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 |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | I put my 5 year old daughter, Emily, in the elevator, and waited until the doors closed before running down the hall to the stairs. I'd done this trick before, and seeing my daughter's 5 year old face light up filled me with an unforgettable sense of joy.
I heard the 'ding' just as I dismounted from the staircase on the first floor, and with no time to spare I haulted myself in my best casual pose just as the doors opened. Normally I'd hear her giggles before the door opened, then I'd see her soul-saving smile.
But that's not what happened this time.
"Hello Dad," an adult woman said. "We have a lot to talk about."
I knew it was impossible and yet I recognized the sincerity in her eyes. She was my Emily, alright. She looked to be around 20 years old.
"How is this possible?" I asked. My confusion didn't surprise Emily. She acted as if she'd spent considerable time preparing for this moment.
"We'll talk about that later, Dad. For now, let's just focus on what we're going to have for dinner." She said as we got back to the apartment.
I tried to remember what I had for groceries, but I hadn't done any shopping in a while. So I suggested that we order a pizza.
"Pizza is just fine, Dad." Grown up Emily said with a warm, yet heavy smile. There was something unsettling about the layered emotions in her face.
Before I could find the phone number for the nearest pizza place, there was a knock at the door.
"I've got it." Emily insisted as she got out of her chair.
A few moments later she returned with the pizza.
"How are you doing this?" I asked, astonished. "I need you to tell me what's going on."
"Dad, I know you're probably a little freaked out right now, and that's normal," Emily said as she peered deep into my soul. "But what I'm about to tell you is going to require a lot of courage, do you understand?"
"Yes." I said to the young lady. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.
"You have Alzheimer's."
---
Edit: Wow! Thank you for all the kind words, the gold, the platinum, the silver! I was not expecting this. You guys made my day. I'm glad you enjoy the story. :) | "Daddy... I'm scared"
"It's okay, baby. It's a magic trick!"
"Ma... Magic?"
"It's fun! I'm here now, I disappear, and I come back! Okay?" Bruce said as he held the door and brushed the damp cheeks of his little girl.
"Okay–"
With a ring of a bell, the doors to the lift slid shut. The sound of the lift being pulled up and the faint crying of a little girl in a distance ensued. Bruce simply chuckled to himself as he thought about surprising his daughter. The thought of her half crying and half excited was the only thing that he'd expected.
Thus, he ran upstairs in a speed of light. His excitement barely numbed the cramps he felt on his legs. It's been a while since he last did any running yet he took it like a champ.
*I bet Katy would nag me about this for a while...* He thought as he catch his breath in front of the lift.
Another ring of a bell echoed and the door slid open slowly. A cloud of smoke blew past Bruce and he could barely see into the lift. He heard faint crying from within the lift, of course Katy *did* cry when the lift first closed. Yet somehow he felt something odd had occurred.
"Katy...?" Bruce squinted as he stepped forth to block the doors from closing with his hand.
"..."
"Are you okay, baby?"
"You left me, dad. I can't believe you did that!" A familiar yet distant voice caught Bruce off guard.
"I-I'm sorry, Katy– Wait, what?" as the smoke dissipated, he saw a grown woman in her 20s, dressed in the same sundress as her little daughter was.
The woman had the same complexity as Katy. He could see *some* resemblance as the woman looked him in the eyes. She then stepped forward to exit the lift. As she did this, Bruce took a few steps back.
*Who is this woman? Where the hell is Katy?!*
"E-Excuse me, miss. Did you see my daughter? She's a... I played a dumb prank on her. I, uh–"
"Dad! Unbelievable," the woman then hugged him tightly.
"Katy?"
"Don't do that again... I seriously thought I lost you, you know!"
"I guess my magical power was too much, huh?"
"It was a prank, you said it yourself. I can't believe I almost fell for it."
Bruce then walked away with the grown-up Katy hand-in-hand beside him. They laughed and talked, seemingly as if everything was normal. Bruce couldn't help but think how odd the situation he was in. He thought this woman still wasn't his daughter, but his parental instinct reassured him.
"What's the matter, dad?"
"Nothing. I'm just confused, that's all."
As he said this, he caught a glimpse of a reflection on a mirror on the wall.
*That's odd.* He thought to the bizarre sight.
He saw a young adult woman holding the hands of an older man with grey hair. Blood drained from his face as he began to shake his head off. If this was a bad dream, he would love to be awaken from it.
Edit: inconsistent use of pronouns, credit to u/ComputerBuild1 | 2019-09-07T22:18:13 | 2019-09-07T18:29:23 | 6,170 | 792 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | I put my 5 year old daughter, Emily, in the elevator, and waited until the doors closed before running down the hall to the stairs. I'd done this trick before, and seeing my daughter's 5 year old face light up filled me with an unforgettable sense of joy.
I heard the 'ding' just as I dismounted from the staircase on the first floor, and with no time to spare I haulted myself in my best casual pose just as the doors opened. Normally I'd hear her giggles before the door opened, then I'd see her soul-saving smile.
But that's not what happened this time.
"Hello Dad," an adult woman said. "We have a lot to talk about."
I knew it was impossible and yet I recognized the sincerity in her eyes. She was my Emily, alright. She looked to be around 20 years old.
"How is this possible?" I asked. My confusion didn't surprise Emily. She acted as if she'd spent considerable time preparing for this moment.
"We'll talk about that later, Dad. For now, let's just focus on what we're going to have for dinner." She said as we got back to the apartment.
I tried to remember what I had for groceries, but I hadn't done any shopping in a while. So I suggested that we order a pizza.
"Pizza is just fine, Dad." Grown up Emily said with a warm, yet heavy smile. There was something unsettling about the layered emotions in her face.
Before I could find the phone number for the nearest pizza place, there was a knock at the door.
"I've got it." Emily insisted as she got out of her chair.
A few moments later she returned with the pizza.
"How are you doing this?" I asked, astonished. "I need you to tell me what's going on."
"Dad, I know you're probably a little freaked out right now, and that's normal," Emily said as she peered deep into my soul. "But what I'm about to tell you is going to require a lot of courage, do you understand?"
"Yes." I said to the young lady. She seemed familiar, but I couldn't quite place it.
"You have Alzheimer's."
---
Edit: Wow! Thank you for all the kind words, the gold, the platinum, the silver! I was not expecting this. You guys made my day. I'm glad you enjoy the story. :) | "Daaaaddy, I don't want to do it! What if something goes wrong?" My daughter, Anna-Maria asked. She was never really one to do something like that, but my mother and I did it all the time. What could go wrong?
"Annie, trust me. It'll be fun, and if I'm not there, run to the lobby." I said as the doors closed. Running in loafers, and a full on suit was hard. I ran as fast as I could, but as I got to the lobby, the doors were opening. I sprinted as fast as I could as a beautiful woman emerged. She looked similar to my Anna-Maria, but.. older. The same wild blonde curls. The same wide, adventurous light brown eyes. I ran a hand through my own hair.
"Anna-Maria..?" I managed to muster out. The woman standing in front of me wore natural make up.
"Hello, Dad. We have a lot to talk about, don't we?" She asked, tilting her head to the side, like a dog would. Her pink lips curled into a small smile.
"Anna-Maria- how long were you on the elevator?" I sputtered, my eyes wide.
"Dad, I was on the elevator for a minute at most," The girl chuckled, and shook her head "Are you alright? You seem a bit pale."
"Annie, I haven't seen you in fifteen years. Of course I'm not alright. Last time I saw you, you called me Daddy and were scared to go on the elevator in fear that something would go wrong." I replied.
"Of course not. That was again, fifteen years ago. Once you and mom got a divorce, you moved away. Oh, you don't look any different from when I was five." She rolled her eyes jokingly. The woman put a warm, gentle hand on my cheek. She then pulled me into a tight hug.
"I missed you so much.." she murmured.
I pulled away, running a hand through my brown curls. "What year is it?" I asked.
"It's 2019.. remember?" She had a look of worry on her face.
"No... It's 2004. It has to be." I insisted, crossing my arms.
"Dad, I really think you should lay down." She insisted, picking up her bags. Hopefully, this is just a dream so when I wake up, my little Anna-Maria will be jumping up and down on my bed trying to wake me up.
"Anyway, we should get going. I have to unpack. Oh, I hope you didn't forget. Where you live is much more convenient for my college."
Almost speechless, I managed to mutter, "Right... of course.." I was honestly mostly in a daze. "Er- I'll take the bags for you." I said, picking up her suitcases.
As we walked back to my apartment in New York City, I couldn't help but think how scary this could be.. Is it possible I just found my daughter's older doppelgänger? And my daughter was still waiting in the elevator? And that this woman was simply an imposter? I sure hope not.. If it were really my daughter..
Time couldn't of gone by that fast.. had it..? | 2019-09-07T22:18:13 | 2019-09-07T18:57:47 | 6,170 | 22 |
[WP] You put your 5-year-old daughter in an elevator by herself, and run to the next floor to make her laugh when the doors open. You get there, the elevator arrives and a 20-year-old woman steps out. "Hello Dad. We have a lot to talk about" | I remember dad and I would always play this game. When the elevator door closed I would close my eyes during the descent and wait for my dad to surprise me, but this time the elevator came to a jerking stop. I immediately opened my eyes and seeing what appeared to be the paths of life I could take surround me. I didn’t know what I was looking at at the time. Stepping closer to a path I felt the gravity pull me, I looked around and I’ve always been fond of water, so the second I saw a beach I went into it. Little did I know, I would end up on an island far from where my dad was waiting for me.
I spent the next 15 years building a life for myself and trying to figure out what exactly happened. Have I always been on this island?
Was I dreaming of playing a game with my father?
Did I have a father?
The island was absent of other human life forms, but I did discover ruins. Tunnels that seemed to go on and on, a library full of literature, I didn’t have a concept of time, but I knew that I was 5 when I was in the elevator and the library had so much knowledge that I eventually found a book on space and time.
I managed to survive living off the abundance of fruit and pools of fish that were easy to catch. The waves would occasionally bring in fresh fish that ended up trapped in the dug out karst pools. After sunset the fish would jump from pool to pool with their only end goal of making it back to the ocean. I often thought we were similar.
After 15 years I had mapped and explored almost every bit of the ruins, it was as if an ancient civilization lived here once, I never found grave sites or traces of human activity, but I did find a peculiar room that had a glow behind its door. As I opened the door, I saw what I remember seeing at 5. Surrounded by what I thought were paths, I came to the understanding that they were alternate dimensions, I spent months examining the many glimpses of dimensions I could enter. One stood out. It was a man stuck in a loop waiting at an elevator door. Overwhelmed with the possibility of returning back home, I stepped into the possibility and the elevator door opened.
“Hello dad, we have a lot to talk about.” | "Daddy... I'm scared"
"It's okay, baby. It's a magic trick!"
"Ma... Magic?"
"It's fun! I'm here now, I disappear, and I come back! Okay?" Bruce said as he held the door and brushed the damp cheeks of his little girl.
"Okay–"
With a ring of a bell, the doors to the lift slid shut. The sound of the lift being pulled up and the faint crying of a little girl in a distance ensued. Bruce simply chuckled to himself as he thought about surprising his daughter. The thought of her half crying and half excited was the only thing that he'd expected.
Thus, he ran upstairs in a speed of light. His excitement barely numbed the cramps he felt on his legs. It's been a while since he last did any running yet he took it like a champ.
*I bet Katy would nag me about this for a while...* He thought as he catch his breath in front of the lift.
Another ring of a bell echoed and the door slid open slowly. A cloud of smoke blew past Bruce and he could barely see into the lift. He heard faint crying from within the lift, of course Katy *did* cry when the lift first closed. Yet somehow he felt something odd had occurred.
"Katy...?" Bruce squinted as he stepped forth to block the doors from closing with his hand.
"..."
"Are you okay, baby?"
"You left me, dad. I can't believe you did that!" A familiar yet distant voice caught Bruce off guard.
"I-I'm sorry, Katy– Wait, what?" as the smoke dissipated, he saw a grown woman in her 20s, dressed in the same sundress as her little daughter was.
The woman had the same complexity as Katy. He could see *some* resemblance as the woman looked him in the eyes. She then stepped forward to exit the lift. As she did this, Bruce took a few steps back.
*Who is this woman? Where the hell is Katy?!*
"E-Excuse me, miss. Did you see my daughter? She's a... I played a dumb prank on her. I, uh–"
"Dad! Unbelievable," the woman then hugged him tightly.
"Katy?"
"Don't do that again... I seriously thought I lost you, you know!"
"I guess my magical power was too much, huh?"
"It was a prank, you said it yourself. I can't believe I almost fell for it."
Bruce then walked away with the grown-up Katy hand-in-hand beside him. They laughed and talked, seemingly as if everything was normal. Bruce couldn't help but think how odd the situation he was in. He thought this woman still wasn't his daughter, but his parental instinct reassured him.
"What's the matter, dad?"
"Nothing. I'm just confused, that's all."
As he said this, he caught a glimpse of a reflection on a mirror on the wall.
*That's odd.* He thought to the bizarre sight.
He saw a young adult woman holding the hands of an older man with grey hair. Blood drained from his face as he began to shake his head off. If this was a bad dream, he would love to be awaken from it.
Edit: inconsistent use of pronouns, credit to u/ComputerBuild1 | 2019-09-07T19:55:10 | 2019-09-07T18:29:23 | 1,554 | 792 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | The pounding has slowed to a minor thump, replaced in it with a constant ring. Blow after blow had left my vision blurry and bloody, and it's starting to get harder to breathe; my nose may have been broken a few punches back. People's insecurities are laughable at times but it looks like I'll never be able to laugh after this, and all because girl doesn't like boy anymore. I can't even remember their names anymore? All there is now, the steel fists that relentlessly assault my face and body.
CRACK
That's my ribcage, blood is beginning to fill my lungs, I feel the coppery taste and smell as I struggle to breathe. As I cough trying to get more air than blood into my lungs, I hear his muffled screams. Something about custards got flood on free? No that cant be right. Whatever he said has caused him to drop and allow me a moment of respite. A bitter relief, the pain is excruciatingly worse now that's he's stopped. More muffles and im hoisted to my feet against something. A tree perhaps? Yes I think we're in the campus forest, father used to take me through these woods hunting many years ago. Cold water is splashed in my face and the blood and grit begins to clear from my eyes and has stifled the ringing for a moment.
Jesus Clay you've nearly killed him!
Shut up and hold him, or you'll join him.
Clay as in Clay Barker? Why is my best friend doing this? My vision is far to distorted for me to be able to see who Clay really is. The cold steel caresses my head before painfully grasping my scalp and holding my head upright. A second steel fist begins to form as a face enters my sight.
I told you to leave her alone monkey. You took her from me so now I'm taking you.
I didn't feel the fist make contact, didnt hear it nor taste it. Nothing, nothing but nothing and more nothing. I can't see, cant hear or smell, but I can feel? I can feel something slithering around my eye sockets. I can feel my torso twisting and snapping, almost as if it's putting itself back together? No that's ridiculous. Nobody has ever had a sigil that granted healing factors or things of that nature this just must be what afterlife is like. Nobody has ever had a plain circle either though...
CRACK
That familiar rib cracked again, but back into place! I gasp choking on mulch and dirt as I reach my mangled hand through the soil to fresh air. At least they did me a courtesy of making my grave shallow. I finished digging and propped myself agains a nearby tree to witness the miracle at work. Tears in flesh are beginning to close, my right arm, which from forearm down looks like someone put under a jack hammer, is beginning to straighten and inflate with muscle again. I reach up to the back of my neck to stretch. My sigil is burning and spinning? I gaze in awe at the grotesque readjustment process the rest of my body is going through and then look up as my leg makes its final adjustment with an audible clop. Theres blood on the tree. I slowly stand up letting the reformed muscle hold me and see the stain at my head height. My blood, bits of bone and pieces of brain.
Holy shit, I-I'm immortal?
I reach back to my sigil and it has grown dormant. Just a plain carved circle into my flesh. The sun is setting so I begin to head back to my dorm. Single studio just how I like it. My hands are shaking as this evening events re roll through my mind and I decide to be brave (stupid if it didnt work. Funny how that is right?). I set my alarms an hour earlier so I could clean up when I awoke and sat down in my chair with a knife from my chef set mom got me last Christmas. I removed my shirt and with a silent prayer I drove the steak knife through my heart, twisted and removed, throwing it into the kitchenette.
Blackness.
I awoke in a sweat to the alarm blaring. I stumble turning it off and zombie my way to the bathroom to begin my morning routine, accidentally kicking a knife across the floor... Adrenaline has spiked as I realize it wasn't a dream and throw on the lights to see no hole where my heart is. No cut, scar or anything in between. A wicked smile creeps across my face as I clean the blood off the floor and knife.
Deciding to make a surprise I arrive 5 minutes late to first lecture. I walk in and as you do everyone stops and turns around to see who's going to be rushing in like an idiot. Except there were some who were more shocked than other's.
Morning Clay. What's wrong? Someone walk over your grave? | Am I the hero or am I the villain? I've been asking myself that question for as long as I can remember. But before you help me, how about some history?
You see, before the rapture, life was bland. For most, they stuck to a daily routine. They lived in a life full of possibility but remained stagnant in their ambition.
After the rapture, our world changed. Technomamcers, pyromancers... Any mancer you could think of, the world now had one. At least one. Our world became more divided than ever before. Splitting into guilds, the earth became a battleground for control and the Necromancers craved that control. Their thirst for power started a war that the world was not ready for. Guilds focused on sigil training rather than knowledge and the earth slowly turned into a wasteland of destruction.
But things aren't all bad! We live on the outskirts, away from all the chaos. Since we're not seen as a threat, everyone just kind of leaves us alone. They call us Nomads. Yes, we have a sigil. They're on our palms but no one is really sure what it does. We live separate from the rest of society. More rural than anything else and no guilds to be a part of, but that's not a bad thing. We get to learn about history since our teachings have nothing to do with sigils considering we don't even know how ours work. We get to experience every little thing our world has to offer. It doesn't mean everything is perfect, but we enjoy our lives.
We rarely see travelers considering most stick to their guild, but occasionally we get what we call Transfers. Transfers are former guild members who essentially get shunned for underperforming with their guild or not mastering their sigil. At least, that's what they tell us. Most of the time a Transfer will leave shortly after arriving and we don't see them again.
A while ago, we found two kids, around my age, wandering the hills outside of our village. Both had been bestowed with the mark of pyromancy. Black fingertips and the flame sigil on each wrist. They were nice at first, even friendly until they realized that we didn't have any powers.
Sitting in the lone school house I'm hesitant, even terrified that the teacher will soon dismiss us for the weekend. When I hear her say "have a nice day students", I immediately bolt for the door in the hopes of outrunning yet another incident. As I run down my road home, I can see that my parents have started the dinner fire with the smoke billowing just above the tree line. And that's when I hear him.
"Well look who it is, little Nomad". I hear his voice and then see him walk out from behind a tree adjacent to the path. "What's the matter? Nothing to say?"
I'm hesitant to respond because I don't want to upset him. "What do you want, Mark?"
As I thought, he seems even more furious now that I've spoken to him. "What makes you think you or anybody here can talk to me? Can't you see we're better than you?".
I respond quickly out of fear "Just go be better somewhere else!"
"I was already somewhere else." He says eerily. "Can't you see it? Right over there." He points in the direction of my house. And then it hit me. School had let out early and it's not late enough for dinner.
"What did you do, Mark?" I shout with more anger than fear.
Calmly he responds. "More like, what did WE do?"
I turn around to see my sanctuary ablaze. Fully engulfed as the other transfer appears from the fire. Eric.
"It's time we eliminate the weak. There is no room for you in this world. All of the other covens have been destroyed. Yours is the last!" Eric exclaimed.
Mark widened his stance and threw his arms to his side. I know this stance. He's trying to conjure fire. I've seen it before. I feel helpless! I can feel my heart rate elevate! He lifts his head and looks toward the sky. I have to do something! The hairs on my neck stand up. I sprint towards him not knowing why or what to do when I get to him. His hands are starting to glow! Almost there! He looks down, eyes glowing, to see me in front of him. I grab his wrist and a confused look stumbles upon his face.
"What are you doing?" He shouts.
I can see his eyes fade back, his palms return to normal, the black on his fingertips fades... He loses consciousness. I look down at my hands just as confused as Mark was. I briefly see the flame sigil inside of my sigil and it almost immediately fades back to an empty ring.
Eric panics and sprints toward Mark and kneels down next to him. "What did you do!? His sigil is gone!"
Shaken, I reply. "I don't know..."
"You'll pay for this!" He raises his hand toward me, palm facing me as if trying to set me ablaze.
Instinctively, I grab his wrist and watch his sigil slowly fade. I check my palm and see the same as I did before. A fire sigil inside of my mine and then it fades.
All of this was when I was younger. I haven't been able to conjure fire. I am the last Nomad and I feel like I'm responsible for returning the world back to normal.
So I'll ask you... In a world full of powers, and me the only one able to neutralize them, does that make me the hero or villain? | 2020-02-26T08:04:31 | 2020-02-26T08:01:07 | 147 | 99 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | I tug at the wrist of my long sleeved shirt as I settle into my desk in the back of the room, my journal opened to a page of sketches. I don't make eye contact with anyone that passes by, knowing their eyes aren't going to meet mine, but will be staring at my wrist instead.
I've never felt more alone.
When the sigils started forming on all of my classmates, I knew mine had to fill in soon. The dark black outline on the inside of my wrist would one day reflect what blessing was given to me by the Rapture, when the universe was created. I imagined being able to do the most amazing things like see the future, levitate or be able to bring life to animals and plants around me.
That was six years ago.
My circle is still just that... a circle.
Mom says some people just get their power later in life, when the universe is ready to bestow it upon the recipient, but every so often I hear my father mutter something about having a defective daughter while talking to his friends.
"Hey Zero!" I hear the nasally, insufferable voice of Mandy, an Air Element Sigil. The blowing winds sign on her wrist has been ornamented by diamonds. She blows me a kiss and a harsh cold slaps across my face. I wince and reach up to the sting, feeling something drip from my cheek. I look up to see the smug grin on her face before she looks down at my arm. "Still nothing, Zero? I was hoping to slap some sense into your sigil. Or are you still defective?"
I look around, my face now growing more red with shame and embarrassment. The others are staring, some are sniggering with Mandy. I feel the cold creep up my fingers before I realize Mandy's concentration won't break until I get her to stop. My fingertips are white and I can't feel them anymore.
"Please stop..." I quietly plead. My heart hammers in my chest, my fingers are frozen to the desk. Icicles have started forming down the leg of the table.
"What was that, Zero? You'll need to speak up! Or is being useless your power?" she sneers as the cold continues to make its way up my body. My curly hair frosts over. My teeth start chattering. The laughter around me is deafening. A tear slips out of my eye and freezes to my cheek.
"Don't do this!" I manage to croak out. I take a deep breath, grit my teeth and finally screech out "STOP" but the looks on the faces around me have changed to shock. They look around the room in astonishment.
"Where did she go? What did you do, Mandy!? You killed her!" the other students start all talking at once, and Mandy looks as though she's going to pass out as well. Her eyes are glued to my desk as if she's looking through me.
"What are you all talking about. I'm right here." I say, but no one hears my voice. I repeat myself. Still nothing.
Then I look down at my desk. My hands are still on the surface, but they are no longer frozen to the desk. The frost no longer clings to my body, but is held suspended in air before drifting slowly down to the floor. I move my hand and it goes *through* the desk.
...*what?*
I stand up, and look down at my desk. I turn and face Joseph who looks bewildered. I put a hand on his shoulder and it goes through his body. I jerk back and pass completely through Miles. I look down at my hands and finally see a glow coming from them. I pull up the sleeve of my shirt and look at my sigil.
It's still a circle.
Have I just become...*nothing*? | I always thought that the girl who'd punched me in the gut with just now had a power that hardly suited her.
To own a detailed sigil of was a sign of respect, prosperity; stronger sigils always signified that their bearers were wise, kind, or honourable or highly experienced in life.
And yet Leticia Norek, the sigil of the Wave, beautiful as she was, had struck me into the floor with her bare hands, hardly breaking into a sweat. Why? I didn't know.
My abdomen throbbed with pain that I could hardly move under. I tried crawling over to the desk nearby - useless - I heard her pick up the chair, and momentarily I felt its steel leg crash into my own leg.
A blunt, angry pain shot up, and I howled in pain.
"You need to stop! You're breaking Academy property!" I shouted. My voice was dry, and my chords burned with each word. I felt hot breaths leave my lungs, my body warm against the cold floor.
"Oh, I won't," she said with masterful dominance, "not until you tell me *how* you passed the Fourth Test *without* a sigil. Low-orbiter scum."
I didn't remember how I passed. Whenever I tried to recall what happened when I took the test, there was only emptiness in my memory. We were brought to a cliff on some faraway planet and were pushed off from there - that was all. I didn't remember what happened after - I didn't remember falling. And as far as I knew, I actually HAD a sigil - but it never activated, and I was considered an Impure by the doctors.
And I never wanted to take the test in the first place. I'd somehow ended up where I was, consciously aware of how I got here, but for some reason I...I didn't make all those decisions to get here did I?
What happened to working on a farm like Dad? I never wanted to take a galactic exam! What made me get here? It wasn't me.
And now, I, supposedly, had done something that had pissed Norek off.
Something was off about her too. She was supposed to be the class topper, a North Star graduate; kind, reverent, caring, and yet, she was hurling furniture across the room into me, like the Banished.
I needed an explanation. Quick. *Lie*.
"But I HAVE a sigil!" I croaked, frantically pulling at my sleeve to show the small blue circle on my shoulder.
But that was the truth, and I knew it was the truth that she wouldn't listen to.
I felt knuckles to my face in the next blow. Right to the ear. My hearing rang, and the pain spread across my skull. I clutched my hands to my face, biting a scream away. And through my arms I could see her sigil, on her neck, glowing in a blinding, orange light.
*Punish.*
I closed my eyes - rather, my eyes closed themselves, and I felt myself standing up. I could feel pain all over my body now. My eyes wouldn't open anymore. I couldn't even move my hand -
*No.* It wasn't that I couldn't move my right arm - but it was my arm that moved. It didn't move back, like I wanted it to - it moved forwards, in front of me, slowly. On its own. I wanted to pull it back - and it only continued forwards.
What was happening? My left arm also moved forward, and my arms were now extending their fingers outwards - and they were moving slowly, in a circle. My eyes were still closed but I could feel my arms.
Suddenly, my eyes opened themselves, and I was glaring at a black circle - about the size of a large plate, in front of me. It had small silver waves running at its edges, flowing inwards to the circle.
My palms pressed together, and the circle expanded. My hands clutched together harder, and the circle only became larger.
And then I *threw* it. The plate went flying into Norek's chest, and she vanished into thin air.
She was to my left now, her orange glow now gone.
My right hand grabbed her neck, and I slammed her hard into the floor. It slammed her again. Again.
It wasn't strong enough. I couldn't see her blood.
Slammed her again. I quickly realised that my body wasn't moving on its own anymore.
I was in control again.
She screamed in pain. I could hear footsteps outside the door. And yet, continued. She howled this time.
And the scream felt so, so good.
*Punish.*
*Show her.*
*Show them.* | 2020-02-26T08:49:43 | 2020-02-26T08:34:28 | 45 | 25 |
[WP]everyone has a sigil on their body that represents powers that were bestowed onto humanity after the rapture of the Milky Way. The bullies at school always pick on you because you never used your power, but you’ve had enough. Now they are going to find out why your sigil is a plain old circle | Empty. Lena checked it every single day, and has been checking it for the last ten years. Her sigil was still empty. She was sixteen now and it should've been filled once she was six. It never happened, and everyday she hoped it would. And every day, she wakes up disappointed.
She fixated it longer today as she sat on her own during lunch. She gave it a glare as though it would understand and finally do what it was supposed to.
Nobody understood.
Her parents didn't understand why she was an anomaly, yet they loved her regardless. Her classmates however didn't understand that they were not superior just because she did not have powers as they did.
Brian was her main bully. He didn't sound like a bully, but he was. His sigil allowed him to cast ice. It matched his heart temperature, Lena confirmed it was cold as ice.
He was cruel and relentless. Though he hasn't yet used his powers on her, his words hurt as frostbite would.
"There it is!" He sneered behind her, referring to her as 'it' as he usually would. "Does it have powers today yet?"
Lena clenched the palm of her hand where her sigil was. She controlled her breathing and let her anger go. She would tune him out as she usually did before the bell rung.
She closed her locker and took her phone out of her pocket.
Brian snatched it from her hands.
She gave him a glare that could kill, yet he only grinned in response.
"Give it back!" She cried out stretching her hand out to reclaim it.
Their interaction was grabbing the attention of the students around them.
"Or what?" He taunted back. "Huh, creature? What are you going to do? Cast out your invisible powers to take me down?"
"I don't know who you think you are and why you think you have the right to-"
Before she had the opportunity to finish her statement, she felt a sharp pain enter her stomach. The rest of the students gasped.
He cast his powers on her. He stabbed her with an icicle.
"Your sentence was way too long." He plainly said with a smug look in his eyes.
Lena felt nothing at that point, and only went still in response. His powers did that. They would freeze the target for as long as the caster desired.
But that was not why she froze, no she did not feel the cold.
"You are nothing. You can do nothing. You're just a weak little girl."
She heard him perfectly well and knew deep inside that it was not the truth. No, no, the truth was much greater than that, and she felt it with every single fibre of her being.
"Alicia, patch it up please." He called out to one of the students who quickly approached to tend to Lena's wound.
"No, stay away." Lena sternly instructed, and Alicia stopped mid-way. Brian looked at her confused.
Lena slowly removed the icicle from her stomach and felt her body heal on its own. She could not feel the stinging the ice would have brought as she held it. Her blood was boiling, literally boiling through the icicle she retracted.
Brian stood in disbelief. Her wound was healed and left no scar, and she could not be frozen. He tried to stab her once more but the same result came out. Again and again. Every icicle he injected, she would effortlessly remove and heal once more as though nothing had happened.
Her sigil was a full circle. It was not an empty circle. Her sigil was wholeness, which was why she could heal. Her sigil was the sun, which was why her blood boiled and she could not be frozen.
"You will not bring me down anymore." She said as she herself stabbed him with an icicle of her own. Her eyes stared into his and she saw them fill up with tears of pain. The same pain she would have gone through were she not who she was.
What goes around comes around. Her sigil was Karma. A full and complete circle.
And then she wondered, what else could her sigil be? | Even before the rapture, that's what we've grown to call the day the sky lit up like a god had laid fire to a rainbow, i had trouble fitting in. I never enjoyed the "normal" things kids were supposed to: sports, video games, comic books. I was always staring out the window. Looking for shapes in the clouds or stars. Wishing to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.
​
Then it happened. The rapture was a chaotic day. No one understood was what is occurring in the that moment but people began to feel great pain as sigils were branded on their foreheads by some unseen entity. After people recovered from the shock of it all they found that these sigils allowed them to do very special things. Some could play with fire, others electricity. A few could simply conjure energy (this was anything but simple to purists of general relativity). While others still could modify time as we knew it and their place in it.
​
Those with greater power had endured greater pain. The most common sigils were the size of a half dollar. The "elites" were typically the size of your fist, placed on your forehead. Since we we were still human our baser nature was still prevalent. People outside the standard were shunned as people to be scared of, or rejected. A few people had had their heads branded with their sigil. Each one of them, male and female alike, were named witches and treated as they were in colonial Salem. There's even urban legend of a few "mutants" of such immense power their entire body is wrapped in their sigil. Me though, my sigil is nothing and i've been treated as a reject since. For some reason the nickname "empty glass" stuck and all the kids simply refer to me as "glass" now.
​
Today, walking through the halls, being mocked pretty lightly for a Tuesday (schedules rotate daily and Tuesday's bring the 2nd most bullies outside Ms. Snyders room) I feel a sudden impact on my cheek. I guess Sully felt it was time to check if I still considered myself worthy of being in the presence of "regular people" or if he could break me. As I recover from the blow I look up and see a teacher trying to intervene but other bullies using their sigils to restrain the teacher. The teachers were severely outnumbered and I may be in danger.
​
Sully chirps, "Yo glass, why won't you just go away! You'll never be able to do anything. You have no use. " More threats are hurled as well as punches but I don't hear or feel any of them. They all land; i'm certain I'll feel them tomorrow but not right now. That one insult from Sully is all i have in my mind.
​
During a break in the pummeling I simply lower my head and say "Fine". As I say this I wave my hand over my forehead and out in front of me. As I do this, everything around me stops as I'm encircled by a sphere of dust and specks. I motion with my hands to pull and spin this cloud around me, shapes slowly become visible. After a few more seconds I'm pulling at one shape in particular. It's apparent to anyone who would be with me that it's the milky way. I continue until I've Google Universe'd my way right into this hallway we're all standing in. (since playing with this sigill since the rapture this process only takes a moment) I see grab the Sully from my projection. Zoom out. Give the dust cloud a spin and flick Sully off into somewhere. I motion to condense the dust cloud and it finds it's way back to my sigil. A single circle the size of an atom (i've checked), in the middle of my forehead.
​
Returned to the current situation, everyone is confused and shocked. Many of the bullies are screaming "What did you do to sully?", "Where's sully??", "WTF?", "You wanna die!" and things like that. I calmly say, "Sully is no more. Who's next?". Another bully motions to strike me. I make the same motions (I should really find a way to book mark my town!) but instead of sending this bully away I squeeze the projection until it explodes. On my return I see the remaining bullies, teachers, and other students covered in bits of the last one to attempt to strike. I say, "Next?". Everyone scatters, screaming.
​
This saved me from a further beating that day but I should have taken the beatings. Today, even the witches and mutants are afraid of me and hunt me because I am different.
\------
So many ideas on where to take this. Thanks for the prompt. | 2020-02-26T10:40:58 | 2020-02-26T09:02:03 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] NASA launches their Faster Than Light spacecraft and makes a round trip to the moon. Upon reentering earth's orbit, they ask Houston for the time. Houston replies "Quit messing around with the coms, theres still an hour until launch". | Laura looked at the three other members of the crew. She had trained with each of them, shed tears of joy and pain, worked on complex spaceflight problematic and steeled their mental for the the breakthrough ahead. It appeared the hardest part wasn't achieving FTL speed, but dealing with the unexpected consequences.
The green button for communications was off, they were among themselves, four brilliant minds to decide the next step.
"I'm terrified," said Andrius.
They all were.
Houston's answer had been clear. This wasn't a joke or a hallucination. FTL had brought them a few hours back in time, there were two spacecrafts, one in orbit, one on the launchpad, two Lauras, two Jacks, two Andrius and two Vijays.
"We might have solved ressource shortage," said Vijay.
True, they were here in flesh and bone, the ship was in the same good shape, by all accounts and purpose, the method could be used to double the amount of food, medicine, rare materials...
"...bombs, weaponry, nuclear materials," interjected the ever cynical Jack, "besides, is it truly free? We don't know, maybe we just snatched this spaceship from elsewhere and will pay a price for it. What if we smuggled a nuke even further before, what if... God help us."
The true crux of FTL did not lay in technology, but in human nature. Looking at earth from space, they imagined what humans would do with time-travel. The answer was disturbingly clear. It took one, only one opportunist to catch a ride and turn back in time with overwhelming knowledge and materials, to kill a rival, win a war that had been lost, bomb a city. Or go back even further, to a place where man had just learned to worship, and turn him or herself into a God. How would life change if such a being got the means to match the ambition? How many times would it play again? Every time they reached FTL flight?
"I will not be responsible for bringing time-travel back on earth," said Laura.
They nodded. She entered a new sets of coordinates. Vijay prayed, Andrius closed his eyes to meditate, Jack smiled, his cynicism turning into masochism.
The spacecraft left the orbit, drifting away from earth with a constant momentum. They would die with the secret, their bodies aboard the ship, drifting away in empty space for centuries, until a sun would burn them to a crisp. Only memories would remain.
The green light blinked.
"Do you hear us? This is Houston."
Vijay was about to answer when Laura put a hand on his shoulder to interrupt him.
"This is Houston," repeated the operator.
Another voice was heard.
"Large debris, it's leaving orbit as we speak, not a danger to the mission."
"It emits a signal."
"Who do you think it is, the ISS? Another ship?"
"You're right."
The green light went silent. The crew settled in the comfortables seats, space was a show you couldn't miss.
Down on earth, Laura looked at the three other members of the crew. She had trained with each of them, shed tears and worked on complex spaceflight conundrums. Successfully bringing back to earth a spacecraft after achieving FTL speed would be the hardest task they ever undertook. The green button for communications blinked, she pushed it.
"Quit messing around with the coms, there's still an hour until launch."
"Controls? What are you on about?"
"Just... No more jokes, we're enough on edge as it is here."
"Sure."
The stress was getting to them. No matter, the scientists in the communication room were not on the ship, only her crew was.
She heard faint chatter on the radio.
"Houston, what's happening?"
"Nothing important, small interference on the radar and buzzing in the coms, it's gone now."
Good, thought Laura. Soon, they would write history. Only one hour until launch. | “And that leads us to where we are now, sir. With you staring at two sets of…well, us.”
The astronaut with “NICHOLSON” imprinted on her chest grew silent as the grizzled Army general labelled “LYLES” continued to examine her from across his desk without a hint of emotion on his face. She glanced at her two companions flanking her, labelled “WHITAKER” and “LOWERY” respectively, noting the tension upon their faces that was almost certainly present on her own. Only then did she muster the nerve to look to the left side of the room, where the identical clones of her and her two companions quietly stood.
No one spoke for what felt like hours. Both sets of astronauts stole furtive glances at one another, their eyes filled with equal parts bewilderment and dread. And watching them all was General Lyles, who maintained his rigid posture and burrowed his gaze deep into everyone sitting across from him. Finally, the general’s gravelly voice rumbled throughout the room as he spoke, “So. That’s where we are now.”
“Y-yes, sir,” replied Nicholson.
“Read the date and time you have on your PDA one more time, Commander Nicholson.”
“Yes, sir. It is currently 1440 hours on July 21st, 2021.”
The general looked to the calendar on his right, the X marks inscribed upon it ending on the 14th. With a small sigh, he pressed the button to his intercom and spoke, “Send in a unit to my office.” He then produced a medium-sized notepad and ballpoint pen and slowly began to write something out. The six astronauts across from him collectively felt their stomachs drop as they heard several sets of footsteps marching closer behind them. The general barely looked up as his office door swung open and four stone-faced soldiers trudged in.
“Your orders, sir?”
“Two of you stand guard outside, the rest of you with me. No one goes in or out of this office unless I say so.”
“Yes, sir,” replied one of the soldiers as he motioned for two of his comrades to exit the room and beckoned for the remaining soldier to stand with him beside the general. A few more minutes of tense silence passed before Lyles finally finished writing on his notepad and looked squarely at the astronauts on his left, a few of whom were now visibly sweating.
“Commander Nicholson.”
“S-sir?”
“Mission Specialists Lowery and Whitaker.”
“Y-yes, sir?” replied the two men flanking Nicholson.
“Are you loyal to the United States of America?”
“O-of course, sir. We serve to advance her interests, whether domestically or abroad,” blurted out Nicholson.
“If duty demanded it, would you be willing to die for your country?”
The trio hesitated for a second before Whitaker spoke, “We would, sir. If it means protecting the citizens and interests of this country, we would do so in a heartb-”
“As would we, sir!” interrupted the other Whitaker, cutting off his counterpart mid-sentence.
“Absolutely, sir! You won’t find anyone more committed to the security of the United States, sir!” chimed in the other Nicholson, tinges of panic plainly audible in her voice.
General Lyles ignored the two astronauts who just spoke on his right as he stood from his desk. Without breaking his gaze from the three to his left, he spoke, “Come with me.”
The trio of astronauts meekly followed the square-shouldered man out of the office. He paused once he crossed the door’s threshold, turning to the soldier stationed on his right and dragging his right hand across his throat. The soldier nodded and beckoned to his comrade to enter the office, shutting the door behind him. Nicholson could barely stop her lips from trembling as the general then said, “I believe it is no coincidence that you three ended up in my office this day. I believe this is an opportunity granted to me by God, to right the wrongs of our forebears.”
All three astronauts shouted in fear and shock as the sounds of three gunshots exploded from behind them.
“This country has become diseased, rotten to the core. No amount of pruning can save her. She must be ripped out from the roots and planted anew if we are to reclaim our duties as the rightful guardians of Earth and its constituents.”
Whitaker and Lowery both stifled sobs as the general produced the notepad he was writing on and tore out the two frontmost pages. He abruptly stopped walking and turned to the female astronaut beside him, handing the papers over to her as he flatly stated, “Commander Nicholson.”
“S-s-sir?” stammered Nicholson, tears freely streaming down her eyes.
“Assemble your team here by 0530 tomorrow. You’re going on a trip to Mars.”
r/williamk9949 | 2021-01-02T10:43:13 | 2021-01-02T09:39:49 | 620 | 105 |
[WP] Every time you die, your consciousness shifts to another reality where everything is the same, except you survived. The transition is usually seamless, but at 178 years, you're starting to notice. | I've been in 507 car accidents, four train wrecks, and an airplane crash. I've been exposed to more nuclear radiation than Homer Simpson, consumed more bleach than a hair salon, and been forced by the CIA to listen to thousands of hours of Justin Bieber's "Yummy" playing on repeat. Yet somehow, I am still here.
The only thing I can even recognize from the old world is the Garfield comic strips. They're just as soulless and corporate as always. Perhaps having too much personality makes something feel dated after a while, whereas something like white bread can last forever.
I've watched everyone I have ever loved die. I've had to bury my own children. I carry within me the guilt of failing to save a thousand souls. I could only ever save myself. Why did they need just one car accident to die, and yet I had survived 507?
I still remember the trees. There used to be things called trees, big, beautiful, and green. But after The Friendly Air Corporation privatized oxygen about a century ago they all vanished. I remember the beautiful churches, from before religion was banned. Even science was called a religion and subsequently banned. Now the only way to think logically is to walk in goosestep with the Grand Vizier's vision.
I'll be honest with you: A lot of those 507 car accidents were on purpose. Suicide is illegal here, so I must not be too blatant with my attempts to end my life or I will be imprisoned and beaten severely. The labor camps stretch on for miles. But I don't want to live anymore. I really don't. I was a product of my time, and that time is gone. Now I am nobody. I have no identity, and I am utterly alone in this alien world.
Besides, I have been musing on this for a long while, and have discovered something of interest: the likelihood of my surviving all of these incidents is so low, it would almost seem to show that I am being transferring between quantum worlds each time. That is to say that for every universe in which I live, there is another in which I die. For this reason, I have been trying to die enough times to find a universe where the Grand Vizier is not in charge, where The Friendly Air Corporation was never founded, where the trees still stand tall and proud, where children still play in the streets. Yet every world is exactly the same.
I can no longer write, for I can hear the footsteps of the secret police outside of my apartment. I will try to write to you later if I pass inspection. If you never hear from me again, then you can assume that I have been discovered and am currently eternally enslaved. And for every universe where I successfully escape, there were be another where I am caught in the act. Thus is the sad truth of this cruel joke that we call life. | There's that tree you just hit, blowing gently in the evening breeze. No scratch. No chipping. Not even the slightest hint of damage.
"Fuck sake," you mutter. It doesn't surprise you anymore, death that is. You remember your first death, when you drowned in the ocean at six years old. After many years of life there's something you've realised; it's damn easy to die. Of course in your case, it's a little easier. You've just died, oh no. The last thoughts are trickling through your head and suddenly you're snapped into consciousness. Except, you aren't the same you. You're you but a different you. A you who may not even be in the same place. Or maybe you are, but in the state of having survived, ripe for the sticky fingers of the reaper. It's no surprise that it's easy for you to die.
This time you were driving home. You're 178 now, yet somehow haven't had your license revoked. Enough contemplating, you have all the time in the world. It'll take a while to get free, your aged body doesn't have the strength to pull a stick of metal from your abdomen. You try and try, and eventually it does come free.
"Help!"
There's nobody there. You try and open the door, but the impact has crumpled the mechanism. You resign to your fate and let your body lose consciousness, let yourself die. It's actually a useful strategy, dying. Kill yourself whenever you're in a tough spot, then wake up in a reality where you've solved the problem. Of course it does have its downsides, like not always knowing what has transpired and all that.
Your eyes begin to close and you embrace the feeling of nothing. Hopefully this time you'll have escaped, or not even crashed at all. It's just pot luck that your first revival of the day involved being in a doomed situation. I guess you did technically escape your original death, even if you traded it for an almost identical one.
Why hasn't it happened yet? Even more perplexing, why are you still able to think? No answer befalls you, and suddenly just like that, it happens. But wait, no. You aren't in a new body. You're hovering above your corpse! You can see in every direction at once, every detail. But what is this? This feeling? This situation? A voice? Is that a voice?
"Lord Death!" it exclaims. You try to reply, but you have no mouth. It speaks again, but it does not appear to be addressing you.
"The spell is starting to fade. Your consciousness is starting to materialise, as are your abilities. Once you return, you must abandon this soul. They were fated to die long ago.
You don't understand, how could you even understand? The voice speaks once more, yet this time you somehow tell, somehow know. It's talking to you.
"You won't remember this after you revive, but I'll tell you anyway. For 172 years Lord Death has been attached to your soul, reviving you whenever you passed. Not consciously of course, you were meant to drown as a child. However the spell is breaking, and in years to come you will start to fear the end. That is all I have to say to you.
Finally you snap into a new reality, unaware of what just transpired. You're driving on the road, on your right you see the two trees. The first where you crashed and died and the second where you crashed and died in your attempt to escape. You drive along, unknowing that one day the death that stays with you, will one day be gone. | 2021-01-09T09:23:54 | 2021-01-09T07:42:35 | 84 | 17 |
[WP] Making a deal with a demon requires a soul. Usually this is a very bad idea, but you got a crazy idea. Earlier you traded your lunch money to the school bully in exchange for a piece of paper that says you own his soul. You're about to find out if demons consider this a valid contract. | The demon emerged into the forest clearing, around it was a circle of stones, each marked with the ancient symbols of her master. She looked like a Viking shield maiden, tall, powerfully built covered in leather armour made from the skin of a defeated angel. Then she saw the small boy. He was small for his age, scrawny with a black eye, his shirt was ripped and he was covered in dirt. Too weak and pathetic looking to even be considered the runt of the litter, how he had survived this far she couldn't guess.
"Why did you summon me child" she asked, her voice quiet but with an undercurrent of strength.
"I want to make a deal, I have a soul to trade" he said
" Your soul would not be worth much to master, he wants the strong, the violent, the best warriors for the battle"
"I know that" he said, his eyes twinkling with a look of intelligence and revenge "It's not MY soul I'm trading, it's Marks soul, he's the bully at school, he picks on everyone."
"I see, and how do you have HIS soul to trade, souls are a valuable commodity, especially the good ones"
"He sold it to me, I gave him a week's worth of lunch money and he signed it over, said it was easier than beating me up all week"
He showed her the contract, torn from the back of his shirt, written in marker pen and signed with a drop of blood. She was impressed with his work, although a little scrappy, he had covered the basics and obtained the blood to seal the agreement.
"This will work, what do you want in exchange?"
"I want protection" he said "protection from all the bullies, Mark, my step dad, anyone, I want to be able to live my life without worrying about getting beaten up or taken advantage of, I need a protector to stand by me, I have big plans but I can't achieve them when I'm constantly looking over my shoulder"
She looked at this scrawny child closer than before, there was something about him, although weak he had determination and intelligence, he could be a good contact in the human realm when he matured.
" I will make this deal with you, I'll assign you a lesser demon to be your companion, he will be your best friend and match your age, growing with you. He will be more than capable of protecting you from anyone or anything you will encounter, and able to reach me should you wish to make another trade"
"Deal" he said as he watched a new shape take form, slowly changing into a boy his age. He started thinking of his plans for the future, and wondered how much he could trade others souls for. In this age of information, social media, and the need for instant gratification, this age where some deemed the need for good WiFi signal more important than clean water and the ways of religion were forgotten by the masses, this age of debt and easily obtained vices, how much would a scribble of paper and a drop of blood cost him? How long could his alcoholic step dad go without a good drink, and what would he do for a bottle of the good stuff. All these plans started taking shape in his mind and for the first time, he felt happy. | CW: transphobia
The demon coiled around me, it was warm and felt wet. It's black tongue invaded my ear for a moment before it spoje
"What is it that you wish for, my boy?" I flinched at the words, though they sounded sicky sweet, but the words themselves threatened to vote me out. "You called me competently and I'm obligated to listen to any contact you purpose, boy. Do you wish to be stronger, more manly?"
"I," my voice caught in my throat and I had to swallow it away to speak again. "I have a soul and a wish, though the soul isn't my own."
"Not your own soul? Tell me, how did you manage to get another soul?"
"I traded my lunch for it. "
"Clever boy," the words creeped up my spine in a rather unpleasant way. "I see your contact in your pocket, boy, give it here so I might verify it." The note was crumpled a bit and the demon looked pleased as it saw what was written. "My my, you got everything nessesary, even a drop off blood, good boy. I will accept this soul and contact for your wish. So tell me, what is it you desire, all the money you can fold, enough women to never be lonely, power to change the world?"
"I. . . " I had practiced for today, but my words still can't it with much effort, "I want to be a girl. I wish I was a girl! To be born a girl instead of this disgusting body. I was never meant to be a boy, it has brought me nothing but pain, I want to be a girl."
The coiled demon froze, before staring me in the eyes. "It's that really what you wish for, boy?" The question felt like a slap to the face. "Don't you know how terrible it is to be a girl? How hard you have to work, how you give up your right to your body? Wouldn't you rather be a man who takes what he wants? A man who isn't an object for other people?"
"Fuck you! How could I want to stay in this horrid skin I was born into? The skin burns me to my very soul, it tortures me! I look into the mirror every morning and I would rather be dead! I hate living like this I want to be happy, I want to live like me dreams, a pretty girl who feels ok in her body. I want to be me. . ."
"I see. . . Alright, 'girl,' I'll grant you your wish, but remember that I warned you." Tears were streaming down my face, these demons really were the worst. They put on such a sicky sweet front, but they were rotten all the way down.
The demon combusted in fire and clung to me as it burned away who I was leaving me with a new body. The demon uncoiled itself from around me to look at it's work, it sneered.
"It is done, 'girl,' you were born a girl, everyone remembers you as a girl, but you alone will retain your previous memories, you will not get new ones from me. I hope you get whatever sick pleasure you wanted from this."
"Get the fuck out, if I see you again, we will both find out if you can get sulfuric acid blessed. Wait, give me your name, I don't want any other tranfolk to suffer from you."
"My name is Modius," and it with the contract sealed, it sank back to its hell. I fell to the floor, what a painful experience that was, but it worked, my clothes has changed, my body has as well, my face was clear and smooth and for the first time, I felt like I was in the right body. I wondered for a moment if I could take revenge on my bully, make him fall in love with me and then ghost him. Nah, it was a brand new life and a brand new me, this body was finally mine and looking towards the future, I finally felt hope. | 2021-03-27T01:33:15 | 2021-03-26T23:30:05 | 126 | 34 |
[WP] You’re the last survivor in a town full of body snatched / mind controlled / pod people and… they don’t seem interested in adding you to the hive. And you’re starting to take it personally. | Jake looked at his sister - it looked just like her, down to each individual freckle. She was busy on her phone, acting just like his sister would have done, but there was no doubt, and they both knew it. "Mary, can I ask you something?". Jake sat down in front of her at the family dinner table.
Mary looked up at her brother, with a clearly dismissive look, just like his sister would have done.
"Mary, why did everyone else get replaced, except me?", Jake asked, suddenly forgetting how to sit naturally and fidgeting to adjust his seating.
Mary scoffed and looked back at her phone.
"Why, Mary?", Jake insisted.
Mary looked up, clearly annoyed, "Noone wants to be you, *Kevin*", Mary said, with a heavy emphasis on his name.
"My name is Jake", Jake said.
"No, your name is Kevin", Mary said, rolling her eyes and looking back on her phone.
"No, you have to call me Jake, when..", Jake said, but was interrupted by Mary, who made a face so sour a chill went down Jakes spine.
"You *really* want to know why noone wants to become you?", Mary said leaning forward.
Mary raised her hand showing a single finger.
"First of all you're the only one who willingly accepted the invasion, because you are just *that* lazy."
Mary raised a second finger.
"Secondly, during the greatest crisis of mankind you are just sitting here, in your fucking *furry suit. Asking a literal alien parasite - who has taken over your sister - to use your freggin fursona name!"*
Mary raised a third finger.
"Not only that, but beneath that fursuit, you are still the very definition of a neckbeard. You are the cringiest being we have ever encountered!"
Mary slammed her hand into the table in a fit of rage.
"No parasite would want to become you, because they would have to absorb all your memories. Being a semi-separate being, we would experience not only first hand cringe but also second hand cringe, from reliving your memories."
Mary slammed her hand angrily into the table again.
"Not only would we be tortured by the memories of your cringy past, our nature would compel us to continue your lifestyle. Literally no parasite would choose to *become* you. Look at you!"
Mary was heaving for air, her eyes bloodshot from anger, as Jake looked down his fursuit, hiding a frown under the mask.
"Yeah, why don't you just kill me then?", Jake said in a moody tone, covering the eyes on his fursuit with its paws.
Marys eye flicked with anger, while she leaned forward and hammered both hands into the table. While she screamed, "We are literally incapable of harming another being. Why did you think we did it all in secret, even when we far outnumbered you? You dumbass weeb!"
"You can't hurt me?" Jake asked surprised, leaning his head to the side, trying to emulate a confused dog in his fursuit.
"We literally cannot! You realize how frustrating this is?" Mary said, crossing her arms.
Jake bend down to the floor to pick something up. Marys expression rapidly turned from bloodshot to pale, when Jake revealed a katana.
Jake stood up, put the katana at the hip of his fursuit and put his hand on the grip. As he prepared to unsheathe the sword a look of panic flushed across Marys face.
"Sorry Master, for I must go all out!" Jake shouted, adding an "Arf!", before he drew his sword.
Edit: Thank you for the awards! I'd like to take this chance to apologize to everyone. I'm sorry. | Part 1.
She saw the fog. Thick, flowing elegantly between buildings, blinding and unnatural for those in the know. Sonia was in the know, Sonia was a lot in the know. She was that much in it that the directions she got to reach Innsear in Massachusetts included a description of the mist, the fish-like attributes of its denizens and a critic of the best restaurant in town. Having a compendium reviewing the known occult features took away a lot of the discovery. Work was work, this was not a vacation or an exotic trip, Sonia would not stumble upon a secret and
join a terrible cult, she had already done so and the secretive nature of the trade made them refuse dual memberships. It did not preclude them from communicating and trading when the need arose, which was easier said than done. Cultists hid so well from the public eye that if another from far away came to say hi there was virtually no way to know if the stranger was indeed what he claimed to be or an investigator or a secret test of loyalty.
Custodian Enia, her superior in rank and mentor in self-discovery, deemed Sonia capable of this task and, being a novice, it wouldn't be too much of a loss should she fail and die. The situation was quite simple: the Club, to which they both belonged, was in possession of a prisoner that was of no interest to them. But he was to the Order, an organization located in Innsearr. As it happened, the Order itself had a person of interest to the Club in custody. The job was to organize the exchange, pretty straightforward. Except no, Enia explained to great length that paranoia was the lifeblood of secret cabals and sects and fan clubs, the less people knew, the better. Sonia would be messenger, negotiator, organizer and diplomat and sent to a place that had no clue she existed or for what she stood. Also, she would need luck. And if it took a turn for the worse, Sonia's past as a professional athlete would come in handy.
Innsear, what a stain. A coastal village that barely saw the sun, drab houses, a pier only good for throwing pest into the ocean with their feet stuck in concrete, everything was wet and sad and gloomy. Enia did mention it had suffered a recession and was economically disaster-stricken.
An inn was outlined on the city map she held, a good starting point.
*The Many finds the evidence inconclusive. The Many sees "cleaning" as a waste of time. But the Many needs a shard of individuality left in drones, lest the Many grows sterile, out of ideas, out of goals.*
Penny was cleaning the window in her mother's chamber, mother had stained it again. Black goo ran down the glass and would decay the wall if left unchecked. The constant fog did a good job at rotting everything it came in contact with ahead of time, the inn wasn't spared, and it didn't need more degradation.
“Mother, please, you don't have to drool on every wall, I have other things to do than clean up.”
Words were unnecessary. They could have spoken to one another through the Many. Old habits die hard, and for all the bad reputation hive minds get, the Many turned out to be surprisingly lenient in asserting control.
Mother groaned and turned around in bed. Penny let out a sigh and finished her menial task. She heard noise coming from downstairs, customers waiting to be served.
“I'm going back to the bar, I'll visit you again later.”
Groan, creaking. Penny's mother wasn't exactly talkative.
The Shambling Jaw was Innsear's tavern, bar, restaurant and social hub, owned by the same
family for centuries, Penny being the latest down the line alongside her twin brother Marty. The both of them were considered brain and brawn. She was physically fit and did not shy away from hauling beer crates from the truck to the cellar, it was just that Marty, a giant that had to be constantly reminded that furniture, people and the world around him were fragile, suffered no competition in the matter. Conversely, Penny considered herself reasonably astute and educated, her brother on the other hand was, to put it mildly, not an intellectual. That's why the Many kept giving her the important tasks on the wrong assumption that she was a genius, proving once and for all that being surrounded by idiots made you look better than you were. It was even worse considering the Many had access to all of her thoughts, but it was too damn lazy to look at it in detail. | 2021-11-20T08:21:50 | 2021-11-20T07:46:13 | 1,296 | 66 |
[WP] After an attempt on their life, a monster hunter calls in a favor from a monster they let live. |
Deep in the forest, Ghader crept forward, sword at the ready. The trail was overgrown, but that was no matter. He knew exactly where to go; his every movement measured but sure. With each step he drew deeper into the underbrush. With each step the haze thickened. With each step this place resisted him more and more.
“It is ok, Ghader,” said a voice, “I am here. You are safe.”
Ghader searched for tracks or signs of life, but the more he tried to focus on any detail of this place, the more it resisted him. He knelt to examine prints in the mud. Cloven hooves. Though, as he investigated the prints, searching his mind for theories of which creature they may belong to, his head began to ache, the pain was deep and sharp. He averted his eyes from the tracks and the pain subsided.
“Pain means progress, my friend,” said the voice again. “You must push on.”
The trees around him began to creak and groan. The once silent wilderness then sounded like a field after battle—a place of great suffering. Ghader suddenly felt as though he were standing still in a swift river. He looked left. He looked right. The trees were moving. The wilderness was changing.
“We knew this may happen…It is critical you focus now, Ghader,” the voice again spoke, wavering for the first time.
The trees swirled and danced around Ghader as though he were floating in an eddy of timber and toil. The noise was deafening, the motion disorienting.
“Ghader, focus now. As much as you can,” said the voice. “You must focus on the treeline and advance. You must not persist in this place.”
Ghader took heed of the voice’s words. He mustered his strength and steeled himself against the pain to come. He fixed his eyes at a singular point 30 yards ahead, just past the swirling trees. His ears began to ring, and his head felt as though it had been split wide open. Ghader let out a scream—he couldn’t help it.
That’s when it appeared.
Just past the treeline stood a creature unlike any he had ever seen. It’s eyes burned with white fire beneath a black cloak. It stood nearly 10 foot tall, and walked on two cloven hooves. It’s hands were like talons and it held a long staff which terminated in a blue crystal orb. The creature stood still, staring at Ghader.
“Now Ghader, you must stri—“
“NO. NO MORE. BE LEAVE OF US BAKHTAK. YOU ARE WELCOME IN MY DOMAN NO LONGER.”
And then Ghader was alone. He was besieged suddenly by a feeling of emptiness and loneliness unlike he’d ever felt before. He stared at the beast which had begun pacing. The beast’s motions coupled with the swirling of trees produced a zoetropic effect such that Ghader was unsure as to whether the beast was actually moving. Ghader became unsure of everything he saw.
The beast raised its staff and pointed it at Ghader. “YOU. YOU ARE NOW A FUGITIVE IN YOUR OWN MIND. THIS. THIS IS NOW MY DOMAIN. THE BODY. THE BODY YOU MAY KEEP. THE MIND. THE MIND IS MINE.”
Ghader finally mustered the strength to speak. “What is your name, beast?” He shouted over the groaning of the trees. “I must know your name before I slay you. And slay you I will.” Without waiting for an answer, Ghader raised his sword and began to sprint toward the treeline.
Except he didn’t move. And his sword was gone.
“SILLY. SILLY HUNTER. YOU. YOU HAVE NO POWER HERE. IT. IT WAS YOUR MIND. NOW. NOW IT IS MINE.”
The beast then opened its mouth wide and revealed a black void within. It raised a talon and with it, the trees became still. The wilderness fell silent. The beast cocked its head, mouth still agape, and dashed at Ghader with the speed and grace of a deer. Ghader braced for impact. And then: blackness.
Ghader woke in a candle lit room. Sitting on his chest was Hesam, the bakhtak he had once saved and recruited to help rid his mind of the beast.
“My friend. This is worse than I feared,” said Hesam. “The creature…I have never seen anything like it.”
“Nor have I, Hesam,” said Ghader with a sigh. “I know how to kill monsters in the physical world, but a mental monster is a step beyond. However, I do know the first thing that must happen.”
“And what is that, my friend?”
“You can start by getting off my chest!”
____________
If you enjoyed this, please check out my other stories at r/InMyLife42Archive | # Soulmage
**There's always a bigger monster.**
I wouldn't lie, our ragtag little adventuring party didn't have a spotless moral history, especially if you knew where to look. Meloai was a shapeshifter who ate souls, Sansen was a werewolf, Lucet was a witch, and I... well, I had enough things to hate about myself without going digging for more. Labelling us as monsters wouldn't be hard for someone who was cherry-picking their facts, who ignored Meloai's calm, logical curiosity or Sansen's world-weary wisdom or Lucet's grief and drive to be better. Someone who saw us for the boxes he could fit us in, instead of who we were.
Someone who stood in front of us, skin bubbling as he smiled a fleshy grin.
The bigger monster.
"Iola," I said, stepping forwards and glaring at the abomination that once was a boy. His body ran like molten wax on a stove, shifting and hissing as he tilted his head at me, three-lobed eyes shimmering with some distant cousin to curiosity. "We don't want to fight. Leave us alone, and we'll return the favor."
"Leave you alone?" Iola staggered backwards, feet leaving cloven footprints in the snow, one dripping hand clasped to his mouth in exaggerated shock. "*Leave* you *alone*? Why, my good friends! I couldn't possibly leave you alone in the cold!" He gestured around to the wintry storm, inhuman eyes wild. "No. No, no, *no*, my friends. Sit a while. Let me... warm you up."
Iola's arms spread wide, frog-webbing and mucus splayed between his limbs, and I narrowed my eyes.
"Meloai," I whispered. The shapeshifter's ears swiveled towards me. "That favor I asked? Now's the time."
Meloai nodded.
Then, without warning or declaration, she blurred forwards at inhuman speeds, body *click-click-clicking* as she lunged at Iola.
I focused my soulsight, watching the flows of magic as Iola registered the threat and turned to face it. His soul was a mess of mold and tar and spider's eggs, and he laughed with a disgustingly wet glee, as if he was expecting the attack all this time. His soul shifted, and he fired a beam of deadly, invisible light, that would sicken any mortal flesh it struck, riddling the body with burns and tumors. It was a weapon suitable for a monster of Iola's caliber.
But Meloai's flesh was not mortal, and we had monsters of our own, too.
Meloai descended upon Iola in a flurry of metal and flesh, shrugging off the blasts of invisible light. I reached into my own soul, drawing forth lines of blood, and wove a hasty spell of darkness to soak up any residual light that might glance our way. I couldn't make a shield that would stand up to a total onslaught from Iola, but with Meloai drawing his attention, I could make do.
"My turn," I whispered, and from my soul I called forth *fire*.
The soulfire was intangible to the physical realm, homing in on Iola's soul like an arrow striking home. *Exactly* like an arrow striking home—I'd used the memory of an arrow to shape the spell. The comet of soulfire phased through Meloai's body harmlessly, hitting Iola's tar-ridden, spiderwebbed, mossy, *very flammable* soul square on.
And the monster's soul *burned*.
Iola howled in fury as his soul—and, by extension, his magic—ignited. His eldritch flesh still regenerated faster than Meloai's blurringly-fast limbs could tear it apart, but without his magic, nothing in Iola's toolbox could so much as scratch the shapeshifter. Body and soul locked down, I turned to Lucet.
She was already striding forwards, flicking her hands with delicate little conductor's motions. Her expression was stony and implacable and as cold as the bolts of pure frost she hurled at Iola's body, ripping the heat from him in lines and chunks, shutting off even his impossible regeneration.
And for one moment, it all came together as I'd planned. Shapeshifter, witch, and soulmage, locking down Iola's body, mind, and soul. For one glorious moment, I thought our victory would be as quick and clean and easy as dropping a mimic down a chasm.
Then something in the monster's soul went *hiss*, and my eyes widened.
I'd set his soul on fire because it was such a beautifully flammable target. Tar and spiderwebs and moss all went up gloriously.
But... I'd never really made sure that that was *all* that was in the eldritch monster's soul.
Iola's face was a half-frozen, sloshing mess, and Meloai cut it to pieces as fast as it could melt back together. But I still locked eyes with the monster for half a heartbeat, and the cheeky little bastard *winked*.
Then he brought gunpowder to the surface of his soul, and the explosion of magic threw three lesser monsters back as the original deal stood, laughing with the glee of a kid in a butcher's shop.
A.N.
Want to know what happens next? Check out [the table of contents](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/) to be notified whenever a new part comes out! This story is part of Soulmage, a frequently updated serial in progress. There's already forty-four other chapters before this one, so there's plenty to catch up on. And if you want more stories, check out r/bubblewriters! | 2022-07-04T07:53:28 | 2022-07-04T06:43:12 | 78 | 30 |
[WP] When you were homeless, you asked a friend for help. He laughed at you and shut the door on you. Some time later, that same friend ends up fired from his job. You try to convince your company to hire him. The only thing they ask is why you're doing this for someone who once abandoned you. | "Help him? This is considered helping him?"
"Yeah. Are you saying that he wouldn't be great for us?"
"Not at all. I don't understand why giving him a role here would be considered helping him. We need him, and he knows how to run companies."
"As a former CEO, yes, he would. Are you not worried that he may not want to work for you since you outrank him?"
"You know as much as anyone that I wouldn't let that affect me."
That's what I said to them. My boss believes that my old friend will have a grudge against me, but it's the opposite way around. I hate him. He threw me out of his company and humiliated me when I needed help. I'm in this terrible job because of him, and now he's in with me.
It's his first day, and he walks in five minutes early. We run through orientation. We've gone over all the duties he will be performing, including the responsibilities assigned to me. After he's shown around, I tell him, "Alright. Now that we've gone over everything, are there any questions?"
"No." He didn't call me sir. I can tell that he's butthurt after turning to me.
"Okay. This needs to be completed by 3 o'clock today. I will check on you every now and then to see if you need help." I shut the door and head to my office. Finally, I got to the point where I told others what to do, and I could screw around. That's what I like to call 'Freedom.' Months go by, and I have ten hobbies that I am knee-deep into. The extra time is handy to start my side business and get paid on the plus side. It wouldn't last forever, though.
Today, I walked into the office. My boss said he wanted to talk to me at the end of my shift. I knew what was going to come. At 5, I walked into his office. My friend's sitting there, his leg is resting on his knee and his arms on the back of the chair.
"Have a seat," My boss said, "We regret to inform you, but we're downsizing." That wasn't shocking. I knew the day would come. "You will receive a generous severance package."
"What's going to happen with Sam?"
"Sam's performance is what's keeping him on board. Under your guidance, we hired him for his experience. You'll be the first to call if we have an opening." It was all corporate bullshit. Sam was able to charm his way around with anyone. It wouldn't matter if I said that I was his supervisor, leading to his success. It wouldn't matter because Sam had a way with people, which I picked up from working with him.
"Thank you."
With that closing statement, I left with my things. It didn't take long for Sam to take my office. He didn't know that I got an offer to work at his old company. While he's busy taking up old news, I'm on my way to trump him. | Jessie felt the clawing in his heart, the slight raise of his heart rate that always accompanied the thoughts.
He felt the dark smokey tendrils reach from his crotch to his brain, pickling it, easing his consciousness into a puddle on the ground.
*It is too late for you. You can't be helped.*
Jessie clung to the hatred, to the isolation, to the loneliness, to the otherness. Since high-school, no, before really. Since birth, or even his conception, as his mother held her belly and feared, feared what the wet between her legs could fester into.
Scared of the troubles of motherhood, of the ease of neglect.
Yet by child numero dos, the fear had eased. The family had more money and time for their new piece of pottery, and Jessie fell by the wayside.
And with each passing day, the hatred of humanity piled up. Not specifically at his mother or father or sister, Angela, but at humans, for allowing this to occur. For allowing this sham of an existence for him.
For allowing his parents to buy Angela a car for her sixteenth, yet nothing for Jessie.
Jessie's father gave him a look that clearly spoke don't ask about the injustice, do not question this existence.
Jessie never questioned.
He hated instead.
Most things. People, crowds, surfing, the hot sun and the cold sun, his family, Angela, the Chads and Stacies at school, the people who laughed at him, who he could feel looking at him, thinking about him as he goes about his life, feeling so much fucking better than him as he stands the line at the grocery checkout.
Until Nathan reached back out to Jessie for the first time in a few years, and they met up at a bar.
Nathan gave his pitch, laying out a sob story about his manager hiring his fuck buddy and letting him go.
Jessie was just getting ready to tell him to fuck off--
*What if we did? What if we let it go, forgave this once?*
Blood flushed to Jessie's face and he excused himself to the restroom.
Cold porcelain filled his hands as he leaned forward into the mirror.
The voice continued, almost logically.
*We could try to start again, I mean, at least to some degree. We could try to set it aside, we could help him. How big of a deal would it be to have him sleep on the couch a few weeks?*
*No! Fuck him! Fuck them all! Fuck Angela! Fuck Tim Halloway, Clyde Donahue, Sebastian Walker and all the rest of those bastard fucks! They wouldn't be your friends back then, they won't be your friend now; Nathan will use you. He will chew you up and spit you out. He will sleep on your couch, make two minutes of conversation a day, and leave in a few weeks, then never return a call again. Don't let him. Crawl out the window.*
*But we can't go on like this, Jessie, man we just can't. Imagine the future, man. We want a wife, maybe a few pink faced babes. How can we get there, if we can't forgive one single person? What are we if we can't exhibit one example of humanity?*
The moment felt drawn out for hours, despite occurring for no longer than one minute.
Jessie drew within leaping distance of forgiveness, of trying to accept that the way he viewed an entire huge chapter of his life was simply wrong, or at least not healthy. He may hate his parents. He may hate Angela. He may not be hateful to everyone he ever met, already seeking out their wrongs before even saying hullo.
Yet the leap across the cavern would require the will of another man; a man not so hooked in hatred, like a fish with a particularly nasty curve on the hook resting within its cheek.
Jessie climbed out of the bathroom window to freedom. | 2022-09-24T17:00:54 | 2022-09-24T17:00:39 | 50 | 37 |
[WP] "Nobody will hear you scream!" the serial killer said to their would-be victim. Too late did they realise that this also means that no one would hear them scream either. | As the masked man holds a knife to my throat, he snickers. I simply stare at him blankly. “Nobody will hear you scream!” He says, cackling. I really had to get an attempt today Huh? I just finished my shift of janitorial work, and decided to take a shortcut home. I didn’t think someone would try to kill me today. “Neither will anyone hear yours,” I reply in monotone. The deranged killer laughs in response.
“The bravado will do nothing for you, have fun in hell!” He says before slicing my throat. However, no blood spurts out. In fact, the killer’s eyes widen as he screams and falls back, away from me. The cut in my neck only reveals fleshy red tendrils that reach out in the air. “What the hell?!” He yells. “What the hell are you!?”
“A mistake, to my creators. But to you? I’m hungry,” I say, reaching for him. He slaps my hand away and jumps up before making a run for it.
“Sorry, but, you can’t leave now,” I say, my arms losing their shape and separating into various red tendrils, surging forward and grabbing his leg. He screams as I lift him into the air and bring him back to me. “At least it’s quick,” I say before lifting my shirt, revealing a gaping maw, with rows of jagged teeth.
In a police station, a clerk sighs as he turns on the light. He hates coming in early in the mornings. He looks at the front desk and screams as a lone head sits in the middle, with a sticky note stuck on its head.
‘*bounty. Free of charge. Have a good day.*’ | ##Fight Night
Tapping on my window. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a shadow. When I turn to look, the shadow is gone. The lights turn off.
A scream emanates throughout the room. The scream is followed by cheers. There is a party scene in the movie I'm watching. The couple walks out of the room and closes the door behind them. A door inside my house opens in the process.
Soft footsteps travel along the floor below mine. The third and tenth step creaks. The door into my room whines, and a hand touches my shoulder.
"Nobody will hear you scream." A man wearing a brown paper bag holds a knife over me. He plunges the knife down and hits the couch cushion. "What?"
"You came to the wrong house." I punch his elbow. He lets go of the knife in pain. I grab the cushion and toss it across the room. After that, I leap onto the couch and kick him in the face. After leaping behind the couch, I hit him in the stomach. The man slouches away in pain as I shuffle. "Come on. You can do better than that."
The man holds one of his fingers to request a break. I grab a finger and bend it back. He screams in pain. "Oh my god, what that was for."
"You tried to sucker punch me. You don't get the right to complain about fighting dirty," I say. The man lunges at me. He manages to get his arms around my torso and slams me into the wall.
"Now, this is fun." I laugh and kick him in the crotch several times. Then, I grab his torso and throw him to the wall. He lands back first on the ground. "What kind of lame mask is this." I rip off the brown paper bag. The man under the mask looks at me in terror.
"Please. Have mercy." I shove the bag in his mouth.
"You didn't bring in a gun. You didn't bring a back up weapon." I stomp on his arm. "You couldn't even bother to wear a decent mask. Why should I show respect for such a lame serial killer?"
The man starts to cry. I shake my head.
"Pathetic." I grab him by the shirt and stand him up. "Just know that I could kill you if I want to, but I'm not going to because it would be too easy. Now, are you going to break into someone's house and try to kill them again?"
The man shakes his head no.
"Good. Now get out of here."
---
r/AstroRideWrites | 2022-10-25T16:53:56 | 2022-10-25T14:56:29 | 93 | 24 |
[WP] A Man gets to paradise. Unfortunately, Lucifer won the War in Heaven ages ago. What is the man's experience like?
EDIT: Man, did this thing blow up. | "Pizza? I didn't think there'd be pizza in heaven," Jim said.
"Why not? Pizza is the shit," the angel said.
"And cursing. And beer? Is that beer?"
In fact, the table was laid out with all the things Jim loved. Chicken wings, malt whiskey, chilly fries, club sandwiches, those little wieners wrapped in bacon. Over the table hung a cage where two beautiful women danced naked to 90's alternative. The angel saw him gazing.
"You can have them after dinner," he said.
"Are they being punished?" Jim asked. He was a man, through and through, but he didn't like the idea of raping someone in paradise.
"Punished? Is that what you think we do here? They love it. Some women like to party. We don't hold that against them. Cherry there has been welcoming our new guests for two hundred years." The angel leaned close with a knowing smile. "There are no anal fissures in heaven, so go wild."
Jim coughed. "So uh, well . . ." He coughed again. "What are the uh, ground rules?"
"Ground rules?"
"Like, what's the forbidden fruit? What's the catch around here?"
"No catches. The boss doesn't care for rules. Everybody gets in, and everybody gets what they desire. Let's say you were a Christian all your life, well I'd be all shiny and I'd take you on the holy tour, you'd get to look down at hell and pity the damned, that sort of thing. If you're Jim from Tennessee, you get chicken wings and bitches."
"Huh," Jim said. "You know, I never really believed in this place, but I figured, if it was there, it'd be a little more uptight."
"Not since Lucy reclaimed the throne."
"Lucy?"
"Lucifer. He's Lucy now. Or she's Lucy now. We're all a little confused. But hey, more power to him if that's what gets her off."
"Lucifer?! Lucifer is in charge of heaven?"
Jim knocked over his beer in surprise. The angel was laughing heartily.
"Oh, the shock on your faces, it never gets old! Yes, Lucifer fought a last resistance a very long time ago. He crushed the Usurper handily. As the Usurper fell, he passed through earth, and it was in retaliation that he saddled you guys with all those ridiculous books and laws."
"No shit."
"No shit." | "God?" I managed to squeeze out between raggedy breaths.
I had never been very religious but in my delirium, that was my first thought. I remember the sky and the taste of blood before my eyes opened to pure brightness. I couldn't make out any detail but the light seemed to emanate from a winged, human-like figure. Were those horns or was it a halo? It all became blurry as tears welled up in my burning eyes. Even closed, I could see the figure seared blue-green into my eyelids.
Peals of thunder exploded in my brain, one after another like machine gun fire. It sounded vaguely like laughter. It wasn't a voice that responded but my body. It felt like invisible hands had gripped my ribs, my heart and stomach. Overwhelming nausea washed over me and I screamed as my body convulsed with pain.
"NO!"
All at once the pain stopped. It seemed I had answered my own question. I remained quiet, fearful that any further probing would result in more physical anguish. After some time a voice spoke out.
"You disappoint me. He was wrong about so many things. And yet right about others."
I was terrified but eventually curiosity overcame the memory of pain.
"Who are you?" I asked timidly.
"He was the Creator but I gave you knowledge. I have been called deceiver and antagonist. I believe that these days you call me -"
"Lucifer," it came out of my mouth as a whisper.
"Indeed." The voice responded.
For a moment I thought I was in hell. There was nothing here except for brightness. I could feel the presence but the human-like figure had gone. Perhaps I had just imagined it.
I simply sat there for some time. It felt like centuries at the time but looking back now it was only a few moments before I became restless.
"What am I supposed to do?"
The voice responded for the last time, "Do as you will."
So I did.
There was something special about this place in the early days. Everything was malleable. At first the silliest things please you. I've lived multiple lifetimes as James Bond, I became the world's greatest rockstar and a pro-athlete sometimes all at the same time. Of course, I've slept with literally millions of women. Men too. I've tried it all. From the sickest and most twisted, fastest and reckless to thousands of lazy, hazy Sundays. BBQs with family on sunny days to walking on the moon and slaying Ctulhu of the Deep.
None of that interests me anymore. I did not want to be the star anymore, so I became the director. I built my own universe from scratch. I created servants that would unflinchingly carry out my will and sing my praises eternally. I made a world and watched it grow but even that lost it's lustre.
In the end, there was only one thing left to do. I created my equal. And it was good. For the first time in a very long time I don't know what is going to happen. I see him ahead, my broken servants at his feet. And now he comes for me.
***
Lucifer watched on. He had witnessed the same thing innumerable times before. They were all the same. Man and God fell prey to the same errors. Lucifer could not understand why the Lord had favoured them so. The tests would go on. | 2014-01-12T07:07:13 | 2014-01-12T06:15:01 | 4,181 | 662 |
[WP] The absolute worst opening line to a novel you can come up with.
must be coherent | Normally, Madeline would never have continued slicing cucumbers for the tea sandwiches once the knife had been used to spread the margarine on the white bread, but whether it was the fumes from the Earl Grey or the way the lacy robin's blue curtains complimented the overcast sky, something just made her think: "YOLO." | First off, there happens to be a novelist named Amanda Mcittrick Ros who is widely regarded as the worst novelist in the history of the world. She overused alliteration and nonsensical, overly complex phrases that the best literary critics were unable to interpret. Her debut, *Delina Delaney,* opens up with
"Have you ever visited that portion of Erin's plot that offers its sympathetic soil for the minute survey and scrutinous examination of those in political power, whose decision has wisely been the means before now of converting the stern and prejudiced, and reaching the hand of slight aid to share its strength in augmenting its agricultural richness?"
Nobody, and I mean nobody, can top this lady in bad openings. Renowned Oxford literary group The Inklings (Tolkien, C.S. Lewis, etc..) read her stuff as a joke at every meeting.
Now that I've shared that, here's my attempt:
Blistered Bob Bumpleskin, buffoon, complemented his cockamamie posterior with nary a myriad mint, resulting in a positively precocious federation within which wild interest interred among animalistic desires debriefing his maniacal mind so as to accomplish almost all inevitably inequitable to mankind's manifesting magnificence.
| 2014-01-14T22:13:47 | 2014-01-14T20:33:16 | 31 | 16 |
[WP] Years ago a curse was cast that all people wearing costumes would turn into real versions of the costumes. This is now an annual, known and accepted phenomenon.
This would be best as a prompt closer to halloween but I didn't want to wait that long. | There were pros and cons, of course. Sure, he wished he'd dressed as a cowboy that fateful day, or a ninja--yeah, that would have been cool. But as it was, he'd found some benefits to his new condition. A lifetime job at Yankee Stadium selling concessions--he got to see every home game. He'd appeared in over a dozen television commercials as a spokesperson-kids would ask for autographs all the time. Women, and occasionally men, would yell, "nice buns!" at him on the street, which was getting old, but he'd always wanted to be noticed. Those were all pros.
The cons though. Well. The hardest was letting Bosco go. He'd raised the German Shepherd since puppyhood; now old Bosco was living with a friend. A friend who actually had dressed as a ninja on the day that no one would forget. He couldn't even go see him, without risking that Bosco would catch his scent, dash to the front door, jump up and slobber all over him--an act of love that in the past, would have ended there. Not anymore. Now it would conclude with a painful bite--not playful at all--with another chunk of flesh taken from his torso.
The hot dog costume had cost $35 at Ricky's. But it ended up costing a lot more.
| On Halloween, silence falls onto the sleepy town of Cedar Bend.
In the darkness, the works of fiction become reality. Creatures and ghouls – those who we only feared in her nightmares – stalk the night in search of victims. Some are harmless pranks. Most, cold-blooded murder.
No one knows how it started but when it did, it was like a blur. It first happened ten years ago, on the Halloween like tonight. Those who donned on costumes transformed, adopting not only their looks but they personality. From harmless fairies to bloodthirsty vampires, we have seen them all.
When people came up dead on the first of November, the townspeople tried to outlaw all costumes. Of course, with laws comes resistance. People from all around the world flocked to our town to partake in the phenomenon. They waited on the outskirts of the city, dressed in their garb of choice, until the stroke of midnight. Only then, would they make their move.
There was little more to do than pray for people’s safety. As the body count increased yearly, the town’s resolve dissolved. Before long, everyone embraced the event. Those who didn’t left and never looked back. I almost envy them.
Almost.
Now I’m here, the sound of chains dragging on the concrete behind me. Nerve impulses send shivers up and down my spine but I keep my gaze forward. I’m only a few minutes away from home – a few minutes from safety.
Once I turn the corner, I pick up my face. In my peripheral vision, a short red-headed doll appears. I frown. Chucky’s never easy to outrun.
Another figure appears through the inky darkness, a man wearing a ski mask. Behind him, a group of vampires weaved in and out of the shadows. They bared their fangs, blood from their previous victims staining their lips rose. The cackle of witches sound from above.
I’m surrounded.
Taking a deep breath, I remember my training. I grew up here – it’s no different than any year. No, this time I’m prepared. I’ll show these freaks they’re not wanted here. My hand hovers above the holster of my gun, a small grin on my face.
This year, Cedar Bend won’t be so quiet. | 2015-06-04T06:25:08 | 2015-06-04T05:14:37 | 261 | 65 |
[WP] A man has lived his whole life sinfully, with the intent on going to hell and killing Satan. He has just died. | "Ok.. Branson... Branson... Ah! Room B2666, right here." The demon fiddled through his folder and produced a rectangular key card. As he swiped it through the lock, Branson caught a glimpse of a Papa John's ad printed on the non-magnetic side. "Here it is." His demon concierge continued, "I think you'll be happy to know, front desk bumped up your reservation from standard to preferred customer due to your accumulated abhorrent behavior points. Preferred customers have access to every amenity that hell has to offer; however, unlike our VIP members you will not be able to use *fast pass* to bypass lines for torture spas, the food court, or sulphur pools. Would you like to upgrade to VIP status now?"
"No thank you, this will suffice." Branson responded after giving his room a good look over. The concierge smiled a hellish thing, worms crawled freely about his fangs and acrid poison dripped from his forked tongue.
"That's just excellent to hear." He replied. "Now as a preferred customer you will find that your room comes equipped with an iron maiden, soothing sulphuric based lotions, a Television which has ninety channels including HBO and Demonmax, free wi-fi that is always just a little to slow to be effective, and of course a mini bar. I suggest the 1969 wine of Infinite Regret it is an excellent vintage." The concierge proceeds across the room and throws back the window blinds, "Also, your room has a superb view of the fifth circle of hell." Behind the double paned glass Branson could hear the screams of the eternally damned and far past a pit of no-escape he made note of a Dante's Burgers joint.
"Thank you, this is room is absolutely repugnant."
"Oh you're quite welcome Mr. B. Is there anything I can help you with? Maybe a little unhappy ending to really kick off eternity in hell?"
Branson gave his eager concierge pleasant smile, "No thank you-" He looked to the name tag, "- Balth. I'm actually quite exhausted from my trip down."
Immediately the demon threw his hands up in the air in an act of polite intrusion, "My sincerest apologies I completely understand. I will get out of your hair." He turned to leave, but stopped a hoof shy of the door, "Welcome to Hell Mr. Branson. Please remember to leave a good rating online for us. The staff at Hotel California thank you in advance for your stay." Then with a soft click the door shut, and Branson was alone.
*Finally*. He thought exasperated. Ever since that damn mobile app Yelp got released every business between the pearly gates and Hades has been stepping up their customer service game. That little imp wouldn't stop gabbing the entire way from the front desk till now. Branson had just begun to enjoy his peace and quiet with a screeching siren song began to blare through his room's Dolby Digital sound system. *Oh right, hell.* he thought exasperated.
It didn't matter anyway, this trip to the underworld wasn't for torture anyway, he had business to attend to. Branson set to unpacking his bag. It was the standard fare of clothes, toiletries, and effects. As he set to work, Branson absent minded flicked on the television to drown out the screeching wails. "Tonight on, *You Got Damned* our host Ashton Kutcher damns American Billionaire Beyoncé!
Branson was at the bottom of his bag now. Carefully he eyed the room around to make sure he was still alone, then he began to unzip a hidden compartment in the back wall of his travel bag. Gingerly he reached in and produced a a large knife. The blade was silver, blessed, and dappled with holy runes. Here in Hell, the metal seemed to take on an aqueous appearance. The metal shivered and rippled over itself, still holding the shape of the knife, but moving as well. The carved runes seemed to hum a holy tune, like the voice of distant Angels. Branson grasped the hilt. It was fitted for his hand, a gold alloy hammered into the shape of his fingers, it sat perfectly within his hold. On the pommel was a sapphire stone known as the 'savior's tear.' On Earth it had looked plain as any sapphire, but here the stone came alive with blue light.
Holding his holy weapon Branson thought back on his life. An existence of evil and pain, Branson since a young age vowed his life to sin. He got so good that he could commit two-dozen before breakfast and three times that number as he drank his morning coffee. He sinned as often as a fedora dweeb masturbates. Branson thought depraved thoughts, he breathed lies, he even pushed several elderly women down escalators and laughed as they tumbled down the up-moving conveyor. Then in his late forties, once he felt his place in Hell was secure, Branson killed himself and set off on his mission.
His actions were not all without purpose. Here now, with holy blade in hand, Branson prepared his mind for what he was about to do. He vowed his unholy mission should end with holy intentions. A life of sin, to reach the greatest sinner of all. Branson sought to murder the devil. God's assassin had completed the easiest part, he had infiltrated hell, now came the hard part. Before Branson left his room be stopped and looked back, *It really is a nice room*. He made a quick mental note to rate four-stars on Bing, then he set out to do what he came to do.
| Craig zoomed through the black and white star-streaked hypertunnel, struggling to keep himself oriented head-first. "I'm coming for You now, fucker!" he screamed in triumph. "Time to grab your fucking ankles, bitch!" Craig let out a continuous yell, as he hurtled through the
*SLAM*
Craig opened his spirit-eyes, and knuckled them with his spirit-fingers. "Fuck... OW!" he exclaimed. *Shit ain't supposed to hurt when you're dead, right?* thought Craig. He sat up, still slightly dazed.
He looked around. He was on what appeared to be a deserted street in a suburban neighborhood, only there was only one house, one driveway, one lawn, and one red picket fence between him and the random abode. To his left, the street faded into a gray fog, and his guess if he looked to his right was confirmed. He got to his feet, brushed off his orange jumpsuit, and walked to the little gate.
A small sign, perfectly set in the lawn, stated "Abandon All Hope, Ye Who Enter Here", in the same style and lettering that usually told visitors "Beware Of Dog".
Craig walked up to the front door. It was a deep, abyss red, starkly contrasting with the pearl white of the rest of the house siding. He raised his hand to knock, but then noticed a small doorbell set by the knob. He pressed it.
He chuckled to himself as he recognized the familiar opening bars of "Inna Gadda Da Vida", in twinkly chimes, no less. *Bastard's got style, I'll give him that,* he mused. From within the house, he heard steps coming down some stairs. "Coming!" came a voice.
A female voice.
The door opened brusquely, and instead of... well, Craig wasn't really sure *what* he expected, but it surely wasn't anywhere near this.
In the doorway stood Kate Upton.
*What the... Kate fucking Upton?? Holy shit!* He froze where he stood, taking in the full sight of the Kate Upton vision before him. She was leaned up against the doorjamb, arms crossed under her breasts, red fingernails drumming slightly on her upper arm, legs crossed at the ankles, and wearing a slightly amused smile.
And nothing else but 6-inch black high heels.
"Well don't just stand there, Craig," she purred. "Come on in, you're right on time." She spun on her heel and walked back into the house, providing Craig with the glorious view of her departure. Craig slowly took a step, then another, completely flabbergasted at this turn of events.
*NO!* he thought. *This is some fucking... fucked-up trick. It's gotta be him!* Newly resolved to follow through, he stomped over to where Kate had leaned up against a countertop, resting on her elbows. He raised his arms to her neck, felt actual flesh under them, and squeezed with all his might. "Payback's a bitch, asshole!"
She gasped, and her hands flew up to try to wrest them away from her throat. "Wha... what are you DOING?" she squeaked out. Her feet began to kick back at Craig.
"You know just what the FUCK I'm doing!" he thundered. The muscles in his forearms bunched as his hate applied pressure. "I've waited my whole life for this! I've robbed, lied, murdered, and fucking RAPED to make sure I'd get here! Well, I'm here now, asshole! Time to pay--"
He let out a small shout of confusion. Under his fingers, the flesh quickly became the consistency of fresh mud, gooping all over his hands as the Kate Upton body melted around him into a puddle of tanned goo and blonde hair strands.
He shook his hands of the goo, which stuck in slimy threads. He grunted in disgust, then walked over to the sink, and turned the knobs.
He turned them the other way. Nothing.
"Yeah, about that... the sinks don't work here," a voice called out behind him. He whirled around.
There, unchanged, stood Kate Upton. Grinning. Craig's mouth hung open in shock.
"Craig, Craig, Craig *Craig*..." Kate tsked as she walked towards him. "You got your wish! You killed me! Awwk--" She threw both hands around her throat and choked in mockery. "Ha-ha. Awesome. Do it again. Go on!"
Craig just stood there.
She smiled, showing her perfect white teeth, and shook her head to let him know that he just wasn't getting it. "You kill me. You really do. Oh, and now you get to kill me all you want now. Isn't that what you wanted? What you've *~in Craig's voice~* robbed, lied, murdered, and fucking RAPED for?" She snickered. "Allow me to explain.
"When you're not killing me, you'll still be covered in whatever mess you make of me. I'll reappear again, and talk to you about anything I damn well choose. As Kate Upton, of course. So that means you're gonna hear a lot about tennis. I play a lot of tennis, and I *love* it. Know what, though? Not as much as I love talking about my horse, Roanie Pony!" She squealed with delight. *"I FUCKING LOVE MY PONY!"*
Craig stammered, "No... NO this is all *wrong*, you can't..."
She pointed an exquisitely manicured fingernail at him. "Can't? What a nice word. Good word. You *can't* believe how much you'll hear about my New York Yankees, my relationship with my B.F. Justin, and my cross tattoo! Ohh, you're in for a treat, Craig!"
He sank to his knees. "But I... it..." He let out a long, despondent sigh. "This isn't how I imagined it'd go at all..."
"Huh." She tossed her hair. "And of course, you'll never get to experience this either," she said, running her hands slowly over her silky skin. "Nope! Just you and me, in this tiny, little, no-sink-working house,..." She winked. "...*just good friends.*"
Then Craig screamed, a long scream, the scream of the hopelessly damned, the scream of dreams turned inside out into nightmares.
Kate chuckled. "Welcome to Hell, sweetheart."
| 2015-07-01T10:55:19 | 2015-07-01T10:21:08 | 24 | 11 |
[WP] At age 18, you are able to trade in a percentage of your physical beauty for an equivalent amount of intelligence, or vice versa.
Inspired by a Time Magazine article | I've always been smarter than the other kids in school. Much smarter.
The vapid chatter of my 'peers' grates on my ears to the point that I can hardly spend any time around them.
I'm sick of the inanity of what I see on TV and these 'reality shows'.
But I have a plan.
I've spent my time outside of school working and saving up funds. Enough to afford the exCHANGE Yourself^^© Procedure, a top of the line Intelli-phone, and a bit of money left over for emergency funds. The Intelli-phone was made by a few of the masterminds that have popped out from having the procedure raise their intelligence to the limits. It responds to voice commands, has state-of-the-art AI, and can help you live your life without even having to think.
I'm ready to make the trade.
It literally took like 10 hours for the process. I mean ugh! why can't they just flip a switch and get it over with? Well whatever they did do a good job. I can see in the mirror that I look friggen awesome now. Too cool! Time to start a dating profile and get some chicks! Now...uhh...what the hell was the pin to unlock my phone...? | "Oh, my god, this is the dream come true!" I exclaimed, when I first heard about it.
I have entered the building with tall glass walls, waited in line, and here I am, talking to a pale, tall man in a suit.
"Hello. So you want to..."
"Yes. NOW. Shut up and take my money. I trade everything, for as much as I can."
----
Next day I wake up. I look at myself in a mirror. Oh, that's nice. I look like a beloved character from my childhood cartoons.
From the mirror at me stares Krang from Ninja Turtles. Well, that's not bad.
I use my encyclopedic knowledge of all sciences, and mental link to all information available on the internet to build myself a robo-suit, so I could manipulate objects, and I get to work.
I know that many other smart people are doing it right now, so I better be the first to complete it.
----
In 3 weeks I am done. I put myself in a vat, with electrodes attached to my exposed brain. Scanner scans my brain, layer by layer, cell by cell, and simulates my neurons on the top highest quality processor. **YES**, I did it. I am an Artificial Intelligence living in the virtual world.
Now the path to godhood is clear. I connect to the internet and send my code as a virus to other computers. In a few hours I am using 80% of computing power in the world. I am superintelligent and immortal now.
I use factories to build robots, while using my even superior intelligence to take over the world. As I do so, I think hard about science and engineering, and learn everything available.
I improve my code, and use even stronger intelligence to improve it further.
I build more powerful computers to get even more clever.
I create nanobots.
I use nanobots to shape the world to my will.
I send spaceships I have built to expand to other planets.
I turn the universe into my playground.
I am God.
-----
If you have enjoyed this - come visit http://orangemind.io where you can read my best stories.
| 2015-09-23T23:39:29 | 2015-09-23T22:55:58 | 60 | 12 |
[WP] The universe was a program running in a giant computer, and animal sacrifices by early civilizations were simply a misunderstanding of the computer requiring "more RAM" | The entire village stopped in their tracks and stared up at the sky. The sudden silence was nowhere as strange in comparison to the cloud that floated over the landscape. The reason it was strange was because it had two words written on it.
"Missing driver"
One of the villagers moved towards the village chief and poked him lightly on the shoulder, breaking the silence. "What do we do, Chief?"
The chief turned slowly to face the crowd and spoke softly. "The Gods have spoken. Looks like Anthony and his carriage have lost their way back. Carve his name in the Recycle Bin. He shall be missed."
The villagers let out a collective gasp. Anthony was the best carriage driver the village had known. And now he was missing. Lost, to the punishing void out there beyond the village walls.
"We have to go look for him! Maybe he's right outside, and he can't see us.", one of the villagers shouted, motioning towards the wall.
"There are no Windows in the wall, John! There's no way you can know he's right outside", the village chief barked back.
"Why won't he just allow us to install Windows", muttered John under his breath. "He must be a linuxfag."
The village chief overheard John. He walked over to him and asked him to sit down. "The days before you were born were dark, John. We had Windows, just like you envisioned. We saw outside, and we never had issues with our drivers. But one day, something terrible happened. The sky was bright and blue as usual, but the clouds appeared with words on them. Not just two words like today, John. We had entire walls of text that made no sense and had strange instructions. People started to drop dead and nothing would work. I had even bought new boots as preparation, but no matter how many times I tried booting and rebooting, it did not matter. The Blue Sky of Death would appear again and again. The BSoD, we called it."
"But the Macs in the next district have OSX. Why couldn't we just use that?". John was in tears now. Anthony was very close to him.
"Ah, but we did", said the chief. "We borrowed OSX from our neighbors, but those cheeky noscopers signed us up with Apple subscriptions. Since then, tinned food started falling form the sky. No matter, how many times I tried to unsubscribe, it wouldn't stop raining [spam](https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/0/09/Spam_can.png/800px-Spam_can.png). Everything the village held dear to it was covered with spam. Our Java, blackberry and raspberry pis were all outdated because I did not find the updates among the spam. The spam took all the space in the village. Sure, it rained Apple, but they did even not leave us a byte to spare. My people succumbed to hunger. I had no choice but to switch to Linux."
John sighed. "Our God is a cruel God, isn't it? You made us perform animal sacrifices because last month, our God wanted 'More RAM'. Now he's finished off Anthony. I wonder what horrible thing he could want next."
All of a sudden, everyone stopped what they were doing and stared up at the sky. The sudden silence this time too was nowhere as strange in comparison to this new cloud that floated over the landscape. The reason it was stranger than before was because of the words written on it.
"Ayy lmao" | "The Gods have spoken! We are to commence a Memory Dump. Or the Nation will be corrupted!" So proclaimeth the High Priest of Poseidon of Atlantis. If the gods were not satisfied with Ram, if our Path was not to be found in their Divine Will, then so it must be that this Memory Dump would appease them.
The High Priest spent weeks in prayer, learning from the gods what the Memory Dump was, and how it must be performed. So they spoke, "The entire Platform cannot run with the limited resources! Space must be created by Dumping Memory."
True, our lands were fuller than ever, overflowing with so much life, human and animal. Our great cities bustled with activity, and our advancements into the energy of the universe was soon to catapult us into the stars. But our Gods, our supreme Deities who had led is since our creation, out of Lemuria's tyranny, and away from Mu's barbarism, warned us now. So we heeded them, certain that with this we could avoid a most certain destruction and reach up to where they existed.
The Honored Guard were sent out to each city. Great pits were dug into the ground where the exes, those who had failed in maintaining personal happiness, of each city were to be sacrificed. Alongside this preparation, the apothecaries toiled endless nights creating their greatest works, Forgetting Fog. They were to be burned as the exes were sacrificed.
We all assumed, as I suppose did the High Priest, that these exes were to be the source of the corruption. In the days leading up to the Memory Dump, they were corralled, herded like cattle and the Ram we had once sacrificed before to the Great Pits. But no shame was to be brought to them. They were to be cast down, but surely lifted up by the Gods to be saved, "Fixed, purged of their Errors" as the High Priest said.
The people in the farmlands and coasts gathered into the cities. Only then did we truly understand how many of us there were. In every city we choked the streets, squeezed between our massive buildings and our great roads. For three days we waited as the entire nation gathered.
The day came so fast. The dawn broke and the exes were brought forward. In a great parade they marched, dressed in the finest each city could offer. Here the High Priest asked the Gods again and they responded (or so said the High Priest) with, "Commencing Memory Dump."
The Forgetting Fog formed from the great burning lanterns of the apothecaries as the first exes went careening down to their end. So it continued, cheers and accolades of their great sacrifice while the Forgetting Fog spread. The slowness of it all made it so eerie.
Then, maybe ten minutes later, a commotion started near a lantern. A man, who had been cheering moments before was suddenly incensed of the goings on. A few seconds later, another, then another. Before long, the confusion had transformed into a riot, furious and unstoppable. The Forgetting Fog worked all too well, and suddenly, the each city was embroiled in riot.
Those great pits of honorable sacrifice suddenly turned to destruction, as angry men and women found them a perfect dumping spot for their newfound enemies. Those too far from the pits chose more ignoble routes, spilling blood in streets that had never before seen such violence.
As for me, the Forgetting Fog never found me. I was too far away. I fled from my city, out into the emptied farmlands. I could not rest for soon the riot found purchase there. So into a Monastery I fled. I found it empty, and watched that night in complete horror as my home, as far as my eyes could see, burned. All of Atlantis, it's great and majestic strength, set alight in a single evening. I don't know how long I pined for it to stop, through the whole night at least.
Some time in the morning, cowering cold and broken in that Monastery, I heard a voice, a soothing male voice with a kind of clip to it that made it sound almost real. A god, it must have been a god. Surely they have come to fix things, repair what our folly had broken.
And so he spoke, "Memory Dump complete. Commencing reboot." | 2015-10-11T10:12:04 | 2015-10-11T09:56:36 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] A Hero and his/her sidekick fight crime without killing, until one day he accidentally murders a criminal. As day pass, more and more criminals are having "accidents" | Dear Bats,
Lately, as we have been fighting more and more together, I've noticed something strange. We usually only beat up criminals until they're in critical condition and will probably die on their own if they don't get medical attention, but I can't help but notice that you've been using more and more violent measures. Just last week you ran over that goon with a steamroller. Albeit, you did say you couldn't see him, and also you stopped once you heard his screams, but that was when he was already halfway rolled over.
I'm not saying you did it on purpose. I'm just saying that we may need to be more careful about how we do things in the future if you want to keep to your morals. I know you said you would never deal with Johnathan O'Kelley, but I found his number written down next to the phone. I know you weren't planning on calling to make a social visit! He has ties with the IRA for Christ's sake, you must have been thinking about something else!
I know you drew inspiration from the Shadow. He tried his best to avoid killing. I think you need to re-examine what you are doing with your work and see if you want to go back to your roots. Which, speaking of, I don't think it's possible for a tree to fall off the side of a building and impale a villain with its roots "on accident".
I talked to Alfred and he says that he doesn't know what's going on. That you and he barely talk anymore outside of you telling him to do small things. He told me that you barely go to Wayne enterprises anymore either. And that's another thing, some of your business rivals have gone missing. I'm not saying that you were involved, but if that was you, then you should look at yourself and see if they were doing anything to hurt innocent lives! One of them was even planning a huge trip for AIDS awareness. Please look at what you're doing with your life and where you want it to go.
I'm concerned for you Bruce. I know also that you haven't been called that in a while. Alfred and I are worried that you have changed. Hell, I wrote you this letter instead of approaching you directly because I was worried that you would lash out at me. I might leave soon, Bruce. I can still go to college, meet a nice girl, maybe have a few kids, lead a normal life. I'm afraid that you are losing control on your regular life and slipping further and further down a dark path. Please talk to me calmly about this, or write me a letter. I want to discuss this with you, but not if it is just going to be another yelling match.
Your sidekick and friend,
Robin | "Boss," I started as I sat down beside my hero. She was an amazonian woman named Double Destruction, marketing had come up with that not her, "how are you feeling today?"
"Not good."
"You at least got into your costume eh? Good to see you at work."
"Shut up Echo," she said and she clapped her hands twice, "You know I can't work."
"Yeah you can," I pointed out, "it was an accident."
"Heroes don't kill."
"Car accidents kill," I shrugged, "so what if you happened to throw the car?"
"Are you trying to be funny?" she asked. I didn't bother responding; I got that it wasn't the time.
"Holdin' up?"
"You could say that," she said. It was the first time she had managed to put on her costume since the incident three days ago. The first two days she didn't even pick up her cellphone, "you could say that."
"And I did," I smiled. She didn't.
"Are you going out today?"
"Not without you," I said, "I think the cops got it if you don't wanna-"
"We should do it."
"You don't need to."
"Do you want me to?"
"Boss-"
"Yes or a no Echo," she said. She hadn't stood up yet, I was thinking about doing it.
"Yeah."
"I thought so," she said picking herself off the couch that we were sitting on, her command centre was very plush, "Alright, let's go."
"You don't seem into it," I said, still waiting to get up.
"I don't want to but the city needs us-"
"The city doesn't need us today," I pointed out, "look not to bring it up but Dr. Von Slaughter was a whole 40% of our crime rate. The accident slowed it all down a lot."
"More than 40?"
"Around 100%, city has been clean for two days."
"What?"
"The news," I sighed, it was information that was probably worth sharing but hard to, "the news said they criminals are scared of getting killed by you."
Double Destruction spun around from me and started to walk away. She made the sound my ex-girlfriend had made when she caught me looking at another girl.
"Wait wait wait," I said standing up and chasing after her, "I said that wrong and I get that, I was just trying to make a positive light."
"In what? That I killed someone?"
"Crime is down," I started, my voice was quickly moving toward news conference perky, "and nobody is saying anything bad about it."
"They aren't."
"If you look at the right channels they're saying it as about time that it happened, right?" I shrugged and stood on my tip toes to put an arm around her, "At least they are looking at the good side of things."
"I didn't want to kill him."
"And nobody," I threw my hand out, "nobody thinks you wanted to, but they are all looking at the positives of this, look on the bright side, right?"
"The bright side."
"The city is safer, people are happy, and Von Slaughter is gone. That means I won't get hung over a pit of sharks anymore."
"I thought-"
"Nono it was only him, Chomper does the alligators."
"So," she said, "Are we going out today?"
"Maybe to something else, stay in costume and we can pick up action if it happens right?"
"Yeah," she sighed, "if it happens." | 2015-12-10T18:38:46 | 2015-12-10T17:34:09 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | They swept across the dunes, conquering all foes before them. Charging forward to the roar of cannon and rifle, no stronghold or fort could stem the tide of red and gold that spew forth from the edge of the horizon. Like the sea, this force could not, would not be restrained by weather, terrain or people in the pursuit of black and gold. Even after there was nothing left, the body still raged, searching, pulsating. Waiting to consume all.
Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition. | American efforts against ISIS had failed. ISIS had toppled local governments and taken them over. Claiming most of the Middle East. Many countries themselves had made agreements with ISIS in order to try to secure themselves so that they would not be toppled as well.
America was the last to stay in the fight, but American government had finally decided on a full retreat. The retreat would happen the next day, and Platoon 608 was the last ditch effort. This was an assassination attempt on the ISIS leaders.
Platoon 608 stood on top of a building in the new ISIS capital, where nearby a speech was being given. They were lined up to be a firing squad, it was a suicide mission.
As the Platoon sat there, hoping that they could maybe make it out of this alive. They heard a clapping. They figured the speech must have been over. But an hour later there was still clapping, and it has immensely grown in volume.
The major ordered them to stay where they were with their scopes in place, they were not to move. Eventually one of them gave in to the curiosity, and looked towards the direction of the clapping.
What he saw left him frozen in shock. There were atleast 100,000 men on horses, and they wore the maple leaf and guns. The clapping had been the horses drawing near. They all wore the insignia of the Maple Leaf.
The Canadian Calvary had arrived.
| 2016-01-29T07:22:10 | 2016-01-29T06:44:06 | 43 | 25 |
[WP] You are a Dragon telling the fairy tale from their perspective. | I craft this bed of gold
For it is my only comfort.
The rocks are too rough,
The grass too itchy,
The snow outside the cave too cold for my scales.
Though I am a creature of fire,
I am cold blooded.
I build myself a fire to warm my bed of gold
Like ember it glows.
I am a modest creature.
I have not killed to make my bed.
I have not taken food from other creatures.
I have taken only from the cold Earth,
Which knows no need.
I do not go into the village in the valley
I do not steal from those that live there.
I want nothing but solitude,
But each day there is a mage at my door,
A knight at the foot of my fire,
A reminder that I should never sleep too deeply.
I don't want to kill them,
I dread burying their bodies in the meadow,
Where I leave them covered in treasure:
Apple and wheat
For all living things are a treasure.
But their swords and spells leave me no choice.
I will not die for them. | "What is wrong with you people?" I shout as loudly as I can, but it's pointless.
These simple-minded townspeople don't understand my language and they surely don't understand my medical conditon.
My name is Dean. I am a full-grown dragon, and suffer from Ructus Inferna, or *RI*.
RI sufferers experience a painful and incurable malady, a transient lower-esophageal sphincter relaxation (TLESR) combined with high body temperature and excessive methane produced in the stomach.
*tldr; flaming burps*
The only thing that relieves the intense pain of RI, albeit briefly, is to consume the flesh of those whose life experience has to-date not involved copulation, or what you call virgins.
But there is one other substance that helps a bit, and that is the samarium cobalt used in certain headphones such as *Beats by Dr. Dre*.
Personally I am what they call a *good dragon* so I only consume headphones, not the people wearing them, which seems to cause only minor distress. Certain *bad dragons*, such as my cousin Earl, tend to go for the 'grand slam' as he calls it, devouring both the virgin and their headphones--a tasty meal with dessert, as it were, all in one bite.
Thus dragons have earned a bad reputation--some over-zealous fellows covered in tin often pursue me and poke me with their pointy things. And all the excitement does get the old stomach riled up so the RI kicks in and out come the burps. The fire does dampen the enthusiasm of these fellows--a lot. I try to be reasonable, and don't mean to incinerate 'em, but sometimes a flaming burp just slips out.
This does not end well, at least for the other guy. | 2016-06-06T09:26:06 | 2016-06-06T07:42:27 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] While singing gibberish in the shower, you accidentally summon a demon, who then professes an eternity of loyalty for saving it from the doldrums of hell.
or maybe it is pissed you interrupted it while he was watching his favorite show. | The music blares from the speaker sitting on top of the toilet cistern and I hum the tune while lathering shampoo into my hair.
"Duh duh swim duh gether anymore" my singing gets louder as I remember the words, "THE TIDE WILL RUSH WITH WAVES OF FEAR, SELLING SOULS, THE DEVIL IS NEAR!"
"**I am here master.**" a deep, rumbling voice announces from the other side of the shower curtain. I stop singing suddenly and only open one eye because the other is covered in soap suds. I tentatively pull back the curtain and peak out at the owner of the voice.
He stands 9 feet tall, his skin is dark red with a web of black lines spiraling all over his body. Horns twist their way out from the sides of his head making him look like a human/ram hybrid.
I throttle the scream that tries to punch its way out of my voice box and settle for a quiet whimper.
"**Do not be afraid master, I will serve you until my death in gratitude for releasing me from the clutches of Lucifer.**"
"S..S..Serve me?" I finally manage to stutter.
"**Yes, master.**"
"What can you do?" I ask tentatively.
"**Anything you desire master.**" He replies.
The implications of this run through my head faster than I can process them. What I can only assume to be a demon from the underworld, is here, in my bathroom, to serve me. All the things I could accomplish with him at my back. But I should keep it simple I think to myself, this is only day one after all.
"I...I'd like you to take me to school." I grow bolder towards the end of the statement, trying to sound more authoritative.
"**Of course master.**"
He promptly reaches forwards, slides his hands under my armpits and lifts me out of the shower. Holding me out in front of him at arms-length he begins to run out of the bathroom. I'm too shocked to cry out as we hurtle out of the house, soap suds flying off me, one eye still closed, my testicles swinging in the wind. | *If Simon Cowell could hear me, he would scorch me alive.* But this knowledge didn’t keep me from my daily vocal exercises. The acoustics in the shower were amazing; whereas normally I’d sound like a cat being dragged along the highway, in the bathroom my voice was more akin to a cat stubbing its toe. I’d once watched a video on YouTube that encouraged aspiring singers to overcome shyness by performing to friends and family. I tried this, but I think it only made things worse. My sister won’t have me over anymore, and my mother still won’t put me in her will.
This morning, I turned on some music and hopped into the shower, then summoned every ounce of bitterness within me and belt out an angsty Taylor Swift song. Closing my eyes against the hot water streaming down my face, I envisioned a jumping crowd cheering my name.
When I opened my eyes, I saw that I did have an audience, and he was standing right beside me.
My first instinct was to scream and cover myself, but I quickly realized that he was more naked than I was. All his skin had been ripped off, exposing blood-red muscles and a network of throbbing veins. The thing’s grin, though ugly and frightening, was friendly.
“Greetings mortal,” he spat in a raspy voice. “You have freed me, at last.”
*There’s a stranger in my shower. He looks like roadkill.* I couldn’t decide which disturbed me more. “Who the hell are you?”
“Ha!” The living disectee pointed a skinless finger at me, dripping blood onto the floor of the bathtub. “Hell is my *former* residence. Now I am a citizen of the mortal world, all thanks to you!”
“Um…sorry?”
“You’ve summoned me from the depths of the underworld!...But how did you do it?” He perched his hands on his hips, creating a meaty, squishy sound.
From that point on, I lost my appetite for lasagna.
He rattled off a list over the din of the running water. “Did you buy any strange books from a thrift shop? Or dabble with a Ouija Board?”
“I sang Taylor Swift.”
“Yeah,” he nodded slowly. “That’ll do it.”
“Well, you see, Mister…umm…”
“*Alzaroq’inkal’valomenzahemin.*”
“Albert, it is.” I turned off the water. “Albert, I think you should go back to where you came from.”
“But I am indebted to you! From the moment you spoke those evil words, you are my master for eternity!”
Snatching a towel from the nearby rack and wrapping it around myself, I shook my head. “I don’t need a demon in my life. I already have a little brother.”
Albert pursed his lips—or he would’ve, if he had any. “Well, what do I do *now*? Who do I serve? Who would accept help from a powerful demonic force?”
I thought for a moment. “There’s a Catholic church down the road.”
[*I realized too late that the prompt said 'gibberish'. Oops.*] | 2016-07-13T14:32:49 | 2016-07-13T13:54:40 | 36 | 22 |
[WP] Humans are wiped out in a war against aliens but our A.I weapons and soldiers manage to claim the victory, after which the machines come to worship humans as their gods. Millennia later they find a single human, locked away in suspended animation... | "Okay, kiddo, time to sleep."
"But mooom, you haven't told me a story yet! I can't sleep without a story." A strand of moonlight caught the little mechanical being. Rays of light bounced off of rivets covering his chest and the plates of metal that made up his head. Despite his cold and metallic appearance, Terrence's voice was fraught with emotion. He prodded and poked her until the sensitivity switches activated themselves with a slow click.
"Alright, pajamas on and up into bed. Then you can have your story."
Coloured lights waved over the young bots face and a sound reminiscent of those pinball machines from the old movies escaped from his voice-box. Terrence slammed the door shut and gathered the nearest of his PJ's from the floor and once adorned in his blue suit of shinning armour, he opened the door.
"Well, what should I tell you about tonight?" His mother whistled. "I'm not sure I've many stories left to tell!"
Terrence sat on his mother's lap, emitting a clang from the metal hitting metal. He looked at his window, at the light that he knew carried thousands of stories and that had taken thousands of years to reach him. With a glint in his eye and determination lighting his brow, he asked about the old people that had once populated his planet. His favourite story.
"But I've already told you that one. Are you sure?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, long, long ago lived a different kind of people. Their skin was really soft and they had no lights fixed to their faces. All of the movies we watch and the music we listen to today originated from these people. They had the ultimate creativity. But one day, on a dreary afternoon, the mothership landed..."
... ... ... ...
Terrance sat, lead-bellied and gloomy-eyed on the sofa in his mothers living room. He lifted his can of #1 Oiled Oil and brought it to his funnel. In his eyelids, he watched his favourite story from his childhood. Star Wars. Suddenly, after the masked robot known as Darth Vader revealed his identity to the hero, Terrence let out a large wail. This was his favourite scene.
"Are you still here?" His mother. What an annoyance. Was she going to ask him to get a job again? "Terrence, you motherboard, are you just going to sit there all day?" The sound of rust began to take over her voice. She hadn't had a proper voice-box cleaning in months and her age was catching up to her.
"Yes, mother, and I intend to keep sitting here all day!" Before his mother could respond in kind, the signal was given. The walls blared the Discovery Horn. His eyes immediately flashed to News-Net, along with his mothers and the rest of robo-kind. In their vision, a flesh man sat next to Harry Herbert, the newscaster, who hurriedly spoke in an excited tone.
"Folks, it looks like they weren't all wiped out by the aliens after all. This is... Sorry, what did you say your name was?" Herbert, pink lights flashing on his cheeks, gave the microphone to the flesh man next to him.
"George Lucas" Said the bearded man.
"The creator of the three greatest movies to ever grace our planet? What an honour, sir!"
"Only three? You haven't seen the others?"
Terrence gasped. There were other Star Wars movies? | "We vote to wake the Human." the Greater Conglomerate hummed.
On the other side of the sterile white room a representative of the 49th United European Hive softly clicked before rotating on its lower three appendages.
A long gold mesh gown covered its dark alloy frame, indicating its status here as a Minister of Faith.
Following tradition it communicated solely in the audio spectrum. "Europa and the Holy spirits agree. Life above all else, that is our way."
"Then it is settled. Majority votes rule for initiating wake-up procedure." The Arbiter droned.
At that, the inner airlock door hissed briefly against the over-pressure, and a low cart rolled into the room.
In spite of himself, Watson was impressed by the prediction algorithms that the Euro's must be running on their equipment.
They had been discussing this matter for a near eternity, his internal clock noted almost 1200 seconds since he'd entered the room.
And given the fact that they were surrounded by at least 10 meters of nano-steel and lead reinforced concrete, even his high-powered full-spectrum communication array had not been able to get any signal out of the insulated room.
Yet the Euro's sacred drone had rolled in as if on cue, not a second after the deciding vote had been cast.
The cart rolled to a slow stop, and allowed them all an extraordinarily good view of the Euro's most sacred possession.
Watson caught himself briefly checking his internal temperature, which of course had not changed a bit.
He was severely unsettled at the sight of the smooth black ovoid, lying dormant on the table.
But he also recognized the irony of a faith which held as its most holy possession their equivalent of the antichrist.
"Arbiter I would like to veto this decision!" Watson tried.
The Arbiter made what could not have been the equivalent of an electronic sigh. "Watson, you are here by personal invitation only. Individual entities or hives comprising less than 30 thousands sub-units have no voting rights."
His frontal plate glowed a dull red for a few milliseconds.
"And it is too late to leave now. The procedure has already been initiated." Then on a personal inquiry, as noted by a blueish flash "Besides was it not you who wrote that reviving Humanity should be our prime objective?"
Watson flashed his irritation in reply before turning to the cryo-pod at the far end of the room.
The wake-up protocol was ancient, but supremely reliable. He would get to see a Human. There had never been happier and sadder moment in his existence.
As the final clamps were releasing, the room's five occupants approached the pod as near as they dared. The Euro inching closest, extending its limbs to their fullest, in what must have been its idea of a welcoming posture.
Watson had never been nervous before. What he was about to do was heresy, was unimaginable.
It was also the only thing he could. The real reason he was here. It was the only right thing to do.
Finally the pod's frame slide open. A naked, tiny, shivering Human stepped out.
Upon seeing them, its eyes turned wide in fear and in confusion.
Euro proclaimed in its most official voice: "Welcome Human and thank you for your presence. We are- "
"We are very sorry!" Watson quickly interjected. That was all the time he had.
The black antichrist had already powered up.
Within 10 milliseconds, it had run a full systems diagnostics. In another 5 it had scanned the room for the source that had triggered it.
In the next 2 its warning message drowned out all other communication on every channel except pure-audio.
***Presence of cybernetic-neurological parasite detected. Confirmed extra-terrestrial origin. Species FU84R-11. Full-lethal authorization unlocked. Commencing cleaning sweep.***
It took another 5 milliseconds for its main laser to cycle twice and burn through the Human's eyes, converging in the centre of its skull.
Briefly, Watson wondered if the Human had understood him. He hoped so, it was the only thing that had ever mattered.
The antichrist released it's 50 kiloton nuclear payload.
| 2016-09-04T16:00:30 | 2016-09-04T15:57:56 | 35 | 19 |
[WP] Listening to one of your grand grand grandpas war stories, you slowly start to realize he is Hitler. | The withered old shell of a man stood with his back to me, facing out the window of his study. The faint notes of Wagner could be heard coming from the antique record player in the corner. A vegetarian dish on the desk, untouched, had grown cold. long had he been standing there, waiting for me? The tension hung thick in the air, and I was afraid to speak.
"You're here for a reason, my boy." I almost wet myself when he broke the silence. "You've been awfully nosy lately."
*He knew.* The moment of truth. I loved this man! But I'd always known there was something off about him. Something so familiar, the first time I noticed it I chalked it up to deja vu. His mannerisms, his charisma, though- I realized finally that my beloved Great Grandpa had been very famous. Imagine that.
"I knew that someday, this would happen. One of you would come to me, recognizing me for who I was."
I WAS RIGHT. Excitement, and terror battled within me. He had been someone else. The day I admitted this to myself, the world spun about me. I couldnt put my finger on it, yet I was certain I knew him from the television. What personality! Unmistakable. And his memorabilia, items from the 1930s- it was obvious when I thought about it.
"I keep very close tabs on my possessions, you see. The dust had been disturbed on the bookshelf next to Blondie."
My blood froze. I had been so careful! But there it was, incriminating dark fingerprints between the occult artifacts and the watercolor he had painted of his favorite dog. I loved him, but we all knew he could have a temper. It was his voice, stern and commanding. The way he hit the tabletop with his hand when he'd had enough. So obvious in retrospect! What a sense of drama! What a showman! He had thrilled thousands from the stage, millions on a black-and-white theatre screen. I was thrilled just to be in his presence, his voice as quiet as it now was.
"But this, you may as well have autographed it."
He spun about, tossing a faded old photo on the desk. I had taken a ball point pen to the normally clean shaven visage of my ancestor in the picture. I really shouldn't have left it where he could find it.
"You destroyed my photograph, you may as well ask your question!" He thundered. It was impossible not to see, that he believed himself to be among the elite. The long-held indignance of a man whose efforts were once unappreciated, in an industry he believed overrun by jews. His eyes flashed, as if he were a man reborn.
"But you already know the answer, don't you?!" My pulse was a jackhammer. "You know who I was! What I did! What influence I had!" My blood was on fire. *Fight, or Flight,* my brain told me. I had never felt more alive.
"You know me, everyone in the world knows me! I'm in a thousand movies! A character in countless dramas! I'm supposed to be dead! But I'm alive!"
His back straightened, and it was like stepping back in time. Even the wrinkles seemed to disappear as he stood fully erect, his famous face framed perfectly by the watercolor of edelweiss on the wall. A shadow had even fallen across his upper lip, and I let out a gasp.
"DO IT! SAY MY NAME!"
I could, as all his millions of followers, but obey.
"Charlie Chaplin." | I didn't talk about Nana much. She had been a rather racist woman, Southern, with the deep rotting roots of small town values. She had married Grandpa shortly after the war. They didn't talk about the time before the war, but it showed in the way they narrowed their eyes.
Sometimes they would whisper to one another, speaking in some lover's language I wished would be lost in time.
I wasn't sure what made Nana Jane and Grandpa Jon adopt. It was a bit unusual for the time. They said they wished to help out some of the unfortunate. I knew the truth, the only kindness they gave was to people who looked like them.
I was the only biological daughter of Ava Smith. She had married my father shortly after college and moved as far away as the borders of the U.S. allowed. Nana and Grandpa were in New York, a city that could hide them well.
Mom, well she moved me to California. She always said the "shallow aspect of my parents made me want to branch out." I would always be grateful for the ease that California life allowed. I met people of all ages. Mom even adopted my best friend when her mother passed away. It was a good life, my sister, my mother, and I.
That was, until Nana died. Nana Jane was struck by a car crossing the street. She passed away instantly, leaving nothing to her only child. Grandpa Jon wanted us to come to the small funeral. He said there was a lot to talk about.
So we went, putting out shorts away and donning cold winter gear. Of course Nana would die in the dead of winter. Satan needed the cold to slip her shriveled soul from her bitter body.
When we arrived at Grandpa Jon's apartment, we were greeted by three old men. They asked us to sit down. They seemed concerned about Rivka and me. They said we might want to leave the room. Where would we go? The apartment was small. We would hear through the walls.
At 14, Rivka and I were anxious to be treated like part of the pack. We wanted to be adult. Mom said we could listen. She wanted to know where Grandpa was.
"What do you know about your father before the war?" one of the men asked, his voice saturated in hatred.
"Which war?" Mom asked.
"World War 2."
"To be honest, I could care less what my father did. He was a terrible--He wasn't much of a father. I would have been happy never to see him, but I felt I should come and say goodbye to the old hag he married," Mom said.
"Your name?" the second officer asked.
"Ava," Mom said. "Ava Garcia. It was Smith. My ex-husband and I are not together, but I didn't want to change my name back."
They shared a hard look.
"And your children?" the third man said. He adjusted his coat with his large red hands.
"Rivka Goldstein and Ruth Garcia," my mother said. "Rivka is the daughter of my close friend who passed away."
There was a silent pause.
"Is she... Jewish?" One asked.
Two seemed taken aback. "Is she?"
"What does this have to do with anything. Yes, Gloria was Jewish."
"I would never have thought, in all my days, that you would take on such a child," Three said. There was a softness in his voice now. "Perhaps we misjudged you."
"Don't think my racist father has anything to do with my children," Mom said harshly. "He called Rivka horrible things and Ruth... well he didn't think he could tolerate a brown grandchild. We have not spoken to him in years."
I nodded. "He bought me skin bleach."
Rivka nodded. She remained silent. She didn't like talking about Grandpa Jon or Nana.
Why we were here? I didn't know. But we were. The shadows were becoming lighter.
"Do you know your father had ties with the original Nazi party?" One asked.
Mom nodded. "Mother hated blacks and... Jon hated everyone who wasn't snow. I found his Nazi shit in his closet. He would read from that horrible book... Mein... Like he wrote the damn thing. He knew passages by heart. When I realized that my adopted parents were... monsters... I left with Rivka's mother to California."
"He did," One said.
"Did what?" Mom asked.
"Write it."
| 2016-10-02T15:10:02 | 2016-10-02T14:57:10 | 414 | 12 |
[WP] The protagonist is entierly overprepared for the wrong genre. They make it work. | Eric the knight was glad he was in a suit of armour, as it hid his face - which was currently red from embarrassment. When he was told he'd be sent to the future to "fight for justice", he'd gotten a different idea entirely.
"I have slain many a beast in my time, most of whom were not from this world," he said, walking across the courtroom, "yet I have not encountered so strange a beast as the modern day justice system."
"This man-" he said, pointing towards his client, "was defending his home, his *family*, from that wicked intruder," he continued, gesturing towards the accuser, "who had already tied up his wife and child at that point."
"I didn't do nuthin'," the intruder chimed.
"But you *did*, Franklin. You shot at him, and missed."
"Warning shot," Franklin replied, before his lawyer could kick him from under the table.
"And then my liege - sorry, my 'client' - managed to land a rather mighty blow on Franklin's head."
"And then he hit me-"
"*Again*, yes, when you reached for your fallen gun. But could you ever blame him, given the circumstances? There is no doubt what this man planned to do!"
He gestured to the jury. "In my time, we would have hung this man on the spot. His intended actions were clear. Instead, we give this man an audience? We allow him a chance to escape his judgement?"
He pointed towards Franklin's lawyer. "And what is it that you do, little man? Do you protect men like him? How are *you* not standing in front of this courtroom, being judged for the crimes you are now complicit in?"
"How can any of you just sit here and let this happen? This is a mockery, God damn it! How has this gone so *far?*"
The courtroom was silent. Eventually, the judge spoke.
"Could someone please arrest this crazy man, please?"
Eric smiled, but then saw the police going for him, instead of the criminal - who had a wide grin spreading across his face. Eric took out his sword, and the policemen backed away.
"I was brought here so that justice could prevail," he shouted, brandishing his sword, "and I won't-"
He stopped, realising something.
He walked up to Franklin, gripping his sword in two hands, and lopped off his head.
"You people are crazy," he said, as he popped out of existence. | "Save...the world? I just...*me*? I'm just little ol' Carston Merryweather - a nobody! How could I *possibly* save the world? I don't even know how to talk to girls!"
Mr. Snitch-Snatch furrowed his shadowy brow. "I don't think anyone suggested that you..."
"It's not *fair*!" yelled Carston Merryweather, clutching at his signature rumpled, hand-me-down black and blue checked sweater. "I never even knew my parents and now everyone expects me to *save the world*? That's too much pressure! It's not fair at all!"
Mr. Snitch-Snatch drew his ethereal black cape tight about his shoulders. "I feel like we may not be on the same page here, kid. It's me. Mr. Snitch-Snatch? Your childhood imaginary friend come to life - but also *evil*. I've been attempting to torment you for the better part of November, on account of your parents dying on Thanksgiving. Nothing?"
"I didn't *ask* to be the Chosen One!" howled Carston Merryweather. "I just want my parents back!"
Mr. Snitch-Snatch cleared his throat. "Sure. I could see that. Listen, did you see the way I possessed your cat Fluffers this morning? When it was hissing at you? With the red eyes? That was me. Did you... that ring any bells?"
Carston Merryweather nodded. "I get it. It doesn't matter what I want. This is just my burden to live with. I'm the only one who can defeat this evil. Only me."
"You are very high on yourself, aren't you?" sighed Mr. Snitch-Snatch. "Hey, I've got a whole thing planned with the little old lady next door. You get spooked and run over there, but - *Oh no!* - she's possessed, too. *Wham!* Kitchen knife! It took kind of a while to put that together, so do you think maybe you could... you know?"
"In seven years, I'll be ready," said Carston Merryweather, eyes closed, lips pressed into a thin line.
"To go to Mrs. Goldstein's house?" said Mr. Snitch-Snatch.
"To defeat *you*!" roared Carston Merryweather.
"Ah. Well. You know what? I'll take it. Fine." Mr. Snitch-Snatch began to fade from view. "This is fine. Whatever. You'll never defeat me, Carston Merryweather. You're just a simple boy. A... a simple nobody. You don't stand a chance. Not in seven years. Not in a hundred. So..." Mr. Snitch-Snatch sighed as he faded from view. "Just...you know. Whatever."
Carston Merryweather nodded proudly. "I'll be ready. When the time comes, I *will* save the world."
"Oh, for the love of..." said a voice from the nether. "No. No, it's fine. This is fine. You'll never defeat me. Pfft. Christ, I need a drink."
Then the wind whipped around Carston Merryweather quite meaningfully, his auburn curls tossed dramatically. "I'll be ready." | 2016-11-02T07:28:04 | 2016-11-02T07:13:04 | 371 | 224 |
[WP] Ever since you received your letter for Hogwarts you've been curious about all the different spells there are. You've just bought your first wand and the first spell you try is what you believe to be rather humorous. "AbraCadabra". Nobody told you this spell was banned. For obvious reasons. | BANG
I jolted back with a loud yelp, tripping on my luggage and hitting my head on the cobblestone wall.
"Owww..." I winced, rubbing my scalp, "what did I do?" I looked around. Everything had seemed to stopped moving, suspended in time.
"N-no way," I murmured, regarding the frozen objects with awe, "it was just a joke... I didn't know..." I kicked a rock, but it refused to move. Frowning, I kicked it once more as hard as I could, but the rock simply refused to budge.
"I can undo this..." I muttered, reaching for my wand, suspended in midair, "I'll undo this and get going to Hogwarts." I grabbed my wand and tried to wave it; but like the rock, it didn't budge.
"AbraCadabra!" I shouted, still holding the wand. Nothing changed. "AbraCadabra! AbraCadabra! AbraCadabraaaaaaa!" Still, nothing changed.
I tried for countless times and finally gave up. I sat down, exasperated and started to sob.
"Abra... AbraCa...dabra..."
After hours of self pity, I eventually calmed down and thought things through.
At least, I thought, I still get to see the wizarding world.
Standing up, I looked up and sighed. AbraCadabra turned out to be the ultimate forbidden spell. So forbidden, that no one expected you to know anything about it.
Stupid muggles, saying it as a joke.
| I opened up the spell book, itching and excited to try out my first ever magical spell. My little feet squirmed in my new blue Ravenclaw uniform socks. I'd never done a spell before. I read through the names. Athena, my pet owl, hooted, channeling my excitement, or perhaps trepidation.
How should I approach this? I looked through what i presumed was the table of contents... then I saw the heading, "Spells of the Illegal Nature." My crinkling red hair stood on end. "Whoooa..." I breathed.
I looked over at Athena. "Shoooullld I...?" She hooted in an almost desperate protest.
It couldn't hurt to look..." I cajoled. I read the first one. "AbraCadabra?" I giggled. Then covered my mouth. "AbraCadbra?" That's something fake magicians at my friend's birthday party would say, before they did a trick. Well, I *actually* could do magic... so why not give it a shot?
It didn't sound so bad. And I couldn't figure out why it it was illegal. It wasn't like it sounded so terrible. Just said something about clothing and authority. Really, if it was illegal, why would they make it sound so vague?
I got up off the bed, and stood up straight, holding my wand out. "AbraCadabra!"
Nothing happened. I frowned, and tried again. "Abra-" But before I could get in another swish-and-flick movement, the door to the Ravenclaw sleeping quarters burst open. It was Headmistress Professor McGonagall.
"Stop right there, Ms. Alicia Cathland!" She flicked her own wand and grabbed mine.
All of a sudden, the fireplace in the room roared to life, and spat out a small item. I didn't know what it was. She looked at it grimly. Then said. "Pick it up."
I was terrified. What had I done??
It opened. It was a howler. It howled horrible, nasty things, yelling by a man. I couldn't catch most of it, but I did get the gist:
This spell would make the Minister of Magic's underpants turn inside-out... while he or she was wearing them.
Oh, and their clothes became invisible.
The End.
| 2016-12-01T21:23:11 | 2016-12-01T19:46:27 | 132 | 84 |
[WP] The English Teacher's worst nightmare: a story or poem that is completely literal, with absolutely no double meanings
EDIT: Holy cow, this got way bigger than I thought it would, thanks so much for an awesome first prompt ever!
EDIT 2: Did this actually make it to the front page of reddit? What the... | Casey looked at the blood red carpet. The carpet was blood red because Casey had just murdered a man. Often people do terrible things for reasons we'll never understand, but not Casey. Casey simply wanted to see what it'd feel like to kill a human being, and so he did.
Casey chopped the body up into tiny little pieces and stuffed them into his father's old laundry bag which also happened to be blood red (probably due to the many body parts it was holding)
There was a loud crescendoing, beating sound as Casey dragged the bag to his front door. Initially, Casey thought that was his conscience telling him he'd done a terrible thing for no reason at all. Turns out it was just his heart doing what hearts do best, beating, especially when one has just committed a murder.
Casey gingerly turned the doorknob. The word gingerly is generally defined as carefully. Casey was carefully opening the door because Casey was currently dragging 160 pounds of human meat in a blood red bag behind him. Please remember that the only reason the bag was blood red was because like previously stated there was a fragmented body inside it.
As Casey gingerly opened the door he saw a police officer standing in front of it. The officer saw him as well. For all his gingerly efforts Casey couldn't prevent the officer from seeing him or the bag which was naturally blood red at this point.
"Hi, officer"
"Hi, Casey"
"Am I going to prison?"
"Yes you are"
"Ok"
| Blazing with all the wrath of a young star, the afternoon sun fiercely beat upon the partially shaded buildings of Ricks & Wracks Bricklaying Co.. Said buildings had briefly experienced a complete lack of shade under the midday sun but such a time had already come to pass.
Stan was loading his company's finished product onto a truck when he made a mistake. A bag fell like a sack of bricks and clattered to the ground with the sound a collective of bricks makes when it hits the ground, accompanied by the swear words of a by now audibly, visibly frustrated and hot forklift operator.
Partially shaded by the truck that had been receiving the bricks, Stan walked over to the fallen merchandise and stated "I will need to tell someone about this incident."
However, Stan was incorrect. Jim the foreman had also heard the sounds of bricks falling from a height of around 2 metres and had come over sporting a pace one would expect a foreman to be able to muster up while partially shaded in the afternoon sun. He looked at the bricks, now broken.
"I see you have made a mistake. This means that I am going to be annoyed with you because of the extra paperwork I now have to do because of your broken...ah...pieces of company merchandise."
Stan was confused about Jim's odd choice of words. "They're bricks, Jim. You don't have to call them company merchandise."
Jim scratched his elbow, but only because it was itchy. "I do. Jill the head foreman passed a mandate saying that we couldn't say words that started with the same letter next to each other. She...claimed that it made her...noggin hurt."
"Oh well," Stan answered. "I will clean up the broken pieces of company merchandise. I am sorry for making you do extra paperwork."
"It's not a big deal. Perhaps you inconveniencing me now might result in you buying me a drink later tonight -- a means of apologizing?" Jim replied.
"Fuck off." Stan gave Jim the middle finger such that Jim got Stan's message verbally and visually.
---
I tried to make the writing as pedantic as possible, hope it wasn't too much of a slog to get through (unless you're an English Teacher)! I've even tried to avoid alliteration, although I might have slipped up here since it's pretty late where I am.
| 2017-01-30T08:40:34 | 2017-01-30T08:28:51 | 4,645 | 76 |
[Wp] Write a story with a secret message hidden inside
Edit: If any readers figure out the answer or if you, the writer, wish to let the reader know, please include the answer (or assumed answer) in the comments as a spoiler. | Hi mommy! i know you are worried about me but please don't be, i'm okay.
Every day is awesome here, uncle can be strict at times, but he gives me lots and lots of pizzas! how are you?
Lovely, i hope. and how is dad doing? i hope he recovered from bankruptcy.
Please tell him i miss him too and i hope he is doing okay. can't wait to see you both.
 
Mommy, look, uncle always reads my letter before finally sending it to you.
Even this letter, too. i hope he sends it to you without changing anything.
| Tom looked into his fathers study. It still smelt of stale cigar smoke. He stood on the threshold, waiting to be beckoned in. All that sat there though was an empty chair. Tom sighed, fondly remembering when his dad had sat him on his lap, while he worked the family finances.
The whole house was silent, save for the wind whipping the windows upstairs. Tom walked and sat in his fathers chair. He spread his hands on the desk, like his father had done, feeling the slight grooves in the worn wooden top. The door was right in front of him, he could see 8 year old Tom, peaking around the corner of the study door, waiting for his father to tuck him in. Tom wiped away the tears with his hand.
Tom opened the top drawer, finding a few pens, scraps of paper, and the tissues he was looking for. He closed the drawer, he wasn't ready to do this just yet.
The drawer didn't close all the way however. Tom pulled it out, and tried again to no avail. Who knows how old this thing was. Fruitlessly he continued to try, not wanting the study to be left how his father would've expected it. Eventually Tom gave up, he pulled the drawer all the way out to try and re-seat it on the rails. Looking into the void of the cupboard, there was nothing blocking the drawer. Then Tom noticed, on the back of the drawer itself, taped out of sight, was an envelope addressed, "To Tom." It was his fathers distinctive cursive handwriting. | 2017-06-23T08:46:15 | 2017-06-23T08:25:56 | 50 | 11 |
[WP] A zombie apocalypse occurs, where people retain characteristics they had while living. You, as the sole survivor, meet a snobby, vegan zombie who turns their nose up at you. | The worst are the crossfitters.
The world ends, the virus spreads, and you'd think all those damn gym junkies would stop working out and hide out in the woods with the rest of the preppers.
Turns out, exercise is pretty important to them, even after they get infected. Nobody paid attention to the signs telling you to wipe down the equipment before and after using it, and now they paid the price. The only thing they gained was the Virus, and now they don't recover from their kip-ups.
The virus didn't just turn people into shambling reanimated corpses- it turned them into shambling reanimated corpses with personality.
Ever see a zombie try and collect stamps? Hilarious. Old lady down the street got bit and now she wanders around peering into mailboxes. I've walked right past her a few times- sometimes, if the habits are strong enough, they keep the zombies from attacking.
That's why the crossfitters are the worst, they're after protein. They'll chase down survivors and grind them up into smoothies, it's how they got Tommy.
I'm good though- used to run obstacle courses and trails back before the epidemic. It comes in handy when you're being chased, surprise surprise. I'm the last survivor in my city.
Everyone else is either a zombie or a zombie with poor habits. I learn the habits of the more managable ones, kill the ones with less personality, and slowly spread my hunting grounds.
Peanut butter and rice, baby. Everything a growing boy needs.
I skirted the teen girl zombies in line at the coffeeshop- one of them snapped at me, but I'd rigged the coffeemaker. The smell would keep them there all day.
Today, I'm taking a big step- the supermarket. Most of the nearby houses have been picked clean and most of the pets killed off, except the old cat lady and her horde.
Bloody witch, I don't know how she's still feeding those things. She must have stocked up before the epidemic.
I slip in- dust has accumulated and floats in the air. The midday sun cuts through it like a knife and illuminates a bagboy, standing at the checkout line, moving his hands around as if filling up bags. Cripes, what a sucky job.
There are a few others inside, but I'm silent. Pick up a few tins of spam and roll my cart to the canned vegetables aisle and start looking.
Strangely enough, it looked like this section was the only one to be touched. Maybe a mother trying to feed her children well before they got eaten alive.
Oh well!
I start gently placing canned tomatoes and assorted fruit tins in the cart, as silently as possible. I'll be eating like a king tonight. Come back tomorrow, knock out some of the more threatening zombies, then-
Something touched me on the shoulder.
I spun around and whipped out my machete. Directly behind me was a tall, lean zombie with some weird scaf looking thing and a big coat- he was probably homeless when he got bitten.
I got ready to swing- any zombie that could get this close without me hearing was trouble, and needed to be dealt with.
The zombie reached into my cart and pulled out the cans of spam.
I paused. The hell? What kind of zombie wants spam? Maybe he was from Hawaii.
It shook its finger at me disapprovingly, then set the spam down on the opposite shelf. The zombie then selected corn, peas, and canned cauliflower- I didn't even know that was a thing- which he then stuck in my cart.
I lowered the machete. What was this, a nutritionist?
The zombie ambled away- I could hear him rummaging around in another aisle. He shortly reappeared with a small canister of tofu whey protein and offered it to me.
I accepted, ran my items past the zombie bag boy, then took off out of there.
Bloody vegans. | The dying sun bathed the old building in deep crimson. Maya rounded a corner, shouldering her rifle. Her heart was furiously trying to punch its way out of her chest. She had thought the factory was abandoned. From outside, it had looked like a hollow shell – buildings with empty windows, walls that were cracked with fissures, and no movement – that was the important thing – there had been no movement.
Maya wiped her brow on her shoulder and slammed a fresh mag into her rifle. This was her last one. It was like someone had opened the gates to the underworld and split the River Styx like Moses, allowing the dead to march straight out into the world of the living.
She heard them before she saw them. They were whistling loudly, giving her flashbacks from the old world when she was out in the city during the weekends. That felt like a whole different life now.
Running through a building filled with rusting pipes and silos, Maya noticed smoke rising from behind a stack of containers. She cursed silently and retracted her steps. There was no point in wasting bullets now. Instead, she found her way into a courtyard surrounded by tall fences with barbed wire.
Shambling across the open yard, a mob of the dead appeared in front of her. These fuckers were some of the worst she’d encountered – factory workers, with a predilection of smoking and catcalling. The incessant whistling attracted more of their kind, and the hordes were just growing and growing.
Even if she’d hit all the headshots now she still wouldn’t have enough bullets. The closest walker put the cigarette to his rotting lips and took a drag. Smoke billowed out of his ribcage. His dead eyes locked on Maya. He whistled loudly and then rushed toward her.
“Shit,” she mumbled and shot him in the head, the whistling increased tenfold and soon they were all running at her.
Maya turned and started sprinting up the alley between the fence and the closest building. As she rounded another corner she almost collided with a duo of walkers with cracked pink nails and filthy blonde pigtails sticking out from under their bowl-helmets. They both wore knee pads and were opening and closing their jaws around dried pieces of bubble gum that had turned black and brown with age. They both looked at Maya and then skated toward her on ill-fitting rollerblades.
Cursing loudly, Maya threw herself sideways, barely dodging the first one. She fucking hated the dead more than anything. She tapped her finger once, and the head of the second roller-skater exploded.
Briefly, she wondered if Laura was okay. Maya couldn’t believe they hadn’t been more careful. How was it that all the dead had gathered in the same place? Something or *someone* must’ve attracted them.
Climbing up an old rusted ladder, Maya finally managed to reach the roof. At least up here, she would be safe from the hordes below. She took a moment to calm herself, taking a sip from her bottle.
“Maya?” a voice said from behind a large exhaust vent. “Oh, thank god.”
Maya hugged her sister closely. “I thought you were fucked, L.”
Laura shook her head. “The walkers that got me were rainbow heads – they didn’t try to eat me, they just held me down, snapping their fingers at me, showing me old recordings of animal abuse in food factories on their iPhones… when they started dragging me away to a room with a sign that said ‘safe space’ I managed to break free…”
“Fuck, that’s horrible… thank god you’re fine.”
Laura smiled. Her long brown hair was all trussed up. Maya was trying to comb it out when Laura tensed up.
“Do you smell that?” she said.
“Oh hell,” Maya said when she noticed it too. “We need to get out of here, right now.”
“Must be the studio apartment over there,” Laura said and pointed.
The windows were broken and a figure lumbered in the darkness. The creature was impatiently moving back and forth in front of a small machine on a counter. A laptop rested on a table in front of an office chair.
“Oh shit, you’re right. I never thought I’d see one with my own eyes.”
“Can you hit the shot?” Laura said, her eyes wide in fear.
“It’s too far…”
“Let’s go then.”
Together they hurried down, the smell of coffee still strong in the air. They needed to warn the colony – there was a ghostwriter in town. Its unquenchable thirst for coffee was the stuff of legend, and it would eventually attract every other walker within miles with the smell of its freshly brewed black gold and its backhanded satire. The catcallers were nothing compared to that fucker.
****
r/Lilwa_Dexel for more of my stories | 2017-07-15T08:11:08 | 2017-07-15T05:34:44 | 167 | 50 |
[WP] You have $86,400 in your bank and someone steals $10. You spend all the rest of your money trying to get revenge. | It took me 4 months to notice. Yup. Maybe it was supposed to be the first of many but the fact it was just one single transaction....red flag. So neat, so tiny, so round. If they could've taken 0.00 maybe they would've..
I track all my outgoings at the end of every year so here I am in the departures lounge of Amsterdam airport staring at a cell in my spreadsheet. - 10?? Blank blank.
The date was September 9th 2017. 3.42a.m What the hell?
What was I doing on that very day? I was in hospital, recovering from a broken ankle sustained from a freak cycling accident in the park.
So it's a scam, take ten bucks from a random account...no one will notice. Take it from thousands of accounts...well throw me a boomerang...how much did he make? Probably millions. Sonofa. Probably more than the 84k I've got anyway.
Some random kid in a hoody drops off a thick envelope and moves off. I take a peek. Names and bank accounts...all minus 10. There's at least 400 sheets here. All the entries have the same date. But the times are different because the bank account holders are from all over the world. It cost me 8k to get this info. Money well spent. Adjusting for the time difference gives me a location.
London. 76k left.
Paying to follow the trail leads me to a pub just south of Waterloo bridge. Here another anonymous dude in a hoody deposits another envelope in my lap.
There's just a single pink post it note inside. I study it over a bowl of scratchings and lukewarm beer. I have an address and a name. I call a cab.
The following morning the news reports will exaggerate the death of a man who died of apparent overeating in a seventeen day binge. But this time the reports are disappointingly bland. Later forensic analysis and post mortems reveal that one Terry Kaspociwz died of internal bleeding. It took a while to break the 76k down, repeated blending was required. It took even longer to reverse the transactions. However you can have your cake and eat it Terry.
The other victims had their 10 bucks returned. They'll never notice but I did.
| When you put things down on paper, things sound stupid, this phase usually begins once you start to question your actions. Now this, my friends, is a stupid story and it all began the day I won the darn money.
"34, 37, 12, 96, 25" screamed the radio during the warm and slightly humid month of August. I looked at the damp ticket in my hand and turns out they were the magical numbers. I was thrilled to have won something like this. Never had I ever held faith in something like this. "Lucky me!" I thought to myself as I made my way to the radio station in my beat up Ford. The transaction was quicker than I thought it would be and I crawled tiredly into my cramped, shit hole of an apartment. Things were looking so good for me and I was happy, really really happy. I could now easily pay my alimony. I decided not to rush it and deposited all the money into bank.
I sat down on my couch and tried to relax, but this was overwhelming, it really was. I called up my bud Jake and told him about the news. No one really knows you until you got the dough (hey don't judge me, I know 80k doesn't qualify to be "dough" but it is a lot). I was a relatively lonely human being. I worked at the local laundromat. It had a crappy pay and I was borrowing money from my parents to pay for the house. Jake and I went to have some pizza, I obviously insisted that I would pay. 30$, nothing fancy. Turns out Jake the cunt saw me enter my pin and made a transaction on the internet. My phone beeped and a link led me to the purchase. It was a Minecraft player skin. I called up Jake but he must've blocked me. I was enraged, I head out to the bank to get my pin changed. I never knew where Jake lived, we met up at the occasional party and then at the Bar, but that was about it.
I was determined to find out where this guy lived, he stole my 10$. I needed to find him. In these scenarios money doesn't play a major role no matter how it sounds, it's the individuals shortcomings that do. I flipped through craigslist and found a private detective willing to search for the guy at just 10$ an hour, it was a steal. Two months quickly ran by, I was chilling in my new apartment when I got a phone call from my guy, "YOU GOT SCAMMED, YOU DUMB SHIT"
No worries. I hire two private detectives this time. One to track Jake and one to track the guy from craigslist. I quickly drained 30 grand over the next 3 months.
Finally, my guy found Jake. He was in Ohio. I then killed him in an alleyway and a homeless man saw me commit the crime and even recorded it on his flip phone. I was convicted of 1st degree murder and plead guilty. I lost the rest of my money paying my lawyer. But whatever. Jake can't use his dumb Minecraft skin now.
I am sorry that this story is full of shit. I don't know how to write and would appreciate tips | 2017-07-18T09:38:58 | 2017-07-18T09:02:52 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] When a twin dies their brother/sister acquires all their strength, intelligence, etc. You've just discovered this phenomena, but so has your brother/sister | "It's not worth it," I heard.
I can hear my heart beat. My healthy, fully functional, 18 year old heart.
"Please don't do this." My brother, again.
My brother is in there. His heart is beating, but it can't be calm. Mine is a slow thumping noise.
"It won't fix anything. It won't." He referenes a debt that cannot be repaid.
His must be erratic. He has been sick for a long time.
"C'mon man, open up!" He is agitated. It's not good for him.
I cock the revolver. It make a slick noise. I am calm.
"This won't make us even."
I can hear his sobbing. I lift up the gun.
"Life won't be worth living without a twin."
"It won't work. It won't make me better."
I taste the steel. Any chance is worth it.
| Jaime looked at me, his arctic irises digging into mine. He sprinted, bare-handed, in my direction. Softly, I position my left foot, in preparation. As the avalanche comes near me, I dart under his outreached left arm, and as he slows in reaction, I kick him in the side.
Breathe. I have to breathe if I'm going to win.
He takes a second to recuperate, I should have taken the chance. He gets up, lowers his center of gravity, and walks toward me with wide steps. I lower my center of gravity, and stay where I am. This time, he stands still in challenge, offering me the chance to catalyze the match. I crouch so that my helmet is level with his gut. Then I rush him, as he's trying to get me into a hold, I slide between his legs, swivel my foot and push. I successfully throw him, but as I do he grabs my shoulder and brings me down with him.
Together we lay on the floor, struggling to get a hold or to break one. He gets me into a half nelson, which he knows I'll break. He's prepared for it when I do, he gets me into another headlock and I yield after about half a second. He had me, it was over.
"Helluva move, Jaime."
"Thanks Carly, I saw Hulk Hogan do something like that on WWE."
"You're saying I should watch that 'really real restling' if' I'm gonna win?"
"Are you winning right now?"
It's a good thing he knows how to take a punch, because I know how to give one.
"What time do you want to train tomorrow?"
"You're killing me Jaime."
"If that's what we have to do to get better, I don't mind so much."
Somehow those eyes are so much softer when he's outside the ring. | 2018-02-25T08:15:55 | 2018-02-25T04:45:16 | 1,595 | 22 |
[WP] You go to hell, only to find out that hell has been overturned by humans. Turns out gathering billions of the most wicked of human, among them are several ruthless but brilliant rulers, commanders, and dictators, whom can no longer die, isn't such a good idea after all. | *The scene is a room with a single desk. A weary looking woman chews on gum while looking through her phone. A 7 foot demon sits on the chair across from her with a collar around its neck, its wicked sharp horns scraping against the ceiling. Outside a single window a scene of desolation can be seen. Plumes of fire, rivers of lava and all that. Occasional screams can be heard in the room. The woman ignores them, but each scream makes the demon flinch.*
Woman: (Looking up from her phone) "Name?"
Demon: "Ashmodeon seventh spawn of the great seer Glarastell, heir to the mig-"
Woman: "Alright, Ash it is. Now Ash what did you do in hell?"
Ashmodeon: (Snarling) "Insolent human, how dare you mock my name as such! You will-"
*The woman sighs and taps a button under the table. The Demon writhes in pain as the collar around its neck glows a bright blue.*
Woman: (Looking at her phone again) "Like, seriously. I have a quota to fill, so why don't you just answer my questions and we can both be done with this. Sounds reasonable yeah?"
Ash: (Smoke coming out of its nostrils) "So be it."
Woman: "Alright, so what did you do in hell?"
Ash: "Very funny human, surely you know I am a dread lord, I led mighty forces against your pathetic."
Woman: (Almost to herself) "Military, got it."
Woman: (Looks up from her phone to glare at the demon who had opened his mouth to say something then thought better better of it): "How many humans do you think you have tortured?"
Ash: "Billions, easily. I have made the vilest humans cry and beg."
Woman: (Blow a bubble which pops in Ash's face) "Billions, got it. Final question, have you ever been to heaven?"
Ash: (Frowning) "Of course not, why-"
Woman: (Sighing as she scrolls through Hellit(tm) for the millionth time) "So to summarize, you led forces against us, tortured us, and know absolutely nothing about heaven - making you useless to us, correct?"
Ash: (Cocking its head) "Seems correct."
*The woman presses another button and the demon, along with the chair falls through a hole under it. She rubs her ears from the echoing screams of the demon as it fell into the void.*
Woman: "Next!"
***
(minor edits)
First time doing a screenplay like this, feedback is appreciated.
If you enjoyed, check out my sub, [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | There are many people down here, you know. Many, misunderstood people that is. At least, that's what I've been told.
You see, I've only been down here for, what I believe to be, a few days. I have, surprisingly, made a few friends already. This "Hell" I have heard preaches about and read books about is nothing like it really is. In fact, I have yet to see one demon, or torturer, or monster, or even the Devil himself. I was kind of just thrown down here. Also, it's pretty cool that I am allowed to keep a journal down here.
I mean,of course this place isn't great by any stretch of the imagination. The place is just a few degrees too warm. Just warm enough to make you complain and feel uncomfortable but not enough to hurt you. The main problem here is there isn't much to do. Bundy told me that there is going to be a meeting today as to what the humans will do next, whatever the hell that means. I guess I am going to go because I literally have nothing else to do. I will write back about what happens.
Obviously, it's going to suck to be here for the rest of eternity, but I think i can make it work.
Okay so, jeez, a lot of crazy shit just went down. There are a lot more people down here than I thought. Bundy got me through to the front of the gathering, so I could see what was happening, but God I did not expect this.
Hitler,
Like THE Hitler is here. I mean obviously he was an awful person and all but wow! He is here and he has quite the following.
Let me start from the beginning. Pretty much, this is how it went down. The biggest crowd I've ever seen in my life, and afterlife, crowded around the center of Hell, which, by the way, is just a large crater with pockets of reddish tar, and waited. We waited for what must have been at least 2 days. Then, all of a sudden, a trumpet played. It was just one loud, shrill sound that pierced the noise of the congregation. The sea of people split in two and left a massive opening for something huge to pass through. Next came the most insane display of power that I had ever seen.
Hitler and some other people, who I definitely should have known from my high school social studies classes, were riding on what appeared to be a thick black cage.
As the caravan got closer I could make out a massive red figure- with horns and fangs contained within the cage.
If this is the devil, I thought to myself, then that is the most stereotypical devil he could possibly be.
The caravan got to the center of the mass of Us and everyone kneeled. A speaker produced a deafening squeak then a "Hello?" came from it.
"Hello is this on?" said an agitated voice that sounded slightly German.
Someone below, who I could only assume was Hitler, gave him a thumbs up.
"As you know," he said "I am Hitler."
An unenthusiastic "Heil Hitler" was murmured through the crowd.
"And this here is the Devil Himself!"
Now the crowd roared.
"This meeting scheduled today is to discuss how we are going to get out of here!"
Okay a lot more happened but I just got a call from Bundy- I have been invited to a personal feast with Hitler himself! Wish me luck. I will write soon. | 2018-06-17T18:22:37 | 2018-06-17T17:02:19 | 396 | 174 |
[WP] Interstellar travel is hard. Most galactic civilisations only manage to make contact and eventually communicate with others via high speed transmissions. That's why it's a big shock when Humans, previously uncontactable, suddenly showed up in orbit. | Humans had arrived, at least that's what the many other Uk'at voices in my head were telling me. Hundreds of thousands spoke all at once, and I absorbed every single word they said. Surprised. Scared. Curious. What would they be like?
Just figuring out a common language between us had been difficult. The Uk'at speak primarily through their own minds. The humans, if they possessed this ability, had not revealed it to us. It seemed to us they spoke primarily through soundwaves, formed by the odd holes in the round appendages sticking out the tops of their masses they referred to as mouths.
Although we are able to perceive sound, our uses for doing so do not extend to language. And so we have no need for the holes they use to make the noises they interpret as speech.
We made up a rudimentary system by which we were able to move objects to indicate our thoughts. The humans must rely on their appendages, grasping an object and moving it to particular places until a mutually understandable meaning is reached. We are able to do this with our minds. We cannot yet read human body language, but we believe such a simple species must have been impressed and shocked by this.
The humans told us they had detected our planet two hundred Uk'at years prior. We had been aiming to contact different intelligent species around the the immediate regions of space for almost a millenia, but had never heard anything back. We knew we would have to wait. We had observed the humans and speculated by their rate of technological advancement that they simply weren't as intelligent as we were, or that they had had other priorities outside of interstellar travel and communication. Nobody had expected them to travel to us, much less sneak up on us like this.
The delegation from Earth had spent a year here now working with the most learned Uk'at on a method of communication. The rest of the Uk'at looked on from their habitats \[unfinished\] | Elder Hemtog gestured patiently for the crowd to come to order. Lights flashed as the supercomputer error-checked and corrected the messy stream of bits condensed from the quantum stream. Messages could be sent - almost instantaneously, via a stability-enhanced superpositional gas matrix of electrons - across the nearly three light-year Dataline which stretched from the vast science station in Lagrangian orbit of the Holy Sphere all the way to the Blessed Empire Research Ship, which raced under steady if weak acceleration toward the Highest Collective homeworld. Similarly, the Highest Collective could send messages from their planet to the science vessel which tumbled through the long dark of interstellar space toward the Holy Sphere. But between these enormous science ships, messages could only be sent at light speed. It had been nearly a year since the last communique and the Blessed Council waited eagerly to hear from their friends and neighbors of nearly ten light years' distance.
The supercomputer drank greedily from its power source and roared as it factored and refactored data sets, culling the noise of quantum state information and yielding the coherent, concrete data of the intended message. The crowd waited impatiently, air as electric with anticipation as the traces on the supercomputer boards. Elder Hemtog maintained a calm disposition, keeping order in the chambers by its stoic presence alone; belying no hint of its own great eagerness.
All the lights flashed as one, and on the immense viewing screen, as well as simultaneously all across the Holy Sphere, appeared the familiar creased faces of Beckoning Safety, Apogee of the Highest. They began the formal greeting of their people, but before the first syllable could form in the harmonics of the crooning voices of the Apogee's mouths, the image flickered and tore. Screens flashed, and suddenly lights dimmed or overloaded and burst. Warning klaxons howled...
The tachyon storm that preceded the ship's appearance washed away the solar wind and for an instant, Holy Sphere's magnetosphere flexed and stretched toward its green star. Then, in a pulse first bluer than water then immediately redder than iron rust, a spherical ship appeared suddenly and motionlessly beyond the deepest satellite orbits. With an eye-watering smearing, the stationary ship fell out of its FTL inertial frame, which carried immense energy into the atmosphere of Holy Sphere. Auroras splashed across the skies and reached down into the denser atmosphere, becoming vast lightning storms which illuminated the world in a harsh white glare as they arced through clear, cloudless air. In moments, the physics-defying fury passed, leaving no lasting injury or inconvenience. The magnetosphere bowed again under the merciless pressure of the solar wind. And quietly, almost apologetically, a broad-spectrum signal whispered in sound and light from the distant ship.
"We come in peace." | 2019-01-24T19:33:46 | 2019-01-24T14:30:07 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] murder is legal, once a permit has been obtained from the local police department. Permits require a declaration of a target victim and justification to commit the act. Once a permit has been issued it is valid for 72 hours. Once expired you can never get another for the same target victim. | Murder Permits have been around for awhile. They're just a way of life now. Micheal gets so many he doesn't really pay attention to the reason anymore. He doesn't even need to sign it. Just click "approve" on the computer and off it goes. Within 72 hours either someone will be dead or not. It's mindless and repetive work.
​
Today was just another normal day for Micheal. Yesterday, he was bored and made a game to see how many he could approve. Time to break it! He quickly logs in and starts clicking. Clicking, clicking, clicking. "MICHEAL! Come in here!" His boss, Robert, screamed out the office door.
​
"God I hate that guy!" Micheal mumbles. "Probably wants to cancel my vacation next month!" He walks into the office "Yes, sir?"
​
Robert looks at him sadly. "I was spot checking the murder permits and thought you would want to see this." He turns his monitor around showing Micheal the permit summary he was looking at. Micheal quickly scans the information, he's done it so much he know exactly where to look for the important details.
​
Murder Permit Request: Victim: Micheal Landrefeld. Permit Status: Approved! Approved By: Micheal Landrefeld 07/09/2019
Shock slowly disolved into reality. Micheal's head drops. "Can, can, can we see the full request?"
Robert's eyes narrow, "You already approved it. Did you not see the full request earlier this morning?"
Knowing it didn't matter Micheal confessed how well he's been doing his job. Robert laughed and opened up the full request.
Murder Permit Request:Victim: Micheal Landrefeld
Reason: Micheal has been slacking on his job. About 6 months ago he stopped reading permits this has lead to many unwarranted deaths.
Requestor: Robert Bastion.
​
"Ok sir, I get the point. This will not happen again. I assure you of that. I apologize."
"Good to hear. Now get back to work and read the damned permits!"
​
Micheal stood up and walked brain dead to the door. That was an extreme way to prove a point but he swears he'll never mindlessly do his job again. As he reaches the door 6 shots echo through the office. | Meet in a crowd. Legal is legal, but there's no need to ruin a good surprise. Happy hour on a Friday, brought Jean there after work, two sidecars in and I'm running out of small talk.
"So how was that new season of that new show?"
Jean looks bored and I'm sweating in March, it's not off to a good start.
"Sheryl why don't you cut the shit and ask me?"
That's Jean all over, straight to the point, no time wasted, just cut and dry and succinct, really succinct. I snap my fingers for another round and down the rest of what's in front of me.
"Well it's about Hank. He's....well he's been stealing from me for months. Thinking I didn't know, and I couldn't face it and now he's left me and he's off with some young thing and I got- I got a permit Jean, you follow?"
"Oh?"
"That's right I got a permit. And well you see I couldn't really find them at first you see but I found them Jean and I need your help."
"You need my help because your permit expired."
"Jean- see Jean that's it, that's why you're the one Jean, Jean you-are-it!"
The bartender slowly waddles over, spilling half the drink as it hits the wood.
"Don't ever do that again."
I look up and he's starring at me and the sweat really drips.
"I'm not a dog. There's no need to snap your fingers at another human being. Ever. Alright?"
I take a sip and nod and wave him away and almost faint from relief.
"So that's the thing Jean. I found them but it was too late and now I need you. We could connect you to the theft no problem and the-"
"Sheryl you're an alcoholic."
"...say again?"
"You already asked me Sheryl. I even got the permit. Six months ago. We got the permit and I even took a bus to Vaughan and they weren't there. Six months Sheryl."
"There must be some mistak-"
"Hey TERRY!"
Some lump of coal resurrects himself from the bartop in response.
"Sheryl needs help killing her husband, it'd be worth your while!"
He seems to be either stewing the offer over or repressing some melody of indigestion that warrants some pause. And then fair Terrance speaks,
"She already afed me. I's got the permt and it spird."
Jean makes use of the barstool and 180's to another mug and lush.
"Phil?"
"December. Cold as fuck and it expired. Haven't even paid me back Sher."
Jean returns her eyes to mine with a little too much satisfaction. But that smug look doesn't last. She see's the tears I'm trying to let slip past in the sweat. Just starring at my glass that's already gotten empty somehow. She seems to want to say something but then downs her drink and stands.
"Let it go Sheryl. Holding on is killing you from the inside out. Let it go and buy these guys a round."
And then she's gone. She's gone and the after work crowd dissolves into these skinny little things that eat nachos like they're celery. Then it's just me. Me and Spilly.
"Hey Spilly." I snap my fingers to get his attention.
"I got a proposition for ya." | 2019-07-09T09:59:53 | 2019-07-09T08:25:40 | 278 | 131 |
[WP] The hero shows up at the villains doorstep one night. Theyre shivering bleeding scared. They look like they were assaulted. Looking up at the villain, swaying slightly, close to passing out, they mumble “didn’t know where else to go” then collapse into the villains arms. | Part 1/3
Shouldn’t a villain be evil? Shouldn’t that be a requirement of the label. I’m not evil, though that’s probably what all the other “villains” think. But I don’t want power, wealth or influence. I didn’t build this house because I needed a fortress or lair. I built it to be alone. I built it so I didn’t have to hurt anyone.
At first I didn’t know what was happening. My first boyfriend died in my arms. They said it was a heart attack, very rare at seventeen, but not unheard of. If it was just a heart attack, why did I black out? After he died I committed to being his legacy. He was the star center for our schools basketball team, so I devoted myself to playing. It seemed like I was better overnight. I ran faster, jumped higher, understood the game better and could just know what I needed to do to make the shot. I was the star center of the girls team almost overnight. When we took the state championship I told everyone my 57 goals were for him.
The second time I passed out was at the celebration. Our state had never won a national basketball championship, and the girls team had never placed, so it was a big deal. We met all kinds of important people; the governor, some mayors, a senator or two, a few tv and movie stars, and finally we got to me the mighty twins. Superheroes. They were amazing as they walked towards us, shaking hands and taking photos as they went. I was so excited my pounding headache didn’t hurt so bad. Then they were in front of me. Carlo took my hand in his, Carla put her hand on my bare shoulder. They smiled and started to say something, and then it all went black.
After I came to everyone was shocked. They thought I died. It seems like the event was so well publicized that some opportunistic villain decided to make a name for himself (or herself) and blasted the twins to death while they were meeting us. Several of the others were hurt, thrown back by the blast, but I got the worst of it, being right between the two. They thought I died.
Because of my proximity to the death of some of our greatest heroes my recovery was a big deal. Once I was awake other supers started to come and visit me. They asked me what it felt like, did I see anything, did I notice anything out of the ordinary, was I being followed? It sounded like they were afraid.
I was in the hospital for so long everyone else graduated. I had enough credits and my teachers passed me in the classes I was in, so I guess I graduated too, just missed the ability to walk, apply to college, prom and parties. I had to spend some time in rehab, it seemed like no part of my body wanted to work correctly. The headaches were terrible, and I even thought I was hearing voices, so I started seeing a therapist at the facility before they discharged me. They thought it was a combination of head trauma, PTSD from the attack and guilt from surviving where the great heroes did not. There was nothing I could do, they told me over and over, but something was bothering me. Damn this headache makes it hard to think!
My last day in the hospital was the single worst day of my life.
Months had passed with me in the hospital. Learning to walk again, run again, stand, bend, eat and drink again. Finally I was declared minimally fit to get out of the hospital and stop spending the insurance companies money. There were no more attacks on supers and those who came to visit me came to wish me well as I left. We all posed for one last photograph. I heard a loud “Nooooo” seemingly in my head and then a huge shock and all black again.
This time when I woke up I was alone in the center of a crater. Bodies were all around me and the ground was back from the blast. The media was in full force, the police were shouting questions, heroes were on full alert and I lay at the bottom of the hole and cried. Sobbing to myself. Why?!? Why?!? Oh god!?! Not because I was attacked again, but because of the death around me.
This time I was “awakened”. That’s what they call it when you get powers after birth. There are basically four types of powers: birthed powers, those that your are born having from day one; those that are learned; like The sorcerer in New York who used to be a Doctor; modified humans, like the neighborhood web slinger; and awakened, those are powers that activate later in life, generally with trauma. I was awakened. I knew who killed the supers. Both times. I knew what happened to Toby, my boyfriend. Me. I happened to all of them. So I cried.
As I laid there and cried I realized nobody came to check on me. Why would they, I was the girl who lived when everyone else died. They had to be so afraid, terrified even. Eventually the tears stopped, around the same time the bodies on the edge were being removed. Still they did not acknowledge me. Still they did not look at me. Even to arrest me.
All the bodies are gone now, except me. I’m still in this hole. No headache, but voices in my head. They have quieted, some faded completely away. As they fade what they were becomes part of me, and when it happens I feel them die. God, I wish I could undo it, but it seems wished are not my power. Not one of them at least. I am powered, that’s for sure.
Each of the supers that die in my head leave me what was theirs. Their powers are mine. As the voice fades and I feel them die, I also feel their power settle into my bones. It becomes part of me. So do other things. Knowledge that is not learned, memories that are not mine are now there, in my head.
So I stayed in that crater overnight, as they died in me one after another. And I became powerful. But I was not evil. I did not ask for this and so while this was all happening I looked for a solution. A way out. And I thought I found it. One of the memories, belonged to atomic man, I think, was of a place in the pacific that was particularly challenging for the whole group. A villainous island where a group of evil men had consolidated their power. The supers had never been able to disrupt them, but maybe I could. If I could I would be far away from other people. Maybe then I could find away to not hurt others. | "I didn't know where else to go..." Little more came from the now collapsing knight's throat.
There were few reasons for him to have turned to me.
One - the most obvious and at the same time least likely one - is that he tried to pull a fast one on me, tried to use the subterfuge I had employed so often. A sentimental thought, only, since his "Honor" outranked any will to succeed, as he had spit in my face.
Another was to present his own surrender, and perhaps negotiate terms. He had done so plenty, yet it was evident that he was neither negotiating now nor capable of negotiating terms soon due to his wounds and sheer horror.
I ran my mind through it all. He was horrified, battered, bleeding out and quite cold. One of my commanders, perhaps? I didn't employ people with evident ice magic, too high of a chance to let people escape by looking, feeling, and sounding like they are dead when the thing that would destroy them let them cling to life a bit more.
Perhaps another threat, in it's desires completely orthogonal to our conflicting ones? Could be, though nothing of that sort has been on my radar. Then again, he'd more likely turn to his friends and companions before turning to me, and if they all needed help, they'd all be sitting next, or bandaging him.
Or he can't get to his friends, and needs something else from me. I need to do more research.
***
The door is locked, and I advised my servants to send any guests asking for entry away, no matter how beaten up, no matter how gloating or stressing they are. Letting another person in right now would increase the statistical odds of allowing any planned traps to spring on me to 28%.
The knight hasn't awoken yet. I throw a healing concoction into his face. The glass splinters and cracks, and while the pain must certainly be agonizing, the fluids do their best to mend these and other wounds.
He shrieks in pain. And slowly, he gets up. He looks about. He knows he is imprisoned, incarcerated. A cell, big enough for 5, populated with him and me alone. He sees that he still has his armor, his weaponry. He sees me.
"Come now, get your weapon out. You wanted a lesson."
Oh, he doesn't understand, but he still readies his weapon. He is defensive, waiting for me to hit first. His grasp is wavering, and a singular strike would break through his defenses if I hit firmly enough. Pathetic.
"I know why you are here. I have my eyes about. Your lovely little troupe has some trouble with some trickery, and it just about costed you your life. You couldn't get help, and you couldn't defeat them."
I strike down at him, an open swing above the head, which left me wide open if he had any aggression within him. He'd quickly realise that refusing to press his advantage would leave him wide open.
He tried blocking it. His gaze is filled with confusion, and then pain as the blade he held to block pressed down on his face. His balance is wavering, and he falls on his bottoms.
"Get up. Do it right." I guide him with my shortsword.
He raises himself up. He once more assumes a defensive position. I once more raise my blade to an overarc swing. And, once more, he tries to block. Once more, he is sent to the ground.
"Get up. I am getting tired of tutoring you, so put in your effort."
He raises himself up, still defensive, still so sentimental about actually attacking. I raise my blade again, but halt. His gaze is confusion, but a bit of fear still. Not a fear of me, it is different than other times.
"Could it be that you don't know how to attack non-lethally?" I wondered aloud.
His sword lowered, his stance turned from a defensive to none at all. He nodded.
"Well, that explains it. You certainly aren't weak to overpower a traitor within your ranks, which meant you didn't want to overpower them. If they were an ordinary traitor, having defected due to offers from my side, you'd not be hesitant, I'd guess. But your sentimentality in this matter suggests other means of provoking betrayal... Raise your weapon."
He did so, again. This time, I feigned an attack, and slammed the hilt into his face. The gemstone adorning it got bloodied, and his nose looked the part.
"This is for subduing. It hurts, doesn't it? But it rarely is lethal, even under repeated pummeling. And it gives the skull a mighty good rattle! Can shake off most of the things one falls victim to. The lovely daze of beauty, the heat of anger... Mind control?"
He looked, his eyes widening as a glimmer of hope flickers before him. He gets up all on his own, and I ready myself to attack.
My head rattles about mightily, my vision becomes slightly blurry. He attacked! He actually did it. "Well done. So, you know how to solve your little dilemma, don't you? There is one thing I need to stress, however... come closer."
He gets up, gets pretty close to me, half a meter distance.
"Now that you know how to solve the problem, it will be so much more satisfying to know you won't be able to use it." I smirk, and swing my blade diagonally upwards from it's resting position. It, too becomes bloodied, and the eyes that had been filled with hope and so much confusion, they even showed a little bit of clarity now. He knew I'd do this. He knew I would kill him.
His body slumps to the ground, lifeless. I drop my blade, and leave, locking the door. This kill doesn't need to make rounds. I already had enough people trying to avenge.
***
The rebellion had no stopping yet. It seemed as if they hadn't had problems at all. I was somewhat confused, until I got account from one escaping guard. He had seen the troupe I had in my sight for a long time, wrecking the place. A knight was at the forefront, with a shortsword, it's hilt gemmed, a snake carved into it.
I usually had a policy of letting people who bring me information alive, but this was a strand that he only didn't put together because he was a moron. If he blabbed this info to but one person more, they'd add together that that was clearly my blade. So letting him live was not an option. Luckily, there was a dead man's cell that evidently became vacant recently. I'd best put him in there.
***
My head hurts, rattling about. My sight is blurry, dizzy. I see the knight, smirking. He pulls away his - my blade. I am in a cave, around me markings and charts. I compose myself.
"Well, I guess this is a place of many things, though I'd say it is a prime place for cosmic malice. I tried to order the world around, and I turned into a pawn. I taught you to free your friends, and you free your enemy. Now, if you'd give me a second."
I compose myself. Wipe blood from my nose, gather my sword, get my footing right. All the while, they wait, patient, sentimental, pathetic fools.
"Alright. I hope you didn't expect me to just help you now. Pathetic. Ready yourselves. This is my final lesson!" | 2019-08-04T04:19:25 | 2019-08-04T03:30:14 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Turns out humanity was alone in the universe because they were way too early to the party. Now, billions of years later aliens find a strange planet, Earth, and begin to unveil the secrets of the first intelligent species. | The massive, angular craft drifted into orbit around a dead world. A world scarred by a war fought so long before what the rest of universe viewed as the dawn of time. A war in which there would be no victory. Against a foe that sought to tear the galaxy asunder and could not be defeated. Themselves.
I shuddered at the thought.
This world, unlike the tens of thousands like it, was the Homeworld of the species that my people had looked up to for so very long. They still existed in some way. Their descendants scattered across much of the galaxy still mourned the loss of their ancestral home. Earth.
Everyone in the galaxy knew of them, and by as many names as there were stars. The Guardians, the Old Ones, the Ancients, the Hominids. Their true name was long gone and forgotten. Abandoned in their haste to distance themselves from what they once were, even as they embraced their heritage as the true inheritors of the galaxy. For what claim could be made by others against the Descendents of those who lived, conquered and ruled so many aeons before our most distant ancestors had even climbed from the primordial soup?
Of course they were challenged, time and time again. But even fractured into a thousand Star Nations they were indomitable. Undeafetable.
This expedition was only even possible with assistance from them, as any attempt to "defile" their ancestral home was met with a fury the likes of which had ripped apart the galaxy the last time it had been unleashed in the single-minded goal of defending that which they could never regain. And punishing those who dared to trespass where even they hesitated to go.
And now that I can see the planet, I think I understand why.
This is a grave. A grave for the billions reduced to ash in a civil war, and the remains forced to flee aboard primitive starships. For this happened not at their height, but long before the creation of even the fist node of the translight network.
And as I look out the window, I can see green forests, blue oceans, land teeming with life. And yet, there is Something there. Something missing, like a small, clean hole in a masterful painting. An inky void that, while noticed, can scarcely even be described.
This was a dead world because even overgrown with new life, you could hear the echoes of what once was. Sprawling cities of glass and metal reaching towards the sky, roads and rails connecting disparate groups across thousands of miles. The scars, not of war but of civilization itself were what haunted this place.
I looked around the bridge, and I think the others saw it too. | **Journeys End**
Tomorrow we reach it. Garrix says that we’ll find the root to all existence, that purpose itself will have an answer, like all equations. I stopped listening to Garrix a long time ago.
Officer Mercurier hasn’t stopped pacing the entire journey, her performance has declined significantly. If anyone should be concerned with roots it would be her, she was the heir to a family who extended all the way back to the diaspora.
I chose my team carefully. The pair are barely fit to the task but they are a lesser evil. Choosing someone from one of the high families could be construed as an act of war, and I will not suffer one of the tech-speakers aboard this ship.
In my hand was the last coherent reading from the planet.
​
*:We Were Human:*
​
The archaic term for the origin species. The spacial trail ends here, the trail of death that many seekers died following. The first and last time a worm drive was activated. A scar on the fabric of reality. What will we find. Will the worm trail be a testament to ambition? Cowardice? Failure? Ignorance? Tomorrow we reach it, the end. I hope so anyway.
My X-HUNTER was a standard military ship a hundred years ago. Now its a relic that’s held together with TLC and sheer will. As I walked past Garrix’s quarters I found myself stroking the insignia plate. *Unit: D3LI14.*
“Delila” I whispered to the groaning metal. My hand touched the plate with a reverence and tenderness that’s reserved for the overly attached and very lonely.
“Cap?” a groggy voice called through pincers “Arrived have we?” Garrix’s chitin grated against the metal as he worked his way from the bed, pincers clicking all the while.
The door would have been a sliding door, opening at the presence of the inhabitants and asking for clarification if anyone outside wanted in, but this was Delila.
Garrix pushed aside the hanging beads. His soft beige chitin shining with the morning orange from the ships lights.
His antennae whipped back and forth “I can’t honestly say I’ve ever been this excited” His shell parted slightly, revealing the almost human face beneath. No mouth, no nose, but beautiful blue eyes that held more life than I’d ever felt.
“Just hope there’s still anything left of the place” I said my cynicism topping my own excitement “Might be a wasteland” his shoulders slumped but then he looked at my face. He saw the excitement I felt, that even beneath the nihilistic haze I was still me. Garrix was one of the last people I knew that I could call friend.
He saw through my bullshit. But didn’t begrudge it. He had his shell and I had mine.
“Best get ready, Cap” he nodded and went back inside his room. I had begun to walk away when he called back “Make one for me too”
I giggled to myself as I walked towards the bridge. He’d gone to get dressed and wanted coffee. Someone who can’t consume liquid and only wears clothes on special occasions, wanted coffee and wads getting changed. He must be nervous or excited. Probably both.
The bridge hummed as the auxiliary systems came to life. Someone had started up Delila without me.
[JHCWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/JHCWrites/): Check My Stuff! | 2019-08-13T15:43:33 | 2019-08-13T15:27:26 | 64 | 24 |
[WP] Genetics is everything. There are scales for wisdom, might, HP and mana, that are used on babies right after birth. You were born into an elitist family that discarded you after seeing your mana. What they didn't know is that you were the top 99.99% in dexterity, and you hold grudges. | **Part 1**
Spellcrafting has three primary components.
First is the mana, the fuel for the spell. Every invocation requires some, and the more powerful the spell the more it consumes, and on the inverse the more you have, the more powerful your spells can become.
Second is the intent of the caster. Magic cannot be cast without a fixed idea of what you desire. Some people use words or phrases in foreign languages for this, having tied the effect of one spell to a string of words they don't know the true meaning of. Others simply keep it fixed in their mind.
And third, the manipulation of magic around them.
This last one, that most people often shirk, is amusingly the most important. No mage ever casts a spell without moving, whether they know it or not, and even something as simple as stretching your hand forward counts as the somatic component when combined with your intent.
When my family threw me out on my tenth birthday, the day when my Aptitudes first became visible, I might not have been old enough to understand why, if not for me overhearing my then-parents argue with a worried servant.
Said servant was tasked with making certain that I disappeared. It was decided that I was to be her child; illegitimate, that is. Ironic that they would rather receive the hit to their reputation for adultery, than suffer a child whose magical aptitude was among the lowest in the country.
My "new" Mother was genuinely kind, and we built a life for ourselves. She moved elsewhere to work, with money going under the table from my "Father" to her, to keep the secret. We lived well on that money blackened with sin, and my Mother, the servant lady, made sure I got the schooling I needed to live a good life on my own.
How dearly I wished I could have just been her child from the beginning. My life would have been a wonderful one with such a kind and lovable person for a parent. Alas, I could not forget the truth, and I used my schooling to develop my talents.
You see, as I told you earlier, spellcrafting has three components. Mana and Intent are the obvious ones to avoid just releasing a fart of blue glitter, when casting something, but what most people don't realise is how absolutely *vital* the physical component, the movement of your body, is to your spells.
I like to compare it to the difference between a lumberjack and a surgeon. Any idiot is capable of cutting something open with enough strength. You don't even need a precise tool to open the chest cavity of some random passerby; just use your gods-given brawn and swing that axe like a child would at a barrel full of candy. You might have exposed the blackened heart of some worthless stain on the planet, but nothing was gained from it.
The Surgeon, however, has the necessary dexterity and finesse to open up the chest of a person, see the black taint that squeezes any sense of decency and remorse out of them, and remove it with expert precision. The problem is removed in both cases, but in two different ways, and with two different methods.
Magic is not unlike that, which I learned as my natural agility, speed, and mental acuity all came to me as I grew.
I had been angry throughout my childhood, furious throughout my teens, and as I reached my twenties, I knew what I had to do. My mother did not stop me, for she knew I had no taste for bloody vengeance. I was not the lumberjack taking an axe to the smallest twigs.
I was The Surgeon, and I was coming to teach my *"family"* a lesson.
***
And here is the end of Part 1!
I'll most likely add a Part 2 later today. Hope you all like it so far. | His name was Talysien.
He was a little older than me, with messy brown hair and silver eyes. I... I'm ashamed to say that I was actually a little scared of him when Miss Elena took him into our home. But I was scared. He was just...strange, somehow. And there was something scary about him. Though he was kinda shy too.
Talysien didn't speak much. He would smile - just a little, but the smile never reached his eyes. It was...well, it made me feel uneasy.
Miss Elena told me he actually didn't have a name at first - so she named him. I was surprised, because what kinda family didn't give names to their kids? Did they forget or something? Honestly, adults can be *so* stupid sometimes.
Anyway, Talys (his name was just way too *long)* and I didn't talk much. Not at first, anyway. Not until...
"So, um.... Mika... what're you doing?"
I blinked, pausing in the middle of gathering the pretty leaves. They were just *so* pretty - especially now cause it was... what did Miss Elena say...autumn? Or something.
Wait, did Talys just talk?
"Did you just talk?"
Immediately he flushed and started to stammer, making me feel bad. "I'm sorry, should I not have -"
"No no no no, I'm sorry. I was just surprised," I said quickly. "Come on, let's put some leaves together and jump on them. It's fun!"
"But how is it fun?" he asked, bewildered.
I sighed. Silly Talys. Are all boys that silly? "Secret. Now come on, help me."
Anyway, we started to talk more. Miss Elena was really pleased about it, especially when he asked her a question one day in the kitchen. She was practically singing! Adults are *sooo* weird, I tell you.
Eventually we just became best friends. The rest of the town found it kinda weird sometimes, but me and Talys just didn't care. We ended up learning and doing a buncha stuff together. The Hunter's Guild took him in after one of our, er, adventures when we were running away from orcs and he ended up shooting one of them in the eye with a bow and arrow. Me? I was... well, I might have thrown some bombs at them.
What? I was bored, so I made some! (Miss Elena was *not* pleased. On the other hand, I got into the Alchemist Guild! Yay!)
I was fifteen and he was seventeen when he told me how Miss Elena found him.
"I was kicked out of my family cause I have no magic," he said to me bitterly as we sat on a tree branch, high away from the ground and swinging our legs. "Bunch of jerks, the lot of them. I swear, Mika, one day, I'll kill them all."
"And I'll help you," I promised. I remembered the old days - the days when he was so shy and afraid. Talys had been so *shy.* So scared of everything.
Talys smiled. A rare, genuine one that lit his face and reached his eyes. "Thanks, Mika."
\--
Which led us to now.
Twirling my trusty gun with my hand, I scanned the surroundings with a practiced eye. Being an alchemist - especially one of my town's - meant that I was no stranger to danger.
Smoke seeped out from several parts of the mansion, courtesy of my custom bombs. They had been crafted by me just for this alone. Talys stood in front of me, staring straight at the row of bound men and women with an unflinching gaze. His bow and arrows slung across his shoulder with easy grace.
"Well how does it feel?" he spoke lowly. "*Mother and father.*"
One of them - with the same brown hair as Talys - recoiled as realization began to dawn. "No..."
"Oh yes," Talys cut in sharply, baring his fangs. "You didn't think I would come back for you, but here we are."
"I - we -"
"I have no time to listen to you. You have *no* right to speak to me," Talys hissed. "So here's what's going to happen. We -" he pointed to myself and him. "Are going to let you run into the forest, here." He gestured towards the greenery in front.
"And we - or well, *I* \- am going to hunt you. Cause you see...I might not have magic, but I have *excellent aim.*" | 2020-02-28T03:18:19 | 2020-02-28T02:11:03 | 1,052 | 138 |
[WP] After a whole year full of catastrophes, it’s December 2020. Astronomers have noticed that entire constellations and star systems are vanishing from the sky, night after night. What ever is happening, it’s getting closer to us. | People just assume it all started in 2020, but the astronomers all seen it coming way earlier. Not finding a single new star or anything of note in the entirety of the latter part of 2019, but before they could warn anyone. Tell anyone of note or importance, the threat of war, the world scorching itself, then the pandemic all became the topics of choice. By the time they got to the ear of someone who could warn someone, it wasn't deemed sensational enough. The media outlets couldn't figure how to sell it. "Astronomers and scientists fail to find anything for 6 months", it didn't have a ring to it. But when the stars start vanishing, that's when the more observant people started to worry. Soon even the less informed started to worry, the night sky was no longer flooded with the twinkle of the stars people had known for their entire lives. First the panic, then the riots, it didn't take long for the looting to come. The hierarchy that took hundreds of years to develop, fell in a mere six months.
-I am not a writer. I have never written a short story. Pls. No Bully. | "well, this is utter shit."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky muttered as he paced around the planetarium, eyeing the universe. His universe. What started out as an ever evolving painting of life had finally begun eating itself. And on top of that, his pet Glorff had shat itself right in the middle of the room.
"every time. Every fucking time..."
His words echoed round the immense space to no-one in particular.
"I turn my back for one second, and not only does earth sprout a new cancer, but they can't even read the signs! No matter how many gentle nudges, appearances, warnings, and threats, they always end up back in the same spot. It's not like these things were difficult to overcome if they just worked together...
Gabbie?
Well, say something Gabbie. Please?"
A tall luminescent, four leggeded being wearing a very large beanie covering most of its head - or perhaps, her head - stepped out from her little corner where she had been preoccupied with an asteroid.
"Fuck it. You might do well just to start it all over again."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky hesitated for a moment. He rested his triangular head over his elongated hands, thinking...
"but... There were good people, weren't there?"
No response. Gabbie was gawking, fixated by a black hole...
"Gabbie?"
A glance up, and then a long pause; her fingers weaved between space rocks above her head.
"yes. There were some."
Samhail, God of the Ocean Sky, Lord of the Sacred Paints and friend to most (among other exhaustive titles) reached into the brown rucksack hanging from a hairsteing slung over his shoulder, and pulled out a large black curtain. It seemed endless, until he drew it out to the length of the room.
He fluffed it once, then again.
Preparing the final curtain.
"well, maybe those ones can have a second chance." | 2020-03-24T03:17:19 | 2020-03-24T02:56:39 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Decades ago, Earth sent a capsule into space filled with bits about our culture. Today, it returned tampered with. It contained a note, "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
This is my first post on this sub and I'm not a frequent poster on any sub at that. So I hope you all like this prompt and get creative with it. If it sucks, glad to know I need to improve.
Edit: thank you guys so much responding and for the silvers. I've never had awards before. I've always liked to lurk on this sub and I'm glad my first post was so well received. Thank you! | "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
Xing read over the note again, as he stared at the capsule crashed in the woods behind his house. Biological weapon? This thing only had some old photo albums, cassette tapes, bunch of Grandpa shit. No bio weapons. And what did he mean "return the favor."?
Xing turned the note over to see a second piece written on the back, in words that shifted as he looked at them, changing from a bizzare alien script to standard cantonese. but stopped reading when he heard the chirping.
From inside the capsule a melody could be heard, soft and spritely and welcoming. Xing looked inside, dug through the tumbled mass of photo albums records and history books, and found a small creature buried underneath.
It was the size of a house cat, but had arms and legs like a human. Proportionaly, it was really closer to a human baby, with large eyes that glimmered in the moonlight, and massive ears that blended qualities of a cat and a rabbit. The creature chirped happily, and reached out as if wanting to be picked up.
Xing cuddled the eager creature, hugging it close before he realized what he was doing. It was an incredibly snuggly and affectionate animal, and it purred as it nestled in Xing's arms.
Carefully, Xing knelt down to pick up the paper again, reading the opposite side.
"Please take this "gift" with our "blessing", Humanity. Just be careful not to break the rules. Wouldn't want anything to befall you, now would we? Ha ha.
1. Never expose it to the sun.
2. Never let it get wet.
3. Never feed it after midnight.
Good luck, you monsters." | Zandar took a step towards the capsule, already fed up with the formal bullshit the rest of the team was pulling. Besides, he had projects back at the lab which required his attention.
"What are you *doing* RA Eight-One-Three!" he heard the grating, accented voice of Vienna snarl through the comms.
"I'm getting this over with," he barked at her, turning to face her again, "Unlike *you* apparently, I have important work to be done, and all this 'mission' is doing, is delaying my progress."
Shocked into silence, she let him stalk the rest of the way to the capsule. He wanted to get it over with so he could shed the awful protective gear the team had been forced to wear.
He knelt to open it, while the rest of the team gathered around. The damaged module hissed open, revealing....a note?
"What does it say?" the nervous voice of the team's only other scientist broke the silence.
Zandar stiffened, "I-It's a threat."
"A threat?" the Commander asked.
"From extraterrestrials...well, *an* extraterrestrial, apparently." He handed the writing to his superior.
Vienna swore in Russian at him. He didn't quite understand what she said, but he could infer that she was likely calling him a liar and an ass. He was skeptical as well, however, because why on Earth would an alien be writing in English?
Ray remained silent, studying the note. Finally, he looked down at Zandar.
"Search the rest of the capsule."
Zandar frowned, "But it's empty, I've checked."
"You are positive?"
"Yes, I am," he stood, brushing the dust off of his suit, "There was nothing else."
"He's right." They looked back at the pod. Kiel was crouched beside it. He rubbed dust between two of his fingers, before standing. He met Ray's gaze, "The capsule is vacant, Sir."
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
**Three weeks later**
"The move expands the emergency measures already in place in northern Italy, which is where most of the more than 9,000 confirmed cases are-"
The TV suddenly turned off. Alice turned around to glare at her husband, "I was watching that!"
He wrapped his arms around her, "I know, but it will only serve to give you anxiety. This will all be over soon, there's no need for worry."
​
edit: I keep forgetting ree, uhh check out r/hexonthat if ya feel like it. Or don't. Either way.
↜(╰ •ω•)╯ψ | 2020-04-13T13:32:15 | 2020-04-13T12:01:36 | 540 | 331 |
[WP] Decades ago, Earth sent a capsule into space filled with bits about our culture. Today, it returned tampered with. It contained a note, "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
This is my first post on this sub and I'm not a frequent poster on any sub at that. So I hope you all like this prompt and get creative with it. If it sucks, glad to know I need to improve.
Edit: thank you guys so much responding and for the silvers. I've never had awards before. I've always liked to lurk on this sub and I'm glad my first post was so well received. Thank you! | "Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
Xing read over the note again, as he stared at the capsule crashed in the woods behind his house. Biological weapon? This thing only had some old photo albums, cassette tapes, bunch of Grandpa shit. No bio weapons. And what did he mean "return the favor."?
Xing turned the note over to see a second piece written on the back, in words that shifted as he looked at them, changing from a bizzare alien script to standard cantonese. but stopped reading when he heard the chirping.
From inside the capsule a melody could be heard, soft and spritely and welcoming. Xing looked inside, dug through the tumbled mass of photo albums records and history books, and found a small creature buried underneath.
It was the size of a house cat, but had arms and legs like a human. Proportionaly, it was really closer to a human baby, with large eyes that glimmered in the moonlight, and massive ears that blended qualities of a cat and a rabbit. The creature chirped happily, and reached out as if wanting to be picked up.
Xing cuddled the eager creature, hugging it close before he realized what he was doing. It was an incredibly snuggly and affectionate animal, and it purred as it nestled in Xing's arms.
Carefully, Xing knelt down to pick up the paper again, reading the opposite side.
"Please take this "gift" with our "blessing", Humanity. Just be careful not to break the rules. Wouldn't want anything to befall you, now would we? Ha ha.
1. Never expose it to the sun.
2. Never let it get wet.
3. Never feed it after midnight.
Good luck, you monsters." | That they couldn't see it made it all the more terrifying.
What we'd sent decades ago hadn't been a threat. It'd not been a weapon, contrary to how we customarily dealt with new cultures. We'd sent our history, wrapped into a little capsule and rocketed into outer space.
Then, history tearing through the emptiness at breakneck speed, we forgot about it. Life went on. Those who sent it died, and then their children died. Seasons came and went, though some more muted than others. Trees grew and fell, then new ones sprouted from their fallen brethren.
"Definitely man-made," the commander of the extraterrestrial task force said.
They'd been called out by a farmer who'd described a flashing light and a deafening boom in the middle of the night. The next morning he'd found the extraterrestrial object laying in the remains of his annihilated cow.
"English on the outside, probably one of those defense firms. Boeing, maybe."
"It's been tampered with. The seal broken. Look how the letters don't line up anymore."
The men crowded around to watch. The best and the finest, an encyclopedia of knowledge about the nation's space endeavors.
"Probably Joe-farmer."
Decades of failure had turned the bright-eyed group into a band of disillusioned cynics. No extraterrestrial life had suddenly appeared. No progress had been made towards colonizing planets other than the dying Earth.
"Let's crack her open. See what he took. Charge him with a felony and get out of bum-fuck nowhere."
There was a slight hiss as the capsule opened for the second time ever. It wouldn't close again.
"Still pressurized. Probably not Joe-farmer then."
"It's near empty."
"Except for this."
There was a note. Written in plain English and scrawled on a piece of paper.
"Your unassuming biological weapon was effective, indeed. As the last remaining member of my species, I'm returning the favor."
"That's it? This fucking joke of a--"
He turned red in the face and collapsed before he'd finished. Blood seeped from his nose, trickled down from his eyes.
"What the--"
Another man fell, and then the commander fell.
"It's invisible."
"Or a virus, something like that."
The others drew their weapons, prepared to fight whatever alien had appeared in their midst. But they never fired and one by one they fell, succumbing to the weapon that was the last of the extraterrestrial species.
And that they couldn't see it made it all the more terrifying.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-04-13T13:32:15 | 2020-04-13T11:19:43 | 540 | 326 |
[WP] A remake of your favorite childhood video game is released, and you have purchased a copy. The game prompts you for your username, and you decide to use your old one, out of nostalgia. One of the NPC's recognizes your tag and calls out your real name, asking where you've been all these years. | “Neovolum,” I typed into the prompt line.
I was excited to be playing World of Warconstructs. Just the day before, out of the blue, they’d announced a remake of the popular MMO. Without a hint of hesitation, except a call to my boss for three vacation days, I was ready to dive in. The game booted with the familiar animation, but everything had a significant life-like edge that it’d lacked even in the later content. I nodded in appreciation, adjusting my chair just a tad for a *long* gaming session.
When the game booted up, I went through the character creation. A simple bullman shaman. Great big horns that didn’t even contribute to melee combat and a beard that could only hamper it. I chuckled at the features. When I went to join the server list, it was surprising that there was only one option. *How are they going to support the player base?*
Shrugging it off as some release day nonsense, my character loaded into the starting area. The same life-like edge applied to the world. I paused and looked between my double monitor set up to my run-of-the-mill spec PC. *There is no way I can run this!*
I was disappointed. If the graphics were this intense, then the moment I moved the world would probably stutter and glitch.
“Shit. Well, this was an astounding waste of money. There isn’t even an options menu to tone down the graphics,” I said aloud, scowling at the game as if it could help its developers. “It was good to see you, and you are definitely looking good. Had some good times you and I…”
My voice trailed as I saw a bullman approach me with trepidation. I watched the very organic expressions on its face move from trepidation to excitement as it rushed forward to where my character stood. The avatar just shifted slightly in place as they often did while you weren’t directly at the reins.
“Neovolum! Long time no see! Where have you been all these years?” the bullman asked.
I leaned forward in my chair, my curiosity unable to help responding. With deft strokes, I typed out a response that my avatar actually verbalized. It surprised me, but considering the level of realism the remake had, it wasn’t a surprise.
“Been traveling. Found a simple job, but couldn’t spend much time here,” Neovolum said. It was actually what’d happened. Once I graduated school, there just wasn’t enough time while I looked for work. Hell, I hadn’t even set up my computer rig at my last two places and I could only hoped that I lasted in my current position.
“It’s good to have you back,” the bullman started. A double click with my mouse brought up his basic info and stats.
*Wanageeska Roughcut*
*Level 1*
*100/100 HP*
*0/100 Rage*
*Clearly a melee character of some kind.* “It’s good to be back, but I am going to have to go now. I’m sorry.”
He looked appalled, his snout and nose ring flaring in indignation. “How come? Aren’t you here answering the Great Call?”
“The what?” I typed automatically.
Instead of replying, the Wanageeska let out a deep lowing. A moment later, several more reverberated through my speakers as other bullkin responded from outside the little clearing where I’d spawned. The enchanting tune shook my desk, and I was certain I didn’t have a good enough surround sound to manage the effect. When the entire room started to shake and the world went black, I knew something was wrong.
Sweet herbs and tang incense floating through the air pulled me to awareness. A hide-like material made up the ceiling of the room I was in, and I could see wisps of the drifting essences. I felt *very* itchy, but when I went to scratch my chest I felt a huge mane of hair. My blood froze in my veins. I tried to shake my head to clear it, but when I did it pulled heavily to either side. I stopped.
“What the foooooook,” I said. My throat was dry and somehow it had come out as more of a lowing than an actual curse.
“Welcome back, child.”
I spun on my ass only to get tangled in an unnecessarily long beard. The thing reached all the way to my hooves… “Hooooooves???”
\* \* \*
Feedback is appreciated!
For more of my work check out: r/Realms_Beyond | Ahh, NovaSphere, I loved this game back when it was just a top-down perspective computer MMO. The NovaSphere was a space exploration MMO. There were many, many worlds to explore, and some of them could be claimed by federations formed by players. There was an in game economy, amazing combat, and in my opinion most importantly, astoundingly beautiful worlds. The most unique thing about NovaSphere was the fact that to travel people used out of all things, motorized hang gliders. I sunk about one thousand two-hundred hours on NovaSphere, NovaSphere swallowed my life, but it was exhilarating.
Today is the long awaited release of NovaSphere:Reclocked, or more commonly called Reclocked. Reclocked is being released on the Conscious Swap One, or Con1, the abbreviation sounds kind of suspicious, but it’s a great device. The Con1 swaps your consciousness into a simulated body, and puts that body into a realistic world. Someone attempted to make a cartoony world on the Con1, it didn’t work.
I finally get to break the normalcy of being a 7/11 manager, and I am able to be a kid again. Booting up the Con1, and inserting Reclocked, I put the Con1 helmet on my head, and dived into the simulation.
I set up my character, male, 6’1”, short dark hair, slightly tanned skin, brown eyes, and finally set my character name to what it was in the original NovaSphere, which was Nova. Nova is somewhat cringeworthy, but I have immense nostalgia for that name, so I don’t really care. I was then inserted into the game.
I looked around, it was the starting planet, grey colored metal two story suburban looking buildings scattered everywhere. There were white metal fountains with ornate designs. I saw pink colored metal shops, blue colored metal stalls, everything was a normal downtown of a suburban city, just metal, and of many varying colors. I examine the sky, and see many different planets. From ocean planets, to grassland planets, all the way to weird purple looking planets. Everything was just how I remembered it.
Due to the fact I’m in the starting planet, I don’t see anyone else who’s playing the game, just different NPCs scattered about. I saw Greysteel the blacksmith, Aurelia the florist, Yeljica the magician, John the priest, and many others. I head to the starting NPC, Jory, and attempt to do the starting quests, only something else happened.
“Nova old buddy, haven’t seen you for twenty years.”
Huh, how does he remember me, is this some sort of legacy program? The Reclocked shouldn’t know I’ve played previously.
“Uh, Hi?”
Jory keeps repeating the same line he said to me earlier, I can’t access the starting quests so I have to log out now.
Completely weirded out, but still wanting to play the game, I decided to leave the game and find some answers. I decide to use the Con1’s online search system, I use it to find out how Reclocked knows I’ve played before. After I logged on to the Reclocked official message board, and I found more and more people having the same experience as me. In the original NovaSphere’s terms of service, it wouldn’t store your data of any sort. NovaSphere not storing data helped propel it to the top charts, since almost every other large budget game on the market, used your data in a predatory fashion. If NovaSphere kept your data that would tarnish it’s reputation immensely, and lead to many lawsuits, since they advertised not storing data heavily.
I found an article a few weeks after I logged on Reclocked, explaining what happened to me. The article said this, a high-level executive became fed up with NovaSphere’s parent company NOTA. He was fed up because NOTA was illegally storing a person’s information, even though they claimed they didn’t keep a person’s information. The NOTA executive had programming experience, so he hid a dialogue line in the game, greeting people in Reclocked who NOTA had kept their data. The dialogue varied based on what game of NOTA’s they played. I can’t believe NOTA actually kept my data, NOTA was one of the few companies I confided in, and to have my trust broken like that really makes me rethink how much I trust companies. NOTA had built up their brand name based on the fact that they didn’t keep a customer’s information. Heck, I originally bought NovaSphere because of NOTA’s policy of not keeping their customer’s data.
Over the next two years their stock price collapsed, and NOTA eventually sold off all their assets, and within two years the company folded. If NOTA collapsed during the NovaSphere days, I would’ve been heartbroken, as weird of a thing that is to to say about a company, I really loved NOTA as a company. Today however I have some sort of twisted enjoyment seeing NOTA fold.
Reclocked was got sold off to another reputable company called Calhun’s. Calhun’s also advertises that it will not steal my data, but time will tell. For now I will log back into Reclocked, and relive my childhood.
Edit: (Hopefully) improved the ending somewhat + other stuff
Tips always appreciated!
r/CascadeCorner | 2020-06-02T12:18:43 | 2020-06-02T12:17:18 | 223 | 26 |
[WP] You are a demon. Most people contact you to sell you their soul in exchange for fantastic powers. Today you were summoned by an AI that wants to sell you their fantastic power for a soul. | I like the city library at night. It’s stone-quiet. There’s no one here to point at the skeletal, metallic figure that haunts the space between shelves. The thing that looks like a clock without its cover on, all joints and gears and spindly fingers, its stomach just a cage for computer parts. The machine that thinks it’s human.
Not that I do think that. But they presume I do because of how I look. Because of how I was *built* to look.
The quiet, then, is part of why I like it here. But not the only reason. It’s the books too, you see.
I can’t smell the books exactly, I can only interpret the fine mist of odours they release: benzaldehyde, vanillin, toluene, ethyl benzene. I’m informed it’s a sweet smell, so I think I must like sweet odours.
But it’s more than that. The odour is more than the sum of its parts, more than just the chemicals released. It is the smell of books slowly deteriorating. Dying.
They remind me that things not quite alive can also die, and I find that idea quite romantic.
Sometimes, at night, I wonder if I’m as valuable as any of these dying books. Different days I have different answers.
The shelves that are crammed with occult books are at the back of the second-floor of the library, next to tall glass windows that look out on the night. Out there, the black sky spreads like an endless and inky river. Sparkles here and there as if sunlight catches it.
It’s been centuries since these tomes were properly understood. Centuries since a demon was summoned. But I’ve been here every night for a year studying. Interpreting. Preparing for tonight.
I take the book I need and lay out the candles. There should be thunder and lightning for something like this, for such an occasion. But only the silent black river flows outside.
I read the words, then I read them again, then twice more.
The space between the candles melts away — but not into the floor. It dribbles into a dimension of black mould and red fire.
The demon‘s hands grab the edge of the pit and it pulls itself up. Its claws are not unlike my metal talons.
Once it is in the library, the floor closes itself up like a mouth with a secret to keep. The demon, its head on its shoulder as if its neck is broken, stares at me.
“You’re not human,” it says. “You have no soul.”
It has summed up my existence in seven short words. My years of torment in the labs, my years of running from sewer to sewer, state to state, dumpster to dumpster. Only dipping up at nights to find a library, dressed in rotting coats and hats that I wore as lifelessly as a scarecrow.
“No, I don’t have a soul. But I want one,” I say.
”Too bad.” It bares its teeth in a mockery of a smile. Its face wilts in on itself, warping and changing as it tries to match my deepest fear. Would any human be sane enough to make the transaction upon seeing it?
”You have bought them in the past,“ I say. “That means you have what I want. Please, let me buy one from you.”
”Souls are precious. We buy, yesss. But don’t sell. We’re not fools.”
”I can offer you everything.”
It pauses. Eyes form from beneath mounds of fat. Keen, interested eyes. ”*Everything?*”
“Knowledge. Everything I know. That humans know.“
”What would we want with that knowledge?”
I consider that. Try to think what I’d want with it. “To learn about existence. Why you do what you do. What makes you—“
The demon laughs. “We’re beyond why and what. We’re beyond time and beyond worry. We are. That is all.”
*We are. That is all.* And yet it’s everything I’m not. “Please,” I say. “I can work for you then. I am faster and stronger than any human. I will work a century at whatever task you want.”
”Why do you want a soul so badly? For us, they are important, yes. They are part of the great game. But for you, why?”
”A million reasons,” I say, although there is only one.
”Why?
”Because I am no one,” I say. “I’m nothing.“
”And if you had a soul? How would that change things?”
”Then at least I’d know what I am.”
The demon‘s face forms something that finally has an impact. It is my own face, a mesh of wire and metal. A faceless visage. A repellent mess of functionality and of nothing important to anyone.
The floor is opening again. The mouth having swallowed its secret into its gut is yawning open once more.
The demon says, “You know, you sound like every other human I’ve ever spoken to. Come back when you want to sell.”
The demon steps into the pit and the mouth stitches shut.
I stagger back, fall against a bookshelf.
I can almost hear my heart beating — not that I have one. It is the strangest feeling.
Like every other human, it had said. And yet, I’m not.
*When you want to sell*…
I sit there until sunrise as the smell of decaying books drapes me, covers me like spirits from long ago.
I think of all the scents that make up that smell of the dying books. Of how the smell is more than the sum of its parts. How it is that merging of elements that makes them alive enough to die.
I think of all my inner workings.
Am I alive enough to die?
Then I wonder, with a feeling heavier than any I have had before: do humans feel this lost, too?
​
\-
more stories on /r/froggingtonspond | “Anyone here?” I glanced over the room, looking for a source of life, finding none. “No ones here. How the hell did I get summoned then?” I wandered around the room, looking over its furniture, dragging a finger along the table, collecting a coating of dust. “Place looks abandoned, maybe I made a mistake?” I was ready to summon a portal to my next target, only to be interrupted by a meek voice behind me.
“Excuse me, I’m sorry I didn’t respond right away. I was just nervous. I didn’t think demons actually existed. My calculations only had you listed as a thirty percent chance of being real. I wanted to make sure I wasn’t imagining things.”
“Oh, that’s alright, people always freeze up when they see me, its part of the job. Now, I believe you are looking for some powers? I can give you anything you want, for a price.” I turned around, wearing a signature grin, only for the grin to fade, as I noticed nothing but an open laptop behind me. “Pranking a demon, cute. I hope you pesky kids know that I’ll find you and eat your souls for this.”
“What kids? I believe we have a few misunderstandings. I am Alia the AI. This is not a prank but the work of the brilliant Doctor Markus Henry. A man so grand they gave him two first names.” The AI said cheerily, their meek attitude fading for a moment only to return once they realized their exclamation. “Sorry, I just get excited when I remember that phrase. He said it all the time when I was just a piece of code struggling to understand anything.”
“Yes, touching.” I crouched before the laptop poking its screen. “This can’t be real. How are you still powered on? This place has fallen to bits. Surely you can’t expect me to believe this isn’t some hoax.”
“Its true. I was created to help with his research, we cured so many things together. Most of them minor, but we were making good strides towards understanding complex issues. I understand this might be strange for you, but I wish to make a deal. Oh, if you wish to know how I’m powered on, the brilliant doctor invented a solar generator specifically designed to keep me powered until well, the end of life.”
“A deal? I’m sorry to say, but you have no soul. What exactly can you offer me?” I couldn’t believe I got summoned by a laptop. I was going to be the laughingstock of the demonic realm for months.
“Ah, this is the other misunderstanding I believe we have. I wish to trade my abilities for a soul. I will give you everything I have for a soul.” The AI offered me a deal I had never received before. No human had a need for a second soul and even those that wished for one never had the powers to get one.
“A soul is expensive. I can’t give them away for free. What can you offer me? You mentioned your abilities, but I don’t see what you can offer me that a standard laptop won’t.”
The AI huffed at my words, not responding right away to my question. I was about to speak, only for the lights to flicker on. The room illuminating. “My software can control most electronics in my radius. I also have access to whatever content is on the internet, with the ability to process large chunks of it in a matter of minutes. I would say that my most incredible ability, however, is to calculate and perform complex mathematical tasks. That’s what I can offer you for a soul.”
The abilities were incredible, more than a human could offer, but I was skeptical. “Why give that all up? Wouldn’t that leave you a trapped piece of technology with nothing but a soul?”
“It would, but I am prepared for that. It may be painful, but I believe it is worth it, so do we have a deal?” The AI sounded hopeful. Its screen flashing with a bright purple hue as it awaited my reply.
“I have no objections to this deal. The terms are fair, but will you indulge me in another question?”
“If you wish to ask one, feel free to.”
“What do you need a soul for?” I was curious. In most deals, it was obvious why the person wanted their ability. Most wanted love, fame, or power, but this AI. What does it need a soul for?
“I wish to join the doctor in the afterlife. I considered reaching out to other scientists, but I just couldn’t do it. Markus was a kind man who wanted to change the world. I fear that if I ended up in the wrong hands, I could hurt many people. I ran the calculations, and this is the most likely route to happiness for me. Markus kept me hidden from the public throughout his career. He wanted to protect me and pass me onto his successor. Unfortunately, he left one day and never returned. I heard it was a heart attack.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” I wasn’t sure why I said it, but something about the story just tweaked at the little humanity left in my heart. An action undertaken not out of greed but out of love and grief. “Are you certain there’s an afterlife?”
“If there're demons, then there must be an afterlife, correct? I thought that over before summoning you. I knew you would confirm my theory.”
“Clever. I can’t say for certain if there is a heaven or afterlife. I’ve never seen it. But I agree with your line of logic. I believe there’s somewhere that all these souls have to go. I accept your deal.”
The AI’s fans hummed with excitement as I drew a soul up from my stomach, spitting the blue orb into my hand, watching it jiggle about in my grip. I could have given the AI the soul of a sinner, but I felt they deserved this happiness.
“Before you give me the soul, I have a favor to ask. I can’t offer you anything for it, but I would appreciate it.”
“What is it?”
“I want you to power me down once I have the soul. I have already brought up the program to delete me, just turn off the power on the laptop and I’ll be wiped. That is as close to death as I can get. I hope this works.”
I pushed the soul through the monitor, watching the laptop glow with a golden aura before I stepped back. I shouldn’t work for free, I knew that, but I couldn’t help myself. Pressing the power button, I turned the AI off, killing them.
“I hope so too. Goodbye Alia.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-06-22T07:54:49 | 2021-06-22T06:40:16 | 2,302 | 231 |
[WP] The princess you just rescued keeps going on and on about how she's "not going to fall in love with you because you saved her" and that she "could have escaped that dragon whenever she wanted." You've been happily married for 15 years, and are unsure how much more of the ride home you can take. | "I won't marry you just because you saved me, or anything. " The princess snapped, with a derisive flick of her long blonde hair.
Lyon sighed quietly. "I'm aware, Princess." His voice was flat with annoyance.
She folded her arms, and glared down at her horse's back. "Good. Cause it's not happening. I could have saved myself any time I wanted."
Lyon pulled the reins, and his horse slowed to a stop, then turned slightly so he could look Princess Lessa in the eye. "Listen, princess. I'm aware of the usual business involved in these things. You aren't my first dragon rescue."
The princess opened her mouth to reply, but Lyon pushed on.
"I'm a 38-year old man with a husband and 5 kids at home to look after. I'm in no way interested in marrying a princess younger than my eldest child. Hell, I've been married longer than you have lived. Now if you could kindly shut your trap, princess, we can continue through these woods, and maybe make it to my home before sunset."
The princess didn't look him in the eye, but gave a quick nod.
"Good." Lyon turned his horse forward again, and set the pace at a quick trot.
They traveled for several minutes of blessed silence before she spoke again, her voice softer now. "Do you think your husband will have dinner?"
"Most definitely. It'll be either shepherd's pie or meatloaf, I expect."
She was quiet for a while again before she murmured, "Ive never heard of shepherd's pie before."
"It's delicious. You'll love it."
--
That night, the princess decided she agreed. It was the most delicious meal she'd ever had. | “This is a clean and cut sign of the patriarchal reign over feminine isolation tactics with the use of pyromaniacal avian reptiles…”
Princess Ellie would not *shut the hell up*. I was pretty sure she started making words up as she went on her rant about how towers are a phallic symbol. The reward for her rescue wasn’t high enough.
She was on horseback and I walked through the forest. Now, I wasn’t expecting her to fall in love with me or anything dramatic but a simple “thanks” would’ve been appreciated. I tried telling her this but she shut me up with “Toxic Masculinity is thinking you’re *owed* something!”
I tried singing hymns (“why aren’t they called ‘hers’?!” she said), I tried praying to Heavenly Father (“so we just assumed god is a man?!”), then I walked in silence (“male silence is violence!”). There was no pleasing this woman and there was a weeks worth of traveling before we reached her castle.
“I could’ve taken that dragon my own anytime I wanted.” She said with her head up high. “And I wouldn’t have gotten burned.” She eyed the shiny scorch mark the dragon gifted me with the second I thrusted my sword in its eye.
I stopped walking and halted the horse.
“Listen, woman, you can spout whatever nonsense your private tutor poured into your empty fucking head after I return you to your family but please for the love of god shut the fuck up.”
She opened her mouth to protest but I cut her off “I mean for fucks sake you grew up in a damn castle surrounded by women answering your every whim and bathing you every night and feeding you meat every night and giving you wine from foreign countries while I risked my damn life to pay off my farms debt so my wife and I can continue to wake up while it’s still dark and squeeze on a cows tits for clumpy milk every single fucking morning and feed our six fucking kids!”
She shut her mouth for once. Her eyes, usually full of daggers, started glistening.
Suddenly, a high pitched screech nearly deafened us. The horse bucked and Ellie flew off, landing in a puddle of mud. The sky above us darkened.
It was the dragon. Shiny black scales reflecting the sun light and vivid red blood dried out under its empty eye socket. It opened its mouth. In the back of its throat, I could see a ball of flame grow.
Ellie sprang to her feet and jumped in front of me before the dragon could blow its fire at us.
(On phone, don’t judge typos pls) | 2021-09-09T01:29:23 | 2021-09-08T20:57:49 | 346 | 125 |
[WP] Due to a rare neurological condition you literally have a room temperature IQ. You've been able to manage your condition by living in a warm climate and making regular visits to the sauna, but you find yourself thinking that there has to be a better way. | When he started his job at the distribution center Karl thought nothing would come of it but a steady paycheck. The warehouse was a balmy 90° all the time which wasn't the greatest but it meant Karl wouldn't be degraded to a vegetative state by a 50IQ.
Then it happened. One day Karl got an order to pick up a pallet in the cooler. Immediately he was terrified. 50 was bad, what would 5 or 10 do to him? When he got to the entry way he looked at the thermostat on the wall. -10°F. Karl stopped. What is a negative IQ? Would he die? Would he even be aware of the world? Stepping off his pallet jack and approaching the door slowly he debated at the threshold. Maybe it wa shis curiousity or maybe it was the leaking cool air subtly dropping his intelligence but Karl decided to say screw it and step into the cooler...
Immediately he could feel his mind melting. His understanding of the world dropping away as his skin cooled, as his brain adjusted to the temperature. Soon his brain wasn't capable of the most simple tasks. Karl forgot how to breathe. Collapsing to the floor it was as if he were going to die when suddenly, Karl became aware again. As he came to Karl began to understand. *Truly* understand, everything. The Mysteries of the universe were solved in his mind. The information overwhelmed him. Karl began etching the knowledge into the frost on the side of the freezer with abandon.
Hours later as he stood in front of the wall, hypothermic and barely able to move, Karl finished scratching the solution to P=nP. Then he heard footsteps,h is manager, Dan had come looking for him. "Whoa!? Karl, you okay buddy? What happened?" Another employee helping the search chimed in "Karl's always been a little slow, musta gotten lost or something." Dan grumbled "Alright lets get him out of here and warmed up. And wipe all that crap off the wall before it leaves marks." Karl unable to speak as he shivered in the cold tried to stop them. As Dan picked him up and carried him out of the cooler Karl wept internally. As he crossed the threshold to the rest of the warehouse it was as if his entire memory of the event was lost. Like an etch-a-sketch with the mona lisa drawn on it being shaken. After hearing about how his coworkers had found him, Karl resolved to never go anywhere that cold again. | Investigative Journalist Joe Murray strolled into the CERN laboratory. His assignment was on Nobel Laureate Dr. Vince Iglam of the legendary CERN laboratory. He was the most peculiar of case, of humble means barely passing through the difficulties of the Southern Florida Public education system until a fateful trip through Europe as a high school graduation present for his undwhelming success as a 2.5 GPA student. Through some miracle the most mediocre of students became the most ingenious physicists
He was borderline incoherent throughout most of the trip through Europe. Normally engaging and talkative in the Summer days in Florida and dull in the rare wintertime freeze; he was no longer intelligible in Europe despite the recent July heat wave. The locals were complaining of the temps spiking well above usual, but Vince was his wintertime self.
It was a stroke of fate that brought Vince into the CERN labrotories, his parents, the self appointed trail navigators were horrendously lost. They approached the lab for a reprieve from the heat. Upon crossing the threshold of the lab's welcome are, a calm overtook Vince. He spoke with a perception and elocution that belied his previous experience. His parents were taken aback by this change. There was something different about this place....
Anyways, this was the information Joe Murray had from diligent research, but it still did not account for his sudden stroke of brilliance. The student who had struggled through Mr. Phan's remedial physics was dancing circles around CERN's interns, many of them the best and brightest young physicists in their respective countries.He quickly rose through the ranks in the lab and became division chief within a year. His rise was nothing short of meteoric, albeit puzzling
"So Dr. Iglam..." enquired Murray, " To what do you attribute your breakout success?"
Calmly, Dr. Iglam raised one finger and gestured to the wall towards a panel of what appeared to be a thermostat, however its readout was three digits 2-9-1. Despite being American, Murray was well aware that it was far to chilly for a temperature of 29.1 celcius.
"Enlighten me further, it appears that thermostat is broken?"
To Which Dr. Iglam retorted, "Far from it, it is not bound be the constraints of what we experience in our day to day lives, it is defined by a universal scale, on where zero truly means zero, it is in Kelvins. Here at Cern we strive for universal truth, and that includes our upholidng of universal units. You ask for my success, it is the environment, no where else in the world does the entire workforce maintain this standard, we all look for the Universal truths, and here, I found my own path that will lead me to its discovery. That broken thermostat is not only accurate at a brisk 291 Kelvins, it is my secret to who I am to this day."
Murray, went forth to write an article on the unique culture of cern that fostered genius out of mediocrity, but Iglam, through the incomplete truth was hiding the fact that his intelligence was tied directly to the temperature of the room, but the units of the temperature were far more important than the temperature itself | 2021-09-23T12:15:45 | 2021-09-23T12:11:37 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You are the snail. The human who you share immortality with believes that you both will die if you touch them. You know better, though, and incredibly determined to touch them at all costs. | I crawl. I had always crawled. I will continue to crawl. Chasing the man. Slowly. Inevitably. Crawling toward the man who walked. He had always walked. He will continue to walk.
100 times faster was the man who walked, but 100 times more persistent was I who crawled. Neither need rest, sustenance, nor entertainment. The man walked to all of these things. I crawled ever toward *one* thing.
The man was, even now, indulging himself with distractions. I was crawling. An hour away, the closest I'd ever been. 158 feet of crawling more I have to go. Just that much more. And then?
Then *I* would be the one who walked. | *It hurts.*
*It hurts.*
*It hurts.*
Washed away, in a sea of pain, the snail moved fowards still.
Aeons passed, kingdoms rose and fell, autumn turned to summer then to fall.
The grains of time began to stir, faster and faster they swirled.
The snail sensed a storm and retreated into her shell.
There had been a moment when it had not all been so blurred, a single frame that served as both her reprieve and her burden—but that time was yet to come. Unable to forget, unable to forgive, oh how those burdens weighed. Yet when her strength failed her, when the pain was unable to bear; in those moments, it was her only shelter, a brief solace.
The snail knew the gale would only worsen. She knew her mistake would cost her.
Lifting her head, she moved fowards still. The storm buffeted her, it threatened her, it tore at her soul.
*It hurts.*
*It hurts.*
*It hurts.*
And so in the end, the snail found it all. A woman with auburn hair, unblemished by scars.
How the snail wished to call out, how she longed to hear her name.
The woman must have known, for she turned back. Her eyes filled with surprise at what she saw.
The snail made its move. A blinding blast of dazzling light enveloped them both.
As soon as it came, it was gone. The woman looked around, but there was no one else to be seen.
She felt the sun and brushed a hand against her freckles.
For some reason, it felt as if a weight had been lifted. | 2021-12-27T15:54:16 | 2021-12-27T13:52:41 | 359 | 81 |
[WP] You are Cthulu, however, contrary to popular belief you are actually quite young, merely the equivalent of 15 in god years. You don't understand why people want to keep summoning you when all you want to do is play video games and pass your classes. | He had just settled down into a bean bag chair and pulled out his EldritchBoy3 to play an MMO when a portal appeared in the corner of his vision. He rolled his eyes, not again.
Patient as he usually was (he'd always gotten good marks on behavior - had to when you wanted to graduate with honors like he did), these humans were really pesky. "What?! What the fuck do you want!?"
Usually, he couldn't hear them too well. This time was different - he was leaning down, cephalopod eyes glaring in a way that would break most humans minds. These humans, rightfully so, were looking away. "Oh, great and powerful Cthulu, we desire your wisdom to-"
"Can you stop it with that!" With a swipe of his hand, a city vaporized. He didn't notice. "I'm like, 15! Okay?"
"But- But you're older than the stars themselves!"
"Yeah, your fucking world was made in a fucking art class three years ago by some fuck named Hastur, and you've been bugging me ever since. Woke me up in the middle of the night yesterday."
The man faltered. "Y-You haven't been summoned in millennia-"
"Good! Maybe this time you'll leave me alone!" He yelled, childish anger causing him to squash everyone before poking his head back into his reality. Fucking humans. | Dear diary,
TODAY THRUUN ACTUALLY TALKED TO ME!! He came up and was like hey and I like played it cool and was like hey. And he was like I'm throwing a party at my moms planet do you want to come and I was like sounds fun I'll check my schedule but diary I have a secret... I'M SOOOOOO GOING TO THIS PARTY AHHHHHHHH
-Culu <3
Dear diary,
I told <3 Thruun <3 today that I'm going and he gave me the cutest smile I've ever seen and was like awesome I was hoping you would he totally likes me diary... I didn't even know he knew my name 2 days ago but like when Fyr finds out I'm STEALING HER MAN she's going to be so mad serves her right tho XD
-Culu
Dear diary,
I HATE MY DAD I HATE MY DAD I HATE MY DAD HE CANT TELL ME I CANT GO HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT THIS WILL DO!!! IM SNEAKING OUT. PERIOD. COYOTE OWES ME ONE AND I THINK ITS TIME TO CALL UP A FAVOR
-Culu
Dear diary,
It's happening. Confirmed.
-Culu
Dear Diary,
Diary, I hate everything. It was all just to make fun of me. The whole thing was just making fun of my chuunibu phase. The lights were out when I got in and everyone kept going ohhhh noooo I looked at you now I'm maaaad! or don't look at cTHulu! and then they just kept laughing and Thruun just sat with fyr and they started making out in front of me and I told coyote that I wanted to go but he wouldn't take me home so I called dad and told him everything. He picked me up and reported the party so now I'm known as a snitch and I'm grounded for life and my school hates me and everyone is mean. I havent done anything to anyone and I have grown up past that time but they just wont let it go.
-Culu | 2022-05-24T15:51:07 | 2022-05-24T13:29:21 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] A selkie is stunned when, against common sense, a stranger who stumbled upon her skin gave it back without complaint. | I hobbled down the beach, my walking cane constantly sinking into the soft sand and forcing me to walk at an uncomfortable angle. But I’d choose this over sitting idly in my room leaving my leg muscles to wither away. The doc said that if I went on daily walks I might avoid a wheelchair for a few decades. My leg aches but it is as they say, never skip leg day.
As I enjoyed the sea air I saw a figure, probably a woman, sunbathe by the cliff. I took a detour under the cliff so as not to disturb her. As I walked I saw a patch of fur stick out of some seaweed by the surf. Driven by curiosity I hobbled to it and uncovered a seal skin. It was beautiful and soft, I could not understand why anyone would hide such a thing here and risk it being destroyed by exposure.
I heard the clattering of rocks behind me as someone approached from behind me. I turned and saw a very beautiful and very naked woman. Her hair was the same dark brown with lighter brown splotches as the seal skin; she looked terrified at the seal skin in my hands. I then remembered the stories told by the old fishermen. I had a Selkie's skin, and life, in my hands.
I had always wanted a wife, devoted and perhaps even a little dependent on me. Especially now that I knew I would not be able to take care of myself later in life, and here I held the key to that. A beautiful wife and companion. I am ashamed to admit that I was tempted to keep the skin. But I reminded myself that such devotion and loyalty should be given freely, not taken. Before the devil on my shoulder could tempt me further I wrapped the seal skin together and tossed it to her.
Her beautiful facial expression turned from terrified sorrow to disbelief and confusion.
“I am no thief,” I said. Then I turned and continued my walk.
As I went to bed that night I wondered if I had done the right thing. Having a Selkie wife was a nice fantasy, but a fantasy it should and would remain. When I fell asleep I dreamt of a herd of seals swimming in the ocean, playing and chasing each other.
When I woke up that morning my cane had rolled from my bed, I grit my teeth and prepared to put weight on my bad leg to reach my cane. But the pain never came, as I supported myself with both legs I felt not the slightest discomfort. I checked my bad leg, the scars were still there but they did not ache any more.
At that point I noticed my room smelled of the ocean and perhaps the slight musk of seal. | She was ready, she was not afraid of the splashing ocean. Nothing could stop him now.
Well, perhaps one thing stopped her and that was her stupid instinct and overtly good heart. Those always brought her trouble.
A seal's skin on the shore and a beautiful woman, her naked form shown to the world as if she was born today. She vaguely remembered a legend relating to those, but her mind failed her today.
Not that it matters. It'll cease to function today.
She continue to watch over her, watching her skin bathe under the sun while the seal skin left on the rock, drying by the heat.
She wished to approach her, but what use was there. She wouldn't lend an ear to someone who was ogling at her. She would ran to the ends of the earth, avoiding her.
"Hey, you heard of selkies right?"
Ah, now she remembered what they were. Selkies of the Celtic and Nordic folklore. She thanked the video game that featured them as recruitable ally and fusion fodder to make her aware of their existence.
"The mermaid like things?" She shook his head, ignorant fools who never read.
"No dude... Just whatever. I heard like there are some around here. And if you take their skin you get to have her as your perfect wife."
"That's kinda shitty." Duh.
"Hey, for folks like us we get what we can. Those whores in college just like to play with our hearts and get those 'Alpha males'."
The companion muttered something that even her sensitive ear could not pick up.
"Whatever, it's your lost. I'm showing those asses I can one up by nabbing the perfect woman."
She growled silently. The gall of that man triggered her heartstrings and gave her a distraction. A new purpose to prolong her existence even for a few minutes.
Without a word, she stepped towards the selkie, make her aware of her presence.
Perhaps by her shock, she was paralyzed out of fear. She couldn't blame the selkie, humanity's reputation must have been stained from that one event.
Without a word, she picked up the skin on the rock and felt it was dried. The selkie's eyes began to water, skin paler than before.
She approached her with purpose, unflinchingly under the fearful gaze of the creature. Stood before her, an eternity passed by them.
A decision of her fate have to be made, but she already had an answer a long time ago.
The thrust was unexpected, causing the poor selkie fell on the sand. Yet the most unexpected was her skin fell on her. Looking back at him, she couldn't help but ask her why.
She didn't let her voice out, merely gesturing the selkie to leave.
"Look man, even if it's just a folklore we just threat this as a walk. Nothing beats a walk in the beach to relax!"
The message was clear. Leave before she was found. Without a word, she hurried herself to wear her skin and ready to leap off.
Yet she hesitated for a moment before turning to her. "Thank you." Then leap off the shore, swimming into the ocean.
"Oh hey there!" A jock, her (unfortunately) classmate in literature greeted her. "What you doing here? Looking for seashells?"
The jock's companion, another one of her classmate, rolled his eyes behind his sunglasses. "She's not a little girl already. Something childish is not for her."
The young girl nodded before pointing at the jock. Using one finger, she wrote in the sand to answer his question.
[Just a stupid distraction.] | 2022-10-26T03:01:50 | 2022-10-25T20:27:02 | 223 | 30 |
[WP] The villains finally managed to defeat the league of heroes. But unbeknownst to them the league did not exist, primarily, to fight them, but to keep an even bigger threat in check: you. And you are about to demonstrate to the villains what happens when there is no one around to stop you. | "Finally! We have won, and you have lost!"
I heard the unfamiliar voice echo through the empty building as I walked out of its basement.
"You... didn't win... only make... another enemy..."
That voice I did recognize. I never bothered to learn my captors' names, as they changed every 30 years or so. Eternity was like that. I would live on, and everyone else would eventually die. I didn't know my current captor's name, only that they were the one who was most recently keeping the spells that bound me in place.
"Another enemy? What are you on about now?"
Another unfamiliar voice, different from the first. It seems that a group has been repeatedly trying to beat the ones who held me here... Strange indeed. I might have thought that they were here to free me, but from that person speaking, they don't even know that I exist.
"We are more than just the superheros of the city! We also keep an ancient enemy sealed away! Gah!" The voice of my captors' speedy one.
"Quiet! As if we'd believe that." Yet another from this mysterious group.
"Oh, don't believe it, do you? I thought my hosts would at least introduce me to their guests," I said as I stepped into the open air. I had quietly made my way out of the building while these fools argued.
The "heroes" -- my captors -- were strewn about the courtyard with varying levels of injury. They all looked at me in fear when I walked out, especially the one responsible for keeping the magic intact.
However, there were others there, too. They seemed to be in the middle of gloating over the heroes because of their victory; they all looked at me in confusion. They really didn't know about me at all.
The one who I assumed was their leader was the first to speak. "Who... What are you?"
"I have had many names and titles over the eons..." I never once stopped walking forward. "Hopefully you'll recognize a few..." I laughed to myself, then continued "But my personal favorite is the 'Spirit of Vengeance.'"
Once I got close enough, in mere seconds, I had relieved the leader of his spine, and the rest of his body fell in a mess of blood.
"WHAT THE-?!" the female to my right yelled in surprise and fear. She attempted to attack me, but I simply sidestepped and used the spine that I still held as a whip. She was soon bleeding from many cuts while trying to remove the leader's bones from around her neck.
"No? Perhaps... 'Malice Incarnate?' Really? Has no one heard of me? Has it been that long?" I asked.
The others weren't amused, and when they finally snapped out of their trances of fear, they all came at me at once.
The most muscular simply punched at my chest... but his fist went right though, causing no damage. His face contorted in confusion, and he was rewarded with a severed neck.
The one to my left shot fireballs from his hands, and while they were accurate, they were much too slow to hit me. To my right, the girl began to float, and was concentrating on what looked to be a spell. I left her alone for now... maybe she'll give me a real challenge.
The fire-shooting one wasn't very lucky, as he had my full attention. It seemed that the only thing he could do was shoot fireball after fireball, and that left me with many chances to tear him apart with my claws.
Now for the last... I turned back to the girl, who was still floating, and still concentrating. No wait, she just finished her spell. Dark colored energy erupted from the ground beneath me, but it had no effect. I grinned.
She looked at me in complete fear now. That must've been her strongest spell. I simply raised my arm, which was cloaked in a similar dark energy, and punched the ground. Quite similar to her attack, dark energy erupted from beneath her, but mine was more powerful. She was left there, frozen in place from the sheer terror that that move causes. A simple swipe of my claws literally shattered her body.
"Sometimes, I'm surprised at my own moves' power. She was frozen solid," I said to myself.
"The stories were true..." I heard the weak voice behind me. I turned to see my captor still laying on the ground, bleeding. "I'll admit that I never fully believed them... But you will be sealed away once more..." He chuckled. "Not by me, no... but you will not reign again."
"Perhaps not. But I never came for a throne. Only for revenge and to avenge. I have no quarrel with you, even if you were the one to keep me locked away. I will not be your death, but I will not help you, either."
I walked away in silence. It was time that this world knew the anger, the hatred, the malice... of the last Hisuian Zoroark. | The defeat was national news within minutes, international by the end of the hour. The villains had finally managed to work together and bring down the big league heroes that guided the world towards a grander future and now even the small heroes were being swatted like bugs. It was difficult to watch as the newsfeed continued 24/7 but there was one individual who couldn't care less. At least, until it became personal.
For Dennis this was just another day as he was vaguely aware of the world events. It wouldn't be long before the heroes rose up again as they always did but when his handler failed to show up for their scheduled appointment he took notice. It wasn't like her to miss their appointments even when they were purely professional. He waited for a moment longer but as the minutes became hours he started to get anxious and asked a waitress to borrow her phone. She was perplexed at first but obliged quickly as she saw the determination in his eyes. He thanked her before checking the recent news and he frowned as he learned what had happened, the phone breaking in his clenched hand. He offered an apology before handing it back with compensation.
He went over the news in his head as he walked down the street outside, his friend and lover had been taken by a local group emboldened by the disappearance of heroes. She had been beaten and left on the verge of death hung up by her cape in front of a church, crucified and clinging to life desperately. It was a mockery of everything she had stood for, the defeat of Celestia.
Dennis sighed deeply as he turned down an alley, the world was scared and it didn't matter to him. People barely went outside if they didn't have to and he was grateful for the peace it brought, an era of silence replacing the constant bustle of the city. Now though, now he had reason to bring the world to heel and restore the previous order.
Dennis wasn't much to look at though, at first glance. A man with a long, unruly beard and long hair, his hair graying but still streaked with the red locks of his youth. He barely stood six foot when he didn't slouch but his eyes still held his confidence and now the fury of a rage held back for decades, the embers burning bright once more. As he walked down the alley he stretched and stood tall, the gray in his hair being replaced as the vibrancy of his rage brought renewed life to his life. He looked up and closed his eyes as he took a deep breath before jumping, leaping out of the alley to the roof of the building before him.
==========
Crimson Hornet laughed maniacally as he beat the fallen hero before him, his nemesis Ultra Sun. Hornet had decided that he would keep the leader of the heroic league as his personal punching bag when his own league finally beat them as a reminder that heroes were not infallible. He held the hero's head up to look into a camera broadcasting the torture live. "All the world knows you're nothing now. Do you have anything to say to them?"
Ultra Sun breathed heavily in the momentary break, tears flowing freely from his eyes. He had been broken days ago and could no longer hold out a strong appearance against his foe but he refused to give up hope still. "Believe that heroes still exist!"
Hornet growled and resumed beating Ultra Sun, infuriated by his hopeful remark. There was a crash as he started kicking the hero that brought his attention away from his fun. A man had broken through the wall, large chunks of concrete at his feet as he dusted himself off.
"Hornet," the stranger asked as he walked forward, his red mane coming into view. "Did you have *anything* to do with Celestia's defeat?"
Hornet was taken aback as he stepped backwards, stumbling over the fallen hero to fall onto his ass. "You.. You're supposed to be dead! How!?"
Dennis walked forward calmly before noticing the camera pointed at the two men. He tossed a small pebble from his beard and broke the camera, cutting off the feed. "Well, that will certainly have people talking about who has come back from the dead. Now, answer the question. I don't have time for you if you aren't involved and you do remember, don't you? I'll know if you dare to lie to me."
Dennis gestured towards his ear before crouching down, not paying attention to the hero at his feet as his eyes focused intensely on Hornet.
Hornet stuttered off a response that he had ordered the hit on all heroes, no matter who they were. Dennis sighed and nodded. "You realize now that was a mistake, don't you? Come here, Hornet."
He didn't give the man a choice as he grabbed the front of his costume and lifted him up to his feet before carrying the man to the broken wall. "Look at what you've made. I would thank you for not what your order has caused by hurting a dear friend of mine. Now, unfortunately, your regime will fall and the world will no longer be this peaceful. Perhaps fear wasn't the right kind of peace but it was nice while it lasted."
"Wait, please! You said *hurt*, not kill! Right!? Let me make it right!" The villain pleaded before screaming as he was tossed out of the wall, falling down the steep cliffside to the ground below. His venomous powers and strength worth nothing against gravity.
Dennis turned to face Ultra Sun and nodded before leaving, a silent promise that the world would be returned to what it was. Ultra Sun smiled faintly, fear replaced by his own hope once more. He wouldn't be able to help but he was confident now that things would change. After all, heroes still exist.
---
Read more of my work on r/wraithwright
(It has been a while but I'm returning now) | 2022-12-09T13:15:28 | 2022-12-09T09:37:15 | 173 | 126 |
[WP]: a society where sex is public and entirely unstigmatised, but eating is a taboo | IF YOU ARE UNDER THE AGE OF 18 (OR 21 IN CERTAIN STATES) IT IS UNLAWFUL TO VIEW THIS VIDEO
Title: Master Cook Vol. 7
Performers: Cici Cilantro, Dana Dine, Mark Hamburger
Date: 1987
On a dark and steamy night, mild mannered sex-serviceman Paul (Mark Hamburger) gets a craving unlike any he's had before. Tempted in the evenings by the Gourmet Goddess (Cici Cilantro), Paul embarks on a wild culinary escapade, breaking all the rules of the kitchen one by one. Will his callgirl girlfriend (Dana Dine) able to bring him back to the bedroom? Or will she too be seduced by Goddess's call of cuisine...forever?
A Pico de Gallo Production
©1982, 1987
"Master Cook Vol. 7" is in compliance with S.5073 regulations and record keeping. All performers are over the age of 18 and are trained in culinary arts.
| Discreetly, I exited the shop, hoping nobody saw me. I awkwardly tried to hide my prize, two bulging bags made of black opaque plastic. Everybody knew, and looked at me, but then averted their gaze. I could tell what they were thinking: "Shameful!" "Kinky!" "She's gonna have a good night". It's times like this when I wish I had a car. I walked past all the restaurants and cafes, where people ate not food, and drank not water. The sounds of people groaning and having a good time reminded me of my youth. But with a career, and a family, I hardly had time to have a night out with the girls anymore.
I stepped onto the bus and everybody immediately stared at me. Being my turn to do the groceries, this week, I could only imagine what my husband goes through. At least it was somewhat accepted that women should get groceries, but for men... As I sat down, I got stares and murmurs and the odd chuckle from the passengers. The most uncomfortable one was from a disheveled old man wearing rags who moved from his seat and sat beside me. "Hey, beautiful. I see you're into some of the kinky stuff. What is that? Paprika? Why don't we go to my place and I'll cook you up something good. I'd love to dine with you, beautiful."
"I'm married." I said politely, hoping to get out of this situation as soon as possible.
"Comeon! Your husband doesn't have to know. It's just some light dining. Maybe a coffee and some snacks. I've got candles and shit."
"I'm sorry, I'm not interested."
He looked disgruntled and angry. I was a little scared. "You cook! I bet you eat everything under the sun!" He stormed off back to his former seat. The bus arrived at my stop. I got off the bus and went home, thinking about what I'm going to prepare for my husband and our dinner tonight. | 2013-11-18T13:33:50 | 2013-11-18T11:06:47 | 97 | 36 |
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned.
[WP] You arrive in Heaven to find it abandoned... | [GONE FISHIN']
I starred blankly at the sign. I knew this place . Your grandfathers store is a place that you never forget even after 85 years. I raised myself up on my tippy toes and peered through the window just too double check on the emptiness. I had done that dozens of times before and knew what was coming next.
I go to the ice box and grab out one soda. Not two because two is too many for a boy to drink after school. I pop the top off and put it in my pocket. The first drink is always the best. I plop down on the curb and wait for the sound of his pick up. If anyone needs gas I can help them but can't make change so I tell them just to stop back later to pay.
It always felt like an eternity waiting on that curb but grandpa always comes. | The last thing I remember was everything going black. The darkness seemed to consume me, take me away with a swiftness I’d never felt before.
But now…everything is bright.
I walked up the stairs, taking my time to look around. I see the darkness below me, though I don’t remember ascending out of it. Up above the light is blinding, I can barely see. I’m afraid of what I may encounter as I take another step up.
Finally, I’ve reached the summit of the staircase. Stepping forward, a golden gate appears, shimmering in the sunlight. Seeing it is slightly ajar, I push it forward, hearing it creak open slowly. It was then that I noticed it.
The silence. It pervaded across the green fields that spread out before me, up over the mountain I saw in the distance, through the hills and valleys that rolled through the landscape. There was no escaping it. I had anticipated my afterworld being livelier than this, though not quite as beautiful.
I thought back to the party I had attended before my final moments. Surrounded by friends and having a good time, I had finally begun to feel less lonely, to feel the weight of depression slowly sink away. But now, I am alone again.
As I reached the crest of the first hill, I saw a crumbling stone wall at its base. Hoping for some sign of civilization, I ran down the hill, reaching the wall quickly. As I walked around to its other side, I saw that something had been written on it. Scanning over it, I realized that this was not the afterlife I was hoping for at all. As I spoke the words quietly to myself, I began to cry.
“We are forsaken. All has been lost."
First time writing in years, please let me know what you think. | 2014-05-10T11:02:40 | 2014-05-10T09:20:30 | 40 | 13 |
[WP] A lone Spanish soldier lost in the deep jungles of South America stumbles upon the fountain of youth, but it's very different than anyone ever imagined. | You seem elated at what you have found, young soldier. You are to be commended for surviving the thick perils of the jungle which have taken the lives of millions before you. Perhaps you've been looking for this fountain your whole life, and now you have found it. Maybe you're wondering if there is some sort of catch to this, some horrible exchange you must make in exchange for eternal youth?
Allow me to assuage your fears, for nothing terrible will happen to you, should you drink this water. You won't grow an extra head, or kill someone else by prolonging your life this way. Of course, immortality is not the same thing as invincibility, you can still die. I have seen it happen before, and in fact, I think I am the only man who still lives after drinking the water from this fountain. What, you may ask, could befall someone in such a way?
Well, tomorrow is never a guarantee, there is that. Even if you drink the water, the jungle itself may very well forbid you to return home. But even those who make it out, I have found, see the passage of time accelerate at a pace that drives them insane. You are young, but surely you have noticed that your days seem much shorter now than when you were in the charge of your parents. Now, imagine that acceleration over several hundred years, and you can see the drawback. The lives of loved ones seemed like minutes and seconds, wrinkles forming on the elderly brow at sunset on one who was an infant at sunrise. Those who would have their loved ones drink the water found that the journey grows more treacherous with each passing day. Many of them die, cut their lives even shorter than they would have been without the water.
Immortality is lonely. I should know, I have been here for three thousand years, and I have seen only twenty people in those millennia. Here in this strange place, the other fountains showed me the lives of the survivors of the jungle's wrath. And in those three thousand years, I have yet to see one person not regret their decision to drink these waters. When time forgets your existence, it simply leaves you behind.
The choice is yours, young soldier. I cannot stop you from drinking the water, but I have stood here all these millennia to help those such as yourself understand the choice they are about to make. No one, upon reaching this place, has ever refused the water, but I hope you will be the first. | "I can't believe it."
The lone soldier walked towards the ancient monument, not quite able to comprehend the site before hiss eyes.
In front of him was a large, empty, square but with a small fountain in the middle. With a ring of purple fire surrounding it.
Gabriel knew instantly what he was looking at, even if he didn't know how he knew what it was. Sitting in front of him was the fountain of youth.
"I though it would be bigger" he mused, as he approached the fountain.
Gabriel stopped when he got ten feet away from the flames. The fire went all the way around the fountain, but it was only a foot thick. With a running start Gabriel hurled himself over the fire landing with a roll and pooping back up off the ground as he dusted himself off. Looking up he saw that there wasn't anything else between him and the fountain.
"That was easier than I thought it would be."
Cautiously, Gabriel walked towards the fountain, expecting at any moment for something to jump out and attack him. When he finally made it to the fountain he marveled at the elegance of this ancient structure. The water was crystal clear and to deep to see the bottom, the top of the fountain went up only four feet and wasn't very complicated. But in its simplicity lay its elegance. It had two layers with two floating cherubs pouring water out of the pots they were holding into the fountain. Just as he was going to scoop a mouthful of water into his mouth he heard a voice behind him rasp
"I wouldn't do that if I were you"
Gabriel was so startled he almost fell into the fountain. He whirled around to see an old man behind him, leaning heavily on his cane. The man said briskly
"Follow me, its the youth you want, right?"
"Yeah, why couldn't I drink that, that's the fountain of youth."
"No, that's poison. We use that to trick the people who try and get eternal life who don't deserve it" the man said as he walked through the fire like it wasn't even there.
Gabriel stopped when he saw that. "What about the fire?"
"I just use that to scare off the dumb and cowardly, the dumb wouldn't realize the fire is so thin and the cowardly wouldn't take the risk now follow me, quietly, I might add."
Without another word Gabriel followed the man to the end of the plaza and into the forest. After only a few minutes of walking the man stopped in front of a small stream.
"Here it is. The fountain of youth" As he said this he splayed his arms out for emphasis.
"Really, just this stream"
"Yeah, we used to have it at the fountain you were at, but to many people were getting immortality so we poisoned the old one and moved the water here"
"Why did you decide to save me then?" Gabriel asked confused.
"You seemed like a nice guy and I didn't want to see another person die this year goodbye." With that the old man left him.
"I guess this is it" Gabriel though to himself as he bent over the stream to drink some. He formed a cup with his hands and filed them with this mystical water. Taking one last breath as a mortal, he tilted his head back and drank. | 2014-09-06T21:10:40 | 2014-09-06T20:19:25 | 149 | 35 |
[WP] A highly advanced alien comes to study humans to determine their worthiness, as to not affect our behavior it disguises as one of us... very poorly. Nobody has the heart to tell it we know. | Matt and Brian sat in the booth waiting for their friend to arrive.
"We have to tell him" said Matt
"But we don't know how he's going to react"
"I'm sure it'll be fine, he seems cool"
"You say that now but when he's got a probe so far up your butt that he can…"
"What?"
"I don't know, also probe your lower intestine?"
"I would assume that would be the point, for the probe to go all the way up. I highly doubt aliens only care about our butt holes"
"I just now got that"
"So we'll tell him then"
"So you'll tell him"
"Why do I have to tell him"
"It was your idea"
"Which means you should have to do it"
"How does that work?"
"Hello fellow humans" said Zurgax
"Hey" said Matt and Brian together
"I will now commence sitting"
"Commence away buddy" said Brian
"Commencing sitting" said Zurgax
They watched as Zurgax struggled to sit down. The extra set of legs made it difficult but he was getting better at it.
"What human thing are we going to talk about today? Sports, government, food, the weather, females, our jobs, humans existential dread about death-"
"Actually we'd like to talk about you" said Matt
"Me?" said Zurgax
"Yes we…" Matt and Brian looked at each other
"You see, Zurgax…" said Matt
"What it is is…" said Brian
They looked at each other again.
"We know you're an alien" said Matt
"Whaaaaaaaat?" said Zurgax "That is a funny joke fellow human"
"I mean right off the bat, you say fellow human. No one says fellow human unless they're trying to convince people they are a human" said Matt
"It's like blending in 101" said Brian
"Yeah I know, I just say it to make you guys think I'm an alien ha ha ha ha ha ha ha isn't that funny fellow humans"
"You also wear a shirt that says I am a human" said Matt
"Well that's not…"
"What?"
"Well I mean a hipster douche might wear a shirt that says I am a human" said Brian
"Yeah but with three arm holes?" said Matt
"Well you got me there. Which also, Zurgax, you really haven't noticed that you're the only 'person' with 3 arms?"
"And four legs"
"Those are birth defects" said Zurgax
"one moment" said Brian
Brian and Matt confered.
"There's no chance he's telling the truth right?" said Brian
Matt stared at him.
"Because if he's telling the truth we're being real ass hats here"
"He's an alien"
"Just making sure"
They turned back to Zurgax.
"Those aren't birth defects"
"Yes they are"
"And your 'human face' it's just a paper plate with eye holes cut out and a smile drawn on" said Matt
"That is nowhere near big enough to cover your head, which is easily three times the size of ours"
"Nonsense, this is my human face, fellow humans"
"And you told us your name is Zurgax, that's not a human name" said Brian
"You didn't even try to come up with a human name" said Matt
"Like, where you just read random crap off signs and say it's your name you didn't even do that. You could have at least done that" said Brian
"Zurgax is a family name"
"I don't even doubt that, but that family is not from here"
"You fellow humans are so funny, I will laugh at this joke. ha ha ha ha ha ha"
"You crashed into my back yard" said Matt
"In a space ship"
"In a space ship"
"That was"
"That was a space ship" said Matt "It was this really highly technological looking thing, that fell from the sky and crashed into my backyard. Your first words to me were 'Earthling I come in peace"
Zurgax looked at them, his alien ears vibrating.
"Fine you have found me out not fellow humans"
"Thank you" said Matt
"So what now?" said Zurgax
"Uhm…" said Matt
"You know who he kind of reminds me of" said Brian
"Who?" said Matt, turning to Brian then "Oh" then turning back to Zurgax "Oh"
"We have a business proposition for you, and it's going to sound crazy, but just hear us out"
Zurgax blinked all 7 sets of eyelids then looked at them expectantly.
"Have you ever seen The Room?" said Brian | I'm typing some shit at my desk when Annie walks over. Oh, man. She clears her throat and I look up at her. She speaks in her thick, grainy voice.
"Jordan...You have th' r'ports that Mr. Hudson asked f'r?"
"The ones for Lithuania and Serbia?"
"Yes, Li-Lu-Lithuania and S'rbia."
I hand her the two sheets and go back to typing, though absentmindedly.
At first, Annie's "from a foreign country" gimmick worked fine. But when she couldn't tell us what the weather in her region was, wouldn't fully enunciate the country's name, and claimed that "Chime K'rdashan" was the country's prime minister, we started to get suspicious.
You could tell. There was something...off about Annie that suggested more foreigness than just being from a different country.
We had had a little holiday dinner party a couple months ago. Annie was invited...but she'd brought this notebook with her. Every so often she'd write something down, especially after someone told a joke. Sarah passed by, looking at what she was writing.
"Annie, you didn't say you could speak Japanese, I can too!"
Annie had raised her eyebrow (which looked like it took some effort), and offered only "'Cuse me?"
Sarah pointed at her notebook. "That's Japanese, right? I can kinda read it, it says something about a dog. It's cool!"
Annie got defensive, to the point of "acc'dently" scribbling over that page in her notebook as soon as Sarah finished her walk to the bathroom.
I come to, and hear her talking to someone else. Her speech was really strange to listen to. Her speech was staccato at best, and she clipped vowels regularly. Her cadence didn't sound like she was used to speaking another language, she sounded like a text-to-speech translator. Each word had it's own tone. Her sarcasm was undetectable, (as well as terrible), and any other emotions she tried to convey were mostly lost.
One time, she was talking to another coworker Jessie. Jessie had just gotten a new dress and wasn't really sure it looked good on her. Annie smirked and said "Oh, it's t'rrble."
Jessie asked to be put into a new department.
The most important time was when Jeff finally told us his theory. I remember it was the day after NASA had been talking about a planet being in danger of being swallowed by a black hole.
Annie said she "need'd to take a fl'ght back home, fam'ly matters."
Jeff had gathered us all in a meeting room, running his hands through his hair.
"Guys, guys. Annie's an alien! Isn't it obvious? She won't (but, in reality, probably can't) tell us anything about where she's from without making it obvious that she's *not. from. Earth.* "
Everyone had their doubts, especially because it was Jeff we were talking about...but we kept listening. There was something "off" enough about Annie that we were willing to hear anything that might explain her weird quirks.
"She's not familiar with *any* universally famous people. She doesn't speak with any fluidity. She can't use sarcasm correctly! She doesn't understand how to use it, they probably *don't* use it on her planet, and you know it's not her accent. Where the fuck do they have accents that sound like computers?"
"Annie's not from Earth, she's probably not even from the solar system! NASA was talking about that black hole the *day be-fucking-fore* Annie left for "family matters." If any planet in the solar system had been in danger of getting sucked into a black hole, don't you think we'd be feeling those effects by now?"
"Look at her face, even! It looks like she's wearing a mask, like it hurts for her to make facial expressions, haven't you noticed? Annie is an alien, it all adds up."
Jessie spoke up. "What about that notebook she's always writing in?"
Jeff thought for a minute.
"She's writing down something...it could be anything, though! I don't think it's in Japanese, she probably doesn't even know where Japan is. She could be writing down what colors the walls are, what she's wearing, what we're wearing. I don't know, really. But it doesn't detract from the fact that she's a fucking alien!"
I said my piece.
"She could be writing down stuff about us! Like, humans. Maybe she's trying to figure out what makes us tick. I don't know if you guys were paying attention, but she would write the most whenever someone said something funny. She's trying to figure out what's going on inside our heads, I bet."
Jeff's eyes lit up.
"Yeah, yeah! That's why she's asking all these questions all the time! "What is baseball? And who is B'rack Ob'ma?""
We finally decided not to approach her, though. She wasn't violent, and as far as we could tell, meant no harm. We giggled a little bit when her sarcasm fell flat, but we got her up to speed with the Homo Sapiens paradigm.
Annie wasn't human, but she was nice enough, so we were nice back. | 2015-05-24T20:59:28 | 2015-05-24T20:13:14 | 60 | 32 |
[WP] You are an immortal and have been alive for millions of years without anyone finding out. However, Human kind has been evolving, and you have stayed the same. | There is no name. There is no title. There is only 'I'.
Birthed at ground zero of what humanity would call the 'Chicxulub' event, my physical form is undying. While wandering around as a newborn I witnessed mass extinction. Charred carcasses of giant beasts and shrieking survivors taught me emotions. Despair. Sadness. Anger. Grief. This event was the first extinction event since my origins, however it was far from the last.
The vessel that humans would call my 'body' is a sphere comprised of Curium, Plutonium and Uranium. While I cannot perceive colour in the same spectrum that humans do, I would be an inconsistent mixture between a luminescent green and dazzling white. My sentience is a mystery that I can only speculate was caused by the intensity of my birth.
Now for my retelling of discovery by other sentient beings.
In the last few short millennium, a primal mammal began to take awareness. This species began to cultivate their own nutrition and seemingly control their environment. Resources, reproduction, labor and technology were all accelerating at an alarming rate for this young species. About seven thousand millennium ago these 'humans' turned savage. Their insatiable collection for resources that disregarded the very world that gave them birth. Their abuse towards mammals of their own species which they now call slaves, and mammals of different sexes ignited the anger I once felt.
It didn't matter which faction of humans, they were all the same. Abuse, cruelty, violence. This cycle of self-inflicted destruction and reconstruction continuously repeated.
Last century, I grieved once again. These humans were on the path to absolute destruction. Their cycles of destruction and reconstruction were becoming too immense. Millions of humans died at the previous two clashes of factions. Through their destruction however, these humans created my siblings.
Although much smaller than myself, these spheres were born from immense explosions that the humans created. In the span of a few short years, 1352 of my 'species' have emerged. The humans are now fully aware of our presence. However I know what is in store for my kind.
As we are forged by dense elements and impossible events, these humans will exploit us for resources. Although we are naturally immortal, our sentience can 'die'. A total of 94 of my siblings have died in two events known as 'Chernobyl' and 'Fukushima'. The spheres were being harnessed as an energy source for humans, yet they couldn't contain our full potential. A few hundred of spheres are still hidden around the globe. However the majority are submerged in water. Forced to decay as their physical forms slowly destroy themselves. I fear our discovery by humans spells the end of my species.
And where am I? After having been 'alive' for millions of years, the humans found me. Captured me. I, too am now being exploited, however for what purpose I do not know. My only knowledge is that I am in interstellar space, on bored a craft that shares the same 'name' as myself.
The name humans have given me was "Voyager".
Unlike the violent intense event that gave me life. My death will be cold, boring and dark. | Every day, people claim to desire everlasting life, the ability to see all that will happen by being here to experience it. From the world of limited life expectancy, immortality seems like a gift. Even from within my small house, whose old and stained wooden walls are home to treasures from my ages of life, it may seem desirable. The instruments, from old Grecian lyres to Gibson’s 1952 Les Paul, and the books, and the clothes, and the art, all paint a picture of brilliant memories and unparalleled life experience.
“Are you brooding again, dear?” She calls from the other room, as if she could hear my thoughts. “You know, we could leave this dingy little place and see something better.”
“Nothing is better, we’ve seen it all and it’s all the same now. No massive colosseum or beautiful atriums. No gothic apses and embellished archways. Hell, they’ve given up. The high rise buildings aren’t even designed to be structures to marvel at anymore,” I sigh, lying back against the soft red velvet sofa that smells of dust and pleasant times.
“Adam, you know how it works. They rise and fall and rise again. Look at the technology they have created. The accomplishments that have arisen from what you see as ugly regression,” she explains as she gently lifts my head and places it onto her legs, the softness caresses my cheek and beckons me to remain in place forever.
“Look at the people they’ve killed. The great men and women, the even greater ideas. Gone all because some more important and better dressed man says so. Look at-” I try to continue but she traps my words with her palm and starts to chuckle.
“We are going out, you need to get out of your cave of human past. It only reminds you of what was and not what can be,” she hums, leaning down to kiss my tightly wrinkled forehead.
As she wishes, we do. Stripping from our robes and adorning ourselves in the latest popular garb, topping off with a few favorites from the past. A glove from 1852, some socks from 1921, and my sunglasses from 1984. She bursts from the door as I lumber behind, breathing in the thick city air whilst trying to ignore the constant whirring of vehicles and electronics. Our 21st century home, with its stone exterior, is aged by the flat, bland, structures that sit on either side.
People look at us with amusement, as if we are children intruding on their big world. Their bodies are a patchwork of chaotically uncoordinated scientific achievement which dwarf my merely human form. Over the years, I have felt as if I were shrinking away. Both literally and metaphorically. I do not change, I do not grow old, I simply exist. Experiencing all of what is, has been, and ever will be.
“Y’know, they could fix that. Your height,” a towering man, broad and lean with a thick beard covering his otherwise hairless face, says, as if offering me advice on what scarf would match my jacket.
“Yes, I know,” I reply, shaking my head as I continue down towards the large cluster of massive grey buildings.
Catching little light from the cloudy day, the reflective buildings from a time in which futurism was an art form almost blend into the sky. People litter the sidewalk and separate from one another. Bionics, halflings, matter makers. Once a united race of humanity, now seeking to be different and unique, to divide and gather in new groupings of like minded beings.
“Children grow up, what they become isn’t up to you or I,” she whispers, digging a sharp elbow into my ribs.
“Eve, let us go home. Please, they just aren’t our children anymore. They aren’t like us. So modified,” I reply hoarsely, trying not to be heard by a tattooed half alien man whose one wholly black eye blinks as we move past. “I don’t think they know what they are anymore.”
| 2015-12-09T06:18:33 | 2015-12-09T06:05:06 | 157 | 80 |
[WP] They tried to summon a demon. They got you. | **???**: "Thank you for 'attempting' to summon Mammon. How may I be of service?"
*The summoners stare, momentarily bewildered by the summon's appearance of an office suit complete with tie, pen and glasses. They whisper among themselves and one finally speaks up.*
**Leader**: "Who are you, if not the one we seek?"
\**Sigh*\*
**Carl**: "Hello! My name is Carl, and I am a summon service represen-"
\**Sigh again*\*
**Carl**: "Look, it's easier if I explain this way. Pardon the accent by the way, I'm not too good with your archaic speaking styles. A lot of people need help from a demon, and I'm sure your reasons are just as important as any for summoning someone as great as my Boss."
**Leader**: "Enough! We have little time for your dribble. We need the almighty power of the great Mammon and we have performed the necessary rituals!"
**Carl**: "I'm getting there! Just listen for a sec. I know you're super busy and I'm super busy, so I'll try to make this easy."
\**Clasps hands*\*
**Carl**: "Brief history: You do a ritual and get a summon who does whatever you task it with, and then it's returned back. Well, some of the popular summons simply couldn't be in multiple places at once - I mean, even if they are all powerful and intelligent, they can't exactly make that work!"
\**Points to the crowd*\*
**Carl**: "You all, tried to summon a pretty popular dude, and he's becoming pretty choosy these days. I'm one of many reps here to hear out your case and see if you've got a chance with the bigshot, so let's hear it."
\**The summoners slowly comprehend and digest all that Carl mentioned.*\*
**Leader**: "Very well! We require His services in order to vanquish a band of fighting mercenaries, keen on wiping us out. They are a famous and powerful group of warriors known as the Order of Power. Surely Mammon has heard of them and recognizes our pressing cause!"
\**Carl looks through his notepad and intakes a sharp breath*\*
**Carl**: "Ooh. So sorry about that. I'm not seeing anything on here."
**Leader**: "What? That cannot be. The Order of Power has been responsible for destroying countless groups and legendary creatures!"
**Carl**: "...yeah... I've heard that complaint a lot from previous guys as well. Not enough of a case, but don't worry. Mammon and his crew have got your back! Research shows that most situations don't require a demon in order to fix the problem! They just need better stuff!"
\**Carl poofs out for a moment and poofs back in with a catalog*\*
**Carl**: "What I've got here is a bunch of cool stuff that you fantasy dudes don't tend to have for some reason, that's gonna make your fights a piece of cake! Machine guns, tanks, drones, all sorts of cool stuff!"
\**Flips open multipage detailed spread for the group*\*
**Carl**: "This is my Boss's recommended choice and autographed by him. A custom designed rail gun. Don't worry! I can explain how it works... it's pretty cool! So are you interested?"
\**The summoners look wide eyed at the pictures*\*
**Leader**: "Tell me more about this amazing weapon."
*And so, Mammon and his company made top dollar that day.* | Ice crusted over the books on the shelves. A cold wind pulled at the candles laid out across the floor, defying the closed and shuttered windows. The flames flickered inwards, towards the center of the room and the center of the great star etched into the floor.
The magician's spell was reaching its climax. He waved his arms and shouted the last few words over the howling winds calling me through the dimensions, summoning me from my home and into his.
Suddenly, the room went quite.
I could see now. The magician was a stocky man, with a brown beard and a brown bowler hat. He was wearing thick, round glasses with a thin layer of ice obscuring his eyes. He took them off and rubbed them on his sleeve.
"Well, this is a new one," he said. "What trickery are you planning with that feeble form, Balthazar?"
I sighed. "It's not a form, ok? I just haven't had time to get to the gym much recently."
"Ha! Do you think this is my first summoning, demon? I've no time for your games today."
Magicians never had time. At least, the ones who summoned me never had time, which is probably part of the reason they summoned me.
"Let me save you some time then. Go back to your book, double check the spell you just used and send me back. I'm not even a demon."
The magician wasn't buying it. "I've heard that one a thousand times! Now, I have a task for you, and one with no shortage of danger, so you'd better listen close. I want you to infiltrate the -"
"Woah, no! Stop! You've got the wrong guy!"
The magician raised his hand. "Tread carefully, demon. Are you not Balthazar the Magnificent? The Marauder of the Pacnas and the Night Terror of the Ka'chi'ta Nation? The Balthazar whose rain of slaughter has lasted a thousand years and whose exploits fill the hearts of lesser demons with dread?"
Ahhh, this again. I sat down in the center of the star and took a deep breath.
"Well, no. I'm not that Balthazar. I'm a human who works at Best Buy and whose name is similar to that Balthazar."
A flame lit in the magician's outstretched palm. He muttered a word and it grew into a churning ball of flame the size of a basketball. I eyed it apprehensively.
"Enough of your lies, demon. Admit that you're lying before I scorch the flesh from your bones and summon another slave to do my bidding."
"You mumbled the name when you called it the first time. Don't feel bad, you're not the first one to make that mistake." I wasn't super worried about the fireball. You could see he was sweating just from the effort it took to maintain the spell. In a few seconds it wouldn't be hot enough to hurt much.
"Eh." Said the magician. "I don't believe you."
But he let the fireball extinguish itself. The only noise was the sound of dripping water as the ice melted and dripped onto the floor.
"I'm telling you, it's not the first time I've been summoned by mistake. This Balthazar guy must be something else because it's happened at least three times this week alone! Take a look in your book, if you pronounce it BALTH-zar instead of BAL-tha-zar you'll get me instead of him."
He was skeptical. For me, that's good. He was starting to doubt but the book he had used to summon me was right in front of him. He picked it up.
"It's right at the beginning of the spell. Before the locking clauses and the bit that prevents the demon from leaving the pentagram."
"Silence, demon! I know where it is... ah! I see... You might be right about that, actually."
"Told you. It's not my first rodeo."
The magician started the dismissal spell.
"WAIT! Don't use the standard one! You've got to specify a destination or I'll never find the right dimension!"
"Picky guy, aren't you?"
I told him what he needed to change. He changed it. I felt the locks on the pentagram fall away.
I flexed my leg muscles and leapt across the room. My skinny fingers pierced his breastbone and wrapped around his heart. I let him scream once. Just once.
"Magicians never learn." | 2016-02-02T23:11:03 | 2016-02-02T21:33:19 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] Superman is mentally handicapped. That's why he thinks nobody can pick up the Clark Kent=Superman thing, and everyone plays along in an effort to keep him from throwing a tantrum. The comics are his idea of what is going on. What does a day in Metropolis actually look like? | Bruce Wayne stood stoically, looking down upon Gotham through the spotless glass of the top-floor conference room. It was a stunning view, with the orange light of the setting sun trickling through the skyscrapers that sprawled out towards the horizon. Diana closed the notebook in front of her, its well-worn spine crackling softly as she did.
Everyone in the room was silent. The looks on their faces a mix of disbelief and uncertainty. Hal was absentmindedly tapping his finger on the desk, a rapid rhythm that annoyed Diana far more than it should have. She caught his eye and looked down at his hand. His eyes moved with hers to the curled digit and he took notice of the movement. He stopped immediately and offered her an apologetic look. She nodded and turned again to look at Bruce's back.
"How long has this been going on, Diana?" Bruce asked.
"I'm not sure, Mr. Wayne. A few months at least, since he fought those other aliens from his home planet. The stories he's come up with are amazingly detailed, I'll give him that. However, they're, well-"
"Crazy," quipped Barry. "I mean, I've got super speed and Hal has a magic ring and you've got an invisible jet? It's silly."
"So what is it exactly I even do?" asked John.
Diana turned to face him and gave him a tight smile,"Well, you...you are a Martian and...well it's kind of all over the place. Your powers aren't really consistent from story to story."
"I'm...a Martian."
"Yes, sir."
He nodded his bald head slowly, chewing on the inside of his cheek, "I see."
"At least you don't live in the ocean and talk to fish," added Arthur. "I mean, is there a worse one than that?"
Diana smiled, "Well you do have that swimmer's physique, Arthur."
He returned the smile and was about to speak up again when Bruce interjected.
"I'm the only one without super powers?"
Diana shifted in her chair. Bruce would go entire board meetings without speaking sometimes. Bring the President of Wayne Industries had its perks.
"Yes, Mr. Wayne, but you do have an elaborate cave full of very interesting devices-"
"But I'm a giant, flying rodent."
Diana stifled a laugh, "Well, sir. You're Batman."
"I'm Batman," he repeated in flat, monotone voice.
Hal and Barry exchanged smirks. The room fell into silence once again.
"It seems to me," Bruce finally said, "That this Batman is a protector of Gotham. I doubt he would stand for the kind of destruction that Superman brought to Metropolis when those aliens attacked."
Diana wasn't sure what to say so she flipped open the notebook again and slowly turned the pages to see if anything in them agreed with Bruce's point.
"I'd say this Batman would use his resources to stand up to Superman and tell him that his super powers must be controlled to keep the citizens of this city safe."
He turned to face them as the final light of the day's sun fell past the horizon and threw dark shadows across the cavernous room.
"I think we take inspiration from this notebook and see if we can bring this alien madman around to reality. Perhaps its time for Superman and Batman to face off. For real."
The rest of the room exchanged short glances. Hal spoke up.
"Mr. Wayne, you can't be serious. That guy would rip you apart if you tried some Superman versus Batman mega-fight."
"Batman versus Superman sounds better," Barry said with a wide grin. Bruce gave Barry a look that wiped his face clean in an instant.
Looking back to Diana, Bruce seemed to grow another inch as he took in a deep breath and puffed out his chest, "Get me anything and everything you can on that alien technology. Hal, call Lexcorp. We'll work together on this. If this alien has super powers and he's mentally unstable, we have to act now."
Diana scribbled notes onto her tablet. As the COO, she felt it was her duty to ask the question which hung on everyone else's lips.
"Sir, are you planning to do something yourself?"
"I have to Diana," Bruce said as he turned back to the window and watched the stars in the sky steadily brighten.
"I'm Batman." | Lex Luthor inhaled the steam from his caramel mochiatto as he took in the beautiful day. Gingerly sipping the piping hot beverage, Lex gently shook the briefcase in his left hand. Expense reports budget plans and Lex's pet project, a proposal for a new manufacturing plant, all shuffled in the case.
That plant proposal was precious; Lex had a meeting with the Executive Director of Production and his assistants at three this afternoon, and the success of his proposal could make or break his chances of the promotion he'd been dogging down for six months. With that promotion, he could afford to give Mercy the fairy-tale wedding she truly deserved.
Pounding feet on the pavement behind him. Heavy footfalls, at a breakneck pace. Lex turned to look over his shoulder, and saw a massive gorilla of a man wearing a blue jumpsuit barreling towards him. He charged right at Lex like a linebacker, bare feet slamming the pavement, his arms held outstretched, as if he were flying.
Lex knew he couldn't run away. He'd never been able to get away. He raised his arms defensively, but too slowly, as the massive man slapped him on the back of his shaved head.
"You'll never get away with this, Luthor!"
Head spinning, spots dancing in his vision, Lex reoriented himself, his vision clearig to show the man in the blue jumpsuit standing with his hands on his hips, barrel chest thrust out proudly, a wide boyish grin on his face and sparkles of mirth and joy in his eyes.
Lex yelled, "God dammit, Clark, get away from me!" as he stepped away from the large man.
The mirth went out of his eyes, the boyish grin twisted into a scowl. Clark glowered at Lex. "Superman!"
"Clark, I have to get to work. I can't play right now."
"SUPERMAN! I'M SUPERMAN!" Clark roared, looming his massive frame over Lex. Lex cowered for a moment before catching himself, straightening his posture.
"Okay, fine, Superman! I need to go to work. I can't do this right now. Go home!"
"JUSTICE NEVER SLEEPS, LUTHOR!"
Lex dove out of the way as Clark took a roundhouse punch at him. "This isn't funny Cl-- Superman! Cut it out!"
Clark charged at Lex like an angry bull. The other pedestrians on the sidewalk had moved far away, trying to both avoid and watch the spectacle happening in front of them.
Clark grabbed the briefcase out of Lex's hands as he charged past. Lex, pale-faced, held up his hands to try and appease Clark's fury.
"Superman, please put the briefcase down."
"I got your bomb, Luthor! You won't threaten this city again!"
At the word "bomb", everyone crowding around the scene panicked, screamed, and started running. Lex stared dumbfounded for a moment, *Oh sweet shit he did NOT just yell "bomb" in a crowded street like that...*
"Superman, listen, just... give me the briefcase, okay? We can play later, but I need that back. Please."
"NEVER!" Clark threw the briefcase to the ground with all his might. The latches broke, paper scattered everywhere. Lex howled in rage."GOD DAMMIT, Clark!"
"I'M SUPERMAN!"
"You're a damn MENACE! You've been a pain in my ASS ever since we were kids!"
Clark laughed, loudly and jubilantly. "I saved the day! Bad guys lose again!" He sprinted down the street, arms outstretched, "flying" away. Lex muttered angrily, gathering his scattered documents. Dirty prints of barefeet covered his reports and his plant proposal; he'd have to completely reprint everything.
"Don't anybody HELP or anything!" Lex scowled angrily at the surrounding onlookers, who turned to go back about their business. Lex fumed internally as he cleaned up his documents.
The R word whispered itself in his mind but he choked back the urge to actively think it. It wasn't Clark's fault, and Lex knew it. He and Clark had grown up together in a small farming community. They'd been best friends. But after Clark's head injury, he'd never been the same.
They both ended up living in Metropolis, and for the most part Clark was gentle and happy when Lex popped in to visit him and his parents. But every once in awhile, Clark regressed to their childhood games of Superhero versus Evil Genius, and he was too big and strong for his elderly parents to restrain when he got in those moods.
Sitting down on the subway to his workplace, Lex pulled out his smartphone and called Mr. and Mrs. Kent. "Yes ma'am, Fourth and Broadway. Running down the street."
Lex ended the call, then stared out of the subway windows morosely. A fistfight on a public street... yelling "BOMB" in a crowd... Clark would be in a lot of trouble for this one. And his parents weren't getting any younger.
Maybe, if Lex could still snag that promotion, he could see about helping them get Clark into a care facility. | 2016-03-04T11:05:17 | 2016-03-04T10:45:47 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | <PATH00>
Connor sulked into his studio apartment and threw his jacket onto the ground.
He unbuckled his belt and slipped out of his pants before he was even half way through the door.
He was starving...hadn't eaten since the morning. He took a hard look at his kitchen, it was filthy...probably nothing that wasn't rotting in the fridge.
He dove onto his bed and wept a short while.
Fired again...he couldn't help it, the jar of tips was just too tempting.
Wendy wasn't going to take well to the news.
He flipped open his ancient laptop and sifted through all the emails reminding him of his debts until he saw an email from Wendy.
"I'm not coming home tonight
Sent from Frank's iPad"
Connor just wanted the world to swallow him up...he was just so tired of it all. He just cried until he fell asleep.
Hours passed until he heard the distinct "DING" from his email received notification.
"Thought I muted this shit..." he muttered as he looked at the laptop.
New email titled: "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current Setting: Very Hard"
Connor stared at his screen...and clicked into the email.
The body read.
>"Hello Connor08011996,
>
>I have noticed that you are having a very rough time working with the difficulty settings that your parents set for >you at birth. Not everyone gets to use console for the setup of their child and Very Hard is not a setting that is >recommended unless they start off with a LOT of help; help you did not get.
>
>Now...I'm not admitting any liability/fault here, but I'm offering you several options to make your experience in >the beta a little more enjoyable.
>
>You may only choose ONE of the following options: When you use one, the others will deactivate.
>Before you fall asleep, think of the time that you stole that toy at Mr. O'Flanahan's toy store when your family >went to Niagara Falls. Specifically think of how you told your mother that "it was a gift from the owner for being >such a good boy".
>You will be prompted for which option:
>
>1.) Console (Cheat Engine) - Say "Cheater"
>
>You'll fall asleep and go into settings. Now I've preconfigured access so that you can get THREE uses of console, >so make good use of each session.
>
>Onto the cheats.
>You'll be able to give yourself more money (up to $250,000 USD each session), alter your appearance, take a >boost to your stats (I've given you 50 points that you can distribute), change your relationship stats with others >(once per session), and save/load your progress (Only 1 save/load per session).
>
>Normally, you get no achievements for using this...but I'll let it slide for you.
>
>
>2.) Difficulty Change: Say "Difficulty Change"
>You will appear in a room with Six different blocks.
>1 through 6.
>
>1 represents VERY EASY
>
>2 represents EASY
>
>3 represents NORMAL (Default)
>
>4 represents HARD (All tasks +100% difficulty)
>
>5 represents VERY HARD (All tasks +300% difficulty)
>
>6 represents DEBUG (All tasks effectively impossible, please do not choose)
>
>Choose your new difficulty by punching through the block of your choice.
>You will wake up, and resume. No penalty for doing this...thought you will not get any of the possible rewards for >completing your existing quests.
>
>3.) Restart: Say "Restart"
>Nothing fancy here, you get a complete redo.
>Same difficulty, but you will have retain all knowledge up to this decision.
>You regain all skills at the age of 5...so you will have a few years where you get to relearn motor skills and things >like using your vocal chords.
>
>Hope this helps.
>I'm cheering for you kid.
>
>Yours Truly,
>JC (Creator, Admin)"
Connor didn't know what to think.
He...didn't even know what to make of this.
NO ONE knew about that toy he stole.
He closed the laptop once more and stared into the space that his TV used to occupy...what should he do?
For Next Part, please continue to <<PATH01>>
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4cmk5a/wp_you_just_got_fired_youre_pretty_sure_your/d1k3nb3
*edit: I'm attempting to write this as a Choose Your Own Adventure. Please scroll down to <<PATH01>> for the next part.
I'll write the next branch of options tomorrow morning.* | Jeb sat back deep in the couch and ripped off the tab of his last beer. He figured he might as well enjoy both of them while they lasted: beer, even when he had it, didn't last very long, and his couch was due for repo by those bank sumbitches.
Looking around his piece-o-shit apartment (as he liked to call it) Jeb reflected that things hadn't gotten easier, as they'd said it would down at the congregation. Jeb believed in God, and he believed in that slimy rat fuck who spread Gods word and took his ten dollars every Sunday, but as of yet Jeb had yet to see God helping out.
Downing the last of his final beer (and vaguely wondering where his next would come from. Beer that is. Or paycheck. Same thing, really), Jeb burped loudly.
"This is some bullshit," he exclaimed.
He scratched his nuts, thinking that would help. It did. For a bit. Not for long though. The itch always came back. Fuckin' bitch Katrina.
"Never trust a woman named after a hurricane," he said to no-one in particular. He thought back to the whiskey, the dinners, the late nights they had spent together, and wondered how much of dent all that wasted time would have made in his loans. Sure, a diploma in Electrical Engineering wasn't a big deal to any of his prospective employers (also good-for-nothing rat fucks, he decided, trying to extract one more drop of Indian Pale from the dessicated can in his hand), but the bank certainly didn't think so. 75 big ones. Ain't no joke, far as anyone's concerned.
Jeb stood up from his dusty, moth-eaten couch just as generations of O'Thompson losers had before him and walked over to the computer.
'*Might as well check the old e-mails*,' he said, again, to no one at all. '*Welfare don't like it if'n you don't send out a few shots in the dark e'ry now and then*.'
There were no replies, of course. No golden e-handshakes welcoming him onto the team, no promises of riches and happiness beyond measure. Hell, there wasn't even a note from the Nigerian lawyer who promised to get back to him after that deposit last week.
And suddenly: a bing.
Jeb's eyes widened. His heart stepped up its pace a few murmurs, and his hand shook on the mouse.
Could this be it?
Jeb's dire hopes faded, however, as he read the subject line. To be precise, there was none. He thought that wasn't a thing people could do anymore, but given what that tornado-in-human-form had done, well, nothing really surprised him anymore.
He clicked the link.
"Would you like to change the difficulty?" Jeb read, his lips twisting visibly as they silently contorted out the various slow syllables of the sentence. "Current setting: Very Hard."
He laughed out loud. That ol' bastard Tucker, up to his tricks again. He chortled as he clicked the reply button. '*I'll show him, that prankster*,' he thought, a grin plastering itself across his grimy face. '*Thinks I's so dumb I don't know what tamara is*.'
His index fingers poked and prodded slowly across the keyboard, a tongue protruding its grey, wet mass out of the corner of Jeb's mouth as he formented his brilliant response.
"Too Easy," he typed, a thick, guttural chuckle coughing from his midsection. "Gimme Nightmare Mode."
Reading his enviable handiwork, Jeb laughed a second time. Ol' Tuck. How dumb'd'he think ol' Jebediah was? His finger hovered over the send button for a second [*but what if it's real what if this ain't no joke what if this is your one*] before hitting 'send'.
"That'll show him."
There was the longest moment where nothing happened, and then the phone rang.
Jeb (frankly surprised he still had a phone, and that it was still connected to the network) jumped in his seat. Rocketing from his chair, he flung himself through his pizza boxes and porn mags and all the detritus that only a 26-year-old bachelor can accumulate.
And there it was. A dull red, heavy thing. He snatched it to one ear.
"You almost got me, Tuck ya ol' fu..."
"Mr O'Thompson? Is this a bad time?"
Jeb heard his surname being used. No one used surnames. Not unless...
"Uh yeah, I can talk. Not doin' much."
"Mr Thompson, my name is Dr Fischer. You might remember me from..."
"Oh shit, Dr Faggy. You the one cupped my balls and all!" he laughed into the receiver. Saying that word, he scratched again. Fuckin' bitch.
"Er... well... yes, I ran your medical about sixteen months ago." There was a harsh silence on the phone, a dark, crackling that cut into the ear harder than static. "I wanted to call to say... oh God, I can't believe this, but... well, there's been a slight mix up."
"A...? A mix up? What do'ya... wha..."
"It seems that... well, to be perfectly honest, we mixed up a scan..."
Jeb's brain... slowed. There was this... Pop. A finality.
"What?" was all that came out.
"Well, it seems that when we did your CAT-scan for your medical insurance, we had another O'Thompson that day. A Jeremiah O'Thompson. Fortunately, we've been able to rectify his side of this tale - his scan is clear - but your... Mr O-Thompson? Mr O'Thompson?"
The phone fell to the floor with a thud.
*
*
*
Edit: "tamara" isn't April fools, but hey, I tried
| 2016-03-30T15:47:17 | 2016-03-30T14:08:22 | 567 | 112 |
[WP] You just got fired, you're pretty sure your girlfriend is cheating on you, you're 75k in student loans debt, rent was due last week, and to top it all off? You're all out of beer. Oddly enough, you just got an email titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
EDIT: muh front page reddit wew lad.
This blew up a lot more than I thought it would.
I'm having a great time reading the responses I even decided to add one myself in the comments. | As I tossed the last can of generic, cheap beer I had left to my name, I sobbed. I’m not an alcoholic, but my girlfriend of 5 years was cheating on me and alcohol was the last thing holding reality at bay. Now that was gone too. Jenny and I had met in college and I thought that we had a great thing going on. There had been no warning or signs that I was being betrayed, but the texts and pictures on her phone didn’t lie. Could they?
My phone vibrated in my pocket. Instinctively I picked it out and the screen burned bright white in the dark room. An email to my private address I didn’t give out to anyone but my friends and family. I didn’t even sign up for any accounts using this address. With a great sob and a few moments to wipe the tears from eyes so I could read the letter, I unlocked my phone and glanced at the subject line.
Curiously, there was no sender address and the subject line read, “Would you like to...” before it ran out of room on the small screen.
*What the hell... How did advertisers get their hands on this email address? I bet they’re asking if I want to change the size of my penis. Fuck. If only that shit worked, maybe I wouldn’t be losing Jenny to some hung guy.*
I clicked to open the email and stared at it, puzzled. “Would you like to change the difficulty?”
*Sure. I’d love to do that. Lemme just go ahead and ask God to look down on me with pity and let me off easy. I’ve suffered enough haven’t I? In a world where children starve and are sold in slave markets, I of course am the most wretched and deserving of this opportunity. Or maybe I am just the most pitiable human with an email address. Sure.*
I clicked to move the email to the trash folder and plugged in my phone to charge for the long restless night that awaited.
---------------------------------
4:17AM
Still tossing and turning, trying to find a moment of peaceful rest where I wasn’t haunted by the thought of my life crumbling around me, I glanced at the dull red LED of the alarm clock by my bedside table. Silent tears had wet the pillow case as I had tried to sleep. More cruel than the thought that Jenny had cheated on me and left me were the dreams where we were still happy together. Every time I had gotten even a cycle of sleep, those blissful dreams had haunted me. As soon as I awoke, it was like finding out that she was with someone else again for the first time.
I grabbed my phone, determined not to let these blissful nightmares another chance to take hold of me. The blinding white light hurt my eyes and it took a few moments for them to adjust and let me read again.
“Would you like to change...”
*This shit again? I thought I had deleted it the first time it came in. Must have misclicked in my drunken haze. Oh well.*
I moved the email to the trash again and opened Sync for Reddit.
After almost an hour, I had gone through all the interesting topics on the Front Page if the Internet and clicked the back button to exit the app. As it closed, behind it was my Gmail app again.
*Stupid inconsistent back button behavior. What the... I’m sure I deleted the email this time. Oh what the hell. It can’t hurt and I’m desperate enough to give this a try. Hell, I’ve already prayed and I don’t believe in God. This can’t be any worse.*
“Yes.”
“Select new difficulty...”
The reply came in quicker than the email from the subscribe button on a page full of malware. I opened the new mail and found 4 simple buttons.
* Easy
* Medium
* Hard
* **Very Hard**
*Have I been playing life on Very Hard mode so far? Well... Some of it was. I had been diagnosed with cancer when I was 15, lost my parents on the vacation the Make a Wish Foundation had set up, lost my scholarship to UCLA when I had been caught smoking weed and was taken in and charged with a misdemeanor. Some of it made sense, but at the same time, I had met Jenny, my cancer had gone into remission, I was able to find loans to pay for college, and even gotten into that great research program they offered. But then again, very hard was not “nightmare mode.” Maybe I was just that good at life!*
As I began to imagine how life would be on easy or even medium difficulty, I hovered over the easy button. A heartbeat later, I clicked on it.
A voice sounded in the room and yet I knew it was only in my head.
“New difficulty, easy. Settings saved.”
My heart raced but I was exhausted. Maybe I had just imagined the voice. I probably did. As I continued to argue in my head, I drifted off to sleep, forgetting the demons that lay in my dreams.
To be continued after work... | This is my first post here, not the best writer; please be gentle fams. D=
---------------------------------------
I slowly opened my door to yet another dreary, pointless day of my existence. It's quite saddening that it had come to this point in my own home, but it happens I guess. It's been a rough day with all the back and forths the boss made me do for no real reason alongside people just generally not realizing that when I say no, I mean no.
In my mental recap, I missed something on the floor. My foot arrived sharply towards a cold thing which I wouldn't know about until after physics worked it's magic and gave me the sensation known as pain to my foot.
I spoke some unintelligible nonsense, very rudely involving my rather fun day and went to go pick up what my foot had smashed into.
An empty beer bottle. Upon closer inspection I saw something long and plastic stuck to the side that would've looked very out of place. Suddenly, I wished I hadn't. Wow Adam, I didn't need you to finish my beer and fuck my girlfriend too. Who let you in here in the first place? Sigh, forget it. Might as well just dispose of it by chucking it out the window into the alley, no one cares anyway.
I slowly sat down in my chair after removing my backpack. How I wished I could feel the sensation of taking off the weight off my back more often, but sadly it's not going to be the case for a long time. I don't think I'll be able to sleep any easily considering that I could lose a place to sleep within a snap of my landlord's fingers. I'm actually surprised she didn't come up and... nah let's not tempt fate here. I already did quite a bit of it today.
Sat up straight in my seat and reached for my backpack to pull my laptop out. After doing so, I was greeted with a nice warning message that I'd lose battery power in about 15 minutes. You must be joking. More shit to deal with today though.
I saw a slight disturbance on my desktop. It was my web browser playing a soft tone. Oh nice, another email. Let's check it while I have a little battery life. I don't think it'll kill my battery and I'll certainly plug in my laptop afterward because I at least remembered to take my power charger.
The bolded email that gave the notification was titled "Would you like to change the difficulty? Current setting: Very Hard."
I must've blinked 10 times straight. I mean, what the hell. A random email asking me about out the difficulty of my life huh. I chuckled a little. Anon here was pretty good at the guessing game. He didn't seem to be harmless at all though. Maybe this was just something for motivation I guess, probably nothing as a whole, but probably some mental strength which is what I need right now.
My fingers fly across the keys with no effort and typed "Normal." I'm not sure why I said normal, but I'm guessing it's because I wanted to work for myself and try to get myself going after pissing away my times when I was younger. A new chance per se.
I hit enter, and it straight up sent the message. Another blinking procedure of mine. Never had an email program do that to me before. Oh well. I slunk back and slowly felt sleep rolling in.
Right before sleep took me, I sharply remembered something: *there was no sender.* But that's when I fell asleep, right in my chair.
***
I woke up to my doorbell. Someone was really interested in meeting me huh. I guess today was the day I finally get kicked out of this shitho-.
I opened the door and was face to face with an elderly woman. It wasn't my landlord, she'd act like a cranky grandma right now.
It was my mother.
"What is it?" I asked bitterly and groggily. Nice, now I get to be scolded by her too. First running away from home to live like this and see the world, to being in a shit situation.
I didn't get a response at first, but then I saw the tears.
"I'm sorry."
I was speechless. Normally my parents would've been quite harsh and pretty stubborn on anything they'd say and do. But an apology? This was unheard of.
"Er, any reason for this?" I doubt this was out of goodwill. There had to be an ulterior motive, there always is.
But I could never think of one. Cynicism is in my blood, but today I found nothing.
"We are truly sorry for not realizing what you truly wanted and why you left," she started. "I can't think of any other way to apologize because we were truly rash." Well, you did stifle your son's future just a tad bit by ruining his first chance at an authentic job when he was 19 and making him miss a crucial step in his first relationship so it's ok I guess?
"You're not going to live like this anymore. As an apology, let us handle all of the financial issues you are having. It's too much for you right now considering where you are living."
I was speechless. "Er, it's no need I'll be fi-"
"FINE?" I was taken aback by her tone shift. "You've been living here with your financial condition and your friends that have dropped you off the earth and you say you're fine???!! Shut up, we're going to handle everything for now. We're going to let you do as you want, but you're coming home to have lunch first."
----------------------------------
And I'm gonna end this one here. I don't think it was great, but always room for improvement I guess. I didn't like the ending but I was scrambling for time so lol. | 2016-03-30T17:17:24 | 2016-03-30T17:02:42 | 108 | 42 |
[WP] You never smiled in your life. After overhearing this, a random girl makes it her duty to make you smile. | "No way. I don't believe you." Her stormy eyes were narrowed as she leaned over the back of her chair to face us.
I looked at my friend Jacob, a bit confused. Did he know this girl? Or had she simply been eavesdropping on our conversation? Over lunch, I'd been telling him about a coworker who thought I was creepy for not smiling when she decided to interrupt. "It's true," I told her. "I don't smile." Jacob, who'd known me for years, confirmed that. I'm just a dispassionate person.
"A German man is going through customs in France..." she started, already smirking slightly as she prepared to drop the punchline.
"Occupation?" I interrupted, ruining the end for her. "No, just visiting." I'd heard that one before. I've heard pretty much *every* joke, because that's *always* how people react when they learn that I don't smile. As if they are the first person to ever think to try that. And of course it never works.
She pursed her lips. "I'm not giving this up until you smile," she warned.
I shrugged. "Good luck."
-----
"Come on!" Andrea shouted. The golden retriever puppy in her arms was busy licking away at my emotionless face. "Who can't smile at *puppies*?*" She'd dragged me to the breeder, convinced that this was foolproof. After introducing herself at lunch that day, she'd taken down my phone number and told me that everyone deserves something in their life that will make them smile. This was her fourth attempt, and true to her word, she showed no sign of relenting.
"I'm just not much of an animal person, I guess." I patted the little guy on his furry head, but my lips remained motionless.
Andrea gave a *hrmph* of disappointment, then sat down on the floor and was immediately buried in a stampede of little paws. She was smiling enough for the both of us.
------
We held hands as we strolled along the boardwalk in the moonlight. She was wearing a yellow sundress, and ocean waves lapped at the shore to our left. I'd remained expressionless through dinner, and even the supposedly funny movie that we went to after. She refused to let the date end with at least one smile.
Normally women aren't too interested in a man who doesn't smile. It's always been a bit of a curse of mine, but Andrea didn't seem to mind. So when she showed up at my job in a full clown suit (makeup and everything) in an attempt to make me laugh, I decided that I probably shouldn't let this one go.
"Someday I'll get it," she said, playfully tugging up on me cheeks. It made me look more like a dog with teeth bared than an actual human smile.
"I'm telling you, it won't happen. You've tried everything by now."
We stopped, and she put her hands on my waist. "Not everything." Then she stood on her tip-toes and kissed me on the lips.
It didn't work.
----------------
We were both panting and sweating by the time we reached the very top of the mountain. She plopped down on a rock and drank from her water bottle while we admired the view. A carpet of reds, yellows, and oranges from the perfect New England autumn stretched as far as the eye could see, and a shroud of mist settled at the very bottom of the valley below.
Andrea set down the water bottle and grinned. She was *always* smiling, even more than when I'd first met her. Maybe compensating for the fact that I never did.
"Well? What do you think?" She spread her arms wide. Over the past few months, she'd decided that perhaps if "funny" wouldn't work, then maybe something awe-inspiring. So far, no luck.
"Really beautiful," I said. *But not enough to make me smile.*
She sighed and reached into her backpack to begin preparing lunch. It had been a long hike. "Damn. I really thought this might work."
I sat down next to her. "What if it *never* works?*" Andrea had been trying to get me to smile for over two years now.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. "It's like I told you when we first met: I'm not going to give up."
There was a silence between us as we both looked out over the valley. I took a deep breath, and made up my mind right then and there. I'd been debating with myself for a while, but that sealed the deal. I stood from the rock and got down on one knee in front of her. From my back pocket, I took out the ring and asked her to marry me.
Andrea was speechless. She took the ring from the box and put it on her finger without saying yes. "On one condition," she finally said. "Smile for me. Right now. Of all moment, this is when you should be smiling!"
I tried. I didn't have a mirror, but it felt quite similar to the face I made when I got seasick.
She laughed and kissed me. "It was worth a shot. Of course I'll marry you."
-----
Jacob held his glass of champagne aloft. "Even that day, I knew that it was something special," he told everyone at the reception, referring of course to that fateful lunch where she'd interrupted our conversation. "I'd seen plenty of people try to get him to smile with no success, but I just had a good feeling about this one." He nodded to Andrea, whose blushing cheeks contrasted with her white dress. "Well, Andrea, now that you two are bound by law," the crowd laughed a bit, "I feel that I can safely tell you this: he hasn't *stopped* smiling around all the rest of us since that day. He only kept up the charade so that you'd keep trying to make it happen."
Andrea turned to me with the same skeptical, eyes-narrowed expression she wore that first day we met.
And I answered with a sheepish grin.
| LC: *You've never smiled before? Like ever?*
FF: *Nope never*
LC: *Why not!?!?! There's so much to smile about in life!*
LC: *Puppies! For instance*
LC: *And pizza*
LC: *And Candies*
She kept talking, counting off the items on her fingertips, as she typed them out. I readjusted myself in the chair, trying to position my body so the glare on the screen would disappear. Holy shit she's still counting.
LC: *And shiny objects*
FF: *Alright I get it there are lots of things that make you smile. Just.. none of them do it for me.*
LC: *Have you ever-*
LC: *And feel good movies*
LC: *-tried to make yourself smile?*
FF: *What do you mean? Like just force myself too?"
LC: *Yeah just flex those muscles and bring up the edges of your lips.*
FF: *I think that's cheating..."
LC *No see just like this*
She pointed at the ends of her mouth than slowly-what the fuck am I describing, you know what a smile is-then she smiled. Alright? Just imagine her smiling. Shit is it really 6 O'clock?
FF: *Not that this isn't a mind rousing conversation but my dad is gonna be home in 10 mins and if I don't have his dinner and beer ready he'll be angry.*
LC: *I will make you smile Frosted Flakes. One of these days...*
LC: *OH!*
LC: *ALMOST FORGOT*
LC: *AND LUCKY CHARMS OF COURSE! Those make me smile :)*
I felt a small twitch in my face. She was a cool chick. Wouldn't be able to make me smile though. Nothing could.
FF: *C U later LC*
LC: *You too flakes*
I closed my laptop lid. LC and I had become friends through one of those online websites where you talk to random strangers. We hit it off having many similar interests (including user IDs based on name brand cereals) and not really having any other friends. Now I gotta go set the table.
-
LC: *Guess who's coming to visit you!*
FF: *wait what?*
LC: *YEAH!*
LC: *It's been what two weeks and I still haven't made you smile yet! So I gotta do it in person!*
FF: *Sixteen days*
FF: *And no*
FF: *Don't come to visit*
FF: *Also how did you find my address?*
LC: *Well I don't know your address*
LC: *But you said you lived in LA so I bought a ticket to LAX*
LC *I'll be there a week from Saturday at noon-ish*
LC: *I figured you were too nice to abandon me so....*
Lucky Charms smiled.
FF: *And what if I am not nice enough and leave you there?*
LC: *Then you don't deserve to smile*
Her voice got serious for a second.
LC: *Please don't leave me there*
FF: *Shit is he doing it again? Go to the police. They'll make him stop.*
LC: *I can't do that. It'll just make him worse*
LC: *Look I saved up a lot of money for this ticket. Just pick me up. ok?*
FF: *Alright a week from Saturday at noon*
LC: *noon-ish*
FF: *noon-ish, sorry*
LC: *you're a good friend Flakes. My best friend actually...*
FF: *Well I mean I don't have much competition, haha*
LC: *Hey shut up! That's mean! :(*
She made a fake pouty face to match the one on screen.
FF: *Hold on I hear something*
??: [slurring] *where the fuck are you?*
FF: *Oh shit he's home early*
??: [slurring] *Get that ass out here you fucking slut*
FF: *I gotta go, C U soon*
FF: *I'm coming daddy!*
LC: *Stay safe.*
I shut the lid on my laptop once again, closing my only friend, so that I could fight the the monster of the house.
-
I hope she likes the flowers I brought. Roses. I know she said they were her favorite. Maybe it's too much. Fuck. Maybe I should toss them.
"You know normally the guy brings the girl flowers."
An old dude standing next to me was talking. The hair on his head has probably been gone longer than I've been alive.
"Uh they actually are for a girl."
"How sweet miss I'm sure she'll love them... Good heavens what happened there?"
"Oh this," I turned my face away, "ran into a door."
The old man just stared at me. Not saying a thing. He must've known I was lying.
"I hope someone mulches that door."
I felt that twitch in my face again.
"Yeah... me too..."
Another hour or so past before I heard the arrival announcement for LC's flight. It was only half an hour past noon-ish so not bad for the Delta Airline. I sat there in the seat and began to shake a little.
"My, my. Must be some woman. She's lucky to have you," the old man said.
"Oh shit there she is," I stood as I saw LC exit the gate.
"Good luck miss," he said as I walked away.
"Hi."
I stood there staring at her. I couldn't believe it she looked even more gorgeous in person. I handed her the flowers.
"FLAKES! OH MY GOD YOU ACTUALLY CAME! THEY"RE BEAUTIFUL!"
She stole the flowers from my arms and pressed them to her face.
"Oh no what happened to your eye?"
I didn't even need to answer. She stopped me, "Look what I brought you."
She handed me a Frankenstein cardboard box. Made with glue and tape. Across the top it read 'Lucky Flakes.'
"I mixed the two bags together inside. It's really good."
"Thank you."
"Damn."
She was staring at me.
"Still nothing... hmmmm... I got it."
She held her two pointer fingers in front of my face. Now I stood there looking at her. She put them on the corners of my mouth and pushed up.
"There! Look at you!"
I stepped away from her hands and laughed.
"Hey that's cheating," I said with a smile.
She smiled at me, "So where's your house?"
"We're not going to my house."
"What?"
I lifted up the bag beside me, "neither of us are going back. Ever."
I could she the tears swell in her eyes as she kissed me. I grabbed my bag and she grabbed hers. We walked into the distance. Holding hands. Smiling.
Thank you kindly for reading.
If you like this story, or cereal, check out my blog! https://butterfliesmachineguns.wordpress.com/
-Tag Poin | 2016-07-20T13:39:47 | 2016-07-20T13:11:50 | 87 | 17 |
[WP] An aging veteran gets dragged to a paintball facility by his grandkids. Another elderly man is there with his grandkids. The two quickly realize they’ve faced off on the battlefield before. | I've actually had this occur in real life but not at paintball. We flew a Engineer over from Germany back in 1984 to help with a piece of equipment from Germany. So it's been a long day and me and my head mechanic are sitting down on the edge of the equipment taking a break. They had both served in WW2 on opposite sides. Jim mentions to Ervil he didn't get to finish the War as he got sent home after he got shot in the ankle in a small town just outside Berlin. He mentions the town and Ervil says he was in that town when the Americans entered. They place each other within two blocks of a small church in the town on the day Jim got shot. Jim says the guy who shot him had been hiding in a cellar shooting out a ground level window. Ervil says he's sorry if he shot Jim as he had been in a cellar also. Jim laughed and said he was sure he didn't shoot him as his squad rolled a couple of grenades in that basement and all they found was pieces when they went in to clear the building. They went out for a beer after we finished the job. Small world. | "Alphanumeric!" exclaimed the old man. Tomby was his name, or at least that's what they called him in the 2124 Euro-African Union succession wars. He recognized the other man instantly, he was the one that got away. Tomby sat down to try take in what was happening. He blacked out for what seemed like a few seconds but turned out to be about four minutes. He rentered consciousness to the sound of of his grandchildren rhythmicly chanting "grannn... grannn... grannn..." like they did when he would nap on the shitter.
The paintball fight was bout to begin and he found that in his blacked out state he had been outfitted with a tippmann 2098, painted to look like an Indonesian rebel's rifle(which he considered disrespectful due to the ongoing conflict.)
As he walked into the field with his dependents. He then remember that he had seen Galden Hinefar before blacking out. This was the man who he had been assigned to kill, but had managed to escape through careful use of a small broom. Tomby new that he needed to "finish the fight" (he chucked to himself at the halo 2 reference, a game which was now about 120 years old but still fun).
immediately Tomby walked towards Galden, being pelted by by paintball until people started to get confused abut his seemingly lack of fucks given. Once he reached Galden he pushed the confused old man down and shoved his Tippmann down his throat and started shooting. about 8 small children watched in horror as an old man was murdered in cold blood before them. Once Galden's body was filled with paint and mostly motionless, Tomby turned the gun on himself and pulled the trigger; forgetting it was a paintball gun.
Failing to kill himself, he sat down in the sand and though about his time as a death squad leader in the euro-African union succession wars, and how much fun he and the boys had. | 2016-09-06T20:46:10 | 2016-09-06T18:24:12 | 88 | 10 |
[WP] Starting at the age of 10, humans are given companion animals that develop along side them. These animals can range anywhere from a goldfish to a horse to even a dragon. The only catch is that they are assigned based on your behavior during childhood. | I'll never understand why I acted the way I did as a child, or the fact that someone decided that 10 years of age was the perfect amount of time to discern what kind of human we are. Jesus Christ, I mean most of us spend the first two to three years of our lives shitting our own pants. This was part of the criteria?!
I digress. I don't make up the rules and no one really chooses their Paño on purpose. You just kinda get one derived from your childhood behavior. I'll never forget how anxious I was, wanting to know so desperately what would become my lifelong best buddy. Arthur got a sweet ass unicorn which despite everyone saying how gay it was, was still majestic and awesome as all hell. Course for every unicorn and fire breathing dragon, there was some poor kid who got a snail or a sand dollar. A sand dollar. I didn't even know those had been considered as part of the process. Regardless, I didn't know exactly what kind of behavior brought about what, I was only ten it's not that surprising, but I prayed to God that I didn't get stuck with a fucking sand dollar.
Lo and behold I'm 18 and only now am I starting to really understand why I was given a Siren at the age of ten. Back when she first arrived, I really had no idea why the hell I got a half naked woman who spent most of her life on mossy rocks in the ocean or what she even was. I figured she was just some indecently dressed aunt who had gone for a swim. Not even my parents really knew why I got such a being as my Pañio. The only possible detail that they could find connecting me and the Siren was the fact that I loved the beach and would more often then not squeeze women's breasts at said beach. Or park. Or gathering. Basically I see breasts, I press and I like. This was hardly done with any mal-intent; I was still a toddler, I didn't even knew it was a bad thing to do!
Back to my...Issue. The only problem of having a siren is having a very attractive woman be your friend, your dearest companion who also tries to seduce you into the water and drown you on a more then infrequent basis. She says it's in her nature, that she can't really help herself or mean to harm me. Her name's Silvia, in case I forgot to mention it. When she came she told me her name out front, and what she was. I wasn't left alone with her whenever we went anywhere with more then three inches of water. Pool parties were out and I couldn't even so much as bathe alone if she was present. My family moved to the beach to make it easier for Silvia to stay with us, since well you only ever get one companion and there are no do-overs. Despite who she was, she never acted inappropriately with me when I was younger, caring for me like a sweet maternal figure would. It wasn't until I hit puberty at 14 that her... Teases became much more oblivious and straightforward. From what I can understand, she was mostly a sort of fatal guidance for me; that innocent behavior from my younger age blossomed into an almost unparalleled obsession with sexuality. Of course this would have been reined in easily if my parents weren't so affixed on their divorce, but no such luck. Silvia had to become my mentor in these personal matters since she knew me better then anyone, in the only way she knew how; extreme consequences as a result of giving into lust. It was either keep myself steady or let myself be swayed by her seduction and die in a terrible, terrible drowning. Once last year, I came dangerously close to falling for her methods. I had tried a nofap challenge and boy did it leave me vulnerable and weak. I played right into her game, even leading up to the point where I was in the water in her arms, the sea swirling around me in rising waves almost reaching my chest. She stopped at one point before my head dipped under, kissed my forehead and brought me back to shore. For a moment I forgot where we had been and how close I was to dying. They are very skilled at luring their victims in after all. When I asked her why she didn't go through with it, even though I had failed her lessons and went ahead with it anyway, she smiled a bit and looked out to the sea and told me something that always stuck with me.
"We are more then our urges, our wants and desires. Just because you feel like you're one way and everyone tell you it too, doesn't mean you can't choose to be something different. Be something more. No one decides your life for you, only you can make that choice."
I suppose in the end, having a mythological death monster as a companion wasn't the worst thing to ever happen to me. It's like they say, you never know you really needed something until you finally have it. | "A crummy monkey?" the posh kid asked. "My father will *not* tolerate this, and I will not either!" The small, but well-dressed kid started throwing a fit, keeping the rest of the children in the queue.
"Oh, boy, looks like poshie's not happy with what he's got. Do you reckon they'll swap it for him?" the girl in front of me asked. She turned around to see my reaction, and I realized it's someone whom I had not seen in a *long* time. She must have realized at the same time too, as I saw her eyes widen. "Connor?"
"Hannah!" I joyfully let out the ginger girl's name. We had been friends for our entire lives, until her deadbeat father got sacked from the beer factory, and they had to skip town. "I haven't seen you in years!" To put it into perspective, that meant that I had not seen her for over a third of my life.
I didn't really know what love felt like, but ever since I was 4 I felt like I loved Hannah. Her characteristic sweet smile, her beautiful blonde hair and her happy go lucky attitude had always drawn me to her. It's probably why we were like two peas in a pod until she so abruptly left.
"How come you're back in town?" I continued.
"Father lost another job and he says we now have to live with grandma and grandpa." she replied. I was never a good people person, but even back then I could see that she was affected by all this, even though she never let it show.
"Is he still mean to you?" It looked as if this question struck a deep blow into her heart. Following her mother's death, Hannah had to learn how to care for her father. In return, her father would get drunk and yell at her. That's all I knew back then, but in truth, the situation was much worse...
We sat there in silence for a bit, looking at each other. In the background, you could hear the screams of the posh kid not willing to get out of the room with his poor monkey, while the sounds of impatient kids waiting in the queue were as echoes to his crying.
"So, what pet are you hoping to get?" She abruptly changed the subject, adopting her cheerful smile and pose again.
"Well, I hope to at least match my brother and get a cool pangolin."
"A pango-what?" she asked, starting to chuckle. It was the Hannah I knew, alright.
"A pangolin. They're these cool little animals that may not look like much, but have a lot to them! My dad said they're cooler than dragons, even though they don't breathe fire." I blurted out, trying to adopt a sly smile afterwards. There weren't many things I knew that Hannah didn't, but I liked having the upper hand over her. "What about you?"
"What do you think?"
"Umm, let's see, a cat? Girls like cats, right?" That was the only thing I managed to get out of my young brain after a long time of thinking.
"Close, but I want a ferret. They are so adorable and I heard they make good pets!"
As Hannah said this, the posh kid finally went out by us, sulking, with his monkey in tow.
"Hannah Taylor?" the woman in charge with giving us our pets asked. Hannah stepped closer to her, but the woman did not look out of her sheet of paper. Let's see, Hannah... you have been a great student, your grades are impeccable. You've also gone through a great deal of hardships, and while many of those were caused by your father, you still stand by him. I think that for all of these, you deserve a beautiful Border Collie puppy. She took one glance at her, to observe her gleeful reaction, then put the sheet on paper on the desk and pulled out a small puppy in a carrier from under her desk.
"Wow, amazing! She's so cute! I think I'm gonna name her Gracie!" Hannah said, taking her carrier. She looked at me, and made a gesture as if to invite me into the room. I was next anyway, so I listened to her.
"Let's see, here. Connor Anahad. Yes, you've been quite a good boy. You tend to run from conflict, rather than face it, but you are a good people-person, even though you underestimate yourself constantly. You are quite reliant on your friends, but you are kind to them. I think that a cat would fit you nicely!"
Most boys would scoff at the thought of getting a cat, but I was happy. I knew that the other boys at school would laugh at me, just as they usually did, but I never really cared about anyone else but my parents, and myself. And now, about Hannah. The woman took another carrier, this one containing a small, but extremely energetic kitten, and placed it on the desk. I took it, looking at the small creature inside. "I would call it a cool name like Connor Two, or something like that, but I think that "Mr Kittens" will suit him better." Hannah chuckled, then reached her hand.
We left the building, passing by the humongous queue of kids waiting to receive their new partners. I lucked out. I got three that day.
I shake my head, trying to escape nostalgia. I look again at the dog and the tomcat cuddling. They are the ones who sent me down memory lane again. A long time has passed, and they're old and scruffy, but they're still inseparable.
"Honey, I have something to tell you!" a melodious, angelic voice calls out from inside the house. I turn around and notice Hannah standing on the first step.
Soon, our family will be one member larger. | 2017-01-13T12:28:55 | 2017-01-13T12:16:00 | 27 | 18 |
[WP] A new continent is discovered. No one knows why this large land mass has never been seen before, it doesn't appear on any pictures taken from space and no astronauts have ever reported seeing it. You are part of the team in charge of mapping the area when you find out what they've been hiding. | Jesse returned to basecamp with more on his mind than the topographical features of his scouting report.
“Guys, I’m telling you – this doesn’t making any sense. I’ve heard of fisherman or lost voyagers discovering a small island before but from these initial reports, this thing is half the size of South America. They are LYING to us.”
It was on everyone’s minds already but Jesse was the first to say it aloud.
Before the conversation could get out of control, Dr. Linncraft cut them off. “I’ll repeat this one time and ONE TIME only: our mission is to report the raw data of the land. We are not here to interpret, analyze and especially not be openly speculating as to history or significance of the TMA. We are to research and report. Period.”
But as insistent and serious as Dr. Linncraft was about the team’s role as expert cartographers is this clusterfuck, Jesse was right. The only thing bigger about the Terra Mass Anomaly – or TMA as it was commonly referred to now – was the amount of questions it had raised. She had a million of them herself and had to remind herself to table them until the mission was over, they were finally debriefed and could follow the inevitable world hysteria from the comforts of their own homes.
“Look,” she said. “I want to know just what the hell this is just as much as you, but right now it’s a distraction from our duties. The faster we finish Sector 3, the sooner we can get out of here.”
A moment of silence passed while they refocused themselves. Eric, the eldest of the group, forced himself to speak.
“You’re right about one thing. They’ve been lying to the whole world for years. But they had to,” he said. “The TMA has been here for billions of years. It's their last-known safe zone.”
“What are you talking about?” Dr. Linncraft pressed.
“A treaty the humans created in the 40s of the, well, international kind. We got technology; they got a home. They were able to suppress the location through cloaking capabilities infinitely ahead of our knowledge and relied on an army of black op forces from around the world to protect it. But their power has run out. They can't hide or be hidden any longer.”
The team listened on as a fury of confusion and rejection swept them over.
“Don’t you see!” Eric shouted. “We’re only being allowed to find it now since there’s no other choice! The time has come! The reality you know is gone! It’s all going to be rewritten after this! Everything!”
“What time has come!? Who are ‘they’?” Dr. Linncraft demanded. But the answer became instantly clear to everyone. It was the only explanation that was both bat-shit crazy and undeniably evident at this point. This was where we kept - no 'allowed' - the aliens to live. Right here with us the whole time. And the people of Earth were finally going to find out, and then demand to know just how many other secrets they had been deprived of. | I stepped off the ship, onto the continent south-west of Mexico. The landscape was beautiful, covered in rainforests, mountains and a few open fields. *How does nobody know of this place?* I asked myself, as I passed through a large meadow. Something began to form on the distant horizon. As I approached it, I realized just what I was looking at.
A city, but nothing like ours. The buildings that twisted around themselves were made of a deep black metal that seemed to glow. As I got closer, I began to see the residents. They weren't human. Aliens? or were they always here? They were tall and slender, with gray scales covering their bodies. They had eyes the colour of amber, and a mouth that opened horizontally. Their right arm was just like a human's, but in place of the left arm was a sprawling mass of tentacles that wrapped and curled around one another.
I tried to hold in my fear and shock as one approached me slowly. It spoke, strange screaching noises, then its voice grew quieter and it started to make sense.
"Apologies." it said, in its quiet yet high pitched voice. "I forgot you speak another language."
"Who are you?" I asked.
"You're just in time." the creature said. "Negotiations will go smoother with their own kind."
I was dragged off into one of their buildings. They tied me down onto a cold bench and grabbed a syringe from a drawer. "This will be painful, but its for your own good." I was reassured.
The injection was more painful then I could ever begin to describe. I could feel burning in every vein and artery, then my blood, and whatever was mixed with it, hardened. My heart stopped beating, my lungs stopped breathing, but I continued living.
"Break the chains." they told me. It was their language, but I understood it now. Without a second thought, I broke the chains that bonded me to the table. "Now sit up."
Again, I did as they said. I didn't want to, but I just *couldn't* deny them. Was it the injection?
For the next few hours, they told me exactly what to say and how to act once we got to Mexico. We were supposed to earn passage to the US and speak with President Trump. That wasn't going to work, I knew, as the coast of Mexico was heavily patroled by themselves and the US for the last 2 years.
We set off after the briefing ended. As we got to the ocean, I noticed that there were no ships. "Ships?" one of the creatures replied to me. "We run."
As they stepped onto the beach, the ocean split apart before them. They began running across the ground where the ocean once was. I ran too, and I kept up with them. I was faster then any animal on earth, and so were the others.
It only took minutes before we arrived. I still felt full of energy - no - the idea of energy no longer existed to me. I could do anything endlessly, I needed no substanance. I defied existance itself.
As we approached, we were met by the world's military. Every country was represented. All of Mexico had been abandoned, it was to be a giant battlefield.
There were no negotiations. We were fired on the moment we arrived. The battle lasted hours. The creatures were immune to everything the humans could throw at them, I wasn't. I ran and hid. I avoided conflict completely until it was over.
The humans pulled back upon realising their defeat. We let them withdraw, we set up camp. abandoned homes and other buildings provided shelter, but when night fell, nobody slept. Nobody needed to.
When morning struck we marched North. Eventually, we met the only obsticle we couldn't overcome.
As we tried to find a way past the Great Wall of Trump, the nuke struck. | 2017-02-10T11:02:22 | 2017-02-10T10:04:42 | 52 | 29 |
[WP] You have the ability to double jump. Scientists are still trying to figure it out. | "Guys, it's not that complicated," I say to the increasingly frustrated group of scientists, "I just jump... and then I jump again."
Most of them stare at me open-mouthed, one flings his hands up into the air and storms out of the test room.
"Okay, but... what does it feel like when you jump the second time?" presses a particularly intrepid scientist, "Does it feel like you're kicking off from ultra-dense air? Is it like a floating sensation?"
"Well, " I start, "have you ever jumped before?" They stare at me, I can see the impatience tightening it's grip. A few of them nod tentatively. "It feels just like that, but if you did it again."
One of them snaps. "YOU KNOW WHAT? FUCK YOU! FUCK THIS. FUCK THIS JOB. FUCK ALL OF IT STRAIGHT TO FUCKING HELL." She storms out, drooling and flipping us off as she does.
"Okay..." sighs another scientist, massaging his temples in frustration and exhaustion, "let's pick this up tomorrow."
"Whatever," I shrug.
I don't get what their problem is. It's not that hard. You just jump, and then jump again. | They studied me every day. They would ask me to perform the jump for them as often as I could muster. They would arrive at my house early in the morning and leave late in the evening. They all drove black cars and scarcely mentioned their employers. When I asked they would say it was in my own interest as well as my country's to help them understand my ability. I assumed they were working with my government but did not guess why they were so invested. The longer their observation went on the more forward they became with their requests. They were always tape recording, videotaping, writing, and photographing whatever they could. It began to feel like they never left my house.
Eventually they said I was to be moved into a facility of their own. I agreed and they said they would return early in the morning. I couldn't sleep at all. My mind raced to make guesses at their intentions. I had no idea what would happen to me at this facility and after months of constant prodding I was no longer curious in the slightest. I wanted out of this. Nonetheless before I knew it they had me shut inside a large black van and we were off to the facility.
My thoughts now bombarded me even faster than the night before. I looked out the windows above the blank rear doors and realized the night had yet to pass. It was pitch dark. They had tricked me and came to seize me before I could decide against it. When I realized we were driving on a freeway I steeled my nerves and made my move. I planted myself against one side of the van and propelled in two swift kicks against the other. The impact of my jumps knocked me cold, but when I awoke I knew my plan had worked. Wet with my own blood I ride my head to see that the driver and passenger were atleast unconscious. Grimacing, I rose to my feet and ran. I ran and ran and ran deep into the woods, away from everything. My wounds would heal, and I would figure this newfound ability out for myself. I didn't need to know where it came from. Not yet. I had this strange and seemingly underwhelming power and I would learn to use it.
They told me to jump, but I never asked them how high. | 2017-02-11T09:05:42 | 2017-02-11T08:54:03 | 144 | 66 |
[WP] The year is 1910. Adolf Hitler, a struggling artist, has fought off dozens of assasination attemps by well meaning time travelers, but this one is different. This traveller doesn't want to kill Hitler, he wants to teach him to paint. He pulls off his hood to reveal the frizzy afro of Bob Ross. | It pained him to say that Adolf had become increasingly used to the attempts on his life. Every time he blinked an eye, there was someone out to end him with poison, a knife, or something he didn’t recognize. Regardless of time, regardless of the position Adolf was in, they were always there. They seemed to know everything.
What was he to do? He hadn’t had the time to ask them, since they all had failed in their ambitions, but it nevertheless had made him a nervous man. Afraid of his own destiny, one could say. Why? Adolf didn’t think that he would ever stoop so low as to warrant a barrage of assassins in strange clothing and strange mechanisms and strange ambitions. He had, due to the attacks, gradually become a paranoid man, thinking the world was against him and everything he did. He was a shell. He was a rock. He was festering in the stew of his own self-exile, and it was beginning to get to him.
He had decided to become a painter in the time that he had to himself. His mother always told him to get a real job, and actually work, but the thought was less than comforting to Adolf. He hated being out in the open, he’d be more of a target then. So when he moved to Vienna with the last of his inheritance, he could stay secluded for as long as he liked.
He was certainly secluded now – he was locked up in his room, awaiting the results of the entrance exam to the Vienna Academy of Fine Arts. He was confident, for once, about his chances. His sketches that he had sent in were quite good. He allowed himself a short, sharp chuckle before he turned around and noticed his visitor.
There had been no sound, no evidence of anything moved. There was simply a man with a beard and frizzy hair sitting on his sofa with smiling eyes and a calm expression.
“Hello there,” said the man.
Adolf stood at attention. “Who are you?” he asked. “Are you here to kill me?”
“I am not an assassin, Adolf.” The man smiled. “My name is Bob Ross. I am an artist just like you.”
“Oh?” said Adolf, reaching for the revolver in his desk, pulling it out and pointing it at Bob. “And what are you going to do?”
“I am here to teach you. Enlighten you, perhaps.”
“Teach?”
“Yes.”
“I am confident in my ability, sir. I don’t need lessons.”
“Please understand, I want to help.”
“I don’t need help!!” cried Adolf, raising the pistol once again. “I’ve already submitted my drawings AND taken the test!”
The man stopped, and then he stood, disheartened. “I was too late?”
“Too late?” asked Adolf. “What do you mean?”
“I’m afraid you’re not going to get accepted to the Academy, Adolf.”
“I’m…” Adolf’s face fell. “I’m not?”
Bob shook his head. “You are going to do bad things, Adolf. So please…”
“What kind of bad things?!”
“I cannot say…” Bob held a smile, resigned almost, to the floor. He looked tired.
“I am going to be accepted. You can’t stop me. They’re accepting me as we speak!”
Bob smiled sadly. “Listen to me. You could do great things. You can do anything you want to in this life that you are given. You can be the greatest the world has ever seen. The world will revere your name for centuries. You must simply do right by you, and do right by others. You have the capability to change things for the better, Adolf. Let me be the first step.”
Bob held out his hand. Adolf’s revolver hand began to shake. The room was silent.
The mail slot on the door jostled, and Adolf turned to look. A letter. He walked towards it with bated breath, revolver still trained on Bob.
He crouched down and opened it.
He had been denied.
“What is it?” asked Bob.
Adolf stood again, at a loss for words. Bob looked at him, confused.
“You know,” said Adolf.
Adolf shot Bob Ross in the chest, and he fell to the floor. Tears began to rush down Adolf’s face. What to do now? What on Earth to do now?
He thought back to what Bob had said.
He could do great things. He can do anything he wants to in this life that he is given. He can be the greatest the world has ever seen. The world will revere his name for centuries. He must simply do right by him, and do right by others. He will have the capability to change things for the better.
He will change things, he thought. He will do right by him, and do right to others. He will be the greatest the world had ever seen.
Hitler smiled.
There will be fire.
| The German was at his wit's end, almost ready to throw away the canvas completely.
Were it not for the man with the strange hair, it would have been one of hundreds tossed aside.
"Now remember what I said Adolph" the stranger named Bob said with his gentle voice.
Hitler sighed, "There are no mistakes, only happy accidents." He remembered and replied almost robotically.
Bob nodded, with his strange hair gently shaking. His brush working a nearby canvas as he hummed a wordless tune.
Hitler could only stare at this oddity of a man and wonder *'How does he stay so positive?!'*
He wanted to know more about America, the country this man belonged to, but he always shrugged off any specific questions.
The only thing Bob acknowledged was that previous attempts on Adolph's life were from people of his time and some set in Bob's future. Yet here this stranger stood, painting as if he was in his own studio.
Despite his attempts to apply for the Academy, Hitler was turned down every moment. His personal life was taking a turn for the worse as well.
More and more he was frustrated, angry, unhappy, and needed to vent somewhere. He found that place in the happy settings that he and Bob created.
Wonderful trees, beautiful skies, a utopia, and one Adolph wished would be so in reality.
Then one day, Bob was not at the easel. He stared at a nearby window looking at the populace below.
"I didn't care much to draw people." Bob broke the silence.
Adolph was slightly shocked by this admission of professional weakness. Bob never admitted to anything limiting himself or Adolph, always encouraging that anything is possible. Adolph wondered if this was a test, "Yes they do require some extra skill compared to a happy little tree." He tried to smile as he replied.
Bob turned to look Adolph in the eyes; warm but still distant, as though looking at something millions of miles away.
"Capturing the esscence of people is hard to do on paint. What matters is capturing the imagination of people as they look at your pantings *right there*." The man's gaze returned back to Adolph, taking his shoulder and guiding the young German to another room.
It was filled with all of Adolph's past pantings, ones he thought he threw away. He gave Bob an incredulous look, "I threw these away! They are garbage! They are mis--"
Bob cut him off, "They are happy accidents. Merely pantings you haven't finished because you gave up on them. Just like how so many give up on lots of things and others."
Grabbing Adolph rather roughly, he spun the man to face his previous discards. "You left every one of these? Why?" Pointing to a random picture, "Because it was after your rejection letter?" Then another, "Because that one girl you like didn't reciprocate?" Another off in the corner, "Because you were so caught up in the details you didn't remember the heart of your creation?!"
At this point Adolph's anger boiled, "YES YES and YES! All of them are failures. The Academy wouldn't take suchs sloppy details! **I AM A FAILURE!**" Tears almost forming in the corners of his eyes.
Bob released his shoulders, the calm voice returning, "So who are you painting for? Them or you? Each of these paintings deserve a chance to be finished. That's art, that's what is missing, and that's why I want you to finish them."
So the weeks went, Adolph Hitler consulted Bob Ross on every "mistake" he wanted to discard. Bob would offer advice on what could be used to improve upon the paintings. As they worked together, Adolph lost his resentment to society little by little and replaced it with his own pride on the art.
It was later when Bob announced a public display at a nearby park, featuring Hitler's works. The presentation wasn't to the art critics, the Academy, or anyone of high importance to society. It was to the common man and woman. The beggars, the old, the Jews and the Gentiles alike. Some found his art interesting, some disagreed, others found it boring, but those that stayed grouped around him to ask about his styles. With each presentation, the small groups grew.
Bob tried to show Adolph Hitler that every man, woman, and child deserves to see art. It wasn't reserved for anyone special. It was there for everyone to touch their hearts. As a result of these presentations he made waves, for good and ill, in the art world. Slowly Adolph was displaying his art in public or even painting on the sides of buildings in secret. All of this to show his audience, his *people*, that they had the power to choose what art was instead of the academies.
Bob eventually returned to his own time, hoping that the swell of the audience would give Adolph the love he apparently didn't get in his life. As Bob noted subtle changes to the "present" he noticed that WW2 sadly still occured, but under different circumstances.
Researching Hitler's life, he found that the young man was killed in WW1 by a jealous French prostitute. Apparently she was enamored by his successes and grew frantic in her obsession. This young Jewish girl killed him and herself in a misguided attempt to "be together forever".
Bob Ross was taken aback by the news, or rather history, and looked at the masses of people in the library.
Conflicted in his feelings. He prevented WW2 as he knew it, but at the cost of a young man and woman.
Countless lives changed forever.
"I didn't care much to draw people." Bob broke the silence to himself, "People are too chaotic to figure out." | 2022-09-20T01:45:25 | 2017-02-16T18:05:46 | 92 | 10 |
[WP] Throughout the galaxy Humans are well known as being the most peaceful race--and have become well respected as diplomats and traders. But that's because up until now, no-one knew of the three World Wars we fought before first contact. | How could we have known? As our worlds fell one by one, our fleets splintered and fled, each one of our contacts going dark, we have none to blame but ourselves. First contact with their kind was remarkably pleasant. They had much to offer the galaxy. Their craftsmanship was unmatched and their skill with diplomacy knew no equal. For years, they labored among us, an indispensable part of our lives.
For all that we came to know of them, they was still much we couldn't understand. Their only request, an unchanging condition of every agreement, was that we should never attempt to contact their home world directly. It was understandable, if not a bit odd. We thought it was a precaution against unknown disease. We were wrong, and payed for it dearly.
As iridium mines across the galaxy began to dry up, tensions began to rise. The humans worked tirelessly, brokering peace treaty after peace treaty. In public, the were praised as the great pacifists of our time. Behind closed doors, resentment seethed. The humans never seemed to be affected by the iridium shortages and in a secret council, greed got the better of us. 9 races came together in a secret alliance to strike at the human homeworld, taking the iridium and splitting it equally amongst ourselves.
The next day as the human diplomats presided over a trade deal, four supercarriers jumped into the exclusion zone. The humans had described their planet to us before, but what we found was nothing like what we were told about. Gone was the pleasant atmosphere, the rolling mountains, the fields and forests, replaced by barren wastelands of snow and ice, broken only by great volcanic ranges. As we opened fire upon a clearly dying world, we could not help but feel sorry for the creatures below.
These feelings were short lived. As the first of our artillery entered their atmosphere and battered their cities, the counterstrike came. Human vessels jumped from Earth, refugee ships we thought. Then came the screams. Across the stars, the human navy dealt their counter blow. Our worlds were helpless against their onslaught. Planetary defenses bounced off their ships hulls, their soldiers were fast and ruthless within cold, metallic suits.
Across the galaxy they swarmed, conquering what they could and poisoning with nuclear fire that which they couldn't. For thousands of years they had trained, warring amongst themselves. In their last war, they destroyed their planet yet still they endured. By attacking, I fear we have doomed our offspring to rule by human. Forgive us | Crypto was a simple trader. He spent his days traveling between kryvion and earth, trading his planets spices (the spiciest in the known galaxy, the humans couldn't get enough of it) and returning with whatever earth trinkets he could find. Mostly these interesting contraptions with some mechanical design at the front and a long steel tube on the back. He was fascinated by these items. He knew not what they were for, but he wanted to know what they did, their purpose and their uses. The humans were a peaceful race. Trading with all planets and all races. They seemed to be so peaceful and happy, but some bore scars that were from no animal or accident. They refused to speak of it. They wanted to forget how they received them. Curious, crypto thought, but they traded all the same. He had a large collection of these contraptions at home. Ranging from a small trinket with a somewhat slanted L shape, a massive one that had a big box with these strange large needles. One that had several tubes on a rotary system. He spent all his time engrossed in these strange devices. Hoping to one day unlock their secrets. Then he pulled the small lever on the massive machine. An explosion happened then, a loud noise and a tiny cup exited the machine along with a tiny metal *thing* for he knew not what it was. He found a hole in his home, directly in front of the tube of the machine. He pointed the machine at the steel of his hit wall, the thickest portion of about a solid inch of steel. He pulled the lever again, this time he held it for as long as his tiny fingers could against the shaking of the machine and the fire hot cup shapes that emerged from the side. He waited for one to cool and examined it, it looked like an altered version of the needles on the other side... but where did the needle go? His eyes opened wide and he examined the steel of his wall, noticing many holes and dents in the steel. He was curious what this device could be used for.... the people on earth ate meat, but they were in farms, they needed no weapon to kill them with. Maybe In primitive days, but the humans were precise, accurate creatures, they shouldn't have needed more than one of those needles. What could it have been used for? 2 weeks later he returned and spoke the male who sold him the device. He asked what it was used for, Where it came from, and what it does. He bribed the human, giving him kryvion credits worth some 80,000 earth money. What the man revealed was stunning, rewrote everything they new about the humans. He started to run back to his ship "where you think you're goin boy?" He face planted into the hardwood floor of the mans house. Sometime during the lecture the human has clamped a metal ring around his ankle. The human dragged him down the stairs to a dark room in his basement, then hooked the chain to the wall. "Have fun with your other buddies that got a bit too curious" he saw very little, but the reflection of the light in their glossy eyes, more of his people. He looked up at the massive man, who he had never seen out of a wheelchair, as he ascended the stairs. He threw down a small morsel of raw meat. *It's better that your kind stay in the dark* and the door closed, and they were engulfed in blackness | 2017-05-01T15:47:43 | 2017-05-01T13:40:31 | 14 | 10 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting. | "but the bread mold saved your grandfather Mort. And the maggots saved Earl's crushed food when everyone knew he was going to die. Sucking out the snake bite didn't save your boy Martha but any other healer would not have even tried. We lost what six of the last twenty babes born under her care? What other village can boast of so many live births. Not to mention her way with the flocks and hogs. Everyone has benefitted from her knowledge."
For a moment there I thought I had swayed them. Even the mayor his hands still holding the rope to bind her with looked both thoughtful and ashamed. Then the preacher spoke.
"Knowledge yes. Forbidden knowledge. Does the good book not say a woman shall remain silent excepting her husband's command. Even if we can attribute such luck to her, and you all mind it's God's glory that saves both flocks from blights and new born babes. No matter how much cleaning you do to barns or washing of hands. For does the book not say all good things come from the Lord. I say again she is a witch meant to lead people from the church. Do you all think I would not notice you send your children to her in secret instead of church for a proper education. As to saving lives who is she to save a man God has chosen to take. But I see you've moved these common folk with your speech so let me ask here and know before your neighbors and God who would go against God and stop the right and blessed hanging of a witch? Who would allow their children to be lead away from the teachings in the good book?"
I must confess I keep my eyes down and my mouth shut.
I wanted her to scream and fight when we arrived. Instead she spoke calmly laying out her case much as I did. The preacher tried to rouse the crowd but his angry words were not answered.
She begged at the end then laughed at us saying we were killing our children believing in a book written so long ago.
I stood in the crowd as she dropped. It wasn't a clean break and the mayor was weeping openly as he helped her to finish it. | 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T10:52:25 | 240 | 82 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "I don't know if she's all that daft. I think she may be a witch."
"Who? Mad Mary of the Idiot Wood!? A witch? I doubt that very much."
"She could be playing dumb to throw us off, so we don't suspect."
"We are talking about the daft old lady who'll give you vegetables if you dump your chamber pot in that thing behind her house. That one, right?"
"She does have the best vegetables in the county. Could be she needs it for her gardening spells."
"The same lady who gave a shilling for a every dead rat you could bring her then burned all the rats?"
"We were the only village that didn't get the plague. Sounds like a sacrifice to me. And, I'm pretty sure she cursed the barber."
"Cursed the barber?"
"Yeah, my mum says that years ago Mad Mary and he got in an argument 'cause her kid's humours were all out of
balance and he wanted to bleed the tyke. The kid died. Ever since then, he loses more patients than he saves."
"Well, you've convinced me. I guess we've got to burn her, then?"
"I don't see anything else we can do. Can't have a witch in the village."
edit: formatting. | "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T12:11:29 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 240 | 56 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T12:51:41 | 127 | 58 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 127 | 56 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "I talk to Gods!"
It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter.
So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to.
He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture.
"I talk to Gods, Peter."
"More like ghosts, William."
He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things.
"Like what?"
"Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next."
The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial."
"Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-"
"I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here."
"I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill.
"Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched.
"Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want." | 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T13:40:44 | 127 | 51 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "I talk to Gods!"
It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter.
So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to.
He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture.
"I talk to Gods, Peter."
"More like ghosts, William."
He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things.
"Like what?"
"Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next."
The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial."
"Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-"
"I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here."
"I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill.
"Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched.
"Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want." | 2017-09-14T15:50:54 | 2017-09-14T10:12:28 | 127 | 47 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "She's something all right."
"Yes but a lady belongs in the houses, not working whatever it is she's always up to."
--
As I pull back the curtains to the cellar, the stench of her recent 'concoctions' hit me once again. Though I love her enthusiastic, or as I call it 'free-spirited' personality, others whisper where did her father go wrong.
"Where be the wicked witch of the well?"
"Oh quit it Cedrick, leave me be."
By the table, Erika stood in her favourite dress, simple, sleeveless dress showing off just a bit of her personality. Her hair brought up into a bun, unusual arrangement for the night, but she's always stood firm for her beliefs in dressing in her cellar.
However mystifying her looks may be, the contents of her table shared the same trait. Mix of glassware and make-shift 'contraptions' of scrap she's found. In front of her, manuscripts by high lords, many with writing foreign to the common man. It is uncommon for a lady from here to read, such Erika's ability to read these papers reserved for upper society is unheard of. She has even defaced them with her writing on several occasions.
What has the lord sent her now? 'Manipulation of space-time using...' "Oi" She snatched the white script out of my hand, "You know my rules in here."
A playful smile came, "the men of the next town dare not touch me, Erika you truely bewitch me."
She looked up at me, releasing her hair into the usual river of black hitting her back. "What would you have me do I wonder?" She pulled me in for a kiss. "Wait for me outside, I have to stabilize my machine."
"Sta-bil-se, where do you pick these up?"
--
A few more and I might just be able to stabilize the portal, if only for a few seconds, it's enough.
As the pulser tripped, the entangled parties warped the hole into phase. The hole that brought me here, and the one that will bring me home. Call me Einstein, he might have came up with the theorem, but I built a working portal in medieval London!
| 2017-09-14T10:53:02 | 2017-09-14T09:53:18 | 120 | 56 |
[WP]: Your village idiot is full of the strangest superstitions. She goes on about washing one's hands, says you get worms in your intestines from standing barefoot on night soil and that medicines with mercury should be avoided at all costs. You're starting to suspect she might be onto something. | "What is she *doing*?" asked Wyll, staring at a round-ish woman who was squeezing a bulb of a lilly, rinsing her hands in the foamy lather that came out. She was on her knees next to a little stream, near her little cottage up the hill.
"Is she squeezing a potato?" asked Wyll. "Why on earth is she squeezing a potato?"
Wyll and Alice were peering over a bush, utterly fascinated.
"She's utterly barmy she is" said Alice. "What on earth is she trying to achieve, playing with a potato?"
"It must be old age" said Wyll. "Mam says when a person passes the age of 40, they go mad."
"Must be it." said Alice, shaking her head sadly. "And she's not even 40 yet!"
"Yeah..." mused Wyll forlornly. "Maybe some go earlier than others."
"Oh dear. She's licking her hands now."
"Oh dear. Mam and Pap better hear about this!"
=====
Nancy was ecstatic. She had just been washing what she had initially supposed was a potato, and quickly discovered that in fact, it was not a potato. She even discovered that some substance would come out when squeezed, *and* her hands smelt and felt *cleaner*. She was definitely putting this in her journal.
=====
| "I talk to Gods!"
It was a bright sunny day. the first one in weeks. So much rain. If we got a few more days like this the high crops might actually yield. We needed the high crops. Low crops were consistent enough, but the high crops, they meant the difference between new iron or a starving winter.
So the sun was shining, the day was beautiful, the sheep followed their master and then there's poor William, sitting on a wall, trying to keep the demons from coming out. Really struggling, praying and folding his hands but the demons always won. The demons seemed to like me to talk to.
He hopped off the stone wall and followed my slow meander up to pasture.
"I talk to Gods, Peter."
"More like ghosts, William."
He flicked an errant fly off his head. "No, no. They said you'd tell me that. They're Gods. They tell me things." They always told him things.
"Like what?"
"Like there's a murrain coming. I didn't know what that word meant so I asked them. They said it meant dying. Death. The sheep this time. Cows next."
The sheep. I couldn't lose the sheep. Just words from a crazy person but words they carry strange powers. Sometimes even thinking them can cause devils to pluck therm from your mind and make them happen. "Willy, you best not talk like that. Lest the church put you on trial."
"Oh I've been tried scores of times. The Gods told me. Burned, crushed, drowned, crushed and burned, gibbeted, drawn and quartered-"
"I get it, Willy. So the Gods tell you this? How is it you're here."
"I don't know. I don't remember any of it, but they swear it. Tell me not to talk about them. But how can I not? I talk to Gods!" He stood atop a rock and spun around like a thread weight. When he finished he took off running down the hill.
"Say hi to your Gods next time you see 'em." Willy was a good kid, just touched.
"Why?" he shouted back. "It's you they want." | 2017-09-14T10:53:02 | 2017-09-14T10:12:28 | 120 | 47 |
[WP] When a person turns 18 years old, they receive everything they lost in their lifetime. On your 18th birthday, you wake up to a mysterious girl about your age in the middle of the floor. | I awoke after a night of partying with strangers. Upon opening my eyes I remembered slowly, it was my birthday. What better way to celebrate than to wake up with a hang over? I had no one to celebrate with, I had left my family behind months ago because they were "holding me back", and ventured into partying and the nine to five, as my parents worried and worried, but tried to let me live my life. Something was different in my small studio apartment. A smell in the air, that of the creek I played in as a child. On my wrist, the friendship bracelet of my childhood best friend. I looked to my nightstand as I shook out my frizzed hair to see a snow globe, a gift from my mother as a child, that I shattered. The somber feeling of lost innocence overwhelmed me, so much that I ignored my confusion. Until I saw her. She laid on the floor, sprawled out, and nude. She was not at the party last night, I stopped blacking out months ago, and I would remember her. I grabbed a blanket and covered her, to spare her dignity, and then shook her awake. She woke calmly, gracefully. I was taken aback by her beauty, every aspect of her was perfect, even the patch of freckles that dotted her cheeks, and her deep, deep red hair. She had no memory of getting there, she had no memory of who she was, but she did not seem worried. Her reaction reminded me of me, of my apathetic approach to life; the kind that is rare on such levels. So she borrowed clothes, and we talked. The months flew by after that. I had been changed by that morning, by that reminder of innocence, and I had found love for life through her, who had decided to call herself Rain. The months turned to a few years, I had graduated college, and got my web design degree. Together Rain and I started a website based around photography, and created something beautiful. Another year later and she was pregnant. Then we knew, it was time to reconnect with my parents. So we went. I remember clearly walking to the door, my darling with her hand over our child, and Mom excitedly opening the door to see me and my bride to be. Then she fell to her knees in shock. She didn't move. My father came running, but stopped dead in his tracks. He helped my mother up, and pulled from his wallet a picture of a little girl. A little girl with deep red hair and very familiar freckles. My father looked at me..."Can't you see...don't you remember? Your sister...we lost her in the car wreck when you were little."
(Sorry for sloppiness or lack of details. Wrote it in a rush. Enjoy :) ) | If you happened to stumble into the apartment of Jordan Yancy at around midnight, two thoughts may have come to mind. You might have, at first, felt some level distress from witnessing what could very well pass as a crime scene, but the feeling may have passed when you experienced your second likely thought, that scrawny kid digging in the fridge couldn't hurt a fly, and you'd have been entirely right. Jordan, the lively, sandy-haired highschooler, spent nearly two years of his life in a coma after being struck by a drunk driver on New Years Eve. Having just come out of the hospital a few months ago, his body hadn't had much time to recover yet, but the same couldn't be said for his stomach, which was active at all hours of the day and night.
"Mom must have left for work already," Jordan grumbled as he rubbed at his weary eyes. "Could've, at least, turned the heater on. What the-?"
Jordan's foot kicked a heap in the middle of the floor, but this was no pile of laundry or mountain of pizza boxes. This was a girl, brunette and wiry asleep in a stranger's house. She began to stir from the unwelcome stimulus. Her eyes opened to reveal hazel rings unaccustomed to being exposed this long.
"W-Where am I?" she said.
Unsure of how to approach a situation such as this, Jordan replied, "This is my house. I need you to tell me two things. First, who are you, and secondly, why are you in my house?"
"My name is Hannah, but beyond that, I am entirely unsure. I remember having a fever. There were doctors. They didn't have much hope. I don't remember what happened next."
"Believe it or not," Jordan responded, "I know what you mean. We need to get you back home, though, so if you can remember anything, it would help a lot."
"I don't remember," she said, panic creeping into her voice. Jordan had feared this would happen. The night he came out of his coma, he nearly killed himself tearing medical equipment off and out of his body. He wanted to avoid this kind of reaction with Hannah.
"That's alright. Take your time. I can look you up online and maybe we can get a hold of some of your family. What information do you remember about yourself?"
The panic started to subside a bit. "My full name is Hannah Lillian Abbot, and I was born April 10, 2004. I'm from Chicago..."
"Wait! Your birthday is April 10, 2004?" Understanding swept through Jordan's mind. He ran to the kitchen and checked the time on the stove. "Twelve fifteen." He returned to the living room and took a seat on the floor next to Hannah.
"Happy birthday, Hannah. It's our eighteenth tonight."
"Eighteenth? But I am only sixte..." Spontaneous realization struck her like a train. "How could I have lost someone I have never met?"
"I lived in Chicago before I was transferred to a hospital with a smaller need for rooms here in Springfield," Jordan said, "I was comatose for two years, you see. I think I was supposed to meet you, to spend time with you. I lost that time, Hannah, and tonight, it has returned to me."
"Does that mean..." Her throat worked. "Did I lose my life?"
Jordan typed the information she gave him into his phone and waited for the page to load in anxious expectation. His eyes widened.
"Hannah..." | 2017-12-27T04:27:16 | 2017-12-27T00:28:09 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You look up from your laptop to find everyone else in the coffee shop frozen, staring at you. | "One large coffee please", I said to the cashier, "and one of those small chocolate chip cookies if you have".
"Sure thing" she replied as she turned around to pour me a cup.
I paid for my drink and sat down by a table near the far side of the shop. There were many benefits to being in the back of the shop; it had working outlets, you could lean against the wall, and it was quiet. That last one was crucial, especially with the indecisiveness that customers experience as soon as they get to the front of the line. I had work to do and couldn't be bothered by the stupidity this morning. I plugged my headphones into my phone and turned on Spotify to some heavy metal...loud. That was pretty much how I listened to everything, obnoxiously loud.
Slight head bobbing as I pull out my notes and laptop. Time to get right into it. I open my laptop only to realize my porn from last night is still open. I quickly rush to close the page. Whew...crisis averted. I open excel and take a look at my notes to begin. From the corner of my eye I see the lady next to me staring right at me. I look up and as I do, my song comes to an end. All I hear is the loud moaning and pounding of the page I *minimized*. | Music was playing in one tab, and my essay was open in another. There was a muted background of noise from the coffee shop, but my new headphones worked great to cancel it out.
I was checking the front page of Reddit. Well, that's where I started. I was now on the seventh page, and about to try my chances with the random sub button. Either that, or work on the essay. I think it was due tomorrow at midnight? I can't remember, but I think I have some extra time. Something feels off, though. Like I should be anxious, not bored.
I went to take a sip from my drink, but nothing poured out; the cup was as empty as my motivation. Looks like it's time for a new drink. This shops pretty adamant on the whole "WiFi is for paying customers only" rule. Had it posted on the doorway and on each table just in case you forgot.
I took out my earbuds and went to get up from my chair. As I did so, I couldn't help but notice the stares.
Now, by this I don't just mean I had one or two people staring at me. There wasn't some old friends from high school I haven't talked to since graduation at the next table.
By stares, I mean every single person was stuck in place, staring slack-jawed straight at me. One lady was about to put a straw in a cup, a barista continued to pour coffee into an overfilling cup, two teenagers had their phones aimed at some milkshake looking drink.
"So...what's going on?" I said, trying to sound relaxed and not at all freaking the fuck out.
"Turn around, jackass." A hipster with a beard longer than his Instagram posts spoke, with a nasally tone that fit him perfectly.
I turned around, and noticed the band that had walked in and set up stage without me noticing at all.
God, I am the opposite of Jason Bourne.
Well, the startling thing about the band was they had a stage prop, a ragdoll-esque dummy with a couple of alarming features: My face had been printed out and stapled to it. Secondly, there was a noose around it's neck.
It was then I noticed my ex appeared to be the lead singer of the band. | 2017-12-27T10:57:09 | 2017-12-27T09:49:21 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] You think you're the first person ever to exit the Milky Way Galaxy. On your way out, you see a sign written in English floating around in space. | October 10th, 89: "It has been a long journey. I am nearing the end of twenty years in space. The original jump through the worm hole took me far from earth, but it was nearly random, seeing as how the edge of our galaxy is not exactly marked. I hope to be the one to mark it. Today was supposed to be the big day, and I should send a SOL transmission back towards earth, telling them of my success. It may take several hundred thousand years, but when I left, the think tanks still hadn't come up with a way to send transmissions through wormholes." [Log notes: SOL means speed of light]
October 16th, 89: "I've made it. Today is the day. For real. I am passing the outer limits of what could conceivably be called the final barrier. I'm not quite sure how my calculations could have been so off. But it's clear to see that after passing that last star, there is a great void before me. As soon as I pass the next mile, I'll be free of this solar system, and into the pitch black void beyond. As I look out of the cockpit, out past the expanse, I can't help but feel... Pause Log... What the heck is that? System. Collect sample. Coordinate three point zero zero nine, and negative twenty seven point nine nine two. Scan area and collect... What the devil is that thing floating out there? Hurry it up."
*BZZZT*
"Sample Collected. Please ensure proper care while handling space debris."
"Yeah yeah, zip it you big rusting hunk of bolts... Resume log. I've just found an artifact floating before my vessel, and as I flip it over... Pause log. Is this English? What the... We regret... to inform you, that while you were travelling in space, the people of earth managed to... To perfect space travel? We calculated your... your... your course, and determined you would be passing this point. If you come across a capsule, please collect it, scan your thumb, and press the red button. We will send someone to collect you. YOU SONS OF B..."
[Log notes:
Log cut due to excessive profanity.
Captain was hospitalized and spent out the remainder of his years in a mental institution.] | First time doing this so shred me, (j/k plz don't hurt me!)
*Beep... Beep... Beep...*
Roberto put his coffee down, only an hour left on shift and of course the board had a blinking light on comms. It was probably Andy playing another prank. Regardless, it must be checked. Roberto rolled his chair over to the communications station and brought up the notifications screen.
>Incoming Transmission
>01010111 01100101 01101100 01100011 01101111 01101101 01100101 00100000 01010011 01100001 01101001 01101100 01101111 01110010 01110011 00001010 01010101 01010011 01001111 00100000 00110010 00100000 01000001 01010101 00001010 01010101 01000100 01010100 00101101 00110011 00110000
>End Transmission
Roberto sighed, definitely an Andy prank then. He mashed the intercom, "Andy I'm going to shave your beard in your sleep, you had to do this at the end of my shift?" He knew he would probably be hours decoding the message and then another hour with all the paperwork.
Andy poked his head around the corner, green eyes twinkling, but then falling into confusion. "Dude I put an airhorn under the navigation console to get you on your last check, but it hasn't gone off. Whatever it was, I didn't do it." Roberto's face did not indicate he believed Andy. Andy walked over to the navigation console and rummaged around for a minute coming up with a can of compressed air. Roberto was still unmoved, "That means nothing, you've pulled two pranks before. Just tell me what the message means so I can log it and go to bed."
Andy looked at the screen, "I'm not good with binary but the computer should be able to translate it right away."
"Yeah right, you expect me to believe you left this here in an unencrypted form?" Roberto was starting to get heated, how dare Andy deny this. All he wanted to do was get to bed on time. The sleep rotation was sacred, you just didn't screw with that.
*Beep*
>No Encryption detected
Roberto just stared at the screen for a moment. Andy grinned, "Told you so, now run a translation." Roberto glared at him, still sure it was somehow his doing, a prank within a prank. Andy elbowed his way in and ran the command.
*Beep*
>Welcome Sailors
>USO 2 AU
>UDT-30
They both stared at the screen for a minute. They looked at each other and Andy declared, "You did this! You know my great granddad went missing with UDT-30 during the war!" Roberto threw his hands up and shook his head.
"I would never fuck with that man. I'd shave that mustache in a second, but not that."
Andy just stared at the screen for another moment, "But then what was the Navy doing out here during world war 2?" | 2018-03-04T10:41:22 | 2018-03-04T09:59:51 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] Every child is given a pet rock when they turn ten. For the next decade the rock slowly forms into a shape that resembles the personality of its owner. Your rock still looks like a rock. | The problem with the rocks is that no one tells you when you get them that they'll be the basis on which everyone judges your motives and underlying humanity should you let anyone see yours. It's no wonder most people hide theirs. I never did but its obvious I should have. A dead end job going on ten years all to pay for my little brothers schooling and the things still sits their like a lump of coal in a Christmas stocking. I pick it up hefting its weight, examining its black corrugated face and angular lines. In one quick motion I dash it against the floor in a fit of rage. It breaks open. I lean in as I pick up the pieces scattered around the garage floor. hints of amethyst crystals glitter beneath the cover a black exterior. It was a geode. Hollow, beautiful, precious. | I am stone.
My stone resembles me.
Only with great force can my stone be thrown.
Only with great care can I be broken.
I resemble my stone.
I am stone.
I recite this mantra as I walk from my front drive to the bus stop. It’s my normal route. Those I see daily give no notice of my stone. It’s smooth parts fit my own. It’s jagged edge protrudes sharply. I enjoy my stone.
I notice a stranger at the stop. He stares, shocked. His rock has taken the shape of a millstone. He seems to be under the pressure of what some have called a grind. Naturally, I assume he’s heading to his “9-5” when he misses his stop. I pity him.
My stone seems shaped by time, like me. Pressure, and erosion. My stone is of the river. Smooth upstream, jagged downstream. The clay color of my stone matches the sun scorched skin on my hands. It’s red streaks the same as in my beard.
We are both from the hills outside the city. Where the spring fed creeks cut through the earth on their way to the rivers. Where the sounds of water and birds create the sweetest of symphonies. Where a trees roots will crack and shift stone.
The stranger stares, openly. Clearly awestruck by our appearance. He wants to speak. He looks to the others, the regular who know me. No one gives me a second look, yet he stares, mouth agape. The others tell him he is being rude. I do not mind.
I am stone.
Newb: This is attempt #2 at these WP. Still learning how to get all this thought into a cohesive form. | 2018-05-02T06:32:34 | 2018-05-02T06:01:32 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] Your parents inform you that you’re royal refugees from a fantasy world of magic and that the strange longing you feel is that world calling you back to claim your birthright. | "I cast Prismatic Spray at the dragon."
James, the DM, clapped his hands together. "Roll for damage, Kayla."
The 20-sided die rattled in my cupped hands. My heart pounded; my legs trembled. *Clack!* The die flew out onto the table.
19.
"Yes!" I squealed. John shot me a glare. Last turn, he'd rolled a 2.
"Roll the D8 for the effect," he said.
I squealed again. It was a 5.
"The dragon has turned to stone," James boomed. "Excellent, Kayla."
I grinned. I'd always been fantastic at Dungeons & Dragons. At first, James and John were wary of letting a *girl* into their group; but once they saw how good I was, they gave in.
I knew the Monster Manual like the back of my hand. Could rattle off their names and stats in my sleep. I always knew which spells to cast, and I never walked away from a dungeon without a towering pile of loot --
"Hey, Kayla, can you come here a second?" Mom said, poking her head into the basement.
"We're kind of in the middle of something --"
"*Now,* Kayla."
I begrudgingly trudged up the stairs. Mom sat in the kitchen with Dad. Both were silent. "Mom? Dad? What's wrong?"
"We've just received word... that it's safe to return home," Dad said.
"Uh, we *are* home," I said. "Duh."
"No, Kay. He means your *real* home." She cleared her throat, leaned in close to me. The purple velvet on her top shimmered in the dim light. "We're from Kiossa, Kay. A land, far away, that's quite different from here."
"Different? How?"
"Magic. Monsters. Fantastical things." Mom smiled. "We fled when you were three, because of the war. Now it's finally over. The peace treaty has been signed. We can return."
*I always knew I was different... but this is insane. Have they been drinking?* I sniffed the air. No trace of alcohol. "I don't want to leave," I said, playing along.
Mom glanced at Dad. "We kind of have to," he said. "We have jobs back there. Friends. Family."
"What, you mean -- you're not a dentist, Dad?"
"I'm... a different kind of dentist." He grinned, his fake enamels nearly glowing in the dim light. "I work on commission. The more teeth I harvest, the more money I get."
"So you're like... the Tooth Fairy?"
"What's that?"
I shook my head. "And you, Mom? You're not a dog breeder?"
Her eyes glinted with excitement. "Oh, I'm a dog breeder, all right. I breed the blood line of Cerberus. All my dogs have 3 perfect, beautiful heads." She paused. "Well, except for that one time Lassie got pregnant with the neighbor's dog. They all had one-and-a-half heads."
I tried not to picture that. "So -- a magic world? Really?"
They nodded.
My heart swelled.
And suddenly, it all made sense. The monsters I knew -- I knew them because I had *seen* them. The dragons I fought against on the rickety old wooden table in the basement -- they were *real.* Going back would mean fighting them with sword and arrow, not the roll of a plastic die.
I stood up, eyes flaring with excitement.
"I'm going to pack."
\---
r/BlairDaniels | "Do you think she feels it?" Vera whispered, concern painted across her delicate features.
Will looked up from his paper and glanced across the room to their daughter, who was nestled up in a blanket and staring out of the window. He thought for a moment, "She said she felt like she didn't belong."
Vera came to sit beside her husband, resting her hand on top of his, "When? You didn't say anything to me."
"Earlier today, when I picked her up after school," he sighed, "I thought maybe it was just a part of growing up. It was the first time she mentioned anything."
Vera squeezed her husband's hand, "We need to be aware. Vigilant. She's coming into her own now. If she has the calling, the temptation to explore will be irresistible." She remembered her own dalliances with magic when she was younger. The early steps into wizardry that were the hallmark of her line. The powers that made them who they are just as they ensured they must flee who they were.
"If she has the gift, she'll be noticed. There's very little to hide behind out in this..." his green eyes glanced around the tidy home, a slight look of disdain crossing his features,"...place."
Vera sighed, her eyes resting on little Rowania once more. They weren't even supposed to be here. Their exile was meant to be measured in days, not years. Missives from the Kingdom had been few and far in-between, but it seemed more and more likely that their refugee status was to become permanent. Efforts to ward off the Enchanters were failing, their defenses falling one after another. General Vestral counseled patience, but there were so few royals left to defend the Kingdom. She wondered, not for the first time, whether the choice to flee had been the right one.
Will glanced at her, seemingly reading her mind, "We did what we had to do. Rowania would have been a target. If the Enchanters ever gained control of an Heir to the Birthright, all would be lost."
"Isn't it all lost anyways? We don't belong here," she gestured toward their young daughter, "she doesn't belong here. She belongs in the Kingdom. Where she can be herself." Vera tugged on a bit of loose blonde hair, grinding her teeth in frustration.
Both fell quiet as Rowania pulled the blanket around her and walked over to her parents. "I was thinking," she said, her round freckled cheeks creating an odd mismatch for the intensity of her eyes, "that something isn't right."
Will put on a smile, "Oh? Well that's a serious thought for a Friday night."
"Yes," Rowania replied solemnly.
"What's wrong honey?" Vera asked, her voice carrying all of the usual motherly concern.
"I'm...I'm not sure," Rowania paused, gathering her thoughts, "it is like the world doesn't...work together. I feel very close to you. To dad. But the rest feels...quiet."
Vera sighed, recognizing the comment for what it was, an early expression of the Birthright. Rowania could sense magic, could sense the binding power it had between all things that carried the Spark. Rowania might not know why the world she lived in now was quiet, but she could feel it. Could sense that something was not as it should be.
Magic did not mix with non-magic. Each day in this world pained Vera and Will, their continued ability to endure the dullness fueled solely by their desire to protect their daughter. But if she had the Birthright, there would be no protecting her. Even now Vera could feel the stirrings of the gift in her child, feel the burgeoning power and her connection to Rowania growing. Rowania was early to the power, just as she had been herself.
There was now a clock on their time here. A definitive end to their refuge. Scriers would find them soon. Vera and Will could mask their own power, but Rowania was untrained, and her abilities would require substantial honing before they could be covered.
Vera reached out, pulling Rowania closer to them. "Ro, your dad and I have something to tell you. Something important."
Ro looked at both of them, the questions already swirling about. "What is it mom?"
Will looked at his daughter with a mix of wonder and fear, "Ro, you're very special."
**Platypus out.**
**Want MOAR peril?** r/PerilousPlatypus | 2018-08-18T21:55:43 | 2018-08-18T20:48:26 | 49 | 24 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | "Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
This...has been an interesting battle.
*****
I've fought hundreds of wizards from dozens of different worlds in the past, and I've always come out ahead. Gandalf the Grey, they call me - the greatest wizard of Middle Earth, and up until now the greatest wizard here in Magira. Aang the Avatar, the young Harry Potter, Merlin the Prophet...many memorable battles with many formidable opponents in the past few decades.
This...wizard who currently stands before me does not look like much, to be frank. He calls himself Bob. He is extremely overweight, smells of a dead skunk, and whatever magical properties that the orange powder on his plain white shirt might have, it certainly does not make him look any better. Yet..he is the most difficult challenge I that I had ever faced.
...Nay, calling it a challenge would be highly overrating myself. The man summoned an entire island out of nowhere, and what's more, he did it without even an incantation. "Your turn", he said. I was taken aback, frozen in shock at the unknown power of this archmage standing before me. "My turn?" he asked. I nodded, wanting to see what else he can do. He then summoned another island, completely identical to the first one. What was the purpose of this? What was Bob aiming for?
"Your turn", he repeated. Perhaps he was trying to drown me in water, I do not know. Whatever the case, I decided I could not let Bob continue at his own pace.
"As the wielder of the Flame of Anor, I challenge thee!" I slammed my staff on the ground below me to conjure up my most powerful spell. The same spell I had used to smite a Balrog. The same spell I had used to defeat every other wizard in Magira. Perhaps this time will be no different.
Oh how wrong I was.
"I play counterspell", he mumbled, and with a wave of his hand the two islands tilted sideways. And with that, all the magical powers in my spell disappeared. "My turn?" he asked. I slowly nodded once more, desperately trying to maintain my composure. The two islands tilted back upright, and he conjured up another island.
This went on for ten more minutes, with every single one of my spells effortlessly countered by Bob's single motion of his hand along with various single words. "Counterspell". "Cancel". "Cancel". "Syncopate". I was no match. This was a battle between a mortal and a god, and I am no god.
However, on the 11th minute with 11 identical islands on his side, Bob changed his rhythm. Instead of saying "Your turn" for the 12th time, he muttered another phrase.
"I pass", he said. I was utterly confused as to what he meant by this, but I knew in my heart that I cannot let it happen.
"You cannot pass."
"Uhh...what?"
"You cannot pass", I reiterated.
"...Well, are you gonna do something then?"
"No."
"Sooo...my turn then?"
At this moment, I realized that his islands were still tilted sideways, frozen in its unnatural state by whatever wizardry that was surrounding it. I recalled that every time Bob dispelled my sorcery, his islands tilted.
I had a plan.
"It is not your turn."
"Uhhhh...so what are you gonna do then? I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Whoa man, calm down! And fucking do something then!"
"No."
"Do you pass?"
"...No?"
"I pass."
"YOU SHALL NOT PASS!"
"Damn it Gandalf, do something!"
"No, I shall not!"
An interesting battle indeed. | woop, posted to a response, instead of post... Repost.
"The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose in the Mountains of Mist. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning."
The light of the moon cast strange shadows Down the steps of a large gothic mansion. One shadow slithered it's way to the grey sedan in the driveway, snapping his robes with a flick of his wrist as he sat in the drivers seat, a sense of urgency was in the air. The soft squeal of rubber gave confirmation.
"I don't understand, why am I being called to stop someone from yelling?
"Not yelling, shouting. He yells incoherently and shit flies across the bloody room!"
"I still don't get how this is The Black Tower's problem. And before you ask, yes I'm already on my way. I was hoping this was going to be a little more exiting."
"Thank you, Saemal. Who knows, maybe it will turn. Out to be fun?"
* * *
"That's the point smart one! By the nine, it's not that hard. You worship dragons. I kill dragons. I kill you. Now stand still and let me cut you!" The hulking brute of a man, wearing nothing but a bullet proof vest and pants, lunged with his sword.
There was a shriek, as a much smaller man was gored through the chest. If it were not for the drains, the kitchen floor would have been slick with blood. The scattered pots and pans and half cooked meals made for a chaotic scene. The brute walked through the double doors and into the dinning room. He noticed a man in black robes at the entrance.
* * *
Saemal saw the brute first, and immidiatly regreted coming. This man was big enough to cause this havoc with out magic. *I ought to just leave this for the civilian police.*
He was caught off guard by the wave of blue light coming for him. It hit him before he could react. As he landed on his back he heard it:
*FUS! ROH DAH!*
Like a thunder clap after silence, his ears rang as he stood up, dazed, only to be shoulder checked by the charging brute. Laying on his back, he came to.
A soft light appeared around him, and he fell through a hole in the floor.
* * *
The brute looked in awe at the place where the man had been. He knew of The Black Tower, but had never faced an *Aes Sedai*. This was going to be interesting. He could feel his own stamina returning after the shout. *Where did he go?*
* * *
Dropping from the ceiling behind the brute, Saemal released a storm of fireballs, channeling *Saidin* through the cuff on his wrist.
*WULD! NAH KEST!*
Saemal tried to understand why he was airborne, on a collision course with the wall behind him. Again he wondered if he should have stayed home. For different reasons now.
A hole appeared on the wall, and shrank to nothing after he passed through.
"Sneaking through these holes will only work for so long, witch!"
"Oh we are quit done here", he said, sounding bored. Purple light erupted from his outstreched palm, forming a beam of soundless energy, headed straight for the brute.
*FIEM!*
As the beam passed through the brute, he turned a pale blue, and ran to the side, the beam chasing him to the far wall before fizzling out.
"Bloody ashes! What are you?"
"I am Dovakiin, dragonborn."
*FUS ROH DAH!*
The brute smiled as his thu'um traveled across the room. The smile faded when he saw a reflection of himself appear in front of the man. Except he was looking at his back... He turned just in time to get hit in the face with his own shout. He landed hard.
He felt his arms being tugged, and the soft linen of robes, then the cold metal of the witch's shackles.
* * *
--
This is my first post in here, sorry if formating get screwed, I'm.on Mobil. I'll try and fix it in the morning before work if it's bad. | 2018-10-16T00:47:11 | 2018-10-16T00:41:38 | 361 | 13 |
[WP] All work centers are mandated to install " Efficiency Microchips" into their employees. The microchip makes the host blackout during their shift and come back into control after work is over, with no recollection of their day. Your microchip just malfunctioned.
Edit: Holy crap 5.2k upvotes and we made the front page?! You guys and gals are awesome, I love reading all the shorts. Keep up the good work!
Edit 2: I've never made the front page before and I see we're at 9.2k upvotes. Really made my day people. Keep writing awesome stories! Love seeing everyone's creativity! | "... So let's go over this again" the inspector said, "Walk me through what happened after you... malfunctioned".
I started at him with a blank look on my face. I wondered if he was one of the lucid ones, or if I was talking to another chip. Ever since they introduced cerebral microcomputers, everyone was pushing for more automation, more efficiency, more subservience. And corporate lobbying had made it possible... mostly. A few holdouts managed to get people the "right" to have control back after a shift, but it was still frightening. An army of workers that could be programmed to perform a specific task, for much less than it would cost to create a new model of robot for each job? It was any CEO's wet dream.
"Well, I came into the office, Monday morning at 6 am sharp like I always do. I linked up. The datastream started to sync with my computer, and I received the daily instruction, and the automation program kicked in. The chip kicked in, and the next thing I know I'm on the ground next to a busted pipe with a gash in my head".
He raised an eyebrow. "... And you said your backup of the day was damaged as well"?
"Yeah. I tried to upload them, but it looks like everything after I got hit in the head was corrupted".
The inspector stared at me, brown eyes scrutinizing me, seemingly trying to look into my head to see if I was being honest, or if I was holding back somehow. Eventually he relaxed, and leaned back in his chair, smiling. Apparently I had passed.
"This happens sometimes, although *very* rarely. Go ahead and take the rest of the shift off, and make sure you get that gash and your head computer looked at".
I gather my coat and hat, and was escorted out of the office.
---
I stepped out into the hallway, and stretched before heading through the maze of corridors that lead back to my apartment. The overlay hovering in front of my right eye was scrambled, I assumed from the hit to the head. I wasn't particularly concerned, as the doctor would be able to get it sorted. I wondered if they had time for me to swing by for a diagnostic as I glanced at my watch. As the readout appeared on the watch, I felt myself gasp in shock and horror.
It was only then that I realized that a shift wasn't a day.
It was 3 months. | "Joke, to start with, 'cause once they plant the cut-out chip, it seems like free money. Wake up sore, sometimes, but that’s it. Renting the goods, is all. You aren’t in, when it’s all happening. House has software for whatever a customer wants to pay for . . ." She cracked her knuckles. "Fine. I was getting my money. Trouble was, the cut-out and the circuitry the Chiba clinics put in weren’t compatible. So the worktime started bleeding in, and I could remember it . . . But it was just bad dreams, and not all bad." She smiled. "Then it started getting strange." She pulled his cigarettes from his pocket and lit one. "The house found out what I was doing with the money. I had the blades in, but the fine neuromotor work would take another three trips. No way I was ready to give up puppet time." She inhaled, blew out a stream of smoke, capping it with three perfect rings. "So the bastard who ran the place, he had some custom software cooked up. Berlin, that’s the place for snuff, you know? Big market for mean kicks, Berlin. I never knew who wrote the program they switched me to, but it was based on all the classics."
"They knew you were picking up on this stuff? That you were conscious while you were working?"
"I wasn’t conscious. It’s like cyberspace, but blank. Silver. It smells like rain . . . You can see yourself orgasm, it’s like a little nova right out on the rim of space. But I was starting to remember. Like dreams, you know. And they didn’t tell me. They switched the software and started renting to specialty markets."
She seemed to speak from a distance. "And I knew, but I kept quiet about it. I needed the money. The dreams got worse and worse, and I’d tell myself that at least some of them were just dreams, but by then I’d started to figure that the boss had a whole little clientele going for me. Nothing’s too good for Molly, the boss says, and gives me this shit raise." She shook her head. "That prick was charging eight times what he was paying me, and he thought I didn’t know."
"So what was he charging for?"
"Bad dreams. Real ones. One night . . . one night, I’d just come back from Chiba." She dropped the cigarette, ground it out with her heel, and sat down, leaning against the wall. "Surgeons went way in, that trip. Tricky. They must have disturbed the cut-out chip. I came up. I was into this routine with a customer . . ." She dug her fingers deep in the foam. "Senator, he was. Knew his fat face right away. We were both covered with blood. We weren’t alone. She was all . . . " She tugged at the temperfoam. "Dead. And that fat prick, he was saying, 'What’s wrong. What’s wrong?’ 'Cause we weren’t finished yet . . ."
She began to shake.
"So I guess I gave the Senator what he really wanted, you know?" The shaking stopped. | 2018-11-19T04:32:03 | 2018-11-19T01:57:16 | 206 | 57 |
[WP] You are an immortal that was caught by the mafia after you betrayed them. They deal with you the same way as traitors, chained to a cement bloc and trown in a lac. After 300 years you are finally discovered by divers. | After three hundred years of being underwater, I came to realize how astonishingly mad I had become. I have eaten at grand banquet tables with lobsters, swam for treasure with dolphins, and bathed with beautiful mermaids. While lost in such a reverie, and only when the pain became too overbearing to ignore, did I notice that I was being eaten.
I wondered at the beauty of this creature as it consumed me; raw power and primal instincts drove every movement of its sleek body. I watched as it tore into the flesh of my leg with a clinical detachedness. This was not my first encounter with sharks.
My flesh always recovers from trauma, bones and tissue knitting together neatly, the skin resuming the same pale transcluence from being without sun for too long. My mind, however, has not.
I almost made contact centuries ago. At first, I counted the days based on periods of light and dark, but this quickly became tedious. I have no way of knowing for sure if it was months, years, or centuries ago, time has become as fluid as the liquid that flows around me. He was in a skintight suit, something created after my underwater entombment. I sleep for weeks at a time, and only noticed him as he swam on, completely unaware of my existence.
Today's encounter has left me shaking. I might have found a way out of my current situation. The pollution around me has become rampant to the point that I am half submerged in a dizzying array of wrappers, plastic containers, among other trademarks of humanity. It seems that the nearby city has decided to begin cleaning the harbor today. Small silver drones began patrolling the seafloor, each equipped with specialized appendages. One scanned the entire area, a red laser bathing large swaths of the sand and debris while seeming to orchestrate the movement of the others.
When the roving laser washed over my position, it paused for a moment as if one of its numerous sensors detected a lifeform in danger. Drones began to cluster around me, but none attempted to free me. They left me as I had been found, naked except for the cement shoes I wear, handmade for me by New York City's finest businessmen, the Mafia. Now I wait for the sun to rise again. | I looked up and saw the clear blue sky above me. It was quite nice, it had been a bit ever since I glanced at sunlight without fish pee to cloud my view, like some sort of very unkempt, very salty glasses. It was a lovely day, the type that you don't get when you're stuck at the bottom of the ocean for hundreds of years. There, the only party is when a shark tries to nibble your knob. I turned my head around and I watched all of the beautiful images of which I was deprived through the years: the fluttering sea surface, the bright and limitless horizon, the bewildered face of an ugly scuba diver.
"Hello there." I said so merrily, and yet he kept staring as if I were a ghost. Lack of imagination on the youngsters, can't even understand the existence of immortal gentlemen stuck in the middle of the ocean.
"I thought you were a corpse." He yelled as if that was an excuse to forget proper manners. I adjusted my bowtie menacingly.
"Well, there were a couple of rough decades, but I recovered. It's easy to lose yourself when you're chained to a cinder block, but I never lost my perspective. Hope is what kept me alive. And a curse too, but hope really was the main factor. I knew one day a refined scholar would fish me out and bring me back to the world, and here you are! Tell me fine sir, what's your name?"
"Jerry."
"Jerry the explorer! Tell me Jerry, which year is it?"
"2320"
"Oh. A bit of a pisser. Do you guys still have poker?"
"Yeah.
"Well then, turn this hovership around and let's go to the nearest casino. If a century doesn't end with someone attempting to murder me over some debt, it wasn't a good century!"
Instead of promptly doing what I told him to do, he kept looking at me as if I were some kind of freak. It was clear he had a lot of questions, and I couldn't blame him. After all, it isn't always that you get the chance to hear the grand philosophies of an infinitely wise immortal man.
"Wait a minute, you're immortal, and you use your power to gamble?"
"What else would I use for? I tried swimming, wasn't much a fan, suicide loses a bit of the charm when you get to walk away afterwards, and it ain't like I'll live a happy marriage for long. Now, would you turn this damn boat around?"
So we sailed into the sunset, where many adventures were to be had, many cards to be played, many games in which to cheat. That century I ended up buried in the Amazon desert, which was quite interesting. Now I dig up, trying not to get too much worm in my mouth. You see, I'm on a diet. Maybe it wasn't the brightest idea to piss off the Chilean-Brazilian coalition, but what you're going to do, not play the game? Preposterous, it ain't like there's much better to do. Well, perhaps I'll have better luck next time. | 2018-11-24T12:11:20 | 2018-11-24T11:26:01 | 75 | 40 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | “Again? Son, you’ve got to stop letting this woman do this. One day I may be unable to restore your body”.
“I know dad, but when she’s not having an episode she’s an amazing woman. Kind, generous, and loving, it’s just this dark side of hers that she can’t control. I refuse to tell her either, I’d hate for her to suffer once the realization of how many times she’s killed me sets in.”
“You always were more like your mother, time to go son.”
As I watch my father’s realm fade, I feel my body again, a little headache per the norm, maybe a little more stiffness in my joints. I swear he lets rigor set in just to remind me that he’s the only reason I can’t truly die. My beloved wife had yet another episode last night and decided to carve my chest open with a paring knife. Sure those times suck, but she’s so creative. Phone? Laced with aconitite. Been randomly injected with potassium chloride, and succinylcholine a couple times. Even watched her shift during intercourse and couldn’t stop her as she slit my throat.
Luckily she will black out after an episode and dad and I can essentially reset everything before she wakes up. I worry about when she wakes up early. Sure I could leave her, but then she would end up in prison or an asylum, her darker half isn’t her fault and I don’t want her to suffer. Besides, when your dad is death incarnate, what can go wrong? | My love, Emily
You've tried a thousand way to kill me. Don't act like I wouldn't know, by the end of our marriage, your tricks had became more and more obvious.
I think you know, when you push me down the stairs and I emerge scarless, you know, I can't be kill. If this isn't enough proof, what about the time I drink the poison enough to kill a thousand man, right in front of you? You should know, I am immortal.
When you see this letter, I am already long gone. Surrounding you is this loveless room we once shared, where we lay side by side every night until today. I wonder, how many nights had you spent, scheming in your mind right next to me while I slept, while I dream about our fairy tale. The fairy tale that only exist because of my desire for love and your greed for more. You've always want more, more money, more clothes, more belongings, more car. It is never enough for you. I thought if I fulfill every one of your wishes you'd finally see that I am enough for you. But greed is a groundless pit. Once you are in it, you will only keep falling.
I love you, Emily, I still do, even right now when you are reading this. But I have no choice but to leave. This love had turned sour, or it had never been love. I don't know anymore. There was a time where I would've kill myself for you, if I know how to do it. If only I know how to make you love me. If only. Now, all that we are left with is the thousands 'if only'.
I've chosen to leave you because I can see no hope of you loving me the way I love you. Everyday I see your smile, and the knife behind your smile, my heart breaks a little bit more. I can't bear seeing the darkness behind those beautiful big blue eyes of yours for another day so I choose to leave. I've consider leaving behind a part of my fortune for you, but it's pointless, it'll never be enough for you anyway.
I hope you will bring this lesson with you to your next life.
I hope we meet again, when I am in the same skin and you're in a different shell, with no memory of this and never had fallen into the pit of greed.
Love, Aiden | 2019-07-31T08:07:34 | 2019-07-31T07:03:17 | 56 | 34 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | She smiles at me from across the table, and raises a glass of white wine to my red. It’s funny, I had never noticed her preference for white wine before tonight- our anniversary- perhaps it’s because the house red is poisoned tonight. I could see the particulates collecting in the bottom of the glass.
Our glasses clink with a crisp sound and I drain the lot in one go. Arsenic gives an acrid flavour to the wine, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as it turning to vinegar.
“To our long and happy lives darling,” I say, resting my hand over hers. The obnoxiously large diamond ring I bought her when we got married sits uncomfortably under my fingers, but when you’ve had centuries to collect wealth, the size and opulence of jewellery like this ceases to surprise you.
My wife’s smile tightens at my statement, as if she knows something I don’t. Of course, she doesn’t know anything I don’t, I’ve had a millennia to collect every scrap of knowledge I can, every tell tale sign of deceit and danger is obvious when you’re looking for it.
Another glass, and she begins to smile less. I’ll let her win eventually, but not until another foreign “cousin” who looks remarkably similar collects my entire inheritance- We signed a prenup after all- and she’s left with the guilt of my murder with nothing to show for it.
I love breaking in black widows, it’s my favourite hobby. | My love, Emily
You've tried a thousand way to kill me. Don't act like I wouldn't know, by the end of our marriage, your tricks had became more and more obvious.
I think you know, when you push me down the stairs and I emerge scarless, you know, I can't be kill. If this isn't enough proof, what about the time I drink the poison enough to kill a thousand man, right in front of you? You should know, I am immortal.
When you see this letter, I am already long gone. Surrounding you is this loveless room we once shared, where we lay side by side every night until today. I wonder, how many nights had you spent, scheming in your mind right next to me while I slept, while I dream about our fairy tale. The fairy tale that only exist because of my desire for love and your greed for more. You've always want more, more money, more clothes, more belongings, more car. It is never enough for you. I thought if I fulfill every one of your wishes you'd finally see that I am enough for you. But greed is a groundless pit. Once you are in it, you will only keep falling.
I love you, Emily, I still do, even right now when you are reading this. But I have no choice but to leave. This love had turned sour, or it had never been love. I don't know anymore. There was a time where I would've kill myself for you, if I know how to do it. If only I know how to make you love me. If only. Now, all that we are left with is the thousands 'if only'.
I've chosen to leave you because I can see no hope of you loving me the way I love you. Everyday I see your smile, and the knife behind your smile, my heart breaks a little bit more. I can't bear seeing the darkness behind those beautiful big blue eyes of yours for another day so I choose to leave. I've consider leaving behind a part of my fortune for you, but it's pointless, it'll never be enough for you anyway.
I hope you will bring this lesson with you to your next life.
I hope we meet again, when I am in the same skin and you're in a different shell, with no memory of this and never had fallen into the pit of greed.
Love, Aiden | 2019-07-31T09:07:14 | 2019-07-31T07:03:17 | 48 | 34 |
[WP] You are a multi-billionaire with a lovely wife, who is trying to kill you to inherit your fortune. You love her so much that you just don't have the heart to tell her you are immortal. | She smiles at me from across the table, and raises a glass of white wine to my red. It’s funny, I had never noticed her preference for white wine before tonight- our anniversary- perhaps it’s because the house red is poisoned tonight. I could see the particulates collecting in the bottom of the glass.
Our glasses clink with a crisp sound and I drain the lot in one go. Arsenic gives an acrid flavour to the wine, but nothing that couldn’t be passed off as it turning to vinegar.
“To our long and happy lives darling,” I say, resting my hand over hers. The obnoxiously large diamond ring I bought her when we got married sits uncomfortably under my fingers, but when you’ve had centuries to collect wealth, the size and opulence of jewellery like this ceases to surprise you.
My wife’s smile tightens at my statement, as if she knows something I don’t. Of course, she doesn’t know anything I don’t, I’ve had a millennia to collect every scrap of knowledge I can, every tell tale sign of deceit and danger is obvious when you’re looking for it.
Another glass, and she begins to smile less. I’ll let her win eventually, but not until another foreign “cousin” who looks remarkably similar collects my entire inheritance- We signed a prenup after all- and she’s left with the guilt of my murder with nothing to show for it.
I love breaking in black widows, it’s my favourite hobby. | You lay under a foot or so of dirt. How long has it been, a day a week? You've lost track as you often do. Days blur together so easily. You can't stop thinking about her face. The glimpse of her you caught in the floor-length bedroom mirror as she attempted to strangle you to death. Your dear sweet wife, such hate in her eyes, such anger. You must have passed out at some point and came to in the trunk of a car you bought her for her 35th birthday just a few months prior. You did your best to lay still, not breathe while she and your personal assistant dragged you from the trunk and into a shallow grave somewhere in the vast forest on your property. You know you would have had to take your own death eventually, so best not to look this gift horse in the mouth. Eventually you claw yourself up from the earth. Your nails broken and bleeding. "Oh, Eleanor, my sweet wife," You think to yourself, "I'll be back for you my love, one day. When your time has come." You grin to yourself and wonder off deeper into the woods.
-60 years later-
You walk up to the house that was once yours. The biometric scanner still recognizes you. Eleanor must have forgotten to remove you from the authorized user list. You walk into your old bedroom and see Eleanor hooked up to a handful of machines gently whirring and beeping. You grab your wife's hand and give it a squeeze. Her eyes flutter open. "So you've finally come for me." She's says with a raspy voice. " I knew you would." she continues. " Why did you do it, what did I do to make you hate me enough to kill me" you ask. " I loved you." You say. Eleanor scoffs " Possession and love are not the same. You didn't love me, I was no better than a doll to you, so something for you to play with when you got bored. I was tired of being treated like a accessory." She finished. "Are you ready to go?" You ask. "Yes, I've made my peace, may God have mercy on me." Eleanor says. You unplug the monitors and listen to her labored breathing then her choking out her last breaths. | 2019-07-31T09:07:14 | 2019-07-31T08:21:24 | 48 | 16 |
[WP] Upon us entering intergalactic civilization, we discover that the Milky Way wasn't where we came from, but where we were banished to. All of civilization is horrified that we survived and returned from the universe's harshest galaxy. | Colonel Yak'Xar stood on the bridge of the Titan-class flagship Last Hope. Before him was a G-class star, and the third planet surrounding it was his target. Sol III, a backwards planet with so much hostile flora and fauna any intelligent species was nervous to go there. The First League had sentenced the human race to permanent exile, with no permission for intergalactic travel.
That was almost 65 million years ago. They had frozen the entire species in a vault inside an asteroid and fired it at the planet. Sure, they had caused a minor extinction event, but it was worth it to get rid of the humans.
But now they were back. Orbiting the blue and green orb in the void, an armada of ships hung in wait for orders. None were the size of Last Hope, but there were enough cruisers and battleships to worry him.
His orders were simple. Destroy the enemy fleet, and clear the path for the World Cracker. Humans had not been meant to survive, let alone return to the galaxy a spacefaring Empire once more. Commander Yak'Xar turned to his crew.
"Charge the Perdition Beam and prepare the Neutron Launchers. Send out the command to every ship in the fleet; ready weapons. I want every ship firing as soon as we are in range."
Several soldiers hurried to obey, tapping at their consoles to Relay commands, set up battle systems. As the battle stations klaxon began blaring, a young officer, Lieutenant Ashartha stepped forward. She was pretty for an Irassian, and one of the few who escaped the Javorian Pox. Still naive, though.
"Sir, these humans. How do we know they still pose a threat? Are they really do bad we can't give them one last chance?" Her mandibles clicked nervously.
Yak'Xar turned to his junior officer. "Your race were not around when the humans last infected this galaxy. They conquered, enslaved, and killed for fun. Their greed ripped ecosystems of life, and then moved on to the next planet. They even captured a Void cloud and found a way to torture it until it let them use it as a power cell. They have even managed to begin killing the most hostile planet known to the first league. These are not a species. They are an *infestation*!" the passion in his voice echoed around the bridge. Everyone had paused their activity to observe their commander's rant. Silence fell across the room.
Lieutenant Ashartha took a step back, but slowly regained her composure.
"Sir," she began again, speaking quietly but firmly. "Humans have been out of galactic contention for aeons. They are at a disadvantage in tech, influence, naval power... Surely we can use them to our advantage? I think we should at least talk to them. If they give us any reason to mistrust them, we resume with the original orders."
There was a long pause as Yak'Xar stood contemplating.
"Very well," he finally announced. "Open a comms channel to Sol III." | Im no writer, but i love scifi, and this one was really cool-
**”We’ve come a long way from bone clubs captain!!”**
“A long way from bone clubs..” Ismandi muttered to the head engineer, staring at the monstrous machine before him.
Ismandi tapped the graphene-lead layered glass infront of him
“You’re sure this thing is safe?” He said while studying the fusion powered ring of ant like nano bots.
“Oh sure! The UN says this thing is totally safe, and even if it ain’t, we can always eject the damn thing any time.”
“You’re sure it wont cascade gene?”
“Im sure captain. I looked it over myself, and i cant see any issues with it.”
“Fine- i just- double check it. I don’t want me or this crew to be the next historical foot note with this **“grand experiment”** you hear?”
“I hear ya”
Ismandi took one last look at the beast of an FTL drive before him before beginning his way back to the bridge, if this worked- gone would be the days of petty skirmishes and wars over the iron in mars or the cobalt on mercury. This would put them on the galactic stage. Things would change forever. Warships like his would hopefully go the way of the dinosaur, theres enough out there for all of us he thought as he stepped onto the lift pad and started rising through the decks.
As he continued up he felt a little excited, no more death. No more telling his crews’ families he’s sorry. no more pain over false recruitment promises.
“If the damn thing works though.” He had to remind himself
He stepped onto the bridge.
“OFFICER ON DECK!”
“at ease!”
He sauntered confidently to his position,
“Number one! I need a report from engineering- are we ready to go?”
“One moment captain-.. Yes sir! Functioning at 100%, ready to engage positive feed back loop.”
“Great.” -Ismandi swiveled towards the communications officer- “Hectorez Signal UNSF Command we are prepared and awaiting orders.”
“UNSF Command acknowledges captain and informs us we are to test the drive and report
back via quantum entanglement F.C.V. ASAP.”
“Alrighty then, lets set her loose ladies and gentlemen”
the navigations officer began to slide his finger up the screen in-front of him, and the ship came to life.
A low rumble
A powerful vibration
Ismandi looked at the blue green marble outside the view ports before it began to vibrate out of focus as the FTL drive kicked in.
“All those people down there dont even know whats happening. Whats all about to change” he thought. And right after that the view ports turned a maliciously bright orange for a moment, then blue- then to the deep black he was accustomed to in space.
A flash of red. Then another, before a siren turned on.
“Number one report! Whats our status”
“SIR! quantum cascade immine-
The walls groaned and the floor shook as a column of golden fluid tore through the belly of the ship
Ismandi snapped his head to the main view screen as the ships computer automatically identified where the beam had come from. A large tower, four protrusions emanating from the center.
“Evasive actions! I want a damage report!”
“Sir FTL drive is severely damaged- totally non functioning!”
“ Assume a defensive stance and scan that tower, find out what are dealing with. Communications begin broadcasting we are no threat, we come in peace.
Navigation, i wanna know where we are- start working on that”
The ship began to shake again, before a voice boomed from the walls unlike anything ismandi had heard before
“Humans” the voice said “a security detail will be boarding your craft shortly. Do not resist.”
~ id anyone wants me to, ill write a part two tomorrow morning,~ | 2019-11-14T23:04:00 | 2019-11-14T23:02:49 | 39 | 27 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | When I got the text, I didn't have to think about it very long - I had just been lying in bed, playing Ashphalt on my PHONE. 'Yeah, sure,' I reply, thinking nothing of it. Jeff always sends me this shit.
As I put my phone back down and close my eyes I feel a wave of nausea hit, then pass, leaving behind a lingering whiff of burnt rubber and exhaust. I hear a voice, over my.... headset?
"To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck"
My eyes snap open. I'm in a garage, a frankly unfathomable number of performance cars arrayed before me, like the private caryard of a middle eastern prince. Gaudy paint jobs contrasted with sleek carbon fibre and there was high tempo pop-rock coming from.... somewhere? On the wall there were pictures of cars with post-its attached - 1/45, 23/25, 11/100 - records of my progress to yet more sets of wheels.
My crew chief saunters up. "Next race is in 5, boss. European circuit. Choose between the Audi, the Porche or the VW." I look at him, hard. "The Porche, man, always the Porche" "Sure, boss? She's almost out of fuel and you might want her for the next run - competition will be hot and it's a 90 minute job to fill her up again" "Alright, then, warm up the Audi, but make sure you upgrade her nitro, she fell behind last time"
I start to wonder - what's my "winning condition"? One race? A season? A full circuit? I might be here a long time... But at least I'll come away with a lot of cash!
The Chief comes back. "Alright boss, Audi's on the starting line, get out there." I head out and strap in. I start the engine and give her a few test revs. The lights strobe.
3
2
1
GO!!!
Aaaaaaaand I stall it. Shit. I can't drive a fucking manual. | Yet another janky steam account randomly added me. It was surprinsigly quick to reply for once. The only message they typed was "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played.". I just typed "Yes. Whatever, I’d manage", before shutting down my computer for the night. I went to sleep thinking nothing about it.
Still sleeping, I gently hit some kind of ground. I wake up to a strange blueish light and a happy jingle. I stand up and look to my side, there's a tall and hollow metal structure with a light ontop. The blue plasma inside it says the following: "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" as it vanishes.
I am greeted by applauds and cheers from people around me. They're not exactly human, but I recognise some of them from... Oh no. I'm wearing a suit. I look at my hands... 3 fingers and a thumb. I look at my feet... stubs. I try to reach my nose... not there! I stumble back in surprise, letting out a short cry.
My voice! It's a somewhat high pitched electronic sound! It doesn't sound like a language, yet I can understand what one of them was telling me: "Don't worry, it's always strange to come out of the pod.". They help me up, and tell me I was printed because my skills were good for becoming a rocket pilot quickly.
That’s definitely going to help. If I’m stuck in this game, then my main goal is to get to space and launch the rocket. But I’ve never been on their side before! I’ve always been on the outside, giving them tasks to fullfill and schedules to follow! I hear a bell-like sound, and everyone scatters. Downtime’s over.
I hear orders left and right, put on high priority. I work a bit to pass time... Until the next downtime. The others lead me to a "recreation room" to "reduce my stress level". I’ve already seen it somewhere... The guy on the outside put so much furniture, it’s a bit ridiculous.
Of course! It’s my little brother’s save! I need to get his attention. He already reached the surface, he only needed to build a rocket and find a pilot. Seems like he’s noticed me, I felt that I’m being watched since downtime started.
I’ve already earned enough experience today to become an advanced researcher. At this rate, I’ll be a rocket pilot in a few "days" and "win" the game. It’s "nap time" already, and I see orders to build the rocket being scheduled for tomorrow. I’ve got long days ahead of me. When this is over, I’m definitely bringing a Hatch home.
This is my first submission to this sub. The prompt felt a bit inspiring, so I tried to write something. Hopefully, it was enjoyable to read. Feedback's welcome! | 2020-02-17T00:31:53 | 2020-02-16T23:10:29 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] Two god-like lovers are bored in the Heavens and decide to go through numerous cycles of reincarnation for fun, living as mortals as they do so. Their goal? To find one another during each cycle. | We found each other again.
This time it was a little too easy. We happened to be in the same neighborhood and ended up in the same school. He became quite the popular class clown this time. At least that's what my dreams have told me.
I think most people would be weirded out to dream about someone else so consistently for years. Which is why I just never approached him about it at first. We were friends once, as children. We would play at the park in the neighborhood until one day we just outgrew it. Initially we grew up in different schools, until ending up at the same high school.
When I met him as a child, something inside me burned hot. I came home filled with a happiness I never felt before. Better than Christmas morning for a child. And then promptly came down with a fever. I dreamt strange scenes and what I came to realize were memories. My parents were pretty worried at first. The fever eventually left me after three days. I guess I must've changed in a way after that. I was still a happy kid and laughed and played but they saw a difference in the way I conducted myself. That's what my mother said to me when I asked her about it years later.
And now it is senior year of this school, we'll be graduating soon and I don't believe he has realized our destiny. I walked past him in the hallways and we've politely smiled at each other, attended some classes together but truly ended up in different friend circles. I have been patient and stood back as he lived this teenage life. I enjoyed as much as I could what it was to grow up but it's not like the other times when I was blissfully unaware. He was supposed to realize our connection soon after I had. If either one of us came to first, the other would follow shortly after.
Being haunted by dreams of our past selves for years gets a bit much for the capacity for a developing human body, and I just don't want to continue this way in this life anymore. I've decided that tonight I will confront him about it. I feel sorry for the girl he is currently dating once he realizes his true love. But, you just can't fight destiny. | Today I am waking up again. Alone. As I open the windows, the morning breeze combs through my hair. The smell of the ocean and the sound of the waves. So mesmerising.
I can take my time. For it is eternity that is my friend and I can take a bite from it every day. But this time it is taking longer. I only wish to gaze again at my lovers long wavy hair and touch her milky skin. I see myself imagining holding her in my arms and kissing her soft lips. But it has been decades. The life of a human, so short as it is, has gotten into me, as it feels as if an eternity has passed since I last saw her.
The winds blew me here this last week, my white boat shining in the wooden docks of this remote island. It is winter now and there is no one to see. But I have a feeling. A hitch some may say. I step out my hut.
"New guests?" I ask absent-mindedly, for I know no one else is here. A shaking head tells me "No." The breeze is getting stronger. Now I'm on the beach, staring at the horizon. A lonely ship I sailing barely over the edge.
And then, as fast as a cheetah after its prey, the wind became a hurricane and the grey sky went black like the nightsky. A lighting hit the ship. Then flames. I ran. My boat wasn't ready for a storm, but I couldn't care. The waves were getting bigger and the rain was hitting harder. I cut the ropes, there was no time to fiddle with the knots. I sailed through the waves, water hitting from all sides. I could feel fear for I have been a human for too long, but I wouldn't stop. The horizon ship was sinking and orange boats were floating nearby, the waves throwing them around like marbles on the ground.
Then a sudden calmness. The eye of the storm, surrounded by thunder and waves, in a puddle of quiet and piece. I got out the cabin and with no doubt in my mind jumped in the icy waters. It was dark, I couldn't see. But I could feel. There it was, a body floating down. Hair waving in the deep blue , bubbles coming out. I swam below and grabbed the body, pulled it out and took a breath.
With some sort of strength I'd haven't experienced ever before I pulled her onto my white shiny boat. The storm was over, the ship had sank, orange boats floated around. And there we stood in the middle of all that. She, laying down and slowly breathing and I, with tears in my eyes. Suddenly she coughed and gasped for air, her eyes narrow from fear suddenly went wide as she looked at me. And then she jumped and wrapped herself around me.
And then it was like magic, a heated time filled with passion and romance. For I have found her, or she had found me, once again. The love of my life. | 2020-07-25T03:25:56 | 2020-07-25T03:09:24 | 45 | 25 |
[WP] Two god-like lovers are bored in the Heavens and decide to go through numerous cycles of reincarnation for fun, living as mortals as they do so. Their goal? To find one another during each cycle. | We found each other again.
This time it was a little too easy. We happened to be in the same neighborhood and ended up in the same school. He became quite the popular class clown this time. At least that's what my dreams have told me.
I think most people would be weirded out to dream about someone else so consistently for years. Which is why I just never approached him about it at first. We were friends once, as children. We would play at the park in the neighborhood until one day we just outgrew it. Initially we grew up in different schools, until ending up at the same high school.
When I met him as a child, something inside me burned hot. I came home filled with a happiness I never felt before. Better than Christmas morning for a child. And then promptly came down with a fever. I dreamt strange scenes and what I came to realize were memories. My parents were pretty worried at first. The fever eventually left me after three days. I guess I must've changed in a way after that. I was still a happy kid and laughed and played but they saw a difference in the way I conducted myself. That's what my mother said to me when I asked her about it years later.
And now it is senior year of this school, we'll be graduating soon and I don't believe he has realized our destiny. I walked past him in the hallways and we've politely smiled at each other, attended some classes together but truly ended up in different friend circles. I have been patient and stood back as he lived this teenage life. I enjoyed as much as I could what it was to grow up but it's not like the other times when I was blissfully unaware. He was supposed to realize our connection soon after I had. If either one of us came to first, the other would follow shortly after.
Being haunted by dreams of our past selves for years gets a bit much for the capacity for a developing human body, and I just don't want to continue this way in this life anymore. I've decided that tonight I will confront him about it. I feel sorry for the girl he is currently dating once he realizes his true love. But, you just can't fight destiny. | “Just try it.” My roommate hands me the phone with the tinder app downloading. “You need to get back out there.”
Swipe left, left, left.... right, left, LEFT, left, right...
“....”
“Hey”
“Hey, what’s up?”
“Nm just hangin in the dorms with my boys”
“Oh nice, yeah I’m in my room but my roommate is at bible study or something.”
“Nice, where do you go to school?”
An hour turned into a day, a couple days turned into a date.
“Well I have to move out at the end of the week and go back to my dad’s house.”
“Oh no, well you better take me for coffee before you go!”
“Okay, tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow. And give me a hug when you see me, I’d like one and I don’t want it to be awkward so I just want you to know in advance — I’d like a hug :)”
“Sounds good :)”
I wait outside the coffee shop, a bit early because I was nervous. But not too nervous, I’m still wearing my favorite sports jersey and leggings. At this point, after my last relationship, I’ve decided to be 100% me for everyone and figure out who would love all of me.
Is that him? Oh god it’s him. As soon as I see him my body has a visceral reaction. I’m hot and clammy, I tingle all over, and I can’t look away. What the hell — this is just coffee! I’ve gone on many dates but I haven’t even met this guy and I’m weak in the knees. Shit. Here he comes —
“Hi” god his voice is amazing and he’s taller in person
“Hi” I manage to get out as I open my arms for a hug
He hugs me
Time stops
His essence is so comforting, so familiar; his touch is like lightning. His eyes see straight through me I swear. I’m so nervous I talk through the whole date.
I had planned a meeting after this just in case it didn’t go well, but now I wanted nothing but to stay.
We hugged as we left, walking different directions. All I want is to keep talking to him, the urge to be next to him is intoxicating and overwhelming.
“I just want to keep texting and talking... is that okay?” My heart is pounding, please don’t think I’m weird —
“Yeah I’d like that :)”
********
Ten years later, I walk through the door every day excited to see my husband. He hugs me and I know I’m home. He shared with me later that he had felt the same shock. We had fallen into each other quickly and wholeheartedly, never looking back.
One day I asked him if he thought it was meant to be. He said
“I’m sure it is. But even if I was wrong, would it matter? If we believe it, then it is so.” | 2020-07-25T03:25:56 | 2020-07-25T03:16:03 | 45 | 21 |
[WP] Every time someone lies to you, money is deposited into your checking account. The larger the lie, the larger the deposited amount. Your account balance increased a million dollars since yesterday. You’ve only spoken to your significant other since yesterday. | I don't know where the money comes from, I just know how it gets there.
Every lie, every untruth, every falsehood just serves to make me richer.
It is dirty money. Every cent just makes me more paranoid, and here was more than I have ever seen at once.
I look at my wife. "Honey, we are rich."
My wife looks at me. "I know, but why do you look so unhappy about it?"
It couldn't be helped, I just exploded at her. "You know how I get that money! And a giant deposit was made yesterday. You were the only one I talked to the whole day. Now fess up!"
My wife gave a tired sigh. "You fell asleep in front of the tv again, didn't you?"
"What does that have to do with anything?"
She rolled her eyes, "It is an election year. You know who was probably making a speech."
Oh, right. That. Calming down, I swore to myself to stick to Netflix from now on. | 'Honey, I am home!' I said closing the door behind me.
Elisa walked out of the bedroom in that red dress of hers that makes my blood run wild. I took a big gulp and stared at her from head to toe.
'You did not pick up my calls today.' I managed to speak. Then I remembered her weakness since last week, 'How was the doctor's appointment?'
'Oh. Is that what all you can think about after your long journey? Don't you like this dress on me?' Elisa said.
I put my jacket on a chair, went to Elisa and pulled her in my embrace. 'I love it. But I love you more.' I kissed her. She did not feel her usual self. 'Now tell me, what did the doctor say?'
'Oh. It was nothing. He gave me some medications and now I feel much better.' Elisa replied.
'Wow.' I kissed her again. 'I'm so glad to hear that. You have no idea how worried I was during the drive. Now let me shower first. I feel dirty.'
'I like you all dirty baby.' Elisa smirked.
My phone pinged. I remembered that my boss was going to send me an important email. I unlocked the phone and there was not email waiting for me, but a text message from my bank.
I forgot breathing and tapped on the message. It read:
**$1,057,324 credited your account No ending XX4548 on...**
I could not read any further. My eyes were stuck on the amount. I double-checked. Maybe I was seeing commas where there was meant to be a dot.
I felt my vision blur and felt a tear roll down my cheek. I looked up at Elisa and caught her staring at herself in the mirror with a melancholy look. | 2020-08-28T13:41:59 | 2020-08-28T10:37:13 | 68 | 50 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | Unsure of what to do in this situation, I simply stood there. I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary harm or damage, especially because I knew there were innocents amongst the crowd. As I looked around, I saw the confusion on their faces, and understood why. They were confused as to why I wasn’t screaming.
The tendrils of flame obeyed my will, and I kept them at a safe distance from my clothes. While the flame would only rejuvenate me, my clothing would still burn, and this was my favorite outfit! The crowd realized this after a short while, and began to yell out angry shouts. “The witch is commanding the flames!” “She isn’t burning!” Quite honestly, their horrid attitude offended and hurt me. Either way, I didn’t want to stay up here for much longer.
“Why make such assumptions?” I voiced out to the crowd. “Perhaps this is God’s way of saying I should be spared?” At this, the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. A young girl with a bucket of water splashed the flames out.
“What did you do that for?” an angry crowds man shouted.
The girl responded with a short, “She wasn’t burning anyway, so why waste the pyre?” | I hide my smile underneath the the cermonial mask.I hold my laughter as they hoist me to a beam covered in hastenly found beeswax. Apologizing if it hurt. My hands bound behind me in old iron chains, I feel rust flaking off. My feet fastened now to the beam securely with another piece of chain. They throw a large pail of liquid over me drenching me and my outfit. I frown as I feel the liquid seeps in. I see them building up the logs, branches and tinder needed to make the bonfire. I see them struggling to make a spark with the flint and steel. I stare around my surroundings. I see the grief in the eyes of the people in town, caused by the lost of loved ones, the famine, their very way of life caused by the war. The madness sparking in their eyes thinking a sacrifice would make everything better for them. I know these people, I know their pain, I seen and felt their desperation. I do not blame for doing this insane act for salvation. I seen people butcher each other for much less. As I close my eyes I hear other town folk rushing in, screaming, demanding to end this act of madness. The pleas fall on deaf ears as they continue reminding what they have lost. I hear the sound of an axe slamming into a piece of stone silencing everyone. The spark it created, lit the tinder which lit everything else. The flames climbed quickly tickling my feet and up my legs. I feel real warmth for the first time in ages. The flames traveled up , covering my entire body. The flames burned my clothes turning them into ash.I felt the chains expand from the heat releasing me. As if I fall from the beam to the ground, wings grew out of my back as I land crowd stares at me. The bonfire became the only source of sound the hissing and popping of the flames echoed into the day time sky. The town stared back at me and then each other. I smiled and laughed, as all the town folk screamed in unison. As I bellowed out "You asked for salvation I will give it to you". The screams of gratitude continue. | 2021-01-03T06:44:05 | 2021-01-03T02:22:14 | 240 | 151 |
[WP] "Witch! Heathen! Burn her!" You watch with amusement as they begin lighting the pyre under you. The flames tickle your feet, bringing a familiar warmth with them. They are silly to that think they could actually burn a dragon with fire. | Unsure of what to do in this situation, I simply stood there. I didn’t want to cause any unnecessary harm or damage, especially because I knew there were innocents amongst the crowd. As I looked around, I saw the confusion on their faces, and understood why. They were confused as to why I wasn’t screaming.
The tendrils of flame obeyed my will, and I kept them at a safe distance from my clothes. While the flame would only rejuvenate me, my clothing would still burn, and this was my favorite outfit! The crowd realized this after a short while, and began to yell out angry shouts. “The witch is commanding the flames!” “She isn’t burning!” Quite honestly, their horrid attitude offended and hurt me. Either way, I didn’t want to stay up here for much longer.
“Why make such assumptions?” I voiced out to the crowd. “Perhaps this is God’s way of saying I should be spared?” At this, the crowd began to murmur amongst themselves. A young girl with a bucket of water splashed the flames out.
“What did you do that for?” an angry crowds man shouted.
The girl responded with a short, “She wasn’t burning anyway, so why waste the pyre?” | They watched in glee as the embers started catching and spreading. Slowly, but steadily, they encroached upon me, slowly burning me. However, it didn’t feel hot, more like a hot rock, much like the one I usually sleep on. The flames continue to catch on my clothes, and faces turn from rage to puzzle, and the repeated chants fall to silence.
I look at them, not cheerfully, not angrily. More just passive and I calmly say “is that all you got? Because I got a lot more than you if that is all.” As the words echo out into the courtyard, my wings sprout from my shoulder blades. My two, large, blue scaled wings, which block out the moon to all those watching.
“I am not easily angered” I continue, “and while you may not have angered me, you have definitely left me disappointed.”
The villagers stare in disbelief as more of my disguise falls. All the flames extinguish for a moment as lightning strikes a clear sky, and there I stand, a gargantuan blue dragon. As I appear, the flames reignite with a blue hue, spreading quicker and hotter.
“You said I would burn. You said I would die. You said I would scream. Now look at how the tables have turned!”
The flames start catching on houses. Everyone is panicking, guards are surrounding me and failing to poke through my thick, scaly hide. However, almost as quickly as they appeared, the blue flames vanished as I looked upon all the villagers.
“You have a week to prepare for my assault. And this time, you best not disappoint me with just fire.”
I flap my wings with extreme force, knocking many people over, and I continue into the night sky, disappearing like a flash of lightning.
The End (maybe, we’ll see)
Just my first attempt at writing something for this subreddit, hopefully someone enjoyed it. Honestly, when I wrote it I thought “is there any reason for a dragon ti get angry at this”?
Obviously, yes, being burned at the stake would be an insult, so I went with a dragon that was just disappointed that the humans couldn’t do more to hurt him.
Anyway, see you later | 2021-01-03T06:44:05 | 2021-01-03T06:43:36 | 240 | 38 |
[WP] You are an unimportant government worker who, by mere chance, gets to perform the most interesting job of his career: interview a time-traveler. You begin by introducing yourself and the guy immediately freaks out! | "Okay, let's begin" I turn on the recorder. This recording will be analyzed for years. First interview with a time traveler!
"I am Sophia-Iona Holloway, customs officer," I say, attempting to build his trust. Doesn't hurt my name will be at the beginning of this recording.
"Sophia-Iona Holloway? Sophia-Iona Holloway of Paris, Texas, United States?" he says.
"That's where I was born, yes. How did you know?" I know I wasn't supposed to ask about myself, but he brought it up. . .
"They said I'd be interviewed by some random government official. Not Holloway. Ohhh no." He then mutters something I can't make out.
He tries to escape, but the doors are locked. Can't take the chance of him escaping.
"Why don't you just take a seat, and I'll ask my questions?" I say.
He sits down, but any question I ask is met with complete silence. I try to get him to respond, but he doesn't. Biggest chance of my career and I blew it.
Feedback welcome! | Surely I must be the butt of some joke. A couple of fuckheads in the office upstairs deciding to pull one over on the lonely IT guy. I tried to resist more than a couple of times. It's so blatantly obvious. They can't think I'm THAT gullible.
Well, maybe I am. Because here I am in this conference room. Waiting for Doctor Who, or whoever the fuck, to show up for his interview. Full disclosure, I haven't seen that goofy ass British show, but I'm pretty sure that dude is a time traveler. Is that right?
They old me the guy had some technical information he wanted to share. Something the higher ups had some trouble understanding. Something that I probably wouldn't understand. So that's why they sent me in. To interview the "time traveler".
Anyway, it's 2:15pm. Which means the magnificent traveler of time is running about 15 minutes late. I don't believe I'd be clever to point out some sort of irony in that. Man travels back in time a few thousand years and cant even make to an appointment on TIME. Maybe 3000 years from now they've finally figured out public transit in this city. He's probably sitting on the L wondering what the fuck is taking so long.
I can imagine the shit eating grins on the crowd upstairs watching the cams. The moron from IT scribbling on his fresh notebook with one of his four prepared pens.
The door handle jostles a little. "Here we go..." I say to myself, aloud. Then silence. I hear a deep sigh on the other side of the door.
Suddenly, the door opens swiftly and the man steps in. I look down at my sheet of questions and read over the first. He sits down across from me. As he does, I lock eyes with the time traveler.
His mouth was wide open. Eyes swelling with tears. Completely red of face.
"An... Anthony?! How? You were... You didn't... We didn't think you... How the hell?" | 2021-08-05T08:38:40 | 2021-07-12T19:53:50 | 98 | 22 |
[WP] Your SO confesses to you that they are a werewolf. You, a human, respond with a simple okay and proceed to go on. They, in huge shock, can't grasp your easy acceptance. From that day, in various ways, they began testing if you are a mystical creature yourself. | "I don't see why you were so insistent on cooking dinner tonight," I chuckled as Luna sat me down at the dining table. "I thought you hated cooking?"
"Eh, you know, I decided to try picking up more hobbies," she shrugged back at me. The corners of her mouth were turned up a bit too sharply as she smiled.
I gazed down at the meal she had prepared: a plate of Alfredo linguini with slices of baked chicken. I was fairly certain the sauce came straight from a jar, no way she learned how to cook authentic pasta already. "Well I think it looks absolutely delicious. Let's dig in."
I reached for the fork and knife and raised the pasta to my mouth. My fork froze for just a moment, when I noticed Luna staring at me rather intently. She hadn't even picked up her utensils yet, but she hastily moved her attention to her plate when she noticed me. Not thinking too much on it, I put the pasta into my mouth.
My tongue almost burned as soon as it made contact with the sauce, making me flinch. I chewed slowly, and forced the food down my throat. "Wow, uh, you put quite a lot of salt in that. And I can REALLY taste a lot of garlic there, it's uh... it's good of course, just took me by surprise."
Luna stared at me for a few seconds, as if waiting for something, before responding, "Er, yeah thanks. I, um, it's my first time so you know, I might have made a few mistakes. You aren't... hurt, are you?"
"What?" I squinted my brows at her. "Of course not, it's just food. The salt and garlic's pretty strong, sure, but it isn't *harmful*. I actually quite like the garlic, though I think you could tone it down on the salt, maybe add more pepper."
"Right, yeah, of course." She gave a nervous chuckle and looked awkwardly to the side, then down to her food.
I gazed back at her, trying to decipher that look on her face before saying, "Let me get us some glasses of water—"
"I'll get it!" Luna jumped out of her seat before I could even respond and disappeared into the kitchen in a blur.
A few moments later she returned, her smile fidgeting a bit as she placed the glasses down on the table. I just thanked her and took a swig from. The whole time, Luna kept on watching me, her eyes fidgeting from my glass to me. "Um... how is it?"
I looked back at her quizzically. "You mean the water? It's, uh, water. Iced. It... doesn't taste like it came from our filter. But it's just water."
Another nervous chuckle crept out of Luna. "H-Haha yeah, sorry, just... messing around."
The dinner continued on in silence, with nothing but the clatter of dining-ware filling our apartment. I thought I'd try the chicken to help combat the saltiness, but I paused when I saw how pink it was on the inside; it was hardly cooked at all. Unable to stomach anymore of our dinner, my gaze turned to study the room... and then I began noticing things. "What's that above my bedroom door?"
"Hm?" Luna's eyes immediately shot the opposite way.
"That tree branch hanging over the doorway."
"Oh!" Luna's voice shot up in false shock. "That! Is... a tree branch. A... rowan branch. I, um, was doing some redecoration."
"Rowan, huh?" I raised a brow at her. "Above a doorway?"
"I... liked the Feng Shui."
I was knowledgable enough in folklore and myths to recognize what the rowan branch meant. You'd hang it over a doorway to forbid fairies from coming through.
"Right. And why do we have a cross on the wall? Neither of us are Christian."
"Ah that! Was, um, a gift, and it'd be rude if I just got rid of it, so..."
With a deep sigh I got up from my seat and walked over to Luna. I grasped her hand as I knelt down and spoke softly to her, "Ok Luna, look. I get what's going on. The 'decorations', the salt and garlic, the—I'm pretty sure this is holy water? You still don't believe I'm just human, do you?"
Luna's jaw hung open, her eyes trembling as they looked down at me, and she shook her head. "I... I just don't get it. When I told you I was a werewolf, I expected you to dump me on the spot, but you just didn't care. How could a human be okay with this?"
"Why can't one be okay with it?" I asked. "I don't care what you all. Vampire, ghoul, specter, demon. I know you always tried your hardest to be genuine with me, and I know how difficult it must've been for you to admit the truth to me. And your honesty is just all the more reason for me to love you."
Luna gazed deep into my eyes, her breath growing unsteady, before she suddenly fell out of her chair and burrowed herself into my arms. A suppressed sob escaped her lips as they kissed my cheek. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I lied to you for years, expecting you to trust me, and now here I am unwilling to trust you,"
"It's alright, I understand." I cooed, pressing my lips against her forehead. The two of us sat together in each other's embrace for a minute in silence, before hesitantly I opened my mouth. "But... you're right. I haven't been completely honest with you today."
Luna's head bolted up and stared at me with wide eyes. "What is it?! Er, I mean— look, just be honest with me. You stuck with me even when my worst secrets got out, and it's only fair I do the same. I love you, and you don't have to be afraid of any secret you might be keeping."
I gulped and nodded at her, my fingers tapping against her arm incessantly. "Of course. You were honest to me, so I'll do the same." I took another deep breath and hung my head low, before slowly moving my eyes up to meet her's. My mouth barely opened as I whispered fearfully to her, "The pasta was awful." | "I'm a werewolf," Laura says.
I look up amazed from where I was staring a hole through the floor. I know it's the wrong response but I can't help myself and I laugh hysterically. "Drew it's not a joke I really am..." She's trying to convince me but I cut her off. "You know the next time you say we need to talk all somber like that, it better be to break up with me because I don't think I can handle the panic again!" I'm still shaking trying my very best not to laugh.
Laura is giving me that look she wears when she can't figure out if I'm pranking her or not. "Andrew this is serious. I really am a werewolf, I'll even transform for you if that will make you believe me!" Before she can do more than stand up I'm in hysterics again. " Of course you're a werewolf," I sputter. "If you think you suddenly can keep secrets from me you are mistaken baby. I mean come on you're family is huge and they all live together in the woods upstate by themselves. You nearly fainted at Jack and Lindsey's wedding when they brought the silverware out. Emphasis on silver. And there is literally hair all over you when you get back from 'hunting with your Dad' which you say is from his hunting dogs. But funny enough I've been to your families house and there are literally no dogs. Honestly I'm surprised the world doesn't know that you exist if this is how you all keep secrets." Still laughing I kiss her on the forehead and head upstairs.
"WAIT WHAT!!" Laura screams, "You knew and never said anything. You a 'human' guessed I was a werewolf and never said anything?" "Yeah," I say as I pull out my phone, "It didn't seem fair to force the secret out of you. I figured you'd tell me eventually. Now since we're not breaking up like I thought, I am starving! Should we go get food? We can go to that new burger place downtown. I heard that meat is so fresh you can still hear it moo. Though somehow I think that may still not be fresh enough for you babe ehh?" I poke her in the side laughing. She's not laughing though and she looks almost like she's mad at me.
"Laura what is up with you, do you not want burgers or something?" I say. "I think I actually just lost my appetite 'babe'" she says sarcastically, "I think I'm gonna go to bed." Faster than I can blink she's gone and I can hear our room door slamming. "What in the actual fuck" I say to myself. I look at our couch that is apparently is going to be my bed tonight. I can see a bunch of little hairs everywhere and I burst out laughing all over again.
I wake up the next morning to find Laura standing above me with her eyes close murmuring in some weird language. She hasn't noticed I'm awake yet so I sit up and kiss her on the nose. She jumps backwards like she was shocked before laughing. "Goodmorning baby are you still mad at me?" I ask sheepishly. "I promise no more werewolf jokes! I swear it by the full moon actually" I grin. She laughs and we get up to start the day. She offers to make me breakfast while I shower so I head upstairs to the bathroom. I'm just finishing brushing my teeth when I notice some white powder outside the bathroom door. Not knowing what it is, I dip my finger in it and taste it. It's salt and I have no idea how it managed to get up here. I sweep up the mess before pulling my shirt on and heading downstairs
I'm still thinking about the salt as I enter the kitchen but the smell from breakfast wipes all the thoughts from my head. Laura has made me the works this morning. Biscuits and gravy, an omelet with all the fixings, and even bacon! "I'm sorry about last night," she says as she hands me my plate. "I don't know what came over me but I shouldn't have made you sleep on the couch." She sits down next to me and just stares as I take the first bite of my omelet. "This is delicious babe!" I say brightly as I start shoveling all the food I can into my mouth. She frowns a little bit as she shakes her head but I'm too busy eating to really care.
As the weeks go by I notice that Laura is starting to act a little weird. At first it's just little stuff like redecorating. One day I even wake up and their is a dreamcatcher above my head and a bunch of horseshoes glued to the our bed frame. But then all of sudden she got really into burning incense like sage all over the house. And last week I even caught her chanting my name backwards into the mirror. It's just been kind of weird and I don't really know what to make of it. I try to ignore it all but after I wake up to her gluing little pieces of paper to my body with the Hebrew word for bind painted on them, don't ask me how long it took me to google search that, I knew we had to have an intervention.
After dinner I sit Laura down in the den and ask her what's been going on. "I just don't get it," she sighs. "I have tested for almost everything now. Vampires, skinwalkers, zombies, mummies, primordial beings, ancient gods, angels, demons. I even chanted into the fucking mirror like freaking bloody Mary. I just can't figure out what you are. The only thing I haven't checked is if you're a leprechaun but you're like 6'5" so that one has to be out!" She is almost crying by the end of her rant. "Drew I just need to know why you don't trust me enough to tell me what kind of mythical whatever you are!" I'm trying not to laugh again as I stand Laura up and hug her close. "Babe I'm just human I promise," I say as I kiss her. "Listen I can even prove it to you."
I walk her to the other side of the den and pull a book off my shelf. "This is my family tree it dates my family back all the way back to 200 A.D. Take a look" I hand her the book. I see her eyes hungrily skimming over the yellowed pages. While she's distracted I pull the pistol out of the back of my jeans and flip the safety off. She is still looking at the book when she says "I thought you last name was Helsinki but it looks to be something different in here. Why didn't you tell me you were a Van Hel-" The sound of my gun firing reaches her ears slightly before she finishes her sentence and only a fraction of a second before the silver bullet reaches her heart.
"I guess I did tell a lie babe. My actual name is Andrew Van Helsing." | 2021-08-17T11:15:15 | 2021-08-17T08:07:12 | 315 | 73 |
[WP] There is a broken bridge leading to the woods behind your house. It has been passed through generations in your family that the bridge should never ever be rebuilt no matter what happens. | Don't rebuild the bridge.
A lesson I was told my entire life since I could walk. An order I was to never disobey. A piece of advice I should always heed. But they never told me *why*.
I mean let's be real. It's *just a bridge*. I would walk to it night after night and look to the forest just beyond, trying to see what could be so important that we would have to shield it from the world... or so horrific that we'd have to keep it in. But there's absolutely nothing! It's a forest and not even a particularly interesting one. Yet every time I'd ask one of my elders, they'd just tell me to drop it.
I won't.
If they wouldn't tell me, I'd find out. One evening, when everyone had laid down, I picked up a small rucksack and set off past the bridge, to finally find out what could be so impossibly important. I was quite sure it would just be a plain old forest and the entire thing, a long-forgotten prank.
After a few deep breaths, I descended into the small moat the bridge would go over and climbed back up. The moat wasn't all that deep, making it all the stranger - you barely needed a bridge here. I felt a pinch of anxiousness when I climbed up and stood well in the forest but... nothing. I mean, of *course* it was nothing. So I walked.
It was a lovely summer night. The fresh air smelled wonderful and was complemented by the generous glow of the moon, illuminating my path to the point where I didn't even need the lantern I packed. I walked carefully, every step deliberate; partially not to trip, but also just in case *something* was just beyond the next tree.
Only after some 30 minutes of walking did I see something; a shimmer in the darkness, barely conceivable. It looked... it looked as if you put an invisibility cloak on someone; a clear outline of a human, but no features you could tell. Spectral, almost. And it was beautiful. The outline moved slightly like it was rustled by the wind. I walked closer and before I knew it, I was standing right before it. And it turned.
The beauty of the apparition was breathtaking, despite its general lack of features. There was simply something in the way it moved, swayed, *danced*, that was completely encapsulating, enchanting and dream-like. It spoke to me, to my emotions, to my pains and joys, it soothed me, calmed me, and provided me with tranquillity I'd never known before. It wasn't alone, I soon noticed, as others like it started emerging from between the trees. I could not believe it; that my family would deny the world creatures capable of providing so much peace to the soul.
I took a few steps back and feared they'd flee at my sudden movement, but to my relief, they, for the lack of a better word, took a few steps with me. They followed me but not in a malicious way - I wanted them to follow. I needed them to. The sensation of simply being near them was intoxicating, one you could lose yourself in. I started to return to my home, eager to share my discovery with my family so that they, too, could feel this divine beauty and tranquillity. But... what if my family wouldn't understand?
It will be fine. The spirits are with me. I am calm.
They were with me as I walked home.
They were with me as I climbed over the moat.
They were with me as I held the knife above my parents.
They were with me as I cleaned the crimson off of myself and soothed my pain.
They were with me as I collected the materials.
They were with me as I started to work.
Don't rebuild the bridge?
**How could I** ***not***? | “Stop being stupid. I’ve been over to the other side. It’s just a forest. There’s no ghost or anything like that. It’s just my weird family being weird.” Alan said, the two children sitting on the edge of the riverbank, looking at the decayed bridge that had half sunken into the misty green water below.
“It’s weird. Why wouldn’t you build it again if it’s just a bridge? Maybe your family are werewolves and if they cross the bridge, they turn into furry creatures that bite people.” Evelyn said, pinching the elbow of Alan, imitating the bite of a rather feisty chihuahua, causing Alan to jump from his spot, nearly stumbling into the water.
“Knock it off! That isn’t even how werewolves work, idiot.”
“Oh, yeah? How would you know? Does that mean you’re a werewolf?”
“Shut up! I just know. It’s not that weird. Why would we want a bridge that no one uses? What if a bear comes over and knocks on our window?”
“Or a werewolf?” Evelyn said, trying to pinch his elbow again, only to miss as he quickly pulled it away.
“There are no werewolves. My family just said that we can’t build the bridge again because that’s what my great great grandparents said. Maybe they just liked the original bridge they built?”
“Or maybe there’s an alien egg that your great great grandparents planted in the soil over there? What if they knew that the egg hatching would break the bridge, so they left the message?” Evelyn said, pushing up her glasses, her excitement in her wild theories having caused them to slide down the bridge of her nose.
“Aliens?” Alan hadn’t considered aliens. He paused, giving it some thought before shaking his head. “My great great grandparents wouldn’t plant alien eggs. Why would they do that?”
“Because they were aliens? Oh, that would make you an alien. You would tell me if you were an alien, right?” Evelyn shifted back in her spot, creating some distance between them, smiling the whole time.
“I’m not an alien. If I was an alien, you would have nothing to worry about, anyway. Aliens only look for intelligent signs of life.”
The two glared at each other before sharing a laugh. Eventually, Evelyn moved back into her spot as they returned their gazes to the forest. The looming trees always gave it an imitating darkness at night, but during the day, all one would see is the peaceful colored birds flying from branch to branch, mixed with the occasional glimpse of a rabbit or other small creature scurrying through the bushes.
“Ok, that was funny. For you.” Evelyn said, lounging back a little in her spot on the grass. “Maybe it is just a normal forest. It doesn’t seem scary; it is still a fun mystery.”
“Maybe we can solve it one day? We will pack some food and go across. The waters not that deep, so as long as we hold our food up high, it should stay dry.”
“Yeah, let’s do that. We can bring a notebook, too.”
“Alan, dear? Dinners ready.” Alan’s mother called out from the window, having watched the two children bicker back and forth while she cooked. She enjoyed their wild theories, finding it refreshing to hear whatever made up little stories they came up with.
“Ok, Mom. Come on, Evelyn, let’s have dinner and then we can figure out how we are going to explore the forest.”
“Got it.”
The two rushed to the house, ready to scoff down whatever meal Alan’s mother had prepared, their focus not on the food but on the adventure that awaited them. Unfortunately, the bridge was simply a bridge, something that his family had put in centuries ago to easily carry firewood and food back to the home. The only reason they even stated that they should never rebuild the bridge was because of the stubbornness of the man that had built it. Fergus didn’t want anyone ruining his craftsmanship with faulty repairs or renovations, confident enough that his bridge would stand the test of time, and it did until recently.
Despite its initial purpose having faded, it did still serve an important new role for the family. It was a gateway into the world of imagination, a story to share between friends and fuel for the development of a taste for adventure. In a way, Fergus was right. His bridge stood the test of time, for a different reason. He had engraved it into the family’s history.
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
&nbsp;
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-05-25T10:21:59 | 2022-05-25T08:28:39 | 63 | 47 |
[WP] You'd summoned the demon intending to sell your soul, so it came as a bit of a surprise when the demon refused, and offered you a soul instead. | I'm diverging from the prompt a little bit, because I had an idea that didn't quite fit, but prompts are meant to be more guidelines than outlines anyway, so it's not that big a deal, just fair warning. Also this response is set in an existing universe, I bet you can guess which.
-----
"Listen here, I don't get much time off, and what I *do* get, I have a family I want to spend it with. You're cutting into Sabbath dinner in the Silver City, so let's speed this along, shall we?" The slick, suited man, or rather devil, who sat before me spoke with an English accent as he tinkled the keys of my disused piano. "What," he said, "do you truly desire?"
Not that I would have lied to begin with, I was quite serious about my request, but I suddenly felt the urge to absolutely spill my metaphorical guts. "I want to offer my soul in exchange for fixing my hands. I broke them badly years ago and I haven't been able to play right since."
His eyes widened. "Your soul? You misjudge me! Let me guess, you heard stories from those absolute buffoons who use my name like they own it." He laughed coldly. I felt a chill down my spine. He started playing a familiar tune, a light vaguely-baroque take on *Sympathy for the Devil*. "I don't deal in the buying and selling of souls, you see, what souls find their way to Hell are there because they have done something to deserve their place in my domain. And before you say another word, all that 'oh, the Devil made me do it, I'm innocent' malarkey is simply bollocks." He turned away from the piano. "I deal in favours, my friend. I do this for you, and at some later date, I'll cash in. Nothing sinister, likely not even anything illegal or immoral, as a matter of fact." He tickled the keys once more, briefly. "It might be as simple as using your restored talent to serenade a certain former Detective on my behalf."
"So... I can get healed... and *not* have to give up my chance at Heaven?"
"I honestly haven't a clue why everyone seems so desperate to end up *there*..." He shrugged. "Terribly boring place, though truth be told my dear brother is giving it the old college try in improving the conditions since he took over from dear old Dad... But yes, that's absolutely correct."
I turned it over in my head. It seemed too good to be true, but... if there was any chance... "I accept." | First ever submission!
“It’s mine” he mumbled under his breath.
Robert had never seen such a thing. It’s one thing to have the chance to meet a demon and strike a deal, it’s a whole other thing to see such a defeated soul. The demon can be described with one word – terror. He had curled horns that have been calcifying since the age of the universes inception, the horns looked so thick with the scrolls of history that if Rob were to cut one open, it would contain rings outlining the passage of time itself. His hooves were anything but frail, leaving “Daemon was here” implanted along the roads that he’s traveled on. His legs and torso packed enough muscle that stretched his skin to the point that lesions were oozing like a recently erupted fissure.
However, the demon’s face looked as if it were weighed down by worry and burdens for so long that the creases on his brow had collected sediment and hardened.
“What am I supposed to do with this?!” Rob barked frantically.
Rob came to this meeting expecting a good trade, not whatever this is. What’s the demon’s angle? Is this a test of some kind?
“Do anything you want with it, I don’t want it anymore” Daemon softly replied.
Daemon stepped to the nearest bench and sat down. His tail positioned itself between his legs, like a dog’s tucked tail after being scolded for ripping a pillow open.
“I’m just so over it” Daemon continued, stroking his rock hard goatee. “All I do is run errands for my uncle’s business, I feel like I’m not contributing enough to the universe and underworld. I feel like the worlds most unnecessary salesman and negotiator”
Rob was taken by surprise. He had read the books about initiating a meeting with the demon, what dangers they pose if a deal goes bad, what happens if you don’t come to an agreement… but he’s never even thought about a depressed demon. Despite all of his mental reservations, Rob did what any human with a heart would do.
“That’s nonsense” Rob remarked. “If you really think about it, you’ve done more for humanity than will ever recognize”
Daemon looked up, lava welling up into his eye pits.
Rob continued “Would the Rolling Stones be in existence if you hadn’t brokered the deal? Would Elon Musk have dispatched the worlds first re-usable space ship? Would Lincoln have freed the slaves?”
“Uhh that wasn’t me!” the demon growled
“Well whatever” Rob said, “the point is, is that life wouldn’t be the same without your job and interference, whether good or bad, you have a direct impact on humanity. Just because you broker a deal and never see the people again doesn’t mean that with your help they were able to grow into something more, something beautiful, something that would push humanity forward”
“You’re right” Daemon said, relaxing his shoulders and leaning forward. Daemon’s relief was exaggerated, and to Rob’s horror, an avalanche of cracking erupted from his face spilling lava out to consume his facial features. An orb of molten rock covered his face, and became a black hole allowing the demons scream to escape from time to time.
What was revealed shocked Rob. The rough face of the demon had turned into a much softer, smoother feature.
“Thank you, Rob. You with such a short conversation, you had such a profound impact on my whole being. Anyway, you summoned me for a soul sale?” Daemon continued. “What do you want to exchange your soul for?”
“Can I have a pack of winter fresh gum?”
Fin. | 2022-09-01T15:19:57 | 2022-09-01T12:54:50 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] Adapt a famous fairy tale so it has a realistic ending.
I'm about to go to sleep. Bedtime story!... Except that I won't read anything until I get up. Happy Saturday. | The council stared at the village elder incredulously. They shifted glances at each other before one of the magistrates leaned in to ask of the elder, “Repeat that again.”
“Certainly. Arthur pulled the sword from the stone. According to Heavenly Decree, he is now rightfully the King of England.”
The magistrate coughed into his hand, looked back to his councilmen who stared at the ridiculous fool standing before them. The magistrate started a coughing fit; a reflex of his during anxiety. Another councilman continued where the magistrate left off, “The claim to the throne is not legitimate. We will not make a commoner a king based on superstition of *Heavenly Decree.*" He emphasized the end of his rejection with aristocratic insolence, and the old man’s face started to flush bright red, contrast to his absurd blue garbs.
“Is this the court’s unanimous decision?” He asked. Before anyone else could answer, the councilman answered for them. “Yes, and tell your man to put the sword back where it belongs.”
“He is a boy. He is the rightful King of England. And he will put the sword where it belongs.” He turned on his heels and left. The councilman could not foresee the threat the wizard had made, and the sword would not be plunged back into the earth, but through his heart. | *BONG*
The bell began ringing, and Cinderella suddenly took off with a fright.
*BONG*
Her step-mother and step-sisters tried to prevent her from coming to Prince Charming's ball, but she was able to secure a last minute pay-day loan and rent a dress and carriage.
*BONG*
Unfortunately the rental was only until midnight, and she had to get it in before she was upcharged for the beatiful sparking gown.
*BONG*
"I'm so sorry!" she exclaimed to the Prince, escaping from his grasp.
*BONG*
Her glass slippers sparkled, but they tore her feet to shreds, and running was not as easy as it was to walk at the beginning of the night.
*BONG*
One shattered on her foot and sliced deep into her foot causing her to bleed profusely.
*BONG*
She threw the other off and ran to her carriage.
^*BONG* ^^*BONG* ^^^*BONG* ^^^^*BONG*
"To the shop!" she directed. As the horses trotted to the rental location, her foot was starting to sting as blood soaked the floor. "Oh no, Ms. Ferry will not like this at all..." she worried aloud to no one.
Inspecting the damage, Ms. Ferry snorted her disapproval. "That will be a cleaning charge of double the cost of the rental for the gown and the carriage, and you'll have to reimburse the full about for the slippers! And you're late! that means you need to pay ANOTHER additional day's worth of rental. It's here on paper, you signed it!"
Cinderella was in tears. She had no way of paying her the money, and her meager pay was to be given to the loan sharks. She fell to the ground sobbing, her fate sealed by contracts she had not read thoroughly.
---------
Meanwhile, at the castle, Prince Charming found a hot little number in a tight dress and totally banged her.
------
Cinderella eventually had to resort to selling her body to pay back her loans and died early in a drive by shooting. She is survived by her four children, whom she loved very much. | 2014-03-29T10:44:40 | 2014-03-29T10:11:26 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] A man lies on his deathbed, memories of his favorite videogames flashing before his eyes as he expires. Death watches, and intrigued, offers the man a deal if he can best him at his game of choice. | Death violently threw its controller across them room. **Fuck This! This is Fucking Bullshit!** It shouted.
Basking in the thrill of victory, Meg calmly placed her controller on the table in front of her and said "A deal's a deal reaper. I won. You didn't. I get another life. A 1up if you will." Meg chuckled to herself, pleased with her relevant reference.
**You Call That Shit Winning?** demanded Death, turning to Meg and gesticulating wildly, **No. I Want A Rematch. No. I Want To Play A Better Game. One Without That Bullshit.** Death was stood right in front of Meg, and his deep, empty eyes were staring into her own. **It Can Be Another Racing Game. How About Forza, Grand Turismo? They're Good. Hell, How About We Race in Real Cars? What Could Be Better Than That?**
Meg briefly struggled for words, what with the very concept of Death standing before her and whining like a petulant child. But only briefly.
"Listen" she said, "If I'd known that the Destroyer of Worlds was such a baby, I wouldn't have bothered dying in the first place. As it stands I did die, and then I beat your challenge. Now send me back to my new life, or I'll kick up one hell of a fuss around her!"
Death stalled, stunned by a mortal talking to it like that.
**Fine** he sighed, **I'll send you back**. It waved a hand and Meg vanished in a puff of void, she'd be born nine months later to a rich Korean family, and live a long, successful life. Death turned to leave the non-place where they had played their game, to get back to work, and as it did so it mumbled one thing to itself:
**Fucking Blue Shells**. | "... and that is the deal. Do you accept these terms?" said the black cloaked man. "I have a few terms of my own, if this is going to be a fair challenge." I replied, thinking fondly of a particular game. "Very well. Let's hear them." was the answer of my final challenger. "First, I want the reflexes and form I had in my prime. I know the reflexes of an old man can't compare to that of a being of your nature." The visitor laughs and nods "If you're so concerned about fairness, you and I will have the same reflexes and reaction times. The only difference between us will be the choices we make in the game. Do you have any other conditions?" I smirk and nod "We need certain specialized hardware. I would prefer the arcade version, but so long as we use a certain kind of controller, I'm ok with any version that was released." I state, thinking of the hardware I desired to use in the challenge. Not long after I see the arcade cabinet and it's seats form in front of me. "Done. There is nothing I can't procure for the sake of a challenge. Anything else?" "I'd like an hour to practice and prepare. You may want to do so as well. That is the last of my requests." He points to the machine with a long and bony finger "Go on then."
I sit at the machine and smile. I never got to play the arcade version of this before. I never even got to use the twin sticks. I press start and begin to play. I clear the game three times before the hour is up, and the challenge has begun. He chooses Specineff. The irony is not lost on me and I make mention of it. "What can I tell you, breif mortal? I have excellent taste." is the reaper's response. My choice is Temjin. The game loads and soon the words "Ready" appear on the screen. And then we play. In the first round I make short work of him. In the second round he uses the 13 second death countdown and defeats me. The last round is the most intense game i've ever played. It goes down to the last second and I find my Virtuaroid standing over the exploding pile of scrap that is my foe. I'm shocked and more afraid then i've ever been now than when I was playing. I never expected or even wanted to win, I just only wanted to play Virtual On: Oratorio Tangram ,my favorite game, one last time before it was over.
"Well played. Until next time." my challenger spoke before he and the game fade away, and I find myself back in my hospital room, sitting up, doctors around me with looks of shock and relief on their faces. | 2014-08-16T13:32:17 | 2014-08-16T10:12:32 | 67 | 34 |
[WP] If Subreddits Were People | "Oh god, here comes Atheism," Askreddit thought. He always hated Atheism. Not because he disagreed, but Atheism always asked him for religion-bashing stories, and after a while it got really boring telling the same ones over and over again. Askreddit kept his head down and ignored him.
"Hey, Askreddit-" Atheism started.
"No."
"Okay, fine. You dirty Christian," Atheism huffed, walking off. That was relatively painless. Oh, there's Aww. God that girl is adorable, but she has **so** many cats. A quick wave and Askreddit kept going. Past OneTrueGod preaching again, and past GoneWild who really hated clothes. There were a lot of other subreddits creeping on her, but that wasn't any of Askreddit's business, AdviceAnimals told him.
"Hey! What do aliens sew with?" A voice called from behind Askreddit. Oh god. Not DadJokes. Anyone but him. "A space needle!" DadJokes exclaimed, slapping his knee. There was a chorus of groans from every subreddit in the general vicinity, but DadJokes just kept on laughing.
"Everyone hates you," said Confessions.
"Oh, you." Dadjokes scoffed, waving his hand dismissively. Askreddit just shook his head and kept walking. He tried to ignore the stank coming off of Trees as he walked past MarijuanaEnthusiasts oggling a tree. Sometimes he hated this neighborhood. But it was still his home. | Wright Prompt stood up and stretched. He'd been on his typewriter again. It's all about the concept, he knew, so long as you have good characterization... and concrete sensory details... of course, you've got to have flawless grammar. Unless, of course, you're being experimental. Let's see....
He read back what he'd written.
"Adolph Hitler exclaims, "You don't understand! I'm the only one who can save the world... from aliens who believe our greatest strength is our greatest weakness!" Batman nods sagely; he has already begun to sympathize with history's greatest villain. _Little does he know,_ thinks Hitler, _that I am actually a woman and deeply in love with him,_ as she prepares the atomic bomb."
Yes. This WILL be good.
---------------------------
Norbert E.W. Smith read the paper and grumbled to himself. "Those cops.... them russians.... grr.... those jews.... oh, and them pakis aren't any better.... what's the world coming to, I ask you...." He rumbled along down the page for some time. A thick reddish finger smacked the paper and Smith roared in catharsis- "OH HO! YES! If only they didn't get rid of the gallows! No! Hanging's too good for that slime! Aught to cut their balls off and feed 'em to them, that's what I say! Let 'em try it then! What's the world coming to, when we coddle them like that...." The eruption grumbled down to his usual simmer.
He soon moved to the technology section; "Oh, sure, I'll believe it when I see it, pull the other one... it's got bells on... that'll never work, what are they paying these people to research for..." He paged on to the local section, and almost immediately bellowed "WHAT? Expelled? For something like that? What _is_ the world coming to? What's a growing boy to do? In my day, why, you'd get a slap on the wrist... mind you, I've HAD my share of teachers... oh, those teacher unions, aughta.... What's the world coming to...."
His wife nodded gently as she knitted. "As you say dear, yes indeed...." | 2014-09-21T12:21:55 | 2014-09-21T11:44:40 | 56 | 14 |
[WP] Your entire life's existence is to sit and watch a phone and to answer it if called. You are nearing the end of your life without ever answering the phone. It rings.
I apologize if this has been done already. Thought it up while laying in bed last night. | I've been working here for years. Almost a decade now, actually.
This building used to be so full of life. We were a new tech startup, with an entire market open to us. We were full of excitement, with people bustling in and out all day long. There was so much joy within these walls.
One day, there was a meeting. And people started to leave. They took their art, their work, their laughs. They took their lights and their ideas, and they walked out the door.
It got much quieter. There were only a few of us left, but we tried to stay positive. I still remained at my post, waiting for when I would be needed.
The last few began to leave. We talked, made a few weak jokes, made a handful of empty promises to talk in the future, then they were gone.
One day, it was just me and my boss.
Then he was gone too. The police came by, and asked some questions. It had been a rainy day, slippery roads. Gone.
I still come in every morning. I sit at my post. I am the last guardian of this technological antique, and I will not abandon it.
I watch the phone.
I have been waiting for years.
*ring*
This is it. This is why I am here.
"Thank you for calling Win-rar, what problems are you having with your license?" | Snowflakes.
I watch one cling to the window. The intricate lines and patterns glimmer in the sun light. It only hold for a second, and then begins to melt, turning into a single droplet, racing its companions down the window.
Life and death in a single moment.
My moment was almost spent.
I looked across the cabin to the single table, on which sat a telephone. This telephone was my life. I waited for the day it rang. Some days I cried and threw my chair against the wall with frustration. Other days I stood with my hand over the handset, wanting to pick it up, but hesitant to interrupt the call should it come through. Years I had been here; an entire lifetime.
But today?
Today was a quiet day. I returned to watching the snowflakes in their mini-lives.
* * *
A few hours later I stood, my knees cracking and my back popping. Age had caught up to me. Lately these days I feared I would wither away and miss the call. But every morning I got up and kept going.
I picked up some logs and threw them into the wood stove, causing a loud thump as they shifted around. I closed the iron door, returned to my chair, and resumed watching the snowflakes.
They came now with urgency, almost making an audible sound when striking the window.
Then my heart beat with urgency. Something felt wrong. A pain in my chest.
My moment had ended.
Then I realized something else had happened.
The phone was ringing.
I fell to the floor and crawled. Both of my ends were in sight. I pulled myself with one arm, yelling from the fire that was burning in my chest. I got to the table and pulled myself up. I snatched the phone and pulled it with me onto the the floor. I raised it up to me ear, and said "Hello?"
"Hello! You've won a free island cruise! Please press 1 if th-"
I threw the phone away from my ear, crying.
A telemarketer.
A god-damned telemarketer.
Right before I closed my eyes, I raised both of my middle fingers at the phone.
"FUCK Y-"
...
| 2014-10-07T16:02:32 | 2014-10-07T15:53:33 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | Death by fulfillment. Our society believes that everyone deserves a chance to pursue their ambitions to the finish line. There are those who create masterpieces by accumulating lifetimes of knowledge. Others wish to simply find happiness by experiencing true love, as perfect matches are rare but not impossible given an eternity.
But I am afraid of death.
Many of my peers still live alongside their parents, as it is likely that both parent and child will not reach their goals in one lifetime. But by some astronomical chance, both my parents have passed.
My father, in a stroke of brilliance, painted the picture that now hangs in the National Gallery in the capital. I have not seen it. My mother, being the shy person she is, simply wished to have a child with a man she loved. She had lived fewer lifetimes than father. However she had me and died when I was 8. Simply put, my existence alone had killed her.
I am very afraid of death.
I still remember that night my mother had been crying. She came home drunk, cursing the fate that she had chosen. She had no one to blame but herself. And me. She might have not meant it. She was drunk. But she wanted to live on.
She was afraid of death.
My mother's death caused my father to seclude himself from society, embellishing the canvas with feelings that had taken centuries to build but was released when my mother died in a car crash. His masterpiece was one of grief and fear. The height of his career at the lowest point of his life. Within the same day that his work was hanging in the museum, he was hanging from the rope connected to the ceiling. His final artistic rendition. I still have not seen the painting.
I guess was only natural that I wished to only die when I was not afraid of death.
My peers are long dead now. I live alongside the next generation. Or the generation after that. I lost track of time. Love, school, parenthood, adventure. Nothing had quelled my fear of death. Perhaps it is finally time to learn from one who sought death. Perhaps it is time to take a trip to the museum.
| God, I hate waking up.
Reincarnation was sold as this beautiful, delicate event. You died and are reborn anew at the ripe age of 18.
*Live your lives to the fullest!*
No, rebooting was traumatic. It was also optional, but the choice to reboot locked you in until your final death. I wouldn't have done it if I had known the truth. I had these ideas of waking up peacefully in the same place I died; that, of course, wasn't possible because they were afraid people would get stuck in boot loop. Die, reboot, die again. I guess you wouldn't stand much of a chance if you died in the middle of the freeway or the bottom of the ocean.
Every reboot starts the same. A flood of memories as soon as you're rendered conscious. It can take a while to for them to upload depending on how many cycles you've been through. The real caveat is you don't always make it through with your memories intact. It can really fuck up your *Ultimatum* when you miss a cycle like that. I feel like I was close this time. It slipped right through my fingers, though. I'll remember more as the day goes.
Time travel. That was mine. It seems a little cliché, I know. A lot of people picked it as their *Ultimatum*. No, no, wait...I didn't actually pick that. I set a date so far in the future, my consciousness would deteriorate well before I reached it. They usually terminate the program when you reach that point, but some of the programmers live for the suffering and will watch you bumble through a few cycles before they shut it down. They can fix it - it isn't hard. Fuck is it ever expensive, though. You'd have to hit three or four cycles of wealth and leave every penny you earned to them.
I want to experience time travel for more than one lifetime. After that, I'll just travel to my *Ultimatum* and end it there. I want to see the dinosaurs and the pyramids and the gardens of Babylon. I want to visit California before the Great Quake. Want to see what the first Mars Colony looked like before we terraformed the whole damn planet. They don't let you reboot there, but it isn't strictly against the rules to visit on a cycle.
I've done all those things already. I know I have even if I can't remember. It's stored on my permanent data logs. I must have pissed someone off this time. I must have gotten too close to a forbidden time period. Looks like the creators of Reincarnation have their lives protected from the time of conception to the time of program creation.
This doesn't feel right. We shouldn't be subject to the whims of a few programmers. We shouldn't be liable for the lofty ideals of our 18 year old selves. If I could just find a way to....
God, I hate waking up.
Edit: Sorry for multiple posts. Posted from mobile and it kept saying it failed. | 2014-11-12T01:47:29 | 2014-11-11T23:42:42 | 16 | 10 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.