo and another bottle of wine.
***
/r/shoringupfragments | 2017-08-31T09:25:49 | 2017-08-31T07:54:55 | 2,248 | 47 |
[WP] A photographer and a sniper meet in a bar. Neither is aware of the other's occupation. They talk about "how to take the perfect shot". | She'd told me she'd shot a few people.
I'd laughed.
I shouldn't have laughed. But... but there's 14 trillion photos due to be taken this year, on average little Jimmy, little average Jimmy, will take 3 and a half thousand shots this year... on his own.
Everyone thinks they're a fucking photographer and it's killing the industry.
I shouldn't have laughed. Especially as I'd asked. But I did, and I told her that it didn't sound like that rough a day.
A couple of shots didn't sound too bad.
She didn't really react. I mean that was weird. That should have been enough for me to figure something was up. It wasn't.
She ordered me a drink, shared me some professional-courtesy-world-weary-look that just pissed me off more.
She'd ordered us drinks though, that was kind of hot. I started on the full force struggles of the artform diatribe I'd used on and off since college with different photochicks. The whole chasing that "perfect shot" tale of woe.
She just nodded. Staring balefully into her drink.
We talked about life through a lense. I really thought I'd got her, maybe even she'd got me. There was a connection, she had an angle on things I'd never considered. What is the cost of the shots we take?
I really should have figured something was up then; smart, hot, artistically intriguing, working in the same field in the same city and giving me the time of day, I don't know why I didn't see it until she left, telling me she had some Ukrainian Drug lord to get a headshot of before midnight. We laughed over lighting jokes, she had a nightvision "scope".
She wouldn't give me her number, that's when it clicked. Gay.
Bloody lesbian photographers. Ruining the industry.
| Karen's blind date showed up forty minutes late in all leather, smelling of sweat and exhaust. And he carried a motorcycle helmet, all of which she decided was just sexy enough to excuse the lateness.
"You must be Mark," she said, a little too exuberantly. She had felt too rude to order food while waiting, so instead she sipped two glasses of wine and nibbled on bread. She tried to hide her tipsiness.
He looked her over with faintly masked disdain. "Ah. You are Karen, then." He sniffed and sat at the table. "How delightful."
Karen bit her lip, not sure how to read his tone. She knew nothing about Mark. A co-worker she barely knew set them up. She tried not to think of this as a total disaster just yet. "What do you do for work?" she tried.
"Oh," the man said. "I shoot people."
She hesitated for a few seconds, certain she had misheard him. Then, "Oh, you shoot--*oh,* I get it." She laughed, belatedly, and mimed the motion of clicking her telescopic camera. "Me too."
Mark wrinkled his nose. "...right. Usually people aren't so blase when I admit that, Karen."
"Oh, it's not a big deal. It's a totally normal job. For me, getting the perfect shot really comes down to getting them lined up right, you know."
He whistled. "I rarely get them all in one shot."
"Oh, you do singles?" She blundered on, oblivious to his bemused look. "I mostly do weddings. I make a killing on weddings. Can't do anything all summer, but it's worth it. Have you ever shot at a wedding?"
"Uh." He scratched his head, thinking about it. "A couple."
"Personally, my favorite approach is shooting as many as possible, so I know I won't mess it up, you know? If you just hold the trigger down like a hundred times you'll get someone eventually, right?"
Mark looked at her, stunned. "Won't you hit a lot of civilians that way?"
"Oh, I usually don't shoot out around a lot of people. People are uncomfortable enough getting their picture taken."
"You're a *photographer*?" The man threw down his napkin and sighed, "I try to be open about my lifestyle, and I think I finally meet a woman who might be in the same culture as myself. But no." He stood up and slammed his chair back into place. "It turns out you're just a fucking idiot."
He stormed out, leaving Karen alone. She pulled aside the next waiter and asked for some alfredo and another bottle of wine.
***
/r/shoringupfragments | 2017-08-31T08:12:15 | 2017-08-31T07:54:55 | 962 | 47 |
[WP] Humans have the most powerful military. But the elves, dwarves, orcs and dragons are baffled by the the cheap currency they ask for their services. Instead of gold and precious gems that mercenaries of other races ask for, humans demand oil. | Dwarf King Grendel gazed out at the windswept plain from the city's keep, shielding his eyes from the sun with a gauntleted hand. Away in the blue distance, a tide of sparkling steel was marching up the river Horsewash. Grendel looked to the mountain towers behind him, lost in thought.
"So this is to be the end," he said, looking upon his city with a detached air. Though Andech was a strong fastness, carved out of the east slopes of the Blue Mountains, nothing had held back the humans before. They had poured out of their mysterious land away in the southeast not two years prior, but already they had seized the vast inner plain, from the fences of the Greatwood in the north to the Blue Mountains in the west. All the dwarf-cities of the plains were gone, burned, buried. Andech stood alone.
Soon Grendel heard the sound of footsteps behind him. "My king, they've hastened their march. They'll be here in an hour or two, no less," his senior adviser warned. He paused to breathe. "Captain Tegrek is mustering the guard on the outer wall. He's asked for you."
Grendel sighed the sigh of a weary dwarf soon to leave the world. "I'll come," he decided. "But send to Tegrek and have him man the inner wall. Leave some of the longer-ranged ballistae on the outer wall, nothing else."
The messenger bowed and was off. Grendel sighed again. There would be no more mining for silver and gold in the deep bowels of the earth, no more tunneling through the mountains, no more studying the stars. He looked out at the blue peaks one last time and went down.
Five miles off, a steel-clad boot came down upon the tough grass. General Toklük eyed his quarry through the looking-glass his army had captured from an earlier conquest. "Oh, one of the double-walled ones," he remarked. "Here we were expecting a siege." The men around him laughed. "Pentäch," he called to one of his lieutenants, "get the cannons ready. This should be fun."
A resounding *boom* suddenly roared aloud. "Already done, sir," Pentäch said. "I got a bit excited."
In the distance the shell crashed through the outer wall and exploded in a small culvert beneath the inner one. Grendel struggled to stand as the stone under him buckled and cracked. Without warning a section of wall to his left collapsed entirely, bringing dozens of the guard down with it. He shook his head and turned back to face the attacking armies, even as a full barrage of gunnery broke upon the wall. He saw the outer wall collapse before darkness took him, and knew nothing more.
Toklük rode through the conquered city at the head of the victorious army. All around him the signs of devastation glared up from silent graves. A delegation of dwarves bearing a white flag walked up to meet him.
"Excellent!" he cried. "Are you here to accept the terms?"
The dwarves nodded. "You killed our king, human," they told him gravely. "Our treasury and our lands are rightfully yours to plunder."
Tolkük held up his hands. "No, no, no," he said. "That won't do at all. We don't want any of that. All we want is rights to everything *under* your lands. Not the mines, but the oil even farther below. Those are the terms."
The leader of the dwarf delegation nodded warily. "It's a deal."
"Splendid!" Toklük exclaimed, rubbing his hands together with glee. "Oh, by the way," he asked, "do you know where those elves we keep hearing about live? And do they have any oil?" | The inquisitor knew she was in for a tough time the moment she saw the massive scaffolding extending out of the hill behind the guild of adventurers. The two weaselly looking apprentices sent from the guild house to greet her did little to allay her concerns. The younger one, a wizard, by the looks of it, flashed her a roguish grin and bowed.
"My lady," he sang in an annoyingly sharp alto, "Please, come this way. The guild master is expecting you."
"He damned well better!" the inquisitor bellowed. "Your boss has been giving me the run around for months now. MONTHS! I have been nothing but patient, but the inquisition has its limits."
"Yes, yes, madam. The guild master sends his apologies - but you know he has a busy schedule, surely. After all, the guild has been quite busy of late, in service of the empire, of course."
The inquisitor growled. "Shove it! Do your thing and let's get this over with."
The young wizard smirked, bowed, and with a wave of his hand, a shimmering gateway descended from the sky. The inquisitor curtly waved her hand and stepped through. She arrived at an ornate office, where a wizened man far past his senior years sat, back bent over an aged oaken desk. The grey maned man looked up, flashed the inquisitor a sarcastic grin, and grabbed a nearby crystal decanter. "Care for some sixteenth century elvish brandy, Alanna?"
The inquisitor stormed up to the desk and slammed down her iron gauntlet. "Cut the crap, old man. You know why I'm here."
"The... oil? I'm guessing?"
"You're damn right it's about the oil. By my count, you and your so called adventurers have been hoarding..."
"Four hundred thousand, seventy seven hundred, and sixty eight barrels of oil?" The old man interrupted.
"I... well, that's... actually about one hundred thousand more than my estimates, but yes. By the Goddess of Mercy that's four times the total annum production! And the ministry of industry has seen zero of it! Zero! Do you know how much production capacity could be increased by this much oil? How many more gyrocopters we could fuel? How many more ironclads we could build? That amount of oil could push the empire into a golden age of industrial revolution! And all you're doing is stockpiling it! For what possible purpose?"
The guild master squinted his eyes. "Goblins."
"What?"
"Goblins. The ones that took over the dwarven holds under the White Mountains."
"Yes, we've known about them for a while now. I don't see what this has to do with the topic at hand, guild master, now if you can just FOCUS."
"I'm going to get rid of them."
"Oh you're kidding. You're going to..."
"Yep. I'm going to pour the oil in and light it on fire."
The inquisitor's face stiffened, as she began to understand the horrible madness. "You'll... blow up half the mountain!"
"Well, no, it'll burn, sure, but oil isn't explosive." The old man thought about it for a bit. "But then, the dwarves have been known to keep caches of gunpowder, and the White Mountain Hold did serve as an armory before the goblins took it over. So, yes, likely, something will blow up."
"That's... horrifying. And a damned good waste of oil."
The guild master shrugged. "The Emperor asked me to do something about those goblins. So I'm doing something about it."
"Well, yes," the inquisitor stared, still incredulous, "but I'm sure he meant something along the lines of you sending a few raiding parties or... something!"
"Well, sure, I suppose I could have, but I figure, we set the White Mountains on fire, get rid of the goblins - the dwarves will be happy about that, you know - the fire will probably spread to the forests to the east, and that'll get rid of the beastmen encampments, and all that melted snow will probably cause a ton of problems for the dark elves on the other side. So, you know, good for everyone, I think." He muttered under his breath, "Except the beast men. They're proper screwed."
The inquisitor shook her head. "I can't let you do this. This is... this is insane. I'm officially confiscating..."
The guild master chuckled. "You can have the barrels. They'll make for good whisky casks, I think. The oil, though... well, I lit the fuse ten minutes ago."
The inquisitor balked. "YOU WHAT?" Then, the ground shook.
| 2019-01-26T08:27:35 | 2019-01-26T07:57:49 | 23 | 12 |
[WP] After a treasure hunt with your friends, you make it to the treasure. But instead of the wealth you were told about, it was a note congratulating you on your journey and that the real treasure was the friends you made on the way. Only problem is that all your friends died getting you this far. | I read the words again. This couldn't be it. T-there had to be treasure... We'd sacrificed everything to get here. The tavern keeper, the bard... they'd all told the same damned stories. We'd heard the myths, it promised-
"*KAFF!*"
I turned around to see Carver, struggling to stand. The boy's cloak was meant to protect him from dragonfire, and it did. It was the dragon's claws that had opened his chest and lungs.
"I-is it there? *KAFF!* D-did we make it?"
"Shh... just wait. Don't git up, hear?"
He takes two unsteady steps before his strength leaves him. I catch him before he falls and I can feel the cold wetness where his tunic is stained black. I'd seen boys with the same injury in wars decades before. Youthful faces that should've been full of hope with lives that should've been measured in decades. His cloak... gods, his cloak! He sold his farm for the silver to pay for it. We promised his children we'd be back to retrieve them from the tavern because we knew the dragon'd be here. And now, every wheeze he lets out flowers red blossoms in its folds.
I look away so I can blink free of the tears and I see the temple. Charred stems remain of pillars and bloodied dolls remain of my brothers and my wife's kin. We'd made it through the outer catacombs before we lost Henry. He joined his wife and daughter while the rest of us made the decision to bury him on our way out. We were so sure - so damned careful. The temple picked us off one by one, leaving me with the youngest of our numbers: Carver. Gods, and now he...
"*KAFF!* I want to see it," he grits his teeth and shakes as pain wracks his body. "I w-want... *KAFF!*"
"It's okay, boy," I say as softly as I can. "It's all there. Sven and Hana'll be well taken care of. They'll have me to look after them, okay?"
I lay him down and cradle his head in my arms. I can feel the weight of reality crushing down on me. Gods, this can't be happening. Please, no... not like this. It wasn't meant to be like this.
"G-good. Thas good... You have to teach them to read. J-just like you taught me..."
It's killing me to look him in the eye. I realize that I'm shaking, trying to keep the sobs in but he's gone still. It's not long, now. I can't look away.
"T-that's better. It h-hurts less..."
"I-it's okay, boy. 's okay. I'm right 'ere," and I take a deep breath. "I love you."
He looks at me. With those brown eyes that could charm any farm girl or convince the sky to rain. It was that look that'd convinced me and his uncles onto a fool's quest. Even as a boy, he could get his mother to let him stay out all night or ride the horse in harvest-time. And gods, I've lost him. I've lost all I had left of Mira.
He looks at me. He doesn't shake. He doesn't wheeze. He doesn't blink. He doesn't breathe.
The boy. My boy. My son. | "Oh great, for all the gaudy it was just another clue. Well fine then, what have you got in store for me, Mr. eccentric King?"
"Congratulations! You have found my treasure dear adventurers. Maybe this wasn't what you wanted, but it is surely what you needed. What you may now lack in gold is made up for in the vastness of your friendship, and surely your days shall be filled with joy far more than any amount of money or jewels could give you.
May your days be bright,
King Solnum."
...Excuse me? That's it? Some forest whelps storybook power of friendship ending? That's what my last hope was? That's what all my friendly act was for? Running through shitty mazes, dodging spike walls, spears, freaken' random boulders coming outta nowhere?!?!? Talking to those short-lived apes like we are actually ALLIES?!?!?!
I COULD HAVE DIED TO THAT SHIT! AND YOU'RE TELLING ME ALL THIS WAS FOR THE POWER OF FRIENDSHIP! MY LAST BLOODY ACT WAS JUS-
"*cough* Judging by that look on your face, it's another clue isn't it?"
Oh right. The mayfly. Stabbed him right before the treasure; I really needed the money you see, so did he but he was *nice* and was willing to split it, including with the firefly despite her losing her head a room back. Isn't he just trying to take a bigger cut? The Cut Ears aren't very nice though, and I owe them a whole, whole lot.
"That's what you get you know, now you have to do it all alone-"
Yea yea, mayfly, it's actually worse then you know... wait should I show him? It's not in a good performance to play with the audience like that, but the faces would be nice...
"-but a backstabbing knife-ear like you it's completely fitting, waste away chasing your pot of gold through an endless labyrinth then."
Showing him. Damn the class. "Ha, actually no I shall not. This is the end of the "quest" as he so liked to call it. Look at it yourself."
At first, he was showing doubt, then his eyes froze up... Then... crying? I guess that is frustration.
"You're saying it was always futile? That this could have never got the money to cure her? That Anne was doomed from the start?" Oh, there is despair. He said that very faintly, in fact, if I was an elf I wouldn't have head that. Or is that all he could say now? I did get him through the liver, bleeding a lot, actually quite messy but I was in a hurry.
"At least you don't have to leave here, I still have to face the Cut ears ov-"
Hey, wait. Face. I may be a complete failure in terms of navigating our political sector but I am a full Mascarade actor. (why must actors have politics again?) I mean, no one has tried it on a human, but then again humans could never really get high enough to matter to anyone who would need a call for performance, and their mana is incredibly rough and unrefined. And those lowborn scum Cut Ears would have never even heard of an actor before. That firefly was able to throw a few fireballs, so she should have some mana in her... kidneys, was it? Humans have strange biology. That would mask (heh) me from their mana detection, hell even the gate wouldn't be able to hide me if I repressed myself, and the mayfly here didn't seem here for backstage reasons, and once I am out of that blasted underground fortress-city...
Oops, got ahead of myself there in my thoughts and the insect died. Better move quickly, the mask is best made when they are still alive, and the skin only gets harder the longer they are dead. Damnit Telneth, overthinking things got you here in the first place. Just move your hands.
...Actually, maybe that nutjob Solnum was actually on to something, I did find something that got me out of this more then gold or jewels would. Perhaps I should give his son a performance to thank him.
Or was it Great Grandson? The mayflies sure don't live long enough. | 2019-06-20T01:32:18 | 2019-06-19T23:42:31 | 15 | 10 |
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