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[WP] Everyone in your family gets one wish upon reaching age 18.
I would love to see replies where this is known by the public and where it is not. | The grandfather clock ticked towards midnight.
A screen above the command desk provided a digital countdown and much more accurate measure of my fate. We were in the basement of our family home. Our secret seat of power. My uncle paced in the background while my father sat across from me in a comfortable leather chair. The only other person in the room was a hulking secret service agent by the door. He had a machine gun at his side and his finger near the trigger. I looked at my father. Despite his sleek suit and calm face I could tell he was worried. I had always worried him.
“Do you want to go over it one more time?” he asked me.
I sunk back into my own chair and looked at the screen. Five more minutes. “No,” I replied.
“You are going to wish the President of ISIS suddenly wants to call me and tell me everything he knows. This is incredibly important son. The fate of both our family and the nation rests in your wish.” He continued, ignoring what I had said.
“I know,” I said, looking at the screen, not wanting to meet my father’s eyes.
“He better not fuck this up,” said my uncle, a shorter, fatter version of my dad.
“He won’t” said my dad. “Will you son?”
I didn’t reply. Outside this house the world continued to turn, unaware of the importance of this moment. Economic strife and warfare dotted the globe. The nation of ISIS, the last superpower to resist America, had achieved nuclear weapons and stood poised to attack. I wondered what the world would be like if my family didn’t have its own secret arsenal. An arsenal of magic wishes.
When a male of my bloodline turns eighteen years old he gets one wish. It’s as simple as that. It started with my Great Grandfather. He was an archaeologist and explorer. He was the one who found the statue in a forgotten temple deep in the Amazonian jungle. He was a very practical man. When the demon gave him one wish he wished that all his future male descendants would get one wish on the day they became a man. His own son, my Grandfather, was five years old at the time.
For the next thirteen years he tried to prepare his son for what was coming. He educated him as best he could and repeatedly explained the ramifications of his decision. My Grandfather thought him a fool. On his eighteenth birthday he didn’t wish for any of things he had been urged to wish for. Instead, mostly to get his crazy father to leave him alone, he wished to be the strongest man on the planet. No one of was more surprised than him when it came true. You might have heard of my Grandfather. Larry ‘The Crusher’ Johnson. The most dominant heavyweight in the history of boxing. When my uncle turned eighteen he was ready. He had seen the things my Grandfather could do, grown up surrounded by the wealth the boxing provided. When he turned eighteen he wished to become the richest man on the planet. A few years later my father wished to become the president of the United States.
Now I sat in a room with the two most powerful men on the planet. They glared at me as the clock ticked down. I knew my duty. Knew what I was supposed to do.
The clock hit zero. I took at deep breath.
“I wish I was Superman.” I yelled before anyone could stop me.
I would deal with ISIS on my own terms. Then I would deal with my family.
Edit: small stuff | "I don't think a day went by we didn't fight."
"Why was this, do you think?"
I knew the answer.
"I don't know."
"Well why don't you have a think about it?"
Because I didn't have to. I knew why me and my brother fought. I knew. It was because he didn't love me and he never had.
"I think it's because he blamed himself for ma and pa breaking up and used me as some sort of a scapegoat."
It wasn't because of this. In fact the answer was rather more simple. My brother did not love me. He just didn't.
"And you think that's why he left when he was 19?"
I wasn't really paying attention to my councillor any more. He asked too many questions. I wanted answers.
"Look, I think I'm gonna go. I'm 18 tomorrow. So, heh, you know? Big day 'n all."
"He he, yeah sure is!..."
"...yeah"
"You know Michael I really feel like you should open up more."
Who gives you the right?
"Hmm, yeah..."
I left. I tended to get more psychological release on the bus home from my counselling sessions than in them. It was my 18th tomorrow. Like I said, big day. I didn't know what I would wish for. I didn't care. Nothing would bring back my Brother. He wasn't dead, I hope I haven't made it sound that way. He left last year when he was 19. I lied to my councillor. We didn't argue, we never argued. We never spoke.
"One ticket to brick avenue, please."
We would share a glance maybe, once a day. I don't know. I had nothing against him. Nor did I have anything against his hatred for me. Because it didn't seem irrational. But I just don't know why.
I got off the bus and went to bed.
As the morning approached I began to think of what I would wish for. You were supposed to tell the family what it was a month in advance. Tradition. But I hadn't. Nor had my brother. In fact he had never told anyone what he wished for. This had never really bothered me. He had never told anyone. Why? This thought soon drifted away and my mind had started to focus more on what I wanted to wish for. I searched relentlessly. Money? That's what pa had wished for. I am thankful for that. A perfect partner? This is what my mother had wished for...Wait. I ran to the cellar and searched through all our documents for hours. Then bam. I found it. The marriage certificate. My parents weren't married until they were 27. How had my mother wished when she wasn't yet in the family? Unless... That would explain why my brother was so hostile. He wasn't my father's. There was another family with our "gift" and they wanted to be the only ones. My mind exploded with questions, but one in particular was gnawing away at me. What had my brother wished for?
I awoke the next day and my family had already prepared the ceremony. Even my brother was there. I could not look at him in the same way. I took my seat and we began the blessing. It was a low hum, rising gradually. I had decided what I would wish for. I would wish that that the whole world new of our "gift". It was what I had to do. But one thought was still racing through my mind. I couldn't drop it. What had my brother wished for? The answer just wouldn't come, and it frustrated me, so , so deeply. However my thought was quickly interrupted when finally the moment arrived. My father pressed his index fingers on my temples and the humming was drawing to a halt. When one makes their wish, they feel cleansed and free. My father described it as a feeling of "lucidity". I closed my eyes. The humming was growing louder and my father was chanting the prayer. I counted down.
5...4...3...2...1...
I made my wish.
But I did not feel enlightened. I did not feel cleansed. Had the ceremony gone wrong? It didn't seem that way. But my wish hadn't worked. I couldn't use my "gift".
And then it hit me. What my brother had wished for. | 2015-07-07T05:55:23 | 2015-07-07T05:42:25 | 77 | 12 |
[WP] It is the end of days. God and Lucifer stand before the last human being. You are the first neutral soul who is neither good or evil enough to pass into a afterlife and thus must be judged personally. Unknown to them, you are Death and have come for them instead. | For the first time in any memory, ancient or new, God and Lucifer faced a problem together.
Before them both, in a space that was not life, heaven nor hell, stood a being in a grey suit. Me. I looked neither young nor old, my face had no markings but my eyes had a depth to them that could only be matched by the universe itself. There was nothing special to me, other than that I was the last being to ever walk through their gates, and that it was impossible to decide if I should join heaven or hell. Humans walking through the gates had negative or positive karma, the currency of the afterlife. I had neither. I was neutral.
God and Lucifer, both anxious to get the last human, debated amongst themselves how they should decide. Finally they decided to ask me questions.
"If you could chose one of us and why, who would it be?" Asked Lucifer.
I needed no time to think before answering
"I would not choose God, for he makes the decision of who should be favoured happiness, and as such removes power from man's hands. I wouldn't chose Satan either, for who is he but one who brings sorrow upon those God has not favoured."
God and Lucifer, unsatisfied with the answer, asked again.
“If a man kills another man in self-defence, is he good or bad ?” Asked God this time.
“He has brought death upon another.” I answered, but spoke no more despite the disapproving frowns on both God’s and Lucifer’s face.
After some time of waiting for more, Lucifer spat out the last question: “Who is the worst being, dead or alive?”
I looked around for a moment, taking in the last glimpses of the universe and then answered in a soft tone, “me, for I am the only one that you cannot run from,” and without blinking I added, “Your time has come.”
Lucifer broke out into laughter. A mere mortal dared telling them what their fate was? Clearly they belonged to his kingdom, and an eternity of torment.
But what God and Lucifer had not realized, is that the being standing on their doorsteps was not mortal, was not even human. It was Death itself.
Despite their own all-powerfulness, they foolishly believed that there was no one more powerful than them, and that they were the bringers of death.
For as they had always reaped the benefits of death, heaven and hell both grew from the fear of death and from the souls who passed through death to their kingdoms. But they had never in their existence encountered Death itself, in fact had believed Death to be as much fiction as atheists believed them to be.
“You dare trying to tell us about our fates? Who do you think you are?” God said with a red face, angry about losing the last soul to Satan.
"I can, for I am the only thing in this universe that must be enforced upon everyone and everything: The End, or Death as you like to call me. All things have a start, and an end. While you two are the start, I am the end. And the end must come for all. I am Death, the destroyer of worlds. I suppose you both thought that, one way or another. Your time has come.”
| Knock…Knock…Knock…
Oh hi there! My name is Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society. Now before you shut that door on my face, like I know you want to, just let me ask you one question. Is that really too much to ask? I’ve been out here all day. Okay. So here it goes. If you had the chance, would you kill both God and Satan? Not either. Both. I know, I know. You are asking yourself, what kind of priest am I? And before we both go throwing out the word cult, and before you sarcastically offer me some Kool-Aid, just keep in mind that we are all speaking hypothetically here. Don’t get so uptight. This is just a conversation. Oh sorry! Listen to me rambling on, I never gave you a chance to answer the question!
So neither. That’s a fair response. How Saintly of you! Now consider this. If the end of days were to happen, say…next Tuesday, now once again, this is all hypothetical. But let’s just throw it out there. So if the world ended next week, and I were to come back here, fire and brimstone all over the place, your neighbors all flying up to the heavens in a giant beam of light. Say all that were to happen, and you somehow were still here, still alive. Could I count on you to kill both God and Satan. I know, I know, you just said you wouldn’t kill either. But given this different set of circumstances, could *I*, Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society count on you to do this task.
So fine, I understand why you are getting frustrated with me. And well, I guess also due to the fact that I barged into your house. But it’s just so cold out there. The winds are really blowing huh? Almost like Hell is freezing over! Hah! Bad joke, sorry. I know, I know. I just couldn’t help myself. And I mean, *you* are the one making this so awkward. Alright, fine. Before I leave, just one more question. Alright, so building off the scene I just set up. You know, fire brimstone. People being abducted. You murdering omniscient beings. So yea, let’s just keep this hypothetical train rolling. Given all of this, and at the end of the day you do decide to roll with the plan. I Ezekiel Morris, can count on you. And at this point you are standing in front of both God and Satan waiting to be judged. But we all know you can’t be judged. I’d wink here, but I can’t wink. So I’ll just allude to the wink. Would you, if called upon be able to wield this giant badass glowing sword! Swooosh!
Sorry, unsheathing swords doesn’t actually make the sounds it does in the movies. So I decided to make the sound. You know for effect. Okay, okay calm down. Put the phone down. No need to call the cops. I just wanted to see if hypothetically, if standing in front of God and Satan, you would be able to wield this sword. Yes this real sword. But the situation is still hypothetical. Come on! Take it, swing it around a bit. Put down the phone. Come on. No, there’s no need to get pushy. Fine, fine. I get it. You are not the person I’m looking for. I mean, looking for in the hypothetical sense. Yes! I’ve got it. I know who it is. Well good luck sir! I just had the wrong address I suppose. I’ll just walk here next door.
Knock…Knock…Knock…
Oh hi there! My name is Reverend Ezekiel Morris, ordained PhD from the Sanctimonious Preacher Society. Now before you shut that door on my face, like I know you want to, just let me ask you one question…
| 2015-10-19T12:35:16 | 2015-10-19T12:22:46 | 119 | 63 |
[WP] All doctors must carry a staff. The staff must be hand carved by the doctor, and for every patient a doctor can't treat they lose an inch off their staff. When a staff is gone, so is their license.
X-post from /r/crazyideas and /u/BrassDidgeStrings | She bent over and lifted a beautiful, pale, wooden staff from under the operating table. Her scrubs were soaked in blood and sweat, chemicals and tears. It was only Doctor Silvia Nite and her most recent patient. The room was quiet. In her gloved hand the staff carved with great care years ago as a bright eyed medical student shimmered. It always shimmered in the presence of the dead, injured or sick, like a beacon to guide the doctor towards those in need… or to those they had failed.
“I’m sorry” She said as she reached for a scalpel. This was tradition. This was law. For every failure a doctor took an inch off their staff. It was a painful experience for most. The staff was the embodiment of the Doctor’s skill. The longer the staff the better the doctor was the common saying. It was so much more than that. Most doctors worked in safe specialties, where only a handful of failures might happen over a long and wealthy career. The truly great doctors were the ones who would risk their career because saving lives mattered far more.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you. I did all I could… “She was so tired. She’d been operating for nearly 14 hours. “Your name… Your name is… was Matilda Twine. 8 years old… your mom said you loved fire trucks, ponies and the color purple. “Silvia managed a small smile “You were very brave…”
A true doctor never feared losing their staff. They only feared failing a patient.
She turned her staff around, taking the scalpel and inhaling deeply. With a sharp, precise slice one inch of her staff fell onto the operating table. Silvia folded the small piece of herself into the little girl’s lifeless hand and set her staff to the side. “Can you forgive me?” She asked the little girl.
In the quiet room, Silvia’s pale staff rattled, a new vine emerging from the cut base, twining up and around, adding more than an inch in length. Silvia removed her gloves to wipe the tears from her eyes. She laughed softly “Thank you.”
From the top of the staff, a flower had bloomed. It’s petals a beautiful deep purple.
((First time writing for a prompt. ))
edit: oh wow so many comments thank you all! And reddit gold! thank you /u/AdmiralBiscuit ! | "Where do I start?"
I patted my son on the back as he peered at me, baffled, knife and stick in hand. His blue eyes shone like oceans. Like his mother's. I missed Katherine. She had died in an accident when John was just two.
"You start on the outside."
He sighed, looking over the stick. "Are you sure I can do this? What if I mess up?"
"You won't. Trust me."
He gave the stick a final examination. "Well... okay..."
"Take your time. This is the single most important thing you'll ever do, second only to saving a life."
"Right..."
"Mark, do you know *why* you are doing this?"
"I'm not sure..."
"We are doctors, you understand? It is our ancestry. Every father has taught his son for generations. My father taught me, as I am now teaching you. Everything I have instructed you in has been training. Training to prepare you to be a surgeon, a doctor who will save lives. You are almost ready to assist me in my own work. The last thing you must do as an apprentice is to craft your own staff. Your staff is your life as a doctor. If you ever fail to save a life, which will certainly happen as it does to us all, as it did me once, your staff begins to wither. Fail enough, and your staff is gone. When that happens, you will no longer be able to perform your trade."
He nodded. "I think I see..."
I smiled. "Trust yourself. Trust your hand, and trust your eye. That is what carves your staff, and that is what saves lives."
I stood up. "Let me know when you're done."
"All right, Dad."
I stood up to go in the house. As I was walking, John suddenly made me pause.
"Dad?"
"Yes?"
"Has your staff ever withered?"
I sighed. "Yes. Yes, John. It did once."
"Is that why you don't operate anymore?"
I nodded solemnly. "Yes, John."
I turned around, and walked indoors.
I couldn't stop thinking about the memories that that simple question had opened. A simple pebble had broken the dam inside my mind, causing a torrent of emotion and memories to wash over me like a flood.
Half-conciously, in a trance, I began to walk back to the bedroom, the one I hadn't opened in years. Slowly I opened the door. It creaked, beckoning me inside to face the past.
I picked up my old staff from the ground. It was built for my hand, and no other. There would never be another like it to me. It was almost perfect, too. The envy of many a failed doctor, other than the tip which was dark black, signalling my one failure. My only failure.
I sat down and embraced the flood. I let the memories wash over me. It was time to face what I had avoided for so long. I began to weep. "I'm so sorry, Katherine. I could've saved you..."
________________________________________________________________
Yaay, my first completed writing prompt! I so fabulous! Lemme know what you think!
EDIT: Doot doot dooooot! It has been revised, thanks to the advice of all you wonderful people! | 2015-11-12T20:03:09 | 2015-11-12T18:15:33 | 812 | 387 |
[WP] You have the ability to travel back in time, but when you do you take over the body of one of your direct ancestors at random. One day, you travel back to 1942 and find yourself standing at a podium looking out over 100,000 soldiers. | I went back for one sole purpose: to kill Hitler. It wasn't supposed to be all that hard, you see. I have German ancestry, so I was just going to hop around in the 30's and 40's until I ended up in the body of a young German man. I'd join the Wermacht and pick Hitler off the first chance I got. Even if I failed, I wouldn't be a problem. Time travel, you know? I could just start over.
But I never expected THIS.
The red banners waved in the wind before me just after I made my jump. Their triumphant image clashed heavily with the dejected faces of the thousands I saw before me in the snow. Given that it was 1942, I knew exactly where we were. The Eastern front. But something was off.
Everyone was wearing a Soviet uniform.
If they were German, then it would have made sense and I would have just been a bit unsettled about having a Wermacht officer as my ancestor. But this just didn't make any sense. Sure, I had SOME Russian blood in me, but nobody had told me stories about my great grandpa the Commissar or anything.
"Comrade Stalin, they're waiting." Whispered an officer to my side.
Well apparently Stalin wasn't a very faithful man, because if I sure as hell would have known about it all if his wife was in my family tree. I was just about to jump back and leave poor old Stalin lying on the ground while his own consciousness took its time getting back in when it hit me.
What better opportunity would I get?
"Comrades!" I yelled to the depressed crowd. "I know this war has been hard, and I know the fascists have been winning battle after battle!"
"Comrade, that wasn't the scri-"
I motioned to him to stay quiet.
"But fear not! The turning point of this war is soon to come! For today, our code breakers have cracked the German codes!"
The crowds faces lit up, and I could see the half joy, half disbelief in their eyes.
"We will now know every one of their movements before they make them, and we can respond accordingly! Victory will soon be upon us! If you do your part for our motherland, then our victory is assured!"
The crowd erupted in cheering, while the officer next to me tried desperately to keep a straight face. He knew I was spouting bullshit, but what he didn't know was that I was such an obsessive history buff that I'd memorized half the battles on the eastern front.
I stepped away from the podium, and left the stage with the other officer.
"Comrade, I know that the men need encouragement, but they're going to their graves. We shouldn't lie, this war is going to be lost."
"You misunderstand." I replied. "A month from now, the Germans will attack Stalingrad. In February of next year, we will push them out and nearly destroy their army in the region. We will win this war, and the Soviet flag shall fly over the Reichstag."
"C-Comrade?" Said the officer, worried. "Are you well?"
"I am as well as I will ever be. I promise you, I will win this war." | The sun glints blindingly off a hundred thousand metal helmets, obscuring my view of the faces lined dutifully before me nearly as far as the horizon. I squint to see the gray-green sea of soldiers nestled between rows and rows of aircraft, shining just as bright.
Trust me to land in a body in such a compromising position. I've never been one for speeches, never felt prepared or suave enough to perform. I can feel the sweat dripping on my palms; my legs are like jelly. I glance down at the notes on the podium to buy myself a moment of preparation, but the words seem to melt together beneath the sun and the force of my quailing nerves. No choice: I'll have to wing it. I lift my head to face my people.
"The time has come," I begin in a quavering voice. My words pass through a slew of old-fashioned microphones and boom out to the crowds, loud, echoing, unintelligible from my tiny podium. I pause, breathless. What would I want to hear? What does a soldier need to hear on his way to war? "You may not feel that you are ready, but you are. Each and every one of you has prepared for the challenge before you. Each and every one of you has trained tirelessly for this moment. You know who you are-- you know what you must do. You know that you-- that *we*-- can succeed. Let us come together to fight bravely for a new tomorrow!"
The crowd cries out raucously in response. I thank my lucky stars that I landed in an ancestor who spoke my language. A comrade steps in from my right to take the podium and I turn to shake his hand before he speaks. It is as slick with sweat as mine, but I'm too relieved to be disgusted.
And then I am too disgusted to feel relieved. My eyes meet the eyes of the man before me as my hand drops from his grasp. He is familiar and unfamiliar, with a face made infamous by legend, by newspapers and the History channel, and heading an invading force to be reckoned with. He stands at the podium and barks a command in a language I can't comprehend.
The sea of light disperses left and right. The gray-green sea marches into the aircraft-- the *ships*-- as I dare to gaze at my own gray-green hands, unnaturally long and naturally damp. But not from sweat.
My comrade from the podium catches me as I stumble backwards. He presses a hand-- is it truly a hand?-- comfortingly into my shoulder as he steadies me. *Why are you so nervous?* he seems to say, though he doesn't speak. I can feel him, though, feel his words with every fiber of my being, as loud as if he had spoken them in plain English. *Our scouts have all succeeded. There is no reason to believe we will be detected. Even so, it is our best chance to survive. They are too overcome with turmoil to see us coming. You made the right call.* He makes a sound, a gargling belch that might be a laugh, and raises a long finger to point at me. *I can't wait to see my high and mighty leader in his ridiculous human skin!*
I gargle shakily back. I am trembling worse now than before, and nearly collapse when I look down and see that my unsteadiness is as much a result of my strange tentacular legs as it is my growing fear. I let my comrade lead me into an aircraft.
I strap in, numb to my surroundings until my surroundings stare expectantly back at me. Their leader. Their leader, that's me. They want a signal. I raise my hand to them, push my thoughts out with all my might: *GO!* And they do.
The aircraft lifts into the sky, pointed towards home. Not the home of my ancestor, not the sun-baked rock I had suffered only long enough to orate upon, but to the only home I had ever thought existed: mine. | 2017-04-17T19:00:18 | 2017-04-17T17:42:21 | 103 | 10 |
[WP] You are a normal average person but you happen to have many supervillain friends. This is awkward when heroes keep trying to rescue you. | "NEVER FEAR CITIZEN, I SHALL SAV-..."
"Really dude?! Really we're gonna do this again? Getting sick of your shit Awesome Dude, this is the 3rd time this week."
He opened his mouth to protest, then shut it knowing my reply already. I don't know how else to explain it to him so it ends up getting pretty loud when he won't listen.
"Listen, I know you're bored, I know you're lonely, I'm sorry but Sr. Evil is my friend now and your going to have to accept that." Awesome Dude hung his head and murmured something about justice.
"NO DUDE THERE'S NO JUSTICE TO BE HAD HERE! You're just mad I don't want to hang out with you anymore. Sorry dude, being a hero is boring. I can only save so many cat from trees before I go nuts. Get out of here, stop coming back, it's annoying."
Awesome Dude finally flew away, but not before Sr. Evil unpaused the game and started decimating my character.
"DICK! Awww man you're such a dick, I was defending you!" | "Huh...yo Doc, can you help me out? My parents won't let me go to a party."
"Of course Quentin, what do I make them do?"
"Just uhh...ask 'em to let me go, and free me of chores."
"Done."
"Perfect."
A boom comes out from the ceiling, oh no, it's captain who-knows-what again.
"FEAR NOT CIVILIAN FOR I SHALL SAVE YOU FROM THIS GREAT EVIL! HE IS TRYING TO BRAINWASH YOUR PARENTS!"
I simply replied with a "Fuck off, this is the THIRD TIME this week you've "saved" me, he's a friend of mine you idiot."
The hero looked somewhat puzzled, but flew away nonetheless.
Doc Vile stared at me with a "are they that dumb" look, and I was disappointed in our towns heroes, so many times, they make the same mistake.
Here I am keeping a man that could brainwash billions at the same time to do as he pleases distracted with Nintendo, and superheroes think I need saving? Jeez, do they save me to inflate their ego or something?
Party ended, it was great, I got laid. Doc Vile invited a few more of his "Villain" friends, although they were insanely friendly. King, Kolorblind, and Miso. We chilled out the whole night and grinded Super Smash Bros hours. When I went to take a piss, I heard another loud bang through the ceiling, and thought to myself: is he really that much of a...
My thought was promptly interrupted by what's-his-name as he bellowed "WHERE IS THE CIVILIAN YOU KEEP CAPTIVE HERE!"
I walked out of the bathroom, just in time to hear Miso say "He's taking a piss."
Walking over to the hero, I explained everything and even added how much of a dumbfuck he was. He never came to my house again. | 2017-05-28T08:21:14 | 2017-05-28T06:06:01 | 59 | 17 |
[WP] It's the middle of the night and you forgot your keys. You knock at your door and your mother opens it. Smiling, she whispers "Run" and closes the door. | "Who was that?" a gruff voice said faintly behind the door.
I stopped in my tracks, just as my toes touched the first of two wooden steps. As I made my way back to my bike, my mind tried to process what she meant, but the presence of another voice gave me pause, the cool air on this summer's night suddenly becoming colder than winter.
"Oh, no one," she replied sweetly. "It was the wrong house."
"At this time of night?" it asked again.
I knew that voice...
I swallowed hard, my muscles stuck in place like a clay model of a man. Seven years had come and gone, and his voice had long been purged from my memory.
That is, until tonight.
We changed our names, skipped states, and even had a protective order against him, but a piece of paper can't stop a determined man.
When a fleeting but obviously distressed yelp emanated from the door behind me, I knew exactly who was with her on this night. Without taking another step, I unbuckled the holster beneath my green messenger bag, and pulled out what we called "life in a metal shell," the only thing that would keep us alive when we needed it the most.
A solid twist of the door knob and two shots to center mass was all it took to save a life.
He collapsed to the floor, eyes open wide as if surprised by the grand entrance. *\*You should have known it was me...*\* I told him in my mind, but my jaw refused to cooperate -- it was locked shut from the adrenaline pumping through my veins.
She fell back into the felt cushions of the chair, her trembling hand covering her mouth as she stared at the dying man she used to call "dear."
I slowly lowered my gun, my finger moving from the trigger to along the side of the barrel. Silently, I watched the light leave his eyes and his head finally drop back into the puddle of blood.
Sirens filled the air, and I took a deep breath.
It was finally over. | My brother told me not to come back until I found the Keys, but I didn't believe he was being serious. I mean, we're family, right? Yes I messed up, but that didn't mean that they'd leave me out the night the Fox came to town, right?
Nope. I had searched for the Keys since early morning, and I returned home empty-handed. Then, my mother closed the door on me, telling me to run.
I don't want to die yet.
The Fox was not fond of water, so I ran toward the lake. There are *things* in the lake, but none as terrible as the Fox. I was hoping that the monsters would sort of scare each other off. The trouble was that the lake was behind the park, a well-known hangout of the Fox. Maybe if I went around?
Then I saw it. One of the Keys was shining on top of the playground tower. And the Fox's cries were getting closer.
If I could get the Key, I could fight, or use it as a bargaining chip to get away. The Fox liked Keys, especially the blond ones.
I ran to the playground and started to climb. The Key began to edge away, whimpering all the while like a broken beast. But luckily for me, I managed to catch it.
The Fox slinked onto the woodchips of the playground.
"I have a Key," I said, holding onto the Key's wrist. Beneath by grasp it began to bruise, but I paid it no mind. Its crying was only a distraction, now.
"So you do," the Fox said, chuckling. "But do you know how to fight with it?"
"Of course I do," I bluffed. "My brother's a Trapper."
The Fox hesitated, for just a moment. I took the opportunity to jump down, dragging the Key by my side. I dove into the lake.
"I don't know how to swim!" the Key said.
"You don't need to be alive to work," I replied.
The Fox prowled along the water's edge. "You can't stay inside the water forever," he mocked. "If you give me the Key, I'll let you leave."
Stupid Fox. If I didn't have a Key, I couldn't go home anyway.
"Find another prey," I called, treading water. "I won't let you have me or the Key."
The Fox growled, and shuffled away. The Key hung onto me, and cried into my shoulder. "Thank you," it said. "My name is Alice."
"I didn't ask for a name," I snapped. "You'll meet your end soon anyway." When my brother got his hands on it. Trappers were not kind to Keys.
Still, it looked at me with watery eyes, and it almost looked liked a human child. "But not now," it said glumly, "and that's all I can ask for." | 2017-07-04T21:47:49 | 2017-07-04T20:46:09 | 115 | 46 |
[WP] Last words aren't just words spoken before death, but actually call death to you. You have known your last words for years and kept death at bay by refusing to speak them. Now, however, they need to be said. | Joe Eustace looked at the makeshift ramp. He couldn't resist, jumping the canyon was just to tempting.
In his ear was the chanting of his family. He would miss them, but if he was going to die, it was going to be glorious. With no once of regret in his voice. Joe let the words slip from his mouth.
"Hold... My... Beer." | Grass, tall and smooth, traces lines against exposed skin, lying flat against the earth. Across the horizon, the sun begins to set. In departing light, the sky finds itself tinged by deep purple streaks, shooting past clouds to define the dusk. It's heaven here, sometimes. In the palms of both hands, you grip clumps of fragile green, holding vegetation tight, and for a moment you can feel it. Everything. The lonely souls walking downtown streets, tattered shoes holding fragile feet just centimetres over sordid ground below. The half-rate lovers, trading stolen glances late into the night. The urban professionals, the homeless, the coffee-shop dwellers, the hipster low-liers, the 2nd rate parents, the 1st rate parents and their 2nd rate kids, the prisoners, the judges, the police, and the citizens, the businessmen, the artists, and the insane watching rabid moonlight bounce off the metal bars of a supposed caring protection while longing for the plains beyond. You feel it all. And although it's beautiful the time is now and you know it and they know it and even the earth beneath your feet knows it so you take a breath, and prepare to speak.
"Home. I'm ready to go home once again."
And, just like that, so it is.
| 2017-08-07T09:13:24 | 2017-08-07T08:47:50 | 358 | 11 |
[WP] Your father leaves the house to buy milk, 50 years later he comes back with milk in hand and hasn't aged a bit. | I thought I would be prepared, the same way an electrician would know to change his own lightbulbs. After all, I had turned this from a hobby into... a profession of sorts. And that's not even counting the space of 50 years, that yawning gap of time since Dad left. That's a long time for memories to dull, for emotions to temper.
In truth, the tears still flowed freely and uncontrollably. Dad looked just like how I had always remembered him.
"Are you... Martin?" he said. There was a wild panic seizing him, and for a second I worried he would drop the groceries right there on the porch. "Jesus, you... look just like my boy. What the hell is happening... I just... everything is different..."
I refrained from hugging him, and instead guided him to the hall, made him take a seat. I clasped his hands in mine, and marvelled at how real they felt.
"Thank you for trying, Prunae," I said, using the formal honorific they preferred. "But I'm alright, I really am."
"What are you talking about? Where's your mother? Is she still-"
"Please, you're doing more harm than good at this point. I would like you to leave, please."
Dad started to protest again, but he evidently thought twice, then grimaced. With a sigh, he snapped his fingers, and the glamour began to fall away, the same way a candle's armour of wax yields to the wick's flame.
I had never witnessed this before. Not directly, like this, not even after I've helped more than two hundred families try to locate their missing family members. It had started as a way to cope, a mere distraction, a single person's efforts to help others track their family down, when law enforcement could assist no further.
And that's when I started to encounter the Prunae.
It's hard to say with certainty what they are. I have neither the training to scientifically classify them, nor the ambition to. The closest analog I found in my research were 'tree spirits', free-form entities, capricious, unpredictable, but ultimately benign. They shied away from humans most of the time, but when the opportunity presented itself, they would appear, seek to befriend humans in need.
Some clients had hired me to make sure that their returning loved ones were real, not con men poised to inherit. Others simply wanted me to help them come to terms with it, an independent third party to reinforce their beliefs. After all, the Prunae were always careful that their existences were not revealed to the larger population.
What remained of Dad now was like... a mass of fireflies, dimmer, but still emitting a cool luminance that reminded me of dying embers.
"You sure you'll be OK, Martin?" it said, directly into my mind.
"I will be," I said. "I've had some time to learn to grow and to do well without him. I have a family of my own now."
"Would you like to know what happened to him?"
"No," I said quickly, lest my determination flee me. There was a vacuum still in me, the space which Dad used to occupy, filled with questions never to be answered. But I was ok with that now. I was older, a little wiser. "I'm fine. Things will be fine, as they always have been."
The Prunae smiled, then faded before my eyes. It swirled up into the ceiling like the smoke of memories, rising in twirling ribbons.
I sat there for a while longer. Then, I picked up the phone, spoke to Anna first, then called my children, one after the other. I didn't want to alarm them, but I did want to hear from them.
I thought too about how those client of mine who saw the Prunae never lived long after that. They left this world in different ways, some violently, most peacefully. For a while I had worried that the Prunae were malevolent, hostile harbingers of death, here to tease and torment before it all ended.
Now though, after an encounter of my own, it seemed far more likely that they were merely here to help tie off loose ends, as it were.
"Thank you," I said, to the empty hall.
---
/r/rarelyfunny
| I would like to say I had forgotten - that I didn't care. That I'd moved on.
That's what they all say to do, you know? Move on. As if it was just possible to forget a part of your mind, cut it out like a tumor, and set it aside. Well if it was a tumor it wasn't a benign one. I'd tried it all, therapy, friends, family, and it went away. For years sometimes I forgot about him, and then all of a sudden he came howling back like a cancer that just wouldn't go away. All it took was a fight with my sister, or with Dave. It had stayed for a while back when mom had died.
And he was due to come back today, the bastard. I'd been checking the feeds for the last couple years now. His transport feeds still showed on time. His transport hadn't exploded.
I hoped he didn't come.
I hoped he came.
A knock.
I froze for a moment on my sofa as my heart skipped a beat.
"Home," I said, "show camera feed."
"Right away, Alexa," the house responded, and my phone showed the visitor on the doorstep.
It was him.
He was standing there as if he'd left yesterday, as if he hadn't betrayed us at all. He had startlingly blue eyes, a virtual clone of mine, and his dark hair looked a bit unkempt, but it fell right past his earlobes, just like it used to. He was holding an open carton of Milk in one hand. Oh no big deal, just going to see my family I abandoned 50 years ago - better buy some milk before I go there though. And he was smiling.
*Smiling*
I got up from my sofa, and checked the camera of my phone. My deep red hair fell past my shoulders, and a few wrinkles had crept up on my face, but for the most part I looked young enough. The wonders of telomere preserving drugs. My blue eyes were clear - there wasn't a single tear in them.
I stalked over to the door, and with no show whatsoever threw the door open. Yep. There he was smiling, his eyes twinkling. “Hey Al-“
He never finished because I clenched my fist and punched him in the gut. The milk went flying out of his hands and spilled all over the lawn.
He never saw it coming and reeled backwards. “Listen,” he said, “I know you’re upset-“
I laughed at that. “Upset,” I said, flatly. “You know I’m fucking upset,” I said and slammed my knee against his stomach, knocking the breath out of him.
“You couldn’t understand,” he said, “my life was at a dead end, I needed some cash.”
“Oh right,” I snarled, “where the hell could your life possibly go after having two young daughters and a wife? Of course your life was over.” I swung again, and he ducked. We were out on the driveway now. The wind was cool against my skin, but I felt like I was burning up.
“100,000 dollars, Alexa! Inflation adjusted!” he said, “I can turn my life around! Just spend six months on a really fast ship to study time dilation or whatever, and I’m done. It’s like magic!”
Magic. Yeah it had been magic how quickly all our lives had been uprooted. And how we didn’t see a cent of it.
“Why are you back?” I asked, my voice low.
He looked genuinely taken aback. “To see my daughters,” he said, “my wife-“
“Your wife’s dead,” I said.
I almost smiled at the expression on his face. He had shown less expression when I had punched him. It almost made up for the lance of pain that went through my heart every time I remembered mom. Almost.
We stood there on the driveway for a moment, both of us breathing heavily.
“Alexa, let me make up to you,” he said, and he actually sounded halfway genuine, “I’ll share the money. Please, Allexa, I don’t want to be a villain.”
“I’m a millionaire, Dad. Thanks to mom’s caring, my sister’s support, and in a way I guess, thanks to your betrayal. I don’t need your money, and I wouldn’t take it even if I was dying.”
“Al-“
“Bye, dad,” I said, “never come back. I've gotten used to it." I turned back and slammed the door.
“Alexa,” the house said, “your heart rate is elevated, and your stress levels are dangerously high. Would you like to call emergency services?”
I laughed. I guess that’s what closure felt like.
The tears came soon after.
***
(minor edits: grammar, spelling, rephrasing, added in bit about milk)
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/)
edit: Hey guys didn't think the story was that bad lol. why the downvotes :/ Feedback is welcome!
| 2017-11-19T16:19:42 | 2017-11-19T16:04:53 | 2,866 | 162 |
[WP] When you die, you appear in a cinema with a number of other people who look like you. You find out that they are your previous reincarnations, and soon you all begin watching your next life on the big screen. | "What is this?" I asked as I made my way down the aisle.
It was a normal theater, in fact it looked just like the one that I used to visit all the time with my wife, but something was... different. There were five other people in the room, all seated nearly as far apart as possible. Something prickled in the back of my mind, something that connected me to those other people, but I wasn't sure what it was.
"What is this?" I repeated, louder this time.
"Just shut up and take a seat." A man in the top right section of the theater shouted back.
Grumbling, I found a seat in the bottom section of the theater and settled in, watching as the screen changed, showing a video that began with a blast of white light. The peculiar thing was though... as I watched, I recognized every moment of the film. It was my life. *My* life, exactly. From the moment I exited the hospital on my birth date, to the moment I took my final breath. My entire life, summed up in a five minute video.
"What the...?" I began, when someone plopped down in the seat next to me.
"Pretty crazy, huh?" A man said, and when my eyes found his, I gasped.
He looked exactly like me, as if someone had dropped me into a cloning machine. Or was I a clone of him?
"What is this?" I asked for the third time.
My clone motioned around to the theater. "Welcome to the Brady Wells Cinema, my friend. We all wind up here eventually. The Brady in the corner up there? He was the first one of us to show up here."
"That's... nice." I breathed, still awestruck by the man in front of me. "But what is this place?"
Other Brady relaxed back into his chair, letting his arms stretch out behind him. "Call it Heaven, call it Hell, whatever you want, but we've got one job while we're here: to watch."
"Watch what?"
Other Brady pointed at the screen, which was fading from black to gray, like those scenes where someone is opening their eyes.
"The next Brady. We watch his life and pray that he gets it right. If he doesn't, he'll show up here, just like you did." At the look I gave him, Other Brady grinned. "Aw don't feel bad, Brady, I'm here too, aren't I?"
I nodded, still not quite understanding. The screen faded to white, and then a room came into view. A hospital room, a plethora of doctors, and a very joy-struck man that held his arms out towards New Brady.
"What do you mean we 'pray that he gets it right'? Get what right?" Someone in the upper section directed a loud *shhh!* in our direction.
Other Brady casually flipped them off without ever taking his eyes off me. "Life. If you haven't guessed yet, we're all here because we failed in some way. Brady number 3 up there? One of the richest men alive, but no kids. Not even money buys our way to the Great Beyond. So we watch. And we pray that the latest Brady gets it right, then we can all move on."
"That doesn't make any sense." I said finally, struggling to keep my voice below a whisper.
"What do you mean?"
"You just sit here and watch? That's it? What's the point if you can't help the latest Brady live his life correctly? It could take a millennia to get it right." I glanced around the theater. Only five other versions of myself in the room. How many more until we got it right?
"Look, I'm not saying I like it, or that it's perfect, but it's just how it is. I don't make the rules. That door you came through? It only opens once, and that's when the latest Brady dies, otherwise it's locked. So yeah, we just sit here and watch." Other Brady whispered, keeping his eyes glued to the screen.
The latest Brady was being rocked gently by strong arms. A soft lullaby was being sung by an unseen woman.
"Have you ever tried to go through the door when it is open?" I whispered, and Other Brady spun on me so quickly, it was almost inhuman.
"No," he hissed like a venomous serpent, "and we aren't ever going to. You may not like it, Brady, but this is how it is. We sit and watch. You try to disrupt that and cause trouble? We'll stop you. We've done it before." And with that, Other Brady rose from his seat and relocated himself to across the room.
I sighed, slumping into my seat like a pouting child. My eyes found the screen, watching reluctantly as Brady was passed off to the father. He was crying happily, hugging the baby close to his chest. Was this really all there was in the afterlife? A dim theater with irritated versions of myself? I wanted to believe that this was all some horrible dream, that I would wake up in my bed an old, weary man, but I knew I wouldn't. My time had passed, and now it was this New Brady's turn at life. I would just have to learn to deal with it.
As I watched the film, I adjusted my position in the seat, trying to get comfortable in these budget theater chairs. It was going to be a long movie. | **Day 1:**
I can't believe this, and neither should you, frankly. Does it not to you seem contradictory in any sense that my reincarnations, all of a similar person (myself) yet different, a phenomenon I can only compare somewhat to the various editions of a book, can exist someplace all at once? "Where is this cinema?" I ask. None of me know the answer, but nobody leaves, and nobody but myself comes. There are 78 of me here, myself excluded, henceforth to be known in the grammatically appropriate contexts as *myselves*. The others' appearances I simply cannot describe. They look neither old nor young — they look visibly rejuvenated, glowing with a virtually tangible youthfulness, yet have retained in their bones and their cranium the wisdom that comes solely through old age and maturity. We are all naked, yet feel no shame.
The cinema has 10 rows of eight seats. I take my seat at the front-most row, my head permanently in motion as I observe the people around me. There do, ironically, appear to be cliques, as though 78 versions of myself could not all get along. The large screen looming ahead of us is blank, so I rise from my seat and engage in conversation with myselves, an act I am familiar with, it not being the first time I have spoken to myself. The screen remains blank.
**Day 293:**
I have not, contrary to the experiences of myselves' many ex-girlfriends, as myselves have been only too pleased to point out, gotten bored of speaking to myselves, but am satisfied anyway with the first visible signs of life. For the first time in what feels like a decade (though I am assured by Myself #23, the official timekeeper, that it is the 293rd day of Myself #80's life), the cinema lights up, rather abruptly. There appears briefly to be a problem with the sound system — which, I should mention, emitted exactly what Myself #80 heard during his time in his mother's womb — but it eventually returns to normal, and the screen is filled with a light so bright that as I turn my head to look around, for the first time since my abrupt materialisation in the dimly-lit cinema I am able to properly see my surroundings. As myselves return to their seats from the circles they had formed with their cliques, I follow suit to observe the birth of Myself #80, Arturo Bennedetto.
**Day 3087:**
Arturo is growing up rather nicely. He's a bright boy, with a wit far sharper than that of his peers, and a passion for reading that most of myselves and I can relate to. Here he is now, waking blissfully to the delicate birdsong, which floats gently through his open window to alight, note by note, on his forehead. He cleans up and hops downstairs, only to see his parents arguing heatedly over the island counter in his kitchen for the seventeenth consecutive day, not that they are aware of his maturity and the fact that he has been keeping count. Not that they care anyway. Bitterly, he pours a cup of water down his throat, and leaves the room.
**Day 6201:**
Arturo has dressed his best. Out the door he strolls in suit and tie, ignoring completely his bickering parents, having already been desensitized, every one of his steps oozing with confidence, the sunny summer weather perfectly reflecting his cheer. Down the pavement he walks, whistling a cheerful air, arriving, inevitably, at Ambra Carino's. Prom is just around the corner, and who better to ask to it? After all, they are best friends, united not only through a love of literature but their troubled pasts and the intricacy of their characters.
With two self-assured knocks at her door, myselves and I eagerly awaiting what surely will be a rare day to celebrate, he announces his arrival. There is no response. He glances at his watch — it is half past 12. Knowing Ambra lives alone and there is no risk of waking another, he knocks again, on this occasion more than twice, and again, till five minutes have passed. His imagination providing several pessimistic reasons for the lack of a response, as is only typical of it, Arturo runs to the backdoor and knocks again. The silence is disquieting. He sheepishly calls her cellphone, only to have nobody pick up, and rereads their texts, only to detect nothing abnormal, nor any announcement of her leaving the house. A tear beginning to well in his eye, more out of the somewhat unreasonable but very real concern and fear his personality naturally generates than anything else, he reaches for the top of the door-frame, clasping with relief the key he knew he would find, and shoving it, with trembling fingers, into the keyhole.
As the door swings open, he runs into the house and up the flight of stairs, arriving first at her bedroom door. Despite managing to calm himself down enough to at least knock at the door again, there is again no response. Arturo takes a step back, runs at the door, and kicks it open with his right foot. As it swings on its hinges, ricocheting off the wall on which it is mounted before once again covering the frame of the door, Arturo glimpses a sight of unimaginably horrifying proportions, much to his shock, and ours too. The bedroom door sways close, hiding Ambra's hanging, lifeless body, and Arturo, his self-confidence depleted, his swagger torn to shreds, simply doesn't know what to do. He presently decides to break down and cry.
**Day 6210:**
"What will happen when the final seat is taken?" I once asked Myself #2.
"Who knows?" he replied. "Perhaps we will all be reincarnated and a new circle will begin. Perhaps some of us will go to heaven and some to hell. Less unrealistically, though, perhaps the cinema will just continue to fill."
As Arturo falls, then, from the top of the building, bracing himself for the impact, yet relatively sanguine, willing the earth to envelope him and to welcome him, I, too, brace myself for the impact, and mourn the loss of Myself #80.
**[Edits: attempts at formatting.]** | 2022-05-10T21:37:24 | 2017-11-23T06:48:50 | 1,154 | 131 |
[WP] Dogs have been genetically engineered to live as long as humans. As a child you pick out a puppy as a companion for the rest of your life. | "You're such an asshole. Get off the bed."
Unsurprisingly, the response was a low, drawn out yowl, and a clear answer, "No".
"Don't you 'no' me. Get off the damn bed, I need to change the bedding."
"Noooo," he replied and snuggled in deeper. Deep brown eyes peered at me from underneath the comforter; the bastard was mocking me. I took a deep breath, and blew it out, then said, as calmly as I could, "Ringo, if you don't get off the bed right now, I'll tell Duke you ate his cake."
Duke, my husband's dog, had just enjoyed his 34th birthday but had only half of his dog-safe cake before the other half "mysteriously" disappeared off the counter. Despite learning how to communicate with one another somewhat effectively (a side effect of literal decades of living together that the geneticists who first engineered Life Companions hadn't anticipated) I still didn't know why my shepherd and my husband's bulldog hated each other so much. I suspected they were too similar, but whenever I tried to bring it up Ringo refused to talk about it and left the room. That didn't mean that I was above using that rivalry to get what I wanted from Ringo at times, like now. Namely, getting his stubborn, stinky self off my bed.
Ears at attention, Ringo's head popped out of from their protected position. His rump wiggled a little bit, and I knew I had him. After 30 years of living together, his tells were obvious to me. Unfortunately for me, Ringo knew me just as well. He paused, looked over at the shelving unit holding all of my shoes, including that brand new pair of expensive pumps I hadn't had a chance to wear out yet. He looked me dead in the eye.
"You wouldn't," I said, taking a step back. A single bark was confirmation that yes, Ringo would. | Canis lupus familiaris. Formerly known as the domestic dog, thanks to genetic engineering our canine companions no longer lived a scant decade. Now, they lived as long as humans, and needed a name that separated them from the simple cousins of wolves that they used to be. Apex Genetics decided that name should be 'Familiar.' Within the decade, every child in the United States was getting a familiar for their fourth birthday. Not even five years later it was every child on earth.
 
Nowadays it was exceedingly rare to see a person without their four-legged companion. It feels like I could meet a thousand people and only one of them wouldn't have a familiar. Of course, the reality was that when a person lost their familiar it was like a piece of themselves. Worse still was when a familiar outlived their partner.
 
That's what Shelters were for now. A place for all the familiars that lost their friends and homes, to gather and be looked after while socialising with the employees and each other. It was also a place for people who lost their familiar. Rather than buying a new puppy that was sure to outlive you, you could peruse local shelters for a familiar your own age to befriend over several sessions and eventually adopt. In this way the lives of familiars and humans alike could be repaired.
 
Of course, I was looking into Shelters for an entirely more selfish reasons. Stuffing my phone back into my pocket, I levered myself off the couch, dislodging the ball of fur at my feet. "Sorry, Cuddles," I appologized. She didn't respond, of course, only stared at me from the floor as I got ready for the job interview. I made sure to check Cuddles' food and water, saying goodbye and scratching her head before locking up the apartment. It was a short drive to the local Shelter, and a smiling woman greeted me at the door.
 
"You must be David!" she beamed, leading me inside.
 
"Yeah, that's me." I replied.
 
"Well, have a seat." She instructed. I nodded, sliding into the chair across from her and reaching into my pocket to silence my phone. I had mouths to feed and wasn't about to risk blowing the interview because of a collection call. "I like the look of your application, and your references all had positive reviews." I smiled and she continued. "I can't help but notice you came alone. I lost my own Daisy years ago, and the Shelter really helped me cope. How long ago did you lose yours?"
 
"Oh, I didn't," I replied quickly. "Actually I've always been a cat person." | 2018-03-19T09:56:46 | 2018-03-19T09:51:51 | 61 | 19 |
[WP]At last the Dovahkiin dies. Now all the Daedra princes he has served over his life fight for his soul. | Well, he's dead. Soul of a dragon. Body of a Greek god. Voice like thunder. Character of an absolute douche. Dead is dead. Struck down in combat. Like a fool. The circle of life.
He'd been quite the player in his day. So many of the Daedric Princes seemed to have fallen under his spell. Each of them seemed to believe he was theirs to keep.
But no. It was all just a game to him. For every promise he made, for every sweet nothing, for every empty declaration of fealty, of loyalty, of undying (hah) obedience and servitude, there were ten more just like it, to so many others.
It was heartbreaking, really. That it had all been so easy for him. That he had played them again and again.
It was all just a game to him. He'd even had the gall to devour souls for himself, absorbing them and using them for his own entertainment.
It was all just a game to him.
They looked at each other. They never expected to all be there. Each thought he belonged to them and them alone. But no.
#DRAGON SOUL ABSORBED
*I wonder if I can convert this into perk points*
It's all just a game to me too.
| The Day the Daedra feared has come. Dovahkiin has died! But not only that, for a great strife has formed. The Dark Daedric princes who did have the Dragonborn serving them, are now fighting for his greatest item. Not a necklace or a sword. For it is not a mundane item. They want the soul of the Dragonborn.
As they all stood before a mountain from where the Dovahkiin fell, Hermaeus Mora spoke first. "My siblings! The Savior of the Mortals is dead! And I shall lay my claim to his soul. He served me as the last, before his death. Also, I have knowledge of all the knowledge on Mundus!"
However, Hermaeus wasn't obeyed. The princes weren't moved by his speech. They all thought a stupid tentacle shouldn't have something such important as the Soul. Peryite, Prince of Pestillence spoke after Hermaeus. "Dark Princes! He served me first, and I should have his soul. He had to kill for me!"
Peryite wasn't obeyed too. "Obeyed? Pfff. He had to kill a priest of Boethiah and a Stendarr's Vigilant for me, or else I would kill him too. I am the Dominator of Mortals! I am Molag Bal!"
The speeches went on and on, until Nocturnal got her turn. "I am the Princess of Darkness. My ravens can talk. I am the badass here. The Dragonborn restored the Thieves' guild to their Glory, because of me. I am the badass here. I can also unlock all doors. Even those in people's minds. Just now, I mysteriously convinced you all to vote for me to get Dovahkiin's soul. Shall we vote?"
And the vote was cast. Everyone voted for Nocturnal. She actually managed to convince them all. And all she needed, was The Artifact. The Mighty Skeleton key, before which every locked door fell.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
Thanks for reading! Always welcome for feedback. For more stories, /r/longr33n. Bye! | 2018-06-15T08:25:13 | 2018-06-15T08:08:41 | 31 | 12 |
[WP] As a joke you take your pet pig on a plane with you once you get up in to the air Suddenly, several things once said to be impossible until this very moment start occurring everywhere. | “You think you’re real funny huh?”Tom said as he was rolling his eyes, looking at me like the Black Plague.
“I’m just trying to prove a point, Tom. Get off my back” I said while bringing Trev to the cockpit. “Pigs gotta fly someday and you don’t see a pilot with a teacup pig too often”
The plane was heading to Singapore and it’s ETA was 5 hours from now. It wasn’t a short flight but it was short enough to bring Trev along with me.
Two hours in and we’ve received word that there was a sudden notice of bad weather coming up in a few minutes. Tom proceeded to make an announcement of turbulence and seatbelts were buckled.
Without notice, Trev oinked with excitement and jerked around uncontrollably. It was weird because Trev only reacted in that way when he’d meet other pigs and my mother.
“What in the actual fu..” Tom shouted but couldn’t finish when the plane was suddenly hit by what felt like hail. I looked closely and what I saw was not hail.
They were cats and dogs.
Edit: Thanks for having a read at my story. Hope y’all are liking it as much as me writing it! | “Oink.”
I’m trying to talk to my pig, Wilbur, which doesn’t seem to be working. He’s some pig, let me tell you that.
Anyhow, I’m making all sorts of faces, and he’s curled up looking so adorable in the small portable pen I was forced to keep him in circa airline rules. While this is happening, I hear some odd whispers right in my ear.
“Keep moving.”
I turn around, disconcerted, but by that time there is no one there. No one is even sitting behind me. There is a guy in the middle seat diagonal to my posterior, and he’s probably the one that whispered so rudely into my ear and made very uncomfortable, so I’m going to give him a piece of my mind.
I grab Connections, the in-flight magazine with “560 Dream Vacations You Must See Before You Die”, and whirl around.
“Hey, asshole!”
With my full force I throw the magazine, which hits him right in the face. By that time, my pig starts flying, making small loops in the aisle.
People have gotten out their phones to take pictures, and my nemesis has gotten up to return the favor. I undo my seatbelt, and run down the aisle, dodging the snakes which have been let loose throughout the lofty plane. I step over an Indian Cobra, and lock myself in the lavatory.
“Keep moving.”
There it is, the whisper again. What the fresh hell could it be?
The fist of my nemesis emerges through the door, and I yelp, dodging it just in time.
I enter the toilet, my head under thick and chlorine-filled water, navigating the inner workings. It’s cramped and dark, and I think I’m not alone in here.
I feel a slimy touch on my leg as I swim deeper into the pool, deeper and deeper until I can see only abyss. More slimy touches, slowly and slowly encroaching up my leg, a guttural drone of chanting.
The pressure rises in my ears, and I quickly halt, taking a deep breath of water.
I look down and see a giant squid, with a pig face. | 2018-07-28T07:22:49 | 2018-07-28T07:19:37 | 2,333 | 91 |
[WP] You've accidentally summoned an ancient, long-forgotten god while trying to pronounce furniture names at IKEA. Fortunately, the employees are prepared as this has happened before.
Edit: holy shit this really blew up overnight. Thank you to everyone who has written along, and to everyone else reading.
For those of you who are wondering if I got this prompt from this post:
https://www.reddit.com/r/memes/comments/aby6au/bought_a_table_and_suddenly_there_were_screams/
You are correct. I decided to put a different spin on it as I've seen this prompt, or one like it, before.
| "JENKINS!" The call came over the shoulder mounted radio. The *-Chirp-* it made was reminiscent of the old Nextels. Ours had to be updated, of course. Ikea standard issue. Prevented interference.
"Yeah?" I responded, between mouthfuls of meatball.
*-Chirp-* "WE GOT ANOTHER BIN 52!"
"Ah, shit. Another Mikkaelian?"
Ikea was an odd company. Weird, in the literal sense. We dealt with issues not a lot of other companies had to.
*-Chirp-* "Nah, looks like Blümlampish. Damage is pretty minimal."
"Yeah, but the clean up..."
*-Chirp-* "It's not so bad. Looks like he got into the swedish meatballs."
Suddenly, I had lost my appetite. I spit the food in my mouth into a napkin and frowned. "You know those things would almost be cute?"
*-Chirp-* "Like little cats , with mandibles."
"Felinsects I could handle, but it's the eerie singing that gets to me, man."
*-Chirp-* "Yeah, I feel ya."
"On my way."
I ate lunch outside, it was my happy place. Heading back in to find Johnson near freezer storage meant entering and navigating "the Floor." If you ever shopped at Ikea, you know the Floor; it's a virtual maze of storage units, easy-build furniture, and quirky decorative items one must walk through to reach the exit again. Conventional thought is that the Floor ensures customers see most of the merchandise before checking out on the ground floor. That's a nice benefit for Ikea, but that's not why we do it.
"Hold on, Johnson. We have a problem."
*-Chirp-* "Oh god, Jenkins. Don't tell me."
"There's a Blak Kallax trapped in the Floor."
*-Chirp-* "Shit."
"Yeah, he's headed for the children's section. I'm going in."
*-Chirp-* "Evacuating building. Pulling fire alarm."
"Good man, Johnson. Stay on the Blümlampish."
The massive creature was invisible for the moment, but a tantalizing snack is all he needs to wreck some havoc. But, that's why we're here.
"Time to insert rod B up your ass, Kallax."
"YOU'LL EAT THOSE WORDS, MORTAL."
"Come at me, you interdimensional piece of particle board." |
**“BLÖTSNÖ?”**
The word seems to escape my mouth in a haste I didn’t predict. A stillness hangs immediately heavy in the air, as a silence begins to surround me. Lights dimming, even flickering, as a cold breeze moved through around my feet. Below me, in contrast to the spreading cold, a warm vibration type of feeling was beginning to form. Store accessories began to freely tumble from shelves, shifting about on the floor in conjoined piles like winter ice dancing over unfrozen river water shuffling about below.
In what was a few seconds, that seemed to last an eternity, a blaring alarm began to sound. Many wall-mounted alarm counterparts painted red light like a ship beacon. Panic, pandemonium and outright chaos could be well imagined to be festering off in the store. Screams were heard, but muffled by what seemed to be an invisibly thick fog. Oh yeah, store, that’s right. I wasn’t in some forlorn ancient tomb, on the surface of some unknown foreign planet, I wasn’t rotating freely with my inertia on a distant cosmic space station, or even drudging through the swamp of a medieval battlefield. I was at the Ikea in West Sacramento.
No matter how this scene was clear to me, to the best of my recollection, I was next rushing quickly upward. Something powerful had seemed to grab me by my shoulders and simply yanked upward, ascending me into a maddening upward acceleration of disorienting blankness. As a void both appeared and passed before my eyes, the darkness was all consuming. At the distant center of my vision, appeared a white light. Rushing towards me were several pillars, almost Roman in appearance. I might know better, if I didn’t ever drop out of art school. That’s probably why I was having difficulty pronouncing that damned name. However, I didn’t yet realize my mistake.
These twelve pillars began to fill into my perception, appearing from such a contorted angle that I doubt it was a physical path they took. Everything that I saw from here, felt like something I already knew. It was very clear to me, what was going on. These twelve pillars represented different aspects of humanity. They were greed, lust, anger, society, hostility, tranquility, hunger, art, music, charity, anarchy and devotion. Since I was a human form, they presented the most beautiful person I have ever seen, suspended alongside me, and also moving upwards at a high rate of speed. Their clothes seemed to ripple in a wind that didn’t exist. I believe they did this, so I could relate to them, and understand what they were saying. Her voice was strong “you are in the hall of gods. I am going to let you hear what they have to say, but one utterance of their voice contains more information than your entire universe, so you won’t be able to take it all back with you.” My hands felt cold in my pockets, “OK, I’ll have to take the risk I guess”
A deafening boom, followed by flashes of a blonde Ikea worker seeming to perform CPR on me in the third-person, then flashes back to a dark hallway of madness.
“Hurry, they’re going to take you back!” she screams, but her voice seems to trail into the distance as… | 2019-01-03T00:56:07 | 2019-01-02T23:25:29 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] You receive paper planes to assist you throughout life. Sometimes they are a dollar bill, or more, when you are short on a payment, others are a note with a message. This time, it simply said "Hide." | Adults have a sort of in-built edit function in how they see they world. When something happens they don't understand, they just don't really see it. Even if it's right in front of them, they see only what they expect to see. Kids, of course, don't have that problem. They see everything, including the magic. But to them, it's not such a big deal.
The paper planes come when I am not expecting them. One dropped out of the sky one time in the park when I was near a pretty girl and just said 'Ask her'. I did, and I ended up dating her friend for a few happy years. Another landed on my desk in an exam hall, catching the eye of the supervisor as it arced neatly onto my desk. But he didn't react, because he didn't really see it. Didn't process it. That one contained a formula I needed for my calculus exam, written in neat old-fashioned copperplate. Could that be my own handwriting from the future, I have often wondered? If so there is no indication of it in my untidy scrawl of today. The best plane I ever got said only 'Winston Churchill', and I was perplexed until my job interview the following day when the interviewer asked me which controversial historical figure did I most admire. Turns out he was a Churchill fan.
I've always felt they were playful things, a sort of well-meaning gentle joke from the universe at my expense.
But lately, things have started to change.
The university where I teach as a junior assistant lecturer has a long outer walkway lined with pillars, looking out on a grass playing fields. About three weeks ago as I was walking along it, a plane thumped into the pillar next me, hitting with unusual energy compared to their usual gentle landing. It said 'KEEP OFF THE GRASS'. This was the first one ever in all capitals. And I must admit I felt my stomach tighten a bit. It was a misty, wet day and I stared out from the colonnade towards the playing fields reflexively, one hand on the cold stone pillar as if to steady myself, and I saw... Well, nothing really. A *shimmer,* maybe, the barest distortion of the grass and the rain, as if something had passed through but only briefly. It may have been nothing at all, just the wind and the rain, but the thing is that once you stop editing things out and become attuned to what is *really* there, you start to get a feel for the strange things in the world. You don't deny that part of yourself. And I felt something that evening, even if I would have liked to convince myself I hadn't.
And then a week ago in the library, while I was studying alone and late at night, a plane landed on my desk and slid to a halt, again with more energy than they usually have. The message was written on the outside: 'BE SILENT'. I stared at it with some surprise because I had not said anything in the previous two or three hours, and no-one was near me. But then I realised just *how* silent the library was. Deathly quiet - not a rustle of paper or a cough or the creaks of shifting position in a chair or tapping a pencil unconsciously. Not even the hum of air conditioning or a flicker from the ancient electric lights. Nothing. It was the silence of deep underground. I sat like that for a long, long moment in the absolutely silent stillness and then, as if it had always been there, the air conditioning was humming and I heard some people talking quietly and a girl across the room coughed and tapped her pencil against her teeth. The whole moment had been like a break, a disconnect.
It had a freaked me out, I will admit it, but hey. Nothing bad had happened.
But then: today.
I was in the tech lab using one of the 3D printers they have there. Again late. Again alone. I know; I am friendless, but it's still the best life I've got. I was staring into space because I was trying to figure out why my model was not printing correctly. And I saw something I'd never seen before: I saw the plane come into this world. Or come into being. Whatever it does. It wasn't there and then it was, and it sliced right through the air towards me. If I hadn't caught it, it would have hit my right between the eyes. All it said was one word:
'HIDE'.
I wanted to obey immediately, but have you ever actually tried to hide as an adult? It's like trying to remember how to use a limb that has been dormant for years. I went to move left, then right, my eyes sweeping the room and seeing cupboards and desks and electronic equipment but nowhere a fairly large adult man could conceal himself. But a part of my mind was shrieking at me to *just act now* and so I squeezed in under the desk I had been sitting at. It was wildly uncomfortable and my knees and hips immediately started to ache.
But then I realised that the silence had come back again. Just like in the library. Completely dead. Completely still.
My breathing desperately loud in the confined space under the desk, magnified by that dead silence to the sound of a revving chainsaw. I closed my eyes, focused on my breathing. A part of me still felt stupid, a grown man hiding under a desk. But the great majority of me felt terrified.
I didn't move a muscle. The ache in my legs steadily built from a whine to a scream. It was almost unbearably comfortable. I wanted to shift my weight to relieve the pressure. Just slightly. But I didn't. The silence was lying on me like a physical thing, cloying and thick.
I waited. And waited. The pain in my legs was the most deeply unpleasant physical sensation I could remember in my sheltered adult life. I had to think back to accidents of childhood to remember anything worse. I wanted more than anything just to get up, to straighten out my legs.
And then there was a sound in the room. The tiniest thing, a sort of metallic *chink.* I couldn't think for the life of me what it might be, my mind spinning trying to figure it out. It sounded like metal touching off metal, or glass off glass, maybe like -
My breath caught.
At the front of the room there was a coffee machine. In the past the university used to provide disposable coffee cups, but to be more environmentally friendly they replaced the disposables with regular coffee cups. And all those coffee cups sat beside the coffee machine on a small table. About ten feet from where I was hiding. Just off the aisle that led down between the desks.
I hadn't heard metal on metal or glass on glass but ceramic on ceramic. One cup touching gently against another. Disturbed somehow. Moved. As if something had bumped very slightly against the table.
And then when I looked down at the ground right in front of me visible between my agonised knees, I saw something new. A paper plane. It hadn't been there a moment earlier. It could not have flow there - it must have just appeared.
Written on it was: 'DON'T MOVE.'
\--
Thanks for reading! Loved this prompt. Much more stuff at r/HouseBlendMedium.
​ | "Go to the party tonight. At half past ten, go upstairs and enter the second room to your left." That was a very memorable night.
"Take the job, but only for a week. Remember to feed the cat outside the restaurant every night." That one had definitely been strange.
"Don't buy the bike. Use the money on the car you were staring at earlier today." And so I found myself in my neon green Lamborghini outside my girlfriend's house, looking at the note. Devoid of any detail or inkling of direction. Just the one word. "Hide."
The notes were certainly helpful. The first led me to find my ex-girlfriend cheating on my with that total tool, Gabriel. The second was a little less obvious despite having more instructions. What ended up happening was the cat kept coming back to the restaurant; after I left, she gave the pain-in-the-ass owner such a horrific scratch that he sold his restaurant to me at a quarter of what it was actually worth. And the car? Well, I'll just say it's been downright magnetic. I \*must\* be someone famous, people insisted when they saw me. A movie star, or perhaps a brilliant scientist. It's certainly helped with lonely nights more times than one.
The notes would fly from the sky right into my hands since I was old enough to read. Never told anyone about it. At first I thought this was perfectly normal. I only realized in my later teens how mistaken I was. I came from a small town in the middle of nowhere, and now I was in LA driving a sports car dating a high-price accomplished lawyer. I put my life in the hands of the notes. They were always the way around my problems.
Which was why this particular note, above anything else, perplexed the hell out of me. I didn't have any problems to "run" from, let alone hide. I had proven myself capable thus far, so why didn't the note give me a way to get rid of the problem like the others had so many times before? What's more, it didn't say where. It didn't say how. It didn't say when it would be okay to come back. Just the one word... "Hide."
For the first time since I was a child, something felt off. I got out of my car and walked to Brenda's (my girlfriend's) workplace. It was a snazzy law firm, with a look that both impressed and bored. The cliché weighing scales greeted me as I swung open the glass doors which opened up to the lobby. "Brenda Martin, please," I said to the receptionist, tapping my fingers on her desk nervously.
"Are you the--"
"Yes," I interrupted immediately.
Giving him a brief scrutinizing look, the secretary said, "Very well. Just sign in here and you can be on your--."
The doors behind me suddenly opened with a gust of wind, and for the second time, the receptionist was interrupted. This time, by a paper airplane. "Forget the previous note. Don't go upstairs. Leave the building and go home."
As I read the note, a billion questions arose within me. But I could sense the receptionist's inquisitive eyes on me. "Sorry, that was just... a prank. I know my way up, thanks."
With that, I stuffed the note into my pocket with the other note, and (ignoring the receptionist's wide-eyed expression) went up the staircase 4 at a time. I was almost at the third floor when I heard the gunshots. Terror-stricken, I climbed up the last few steps even more quickly. "Please be alright," I muttered, gasping for air.
There were just pools of blood. An arm bent wickedly over a cubicle. Some flesh glued to a monitor screen. I shielded my eyes before I saw any more.
"Jake? Oh my goodness, is that you?" I immediately turned to the left and saw my girlfriend, covered head to foot in blood but seemingly uninjured. She was holding her heels in her left hand.
Both she and I jumped as someone shouted, "FIND HER! She's the only one left!"
"Brenda, I don't under--"
"Now isn't the time. You got my note, right? We need to hide, now!"
And she grabbed my hand, my mind travelling miles within seconds to wrap itself around what she just said.
"Wait, you know about the--" was all I could manage between my wheezes as we found ourselves in front of my car.
"Now isn't the time!" she nearly yelled. "Give me the damn keys!"
I searched my pockets and tossed them to her. We both got in, and she drove like hell.
"Brenda, I really don't--"
"Shut! Up!" she yelled so forcefully that I was hurt. She seemed to notice, because she immediately softened her tone and said, "Sorry. I just... a lot of my friends just..."
With a pang, I remembered the scene we just escaped from. "I--Yeah, no worries, my fault really..."
We were on the freeway when she finally sighed and said, "So, yeah, I'm your Note-Writer."
"My... 'Note-Writer'?"
"Yeah." She sighed again, releasing some of the tension from her fingers on the steering wheel as she drove. "And that was my first note, like ever. Sorry, I had to go to the rooftop to escape and--"
"I get that. Kind of," I interrupted. "But what's a Note-Writer, specifically?"
"Damn, I forgot you didn't know..." she said pensively. "Well, there's a few of us left in the world really. I don't fully understand how it works myself, but... we're prophetical. There's a program to learn about it and--well, I attended as a child and here I am now."
She took an exit and parked in a nearby parking lot, turning off the car. She pulled out a notepad and began scribbling. Unsure of whether I could speak again, I tested with an "Um..." When she didn't respond, I pressed on. "But I've been getting these notes my entire life. You said that was your first note, but..."
Brenda's pencil slipped off her notepad and fell on the car floor. "Wait, you're a Reader?! Why haven't you ever told--wait, why don't you know about Writers?"
"Of course I know about writers--"
"Capital W. Short for Note-Writers, dingus." She scrunched her eyebrows, frustrated. "But you got my note all the same. Did you get another note after mine?"
"Yeah, it told me to ignore the 'Hide' one," I said, pulling out both notes and handing them to her. She slapped away my hands.
"I can't read those."
"What? Of course you--"
"No, I can't! If I do, I'll go blind!"
Stuck between a snort of laughter and a gasp of incredulity, I cleared my throat. "That's crazy. Of course you can--"
"No, I'm serious," said Brenda, more calmly but more firmly. "They're your notes, and only the addressees can read them. Still... I'm worried. No Reader can receive two Writers' messages."
"Okay, hang on. I'm not sure how to bring this back up, but I have to ask. How is this tied to what we just saw?"
"I don't know...unless--um..." she said, frowning more than ever. "Did the note tell you anything else besides to ignore what I wrote?"
"Yeah, to go home."
Immediately, Brenda turned the car back on and started driving.
"Wait, what are you--What if it's the same people that killed all those people that sent me this note?"
"I'm counting on that," she responded defiantly.
Another detail irked me. "But all my life, this other Writer has helped me. Why the sudden change of heart?"
For the first time since I'd known her, Brenda laughed. "Don't you know Jake? This is a battle between two Writers--one that's a small piece of the War." | 2019-01-11T22:42:45 | 2019-01-11T22:33:42 | 39 | 18 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I've bought peace to the Middle East.
I've reconciled broken families.
I've ended addiction to opioids.
I've made suicide irrelevant.
And it's the greatest curse anyone can imagine.
While a select few humans have had superpowers awaken, mine is by far the most corrosive to society. My inability to feel possessive or attached has led to the near downfall of our species. There is no more anxiety. No more suffering to struggle against. No allies or enemies. No fear of death. Only the incessant forward march of time.
My inner peace has been shown to be folly. I only ever wanted peace on Earth and Goodwill toward men, yet instead I have created apathy and complacence. Humans atrophy and decay. My mere presence is enough to wipe clean any ambition of those unfortunate enough to be near.
No drive to cure cancer, so my mother died. No aggression against drunk drivers, and so my brothers were killed and the police only brought body bags. No fear of ignorance, and so libraries burned without anyone inside.
I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. Please, God, give me the misery I need to grow strong. Because my apology is only words, and I don't care to get off the couch. | “So your power is super... taste?” Roy asked.
I nodded, taking a quick bite of my turkey and cheese sandwich. I was able to enjoy every little detail, and that made everything I ate delicious. Even though I heard people talk about foods they did and didn’t like, I just couldn’t get enough of anything people could give me.
“So like, what does that do? You just... taste better?”
I swallowed and nodded once again. “I know it doesn’t sound like the best power, but it has tons of uses,” I explained, taking another bite.
“Like what?”
“Well, for example,” I took a pause to swallow, “this sandwich tastes *really* good!”
“And?” Roy looked curious. He raised an eyebrow and stared at my sandwich, confused. I guess he’ll just never get the true deliciousness of turkey.
“Uh, well, I guess if I wanted I could use it to solve crime. Do taste tests, stuff like that.”
“Don’t you wanna be a teacher?” Roy pointed out. I hate when he’s right, always so clever. No wonder he got telekinesis.
“Oh, yeah, that,” I said, finally finishing my lunch. “Well, uh... I could teach cooking. That could work.”
Roy nodded, slowly. “Oh... kay?” I smiled. Finally, I had proven the usefulness of my powers to someone!
“See? Super taste can be kinda cool, you know,” I smirked as the bell rang. Roy sighed as he got up from his seat.
“Well, see you Jack. Oh, before I go, why did you get super taste anyway?” Roy asked as he grabbed his backpack.
I thought for a moment. “I dunno. I think I just like food.”
Then Roy walked away, leaving me alone. When I was certain no one was looking, I took a note out of my lunch box. It read: *Enjoy your lunch today, sweetie! Love, mom!*
I smiled, put the note in my pocket, and walked to my next class. Could that have something to do with my powers? Eh, it doesn’t matter. I love you too, mom. | 2019-09-08T10:01:27 | 2019-09-08T09:47:00 | 61 | 27 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | I always felt alone as a child, even talking to myself when I felt the need for conversation. It started when I was 4 or 5, I guess; parents were too busy to my many siblings that I only had myself for company. So I talked to myself... and I answered myself. My mother always said, "Oh, she's just playing. Let her be." And it made sense when I was a child. Until I turned 21 and my answer didn't come from my mouth. I found I could duplicate, make multiple copies of myself and I didn't feel so alone.
If I was ever so alone and I needed to talk to someone, I'd split and three people: me, a listener, and someone to make brownies for us. It was always comforting to know someone was there for me, even if it was still me. Sometimes I use them for "evil;" if I don't want to go to work, one of them will. If I don't want to go on a date with someone but they don't take no for an answer, if I need to go to the store but I'm out of patience to leave the house, ect, ect.
But eventually I got sick of myself and left my apartment in hopes of finding new companionship but how does someone with... well, multiple personalities just go up to someone and say, "I'm lonely and would like you to fill the void"?
My thoughts swam with reasons to go up to someone and start talking to them when a voice behind me said, "You should open with a joke."
I made a face and turned with a groan, expecting to see an other giving me advice, and my eyes landed on the face of someone with kind, green eyes, broad, strong shoulders and a smile that warmed my heart.
"Sorry," he said, chuckling. "I didn't mean to interrupt your internal debate but it sounded like you could use some help."
'Internal?' I thought. 'How did he know I was-'
"I can read minds," he answered without even waiting for a question. "I hear everyone's thoughts but yours kind of pulled on me. It doesn't make sense, I know, but I felt like you needed someone to talk to."
I squinted slightly and decided to test this, playing an annoying song from high school in my head until he reacted.
And react he did; he chuckled. "I loved Raining Tacos as a kid."
My mind went... not blank, but in hyperdrive; all my others swarming me with questions to ask until one stood out. "Do you wanna get a coffee?" I asked. Hearing my own voice ask a question that I didn't have to answer made me start to smile.
But what made it bigger was his response. "I'd love to." | "Perceived Invisibility? What's that mean?"
My friend stared at me puzzlingly across the table, having no idea what kind of power I had.
"So, you can become invisible at will?
"Not quite. Only people who know me or I want to know me can see me."
"Weird. So you have like a social barrier to everyone else?"
People stared from all across the the room at my poor friend.
"You ok man? Who're you talkin to?"
My friend looked at the man speaking to him, and then back to me.
"No one..."
The man looked at him for a few more seconds, before returning to his conversation.
My friend lowered his voice to a whisper
"I see what you mean. How exactly do you live like this?"
"Not very well. I pretty much have to put forward an effort to make friends everywhere I go, and that can be... Difficult. It's always a struggle. To find the right people."
"Really? How do you get food? Get a house? Survive?"
"Either I'm friends with them or they never knew I was there regardless. Anything I touch, that's about the size of backpack is invisible along with me. I'm imperceptible until I make a conscious effort to appear to someone. I may as well be a ghost."
I saw the question finally cross his mind
"But... Why do you have this power?"
I paused and thought, like I had a million times before. Why was I cursed like this? What, as a person, did I truly feel. And then, I knew.
"I guess, I don't want to be seen. The people who always try to get close, or get my attention, always hurt me, one way or another. I'm sick of people always seeing them, and having them see me after. So, I guess I just don't even want to try."
I put my head down. I never wanted to face it, but I had to. My friend, this random person I just approached, hadn't known I existed a moment ago. And yet, now he knows more about me than anyone else in the world.
My friend opened his mouth, and then closed it again. He had grown pale looking at me.
"What's your power? Probably isn't worse than mine"
"I-I copy the power of the last person I speak to. How long have we been talking"
"Maybe 10, 15 minutes. Why?"
"Shit! Can you see me?"
He asked a man who was walking towards us. The man simply kept walking, as if he didn't exist.
"Why? Why did you speak to me!? No one can see me! You knew this would happen!"
He drew back his fist and let loose what would've been a haymaker. Fortunately, I was faster. I swiftly sidestepped beside his punch, pulling out my baton as I did it.
"Why? How am I supposed to get rid of this? No one can see me, or hear me, or even know I exist. How do I live like this?"
He kept swinging and I kept dodging. Every punch a little slower than the last, until he began to sob. I'd had enough. I brought up my baton, and smacked him hard over the head. He passed out.
"Little do you know, your a valuable resource. My employers will pay top dollar for you. Copycats are always useful."
I took out my radio. Phones didn't work. Only dumb phones, or radios. Apparently, if it's smart enough to recognize you it doesn't know your there.
"I've got another copier. I'll bring him to the drop point. Send someone to meet me." | 2019-09-08T11:40:23 | 2019-09-08T11:07:43 | 40 | 21 |
[WP] People's powers match their personality: impatient people get super speed, protective people get force fields and so on. Explaining why you have your power is... difficult. | The first time it happened was in 5th grade. It had been a day like any other for me up until that moment; go to school, listen to the other kids brag about their amazing powers and then be mocked for not having manifested mine yet. It really wasn’t anything out of the ordinary.
But that day when they finally came around to rubbing my perceived lack of power in my face, it felt like a fire had sparked in my gut and from there it spread outwards through my entire being. It was a fire born of indignation that instilled within me a desire for the world to be different; for it to shift to what I saw fit. *And it did*; within a single moment the world seemed to twist itself into a new reality and suddenly nobody in that room had any power anymore. Those showcasing theirs just moments before were suddenly left looking like powerless fools.
I still remember that one kid that fell out of mid-air and his confusion at being left flightless.
The sheer amount of panic that ensued then and there resulted in a rather stressful situation for everybody involved and a cacophony of loud noises. In my already fairly annoyed state, I wished for those noises to stop and with that wish that spark that had still been faintly smouldering within me ignited again and left all of them speechless, literally, they no longer had the ability to speak. Needless to say they panicked further.
And it was that moment when they could no longer speak that I understood *I* had done that; *I* had warped reality.
And then I panicked and to be fair who wouldn’t. After all I had no idea how my ability worked. What if I couldn’t reverse it? And out of that panic that spark in my stomach ignited for one last time that day with the desire to reverse things to how they were before. And they did, reality conformed to my will once more and everything was as if my power had never activated in the first place. No one even remembered anything from that incident.
After that I didn’t manage to utilise my ability again until I found a young kitten by the side of the road whose hind legs had been run over. That sight made my gut wrench and I wanted nothing more than to challenge the cruel reality and so I did. The fire coursed through me once more and with it came the changes to reality and the kitten was healed.
It was then that I understood what my power was. It wasn’t the ability to change reality as I saw fit but to challenge it. I could rebel against the world and if I had enough willpower and desire, I would emerge victorious.
I had the power of rebellion. | Dan watched his partners work. He sat silent, and so nobody bothered him. That was just how he liked it, really. He was able to do his part of the school project in peace.
Fortunately, he got at least one good group member. Ted looked like he he was sleeping, but he was probably being more productive than any of them. Technopaths were handy to have when doing a school research project. The guy may as well have a computer installed directly in his head. Appropriate since even before he awakened his powers last year he damn near had technopathy anyway.
Sally was fidgeting nervously over her keyboard. She was still unaccustomed to her powers, and had difficulty controlling them. That might not be so bad if the forceful, strongly opinionated girl had not gained super strength and now had the issue of unintentionally breaking things. Ironic that she had become so shy and closeted because of it. It also made her a terrible group member, since she was more focused on not breaking things than the work.
Kelly, the unofficial leader of the group, was doing almost as much work as Ted was. She was literally doing the work of three people thanks to her cloning ability. Of course, the already hyperproductive girl that swore by multitasking would awaken that power. It made her both useful and annoying. Having one person micromanage everything was bad enough. Having that same person micromanage you from three different angles at once was worse.
"Say, has anyone seen Dan?" One of Kelly's clones asked. "I swear he was right here a minute ago."
Ted half opened one eye, looking directly at Dan, and shrugged before closing it. Sally shook her head and slowly poked at a key, letting out a visible sigh of relief when it did not break.
Kelly growled. Dan smiled. He loved his power, he really did. It was so useful to avoid unpleasant conversation.
"I'm right here." Dan said.
Kelly jumped. All four of her. "What the? Where did...when did you get back?"
"I never left."
"Oh...okay then. Just...just... don't disappear again."
"I don't disappear. I can't turn invisible or anything."
Kelly looked like she wanted to say something, but Sally interrupted.
"It's not? We all thought it was. I mean, you just, like, vanish for no reason. That's why nobody asked what you got when you awakened."
Dan shrugged. It was true he had never officially revealed his power, but he had a reason. If people knew what he could do, it would become a lot less effective.
"It's not invisibility. It's also not teleporting or shrinking or anything like that. I just don't like telling people what it is. It's not really great anyway. Kind of lame, really."
"Can we get back on track, please?" Kelly huffed. "We've still got a lot to do. And Dan, don't disappear again. I don't care how you do it, just don't."
Dan nodded and got back to his part of the project. One of Kelly's clones kept glancing at him, making sure he would not go anywhere. It did not matter much. She would lose track of him eventually.
The power to go unnoticed may not have been flashy interesting, but it suited him just fine. | 2019-09-08T12:47:50 | 2019-09-08T11:00:34 | 21 | 14 |
[WP] 50 years ago, NASA determined a rogue planet would hit earth, destroying us all. The rich poured their fortunes into space travel and fled... but the rock missed, and now the survivors won't take them back. | They returned from their eliptical orbit, tangential to earth's, intended to survey the destruction of their home as they pulled a slingshot towards Alpha Centauri, the nearest though very long shot.
To their surprise, the Earth they found was not just intact but much the same, even down to a new crop of trillionaires. Life continued without their presence, as their leaving simply created vacancies in the social heirarchy.
Hopeful, glad to be home and genuinely glad to not bear witness to the shattered graves of billions, the command module beamed greetings and joyous music to their ancestral domicile, expecting surprise and elation at their return.
And then a day went by. An entire day.
After 24 hours of continued transmission, the surpassed elites recieved a single, staticky response.
" New phone. Who dis?" | “What do you mean they’re returning?” - ted Albright was a seasoned war veteran. The kind of man, who just doesn’t back down, a grizzled old man on his 70s.
“Well... sir... they’re just coming, no contact, no warning whatsoever. “ - lucian answered nervously, he had only heard the story, the one where the richest people on earth waged a defensive war on their millionaire starships, against the masses of desperate people with children in hand begging to take them with themselves. The horror of fathers dying needlessly brutal deaths trying to invade Area 51, where those same starships were departing.
“Well, boy, they aren’t landing anywhere in our earth, after all what goes around comes around”
Lucian had heard of this saying, but with a unified earth, it was now commonplace to just be kind, no need of that karma stuff. Everyone came together at the cost of millions of lives, and millions of dollars.
“This is unified earth president ted Albright, you are encroaching on unified space, and are required to vacate our planet, effective immediately.”
“We... come....” before the ship’s captain could finish, a loud bang was heard in the background. Ted was alarmed at this. Certainly, living 50 years in deep space, might have shed its kind of trouble in these decrepit ships, but something was amiss. He had heard explosions before, but what came out of the radio was kind of like a .... growl?
Cowardly they went, and boldly they returned, the other ones landed once again, and twisted as much as they were when they left, they ravaged the land, not with their money, but with their claws.....
Note: first time poster here, be gentle
Edit: spelling and ponctuation | 2019-12-07T06:59:56 | 2019-12-07T06:13:36 | 94 | 27 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I'm nobody's fool.
Tell me to go left, I go right. Offer me what's behind door number 1, you better believe I'm opening door number 2.
Take me to a small room and show me a table covered in food?
Oh, I know what's up.
The food is trash, a diversion.
It's the table. That's the good stuff.
Under the duck l'orange, apple pie, and foie gras, there's a table made of the most succulent, delicious, textured maplewood I've ever seen. And who knows, this wood just might give me the greatest superpower of them all. Dimensional manipulation or something. It's possible. This is the magic 16-year-old teleportation room. In here anything goes.
So I sweep the food off the table and crouch by the corner.
The wood is there in front of me. It's rough. Never been sanded or polished. I can already imagine what all that texture will feel like on my tongue. I just know it's going to be divine.
I brace my hands to either side of the corner, open my mouth wide, and, with a sudden snap like a viper's strike, I bite the wood.
What follows is a pain like nothing I've ever experienced. I'm pretty sure every one of my front teeth has fallen out of my head. I want to cry, but the pain is so bad and my face is so squinched that tears can't make it out of my tear ducts.
I'm in this state of hurt and confusion when the reverse teleportation kicks in and deposits me back at my 16th birthday party. All my friends and family are there. Their eyes go wide when they see me.
Through my tears I ask, "What are you looking at?"
My sister opens a pocket mirror and holds it up to me.
Printed in bright red letters across my forehead are the words:
TABLE-BITING IDIOT
*****
*r/TravisTea* | "You took a bite out of what!" Your mom yelled when she found out. "I thought I raised you better than that!. . ."
"Mo. . ." You tried in vain
"You could have had super strength by eating the spinach or flight with pork. But noooo you had to be a smart ass and bite the damn table. Should have known you would end up doing something stupid like your father. And take a bite out of the Gimpy Gimpy. Made him kill himself before he even figured out his power."
"Mom! I know my power"
"You better tell me it's growing trees. God knows this planet needs it right now with all the pyros out there right now who ate the hottest pepper they could stand."
"Uhhh yeah about that."
"That's it good at least you will be some use unlike your father who left me alone to finish highschool alone with you."
"No, it's not that. . . You are not going to like it."
"Out with it."
"Well you see I've gotten the power well it's better that I don't tell you"
"You better tell me otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the house!"
"Mom please for once just listen! here there are two numbers the first one is for my new cellphone the second is for a therap. . ."
"A what! I don't need one of those good for nothing. . ."
"MOM, please you need to see this woman. I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was a child."
"I don't need help I need you to be a better son! Answer my question!"
Tears formed in my eyes as a solution formed in my mind. I started backing towards the front door.
"What are you going to do leave me like your dad did! Good I don't want you around anymore"
"Mom. You don't mean that. I love you but I have to go things will get. . ."
"Get out!"
Tears were flowing from her eyes at this point and from experience I knew there was no calming her down. I clamped down on my own urge to yell back something that would hurt her. I knew better now.
"Please just call that number we can talk again when things get. . ."
"Out!" She yelled while reaching for something to throw at me.
I ducked and was out the door tears flooding from my eyes. I already knew she would get better she would call the number and our relationship would get repaired. Didn't make it any easier to do this. But I had to leave her. I had the power now to see and fix clinically stupid. I needed to hone this ability for the good of the people and I needed to start with a one way ticket to Florida.
Edit: a word. | 2020-03-19T08:53:04 | 2020-03-19T08:15:56 | 791 | 330 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | I ran through the wintery Evergreen forest for my life. Men with guns and powers of fire and ice hot on my trail.
Jimmy, who ate the dog biscuits hidden in the corner of the table, had let that wolf familiar of his after me too. Fucking traitor!
I had committed the worst transgression of our people: I didn't conform to the test and bit right into that stupid table. Jimmy was the one who dared me to and now I'm a fugitive of the village.
I hit a dead end and stared at the mountain in front of me. If they catch me it's certain death.
I reached deep into myself and called for whatever powers, if I obtained any, to surface and help me.
My body stretched, my limbs twisted and as I opened my eyes I could see for miles around me. The village and forest were but mere pin pricks of lights and swaths of darkness.
It had started to snow harder. Large wet flakes had started to hit my body and face.
"We lost him Captain!" I heard a distant voice yell.
At a height of at least 200 feet I seen the hunting party close around me and stop. They stared at me from the base with a look of horror and confusion.
I've never been good with geography or plants, but I knew enough to know what I've transformed into.
One came towards me at a slow pace and put a hand one me, marveling at the sheer size I've become.
Jimmy came forward, his wolf growling in my direction with his ears back and fur tufted.
The last thing I heard before I willed myself to fall on to the hunting party was the lone pitiful voice of my friend calling out in disbelief, " IS THAT A FUCKING SEQUOIA?!"
I am The Arborist. | "You took a bite out of what!" Your mom yelled when she found out. "I thought I raised you better than that!. . ."
"Mo. . ." You tried in vain
"You could have had super strength by eating the spinach or flight with pork. But noooo you had to be a smart ass and bite the damn table. Should have known you would end up doing something stupid like your father. And take a bite out of the Gimpy Gimpy. Made him kill himself before he even figured out his power."
"Mom! I know my power"
"You better tell me it's growing trees. God knows this planet needs it right now with all the pyros out there right now who ate the hottest pepper they could stand."
"Uhhh yeah about that."
"That's it good at least you will be some use unlike your father who left me alone to finish highschool alone with you."
"No, it's not that. . . You are not going to like it."
"Out with it."
"Well you see I've gotten the power well it's better that I don't tell you"
"You better tell me otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the house!"
"Mom please for once just listen! here there are two numbers the first one is for my new cellphone the second is for a therap. . ."
"A what! I don't need one of those good for nothing. . ."
"MOM, please you need to see this woman. I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was a child."
"I don't need help I need you to be a better son! Answer my question!"
Tears formed in my eyes as a solution formed in my mind. I started backing towards the front door.
"What are you going to do leave me like your dad did! Good I don't want you around anymore"
"Mom. You don't mean that. I love you but I have to go things will get. . ."
"Get out!"
Tears were flowing from her eyes at this point and from experience I knew there was no calming her down. I clamped down on my own urge to yell back something that would hurt her. I knew better now.
"Please just call that number we can talk again when things get. . ."
"Out!" She yelled while reaching for something to throw at me.
I ducked and was out the door tears flooding from my eyes. I already knew she would get better she would call the number and our relationship would get repaired. Didn't make it any easier to do this. But I had to leave her. I had the power now to see and fix clinically stupid. I needed to hone this ability for the good of the people and I needed to start with a one way ticket to Florida.
Edit: a word. | 2020-03-19T08:57:52 | 2020-03-19T08:15:56 | 632 | 330 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | “hnnng” I groaned as I cracked my fingers stretching after a long day at the office.
The screens are just blinking... the lcd glow of my life
I think back to 20 years ago biting that table
At least it’s landed me a cushy income stream.
I clapped my hands and the spreadsheets and databases in front of me started moving erratically
Concentrating “JOIN TABLES!”
Ignoring all security protocols and firewalls, the worlds databases all began to merge at super speed.
I sat back to enjoy my work
My phone rings, it’s from the national Treasurer
“Ok, how much do you want *this time* to undo the mess you just made?” | _What the fuck_?
I had been at my desk, looking upon my textbooks.
_What the _fuck__?
Then I was in some sort of room. Tons of other people, all about my age were standing around me. And in the middle of the room, there stood a wooden table. Not that I’m some sort of crazy tree-hugger, but the wood looked beautiful in a way. On the table was the most luscious food I had ever seen. I just had to take a picture of it. I reached into my pocket, but my phone wasn’t there. Instead, there was a note, which I read aloud: “Whatever you take a bite of determines the superpower you get.” Everyone seemed to have heard me, and the room was filled with murmuring, shouts even. Then, a few people started to eat. The moment they took a bite, they seemingly disappeared into thin air. One idiot bit the table and vaporised.\
Eventually I was one of the people left in the room. The table was almost empty, and it bore many bite marks. The dude next to me seemed to be trying to eat his t-shirt. Maybe he wanted to be the ultimate leatherworker? Then suddenly, I had a brainwave. I raised my hand to my mouth...\
Suddenly, I was back in my room. I wanted to test my superpower, so I concentrated my energy onto my arm. The flesh, muscle and bone reshaped themselves by my will. I could shapeshift.
This was my first ever response to a WP! Feel free to let the criticism stream in! | 2020-03-19T12:37:45 | 2020-03-19T11:35:00 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A person who is immortal, because they are so stupidly entertaining Death keeps extending their life just to see what shenanigans they will get into next.
EDIT: There is a good variety of responses here, from those who took the premise a bit too seriously to those who ran with it and made it hilarious. I had a lot of fun reading all of them. Thanks for replying! | Martin had seen death at his doorstep... he was there to congratulate him on his 100th close death. His bony hands extended in front holding a circular black cake with little skulls decorating the top.
Martin stopped in his tracks. Death usually only came to him when he had died, but today he made the first contact. Martin readjusted his glasses and straightened out his buttoned shirt that extended over his belly.
"This... was a surprise." Martin said while looking if there were any passerbys, "Is this poisoned or something?"
"Poison?" Death asked while his veil covered his head completely, "That would take the fun out of it. No, I went out of my way and got this from your favorite bakery."
Martin took the cake and examined it. The cake seemed fine, so he slipped his finger across its black frosting and stuck it into his mouth. It was delicious.
"This... mmhh is good." Martin complimented while sticking more frosting in his mouth.
"You're just so interesting to watch, y'know?"
"Y'know?" Martin asked, "What do you mean?"
"Well, I've never seen anyone so hilariously unlucky before in all my years of being Death. That stunt you pulled last week to get with a girl was just hilarious. How were you so stupid to go pick up a firework you already lighted," Death laughed, "The way you zoomed through the sky and crashed into the old oak! It was something to record!"
"Yeah, I guess." Martin frowned, "Well, was this all?"
"Yeah, this was all." Death said, "God also said 'hi!'."
"Hi, god." Martin finished and slammed the door shut. | I woke up to a light buzzing around me and a ringing in my ear. I was face down in some low shrubs.
The sounds of cars whipping by me made me realize I lived through it again and was laying on the asphalt off the 1-15, on the outskirts of the Mojave desert.
I looked down at my left leg, bent upward, my shin bone protruded through my light wash Levi skinny jeans.
I swatted the flies from the blood that had pooled around my mouth, which had partially dried up in the desert heat and mixed with some gravel.
I could feel the blood tight along my mouth and jaw, my mouth tasted like pennies.
I rolled onto my back and looked up at the sky for the 153,300 day I’ve been on Earth. Not a cloud in sight, sun blistering down on my sunburnt skin.
“Fuck,” I said, seething in pain, while I hoisted myself up to lean against the pole I hit. My Suzuki Hayabusa bike was flipped on its side about 40 feet away.
That’s the one thing I’ll never get used too. The healing process after you die, or well, undie, is exhausting. And believe me I’ve tried hundreds of times.
I squint at my watch, that was shattered in the crash — 8:32 a.m
That means I’ve been dead for about 6 hours. That also means today is my 420th birthday.
I didn’t mean to try again, I was doing so good for the last 100 years to try to enjoy life. Not think of the hand I was dealt.
What happened last night, I wondered, as I took my headscarf off from beneath my helmet.
I braced myself and began tightly wrapping it around my shin, forcing the bone back down into place, at least just for now.
Wincing, I stood up and slowly shuffled to my bike. Inside the seat, I grabbed my pack of Marlboro 27s and lit up a smoke.
I felt inside my pockets and found something balled up in a gum wrapper. 3 small oval pills fell out. 1 white, 1 yellow and 1 blue.
What are these, I wondered. Upon examining them, there were no imprints on them at all.
I quickly stuffed them into my cigarette pack and shoved everything back into my seat compartment.
I got on my bike and began to ride back to town.
Someone has to know what happened last night. Why did I try to kill myself again after all these years? | 2020-05-05T23:45:40 | 2020-05-05T23:14:03 | 71 | 32 |
[WP] A bored goddess waves her hands at you. "Yeah, you died, you get to be reborn, you know the drill, you've seen anime." Except you haven't, and you're pretty certain you aren't even dead as she's in your living room, lounging on your sofa. | "Hey, I'm Shinde," greeted the young woman who lazed atop my couch. "I'll be your Reaper today!"
I stared at her. "Huh?"
"Yeah," she explained, "you died, you get to be reborn, you know the drill, you've seen anime."
"Oh," I managed awkwardly. *Anime? Who the hell watches that?* Then I remembered that I was slogging through the first season of *Friends*.
"Anyway," added the woman, "please come with me. You have to check in at the Underworld and take a shower before you're reborn."
"I'm alive," I blurted. "I think you have the wrong person."
The lady looked puzzled, then examined her itinerary. Her face immediately adopted the colors of a tomato. "Oh," she muttered. "I'm really bad at this."
"What does it say?" I asked curiously. "Am I supposed to be on the list?"
She handed me the paper. Scanning the itinerary, I quickly found my name. *John Doe. Age of death: 19.*
"I'm 18," I offered. Then the realization of the sentence struck me. "And, uh, you see that *1*? The ink's kind of blotched. It's supposed to say *79*."
"Thanks!" Shinde smiled and collected her papers. "See you in 61 years, I guess."
When she left, I realized that she had left a note behind. In small, neat, handwriting, it read: *Good one—I'll let it slide!* | A Goddess was the only thing she could be. Her hair and garments defied several laws of physics, even with cosplay tricks. Her gaze was far too sharp to be human, no matter how bored she came across.
Also the feeling of instincts I've never felt before, drumming a kind of awe and fear and feeling of *this is Divine* into my brain.
Said brain never got the memo of stopping my mouth, however. "This afterlife is a lot more familiar than I thought it'd be. Guess I always was living in Hell after all."
The Goddess gave a cackle at my words. "Oh good, you have a couple brain cells, even if you use them for mouthing off." She sat up from her laying posture, making a motion of dusting off dust that would never actually touch her. "I suppose you're not dead *yet,* but it really won't be long until the people in charge of your comatose status pull the plug, so we better get to work."
I caught myself before asking 'what work?' "The whole reborn thing?"
"Uh huh." She stretched her arms like she was actually tired. "You've racked up enough Spirit to keep being an intelligent humanoid, for the 87963rd time in a row. I assume you'll take that again, \[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]?"
The instincts that told me she was a Goddess hummed at the noise, informing me that she had said my soul's name. My name. A rush of experiences flooded my mind, past lives connected to this soul's- to my true name.
"Actually being a human is boring to me now." I said with 87963 voices. "And my last few bodies all had some form of color blindness."
"Is this going somewhere?" She sounded bored, but I knew from experiences past that a Goddess of Reincarnation is not one to be held up for too long.
"I want to see all color in my next life, not just what humans can see. I want to be a mantis shrimp."
The Goddess cackled a second time. A new record for me. She then looked at me with a glint I've never seen in one of her kind's eyes before.
Suddenly, my 87963 minds wondered if that was a good idea after all.
"\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\]\[\], your request will be granted!" | 2020-07-02T06:07:58 | 2020-07-02T06:02:07 | 34 | 23 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | All the students were getting up to leave class when he heard, "Matthew, might I speak to you for a moment?"
"Of course, Professor."
Professor Xavier had always been kind to him. Matthew long suspected that Xavier knew he was hiding his full potential but the professor never pushed the subject and treated Matthew like all the other students. He liked feeling normal here. His long standing lie was that he could teleport. Whenever they were required to practice their abilities it put Matthew in a tough spot. The teachers were constantly trying to push his limits and get him to teleport further and further. It's tiring having to run such far distances constantly. Yesterday, the teacher had asked him to try to travel to someplace he had previously been. After faking an attempt for an hour or so the teacher finally relented and suggested they take a break.
"Professor Munroe tells me you had a difficult time yesterday. She was worried she might have pushed you too hard and wanted to make sure you were okay."
"I-I'm fine professor. She didn't push too hard. I tried picturing different places but nothing happened. I don't know if I'm able to teleport like that."
"Well, things happen at different paces for everyone. I'm sure you've heard of Kurt by now?"
"Yes, sir."
"When he first came here, he was limited by what he could see as well. He could travel to anywhere in sight, but beyond that, he was too frightened to push himself. It takes extraordinary strength to push limits set by our minds. In time, I'm sure you will be able to overcome anything you set your mind to."
"Thank you professor."
"Matthew, have you made any friends since you started here? I don't see you with the other students very often."
"No sir, I-I think they are frightened of me."
"Why is that?"
"They avoid me, and I hear them saying things about me."
"Teleporting is an enviable gift. I'm sure they will come around in time."
"I guess."
"Matthew, are you sure there isn't something else? You know I would never use my gift on anyone without permission but it doesn't take a mind reader to see that something is bothering you."
"Professor, c-can you keep a secret?"
"Of course, Matthew. Anything you tell me would be kept between us."
Eyes to the floor Matthew said, "I have been lying to you and the other teachers. I can't teleport."
Professor Xaviers remained quiet as if telling Matthew to continue.
"I-I was afraid if you found out what I can do, that you would make me part of your advanced class. I just wanted to feel normal for once. Everyone my whole life has called me a freak and when I got here, I was just another kid. I'm so sorry I lied professor."
"It's okay Matthew. I understand. If I may ask, what is this gift that you were afraid to speak of?"
"It's easier if I show you."
"Lead the way."
The two of them left the office and went into the crowded hallway watching the kids on their way to various classes. Matthew reached over and set his hand on Xaviers shoulder and everyone froze. Turning to Matthew, Xavier said, "Well, it certainly is an extraordinary gift. The ability to freeze time is no small feat. I can't say I've ever met another mutant with this ability, Matthew."
"Are you going to kick me out of the school for lying to you?"
"No, Matthew. I understand why you kept this from us. It is an incredible burden to have control over time. I imagine it can be quite lonely."
Nodding his head Matthew was tearing up a little.
"Matthew, I'm going to keep this between us until you're ready to tell other people. Would you be okay with having private lessons with me once a week to learn to better control this power of yours?"
"Yes, Professor."
"Very good. Bring us back to real time and let us join the rest of the students. It's nearly time for your next class." | I got to my room, lungs burning as I ran the first floor. "It's all right Jack, you don't have to be afraid, you have done nothing wrong, everything will be all right." Said the calm voice of Professor X. Part of me immediately started to relax, but I could not slow down the heavy rapid breathing. I messed up, and people are hurt, dying, or dead. What is going to happen to me? Will they sedate me for the rest of my life or will they just get rid of me to stop others from getting hurt. Nothing can be done now, I need to get out.
I cannot safely chronolock the entire building. I might miss some parts, and get myself into further problems. No, only the professor knows, I will take him out of the time, escape and resume his time once I am safely away. I expand my mind and find his timeline and the tethers that bind him to it, I need to focus, to grab them all.
"Jack you need to stop right now, I want to help you." I hear again almost a pleading voice. "You are not a..." I will never find out, what I am not, at that point, I separated all of his tethers from his timeline. In the back of my mind, I can feel lit like a pull at one of my hairs. Good, now I just need to... A terrible scream cut through the house. I need to move NOW. I run out of my room into the hallways of the mansion, damn, DAMN, they were all so nice to me and I am hurting them. Tears are running down my face, I can barely see. All the other kids are leaving their rooms to see what is happening. I race down the stairs and see the screaming girl. Standing in front of the frozen professor and two halves of a body. One half, a midstep into the room I chronolocked. The other half cleanly separated, frozen mid-fall, where I locked it once I realized what I have done, the blood and organs already in a position that does not seem quite right. I feel nausea overwhelming me. I quickly consider locking the girl in time, but quickly reject it, rushing like this, I might hurt her, and the alarm has been raised anyway.
"You, stop right there!" I hear the rough voice aimed at me, Logan. "I am sorry" I cry as I keep running. I hear the heavy footsteps right behind me. Oh god, I need to stop him. I look around and focus on his tethers, as I do, I collide with someone in front of me, I panic and lock the tethers I got. "Fucking hell, what did you do." I fall to the ground and look in horror at Wolverine, claws extended as he tumbles around into the furniture, leaving his two legs locked in time behind him. He is bleeding and swearing. I concentrate again and the screaming stops. The pull at the back of my mind is becoming stronger.
I try to scramble up, but the man I collided with places a heavy furry blue hand on me. "Calm down boy, you need to calm down before you hurt yourself." Through tears and snot, I bark a laugh. People are dying he is worried about me? I need to get out NOW. I struggle to release myself off him. He holds me for a second but then let's go, perhaps a little worried as well.
I get to my feet and start running again. But halls are already full of people trying to see what is happening. I am pushing through, but feel hands trying to stop me. I concentrate, "no mistakes this time", I repeat like a mantra, and just keep locking people in around me. The pressure in my mind is becoming unbearable, I feel blood running out of my nose and ears. But I finally see the light of outside.
I exit the mansion. I am dizzy. I fall to my knees. I feel every single timelock as a nail being hammered into my brain. A gentle voice speaks behind me, it sounds sad "Jack please stop". I concentrate one last time. I know what I must do. I focus on one last timeline and with a jank snap it in half.
/\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*\*/
"Jean I am worried that this young man, might hurt himself if not handled carefully. He is so full of fear. Fear of rejection of himself and at this time of me as well. I hoped you could talk to him, perhaps he will respond better to you."
"Of course professor. But perhaps it is not going to be such a problem, he went to class today, and Kurt will certainly make him feel at home."
Having said this, Jean opened the doors. Professor saw the young troubled student standing in the middle of the room. The student looked at him, smiled for a moment and disappeared just as Jean crossed the threshold. And while the class applauded the newest student his successful teleportation. Professor's heart broke. | 2022-11-09T16:36:25 | 2020-07-15T05:54:34 | 9,106 | 137 |
[WP] You are a mutant in Xavier's school for gifted youngsters with the power to teleport, well that's what you tell everyone. In reality you can pause time and you're not ready to be an omega class mutant. | "It's not entirely about focus..." Professor Wagner said, his thin German accent gently colouring every word he spoke "...there are many of us - like Scott Summers - who require a physical tool to control our powers. But for myself, and most other teleporters I have known, focus provides strength. For us, it is natural - almost trivial - to teleport a few metres away. But vast distances can be opened to us if we apply the strength of a disciplined mind to our task."
I sighed. "I don't think I am like other teleporters professor." That was an understatement. In truth I wasn't even a teleporter at all. I was something different and new. There were others who had powers like me - chronokinesis, they called it. Even Professor Rasputina exhibited some ability to manipulate time, although from what I understood her powers were based in her magical abilities, not her mutation. But none possessed what I did. The ability to stop time. Or rather, I think, I could step out of the time stream and step back in at my leisure.
"We are all different Sean..." Professor Wagner replied "...and your mutation certainly has some unique consequences. But you must not dwell to much on how you are different, you must realize how much we are alike!"
I smiled weakly. The 'unique consequence' he spoke of was the fact that none of the telepaths at the school - not even Professor Xavier himself - could touch my mind. The Headmaster described my thoughts as static. One girl - one of the few telepaths who had spent any amount of time around me - described it as someone shouting every word that had ever existed into her ears. That's why most of the telepathic students gave me a wide berth. Even that one girl eventually had to stop hanging around me. She couldn't stand it.
I have no idea why that is, of course. Best guess is that it's every thought I've ever had coming out all at once. Whatever the cause, it helped me keep my secret.
I wasn't ready for people to know I could stop time. I knew that would make me significant in a way I just didn't want to be. I knew what happened to significant mutants. They went on to become X-Men. Or they went on to become the enemies of the X-Men. Or they went on to be pawns on a board, as the X-Men and their enemies circled around them, pulling them in a million directions. I wasn't ready to be any of those things.
"Perhaps we are going about this the wrong way." Professor Wagner said, perhaps seeing the mark of frustration on my face (although not catching why I was frustrated thankfully). "I believe you require mental discipline, but I have asked you to develop that discipline using while using your power. That is not how I learned to discipline my mind. I was taught by Herr Getmann's cruel hand the art of the acrobat long before I ever knew I could teleport. Perhaps that is the path for you? What do you say - tomorrow we can begin to train you as an acrobat? I promise I will be a better teacher than my master was."
I smiled a genuine smile at that. "That sounds like fun Professor." I meant it. Something that wasn't constantly pretending sounded like a nice break. | “Oh god, come on move, please move!” A young boy yells in despair. Everything was frozen, before it always lasted a couple seconds but now? 30 minutes. Every minute felt as if it was its own branch of eternity, as he could see things stuck right before emotion.
His teacher was named Kurt Wagner, also known as Nightcrawler. His power was that of teleportation, same as the lie the young man said. He wanted the two to teleport at the same time to, as Kurt felt teleporting’s toll for beginners is best experienced with someone to talk to after.
He saw the blue and red flare, and sulfuric gust around Kurt’s party visible body, the grass being blown in the wind stuck, the birds no longer flapping their wings, and worst of all the lack of noise.
“Come on Travis unfreeze it, unfreeze, unfreeze!” He fell to his knees. He didn’t know if when he spoke it was actually his voice or a thought. He crawled up to Kurt’s semi corporeal body yelling,
“Mr.Wagner please you have to hear me!” Feeling and touching was weird too. Something about it having no resistance to the force of his pushes doing nothing. He scrambled to his legs,
“Professor! Mr.Logan! Mr.MCcoy!” He screamed at the frozen figures nearby teaching a class. He yelled tome and time again. Nothing...just isolation.
“Please...something, anything!” His breathing was unhitched, no rhythm. It was the only sound he could find solace in, and it was discourse with no melody. Finally, as if time had pity for the poor soul, he heard a new noise:
BAMF
“See not that bad ri-Travis?” Travis looked up to see Nightcrawler running to him distressed,”Travis what happened?!” Travis had a small smile before tearing up saying,
“I-I need to talk to you and the professor.”
(Some time later)
“-and I know should’ve beeen honest it’s just, I’ve always seen on the news or online stories about omega level mutants, and always thought there powers were so cool but...actually having one?” Travis explained looking at his hands and at the professor, who had allowed the young boy to talk without interruption. It seemed he had held this in his heart for so long, the professor would allow him to let it go.
“I-I don’t wanna be some god, I wanted something simple and cool like lasers or something...What I freeze time and I don’t unfreeze it? Plus aren’t omega level mutants always used or destroyed or something?!” His breathing started to get unhitched again which is where the Professor stepped in.
“No one is gonna use you Travis, not will I allow you to be hurt under my care.” Travis looked at the Professor in the eye as his wheelchair came around to get closer to him,
“I understand your fear of this power, in fact I too had similar feelings to my own mental capabilities, everyone’s voices and issues in my own head made me feel crazy.” Travis nodded, though his breathing was his main concern.
“Your ability is great and while I cannot understand fully the feeling of isolation you may feel, I can see why the burden of this power could be too much for you while you’re so young.” He then got close to Travis looking him in the eye asking,” Do you mind if I enter your mind for a brief moment?”
Travis nodded, though he gave a confused look. Suddenly Travis saw young mutants, people he thought were heroes. Cyclops, with his beams all over the place, destroying buildings, and too scared to open his eyes.
He saw Beast struggling to look at himself, as well as roaring in pain and agony. Rouge isolating herself, Wolverine in a rage, and then a young Charles Xavier clutching his head. And through all of them, he sees them slowly grow, and gain control.
Travis opens his eyes and Xavier smiles saying,”I will hold your secret to the students, however for your powers I will train you in keeping calm, as I believe your anxiety acts as the mental barrier keeping everything frozen.” Travis still getting over what he saw blinked as Xavier continued,
“Or I can wipe this power from your brain, lock it in your mind under mental locks so you no longer fear freezing it, though I will leave this to you.” Travis took a breath, before standing and saying,
“Alright professor, I’ll try training.” | 2020-07-15T06:33:50 | 2020-07-15T05:56:18 | 119 | 66 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared demons in hell. You‘re sent to take the most deadly human known, who‘s been avoiding death by killing all who went to take him. You get there, and realize how he’s killed so many demons. He has humidifiers all around his house, which are filled with holy water. | He was an old man, nearing the end of his life. He knew what awaited him, which is why he fought so hard to stay alive as long as possible. The torture was earned, if unjust, but that doesn't mean he wanted it for himself. Hunters are fighters, and fight to stay alive. And he'd sent so many demons to hell.
The first handful of demons were easy. They got tripped up at the salt line around the house, and were easy to trap and exorcise. Then they started sending the smarter ones, which typically meant more power.
It was a war of escalation, building trap after trap after more intricate trap. Finally he'd gotten to his latest version, with the humidifiers flled with holy water. Twelve demons so far had fallen to this final layer.
This latest one was different. The others had been reckless, or brash. This one was methodical. He'd watch the demon poking and prodding at the various traps and barriers, testing. The salt line was easily passed, the demon teased a neighbor with a hose with a swarm of bees, and got the neighbor to wash the ring open. The copper cable sigil buried under the ground surrounding the house was discovered, and broken by the construction guy in the backhoe looking for the local tv cable line. Defense after defense broken or bypassed, and just the one left. An electrical outage took the power down in the neighborhood, when a "drunk driver" hit a utility pole. But the demon was stymied when the backup generator kicked in, keeping the humidifier running. It looked at the man through the window, calmly, and turned away.
The old hunter settled into his easy chair, and glanced at the power company's website on his phone. The power should be restored in under an hour. He'd be safe again, and could work on rebuilding the outer layers. He breathed a sigh of relief.
Until the doorbell rang. With a little trepidation, but confident in the holy moisture surrounding him, he opened the door. There stood the demon, in a hospital contagion suit, grinning at him.
"Hello, Dean." The demon stepped in and closed the door.
-------------------
This is my first ever reply. I've watched a lot of Supernatural lately, and this came to me pretty clearly. Thought I'd try a different take on the prompt. | I'm currently scoping out the house of this human that is somehow overpowering all of the demons in hell. And I mean all of them, including my sweet little BeeBee. It's been so many that morale has dropped, incoming soul count is low, and it looks like the devil who made the deal with Trump has been taken out, making that contract null and void - who knows how that bargain will happen this November!? Utter madness.
I just have to know how such a human was able to cause such destruction.
I catch a whiff of holy water just barely seeping through the window cracks and I almost want to pour bleach in my nostrils. Even worse, I dump my coffee from the shock. This doesn't make any sense - unless he flooded his house with holy water there's no possible way.
As I begin circling the building I see an abnormal amount generators and random HVAC units throughout the property. And they're all humming away... all five of these industrial HVAC units.
The weather is gorgeous, it's sunny and in the 70s. That perfect time of year where anyone can leave their windows open and heating/cooling units off. What the blazes is going on here?
I circle the house once more and peek into a window that is better sealed off. I see it - the window is fogged up! The glass is sweating on the inside and you could almost have the Jack and Rose car moment moment from "Titanic." That smart bastard is filling every inch and corner of this home with holy water humidity. Well... that makes things difficult.
Alright... humidity, humidity, what is it used for? It helps with static electricity build up and preserves materials. So I can't trip a breaker from outside hoping it'll fault something and trying to set the building on fire just means I'll be hit with a giant wall of noxious holy water.
What to do, what to do?
What does humidity ruin? It ruins books, papers, textiles... and it promotes growth of molds, pneumonia bacterium, and a perfect home for fruit flies, gnats, and dust mites... Oh. Oh my... oh yes... oh yes this will be fun.
Alright, time for a coffee run and grab some "groceries" on the way...
Annnndddd... I'm back where I started this morning. This time with Black mold spores, vials of three different strains of pneumonia, a couple rotten bananas, and a really rank homeless man's shoe for kicks.
I take my long gloved hand and slowly slip open a window in the living room and throw a small poof of mold spores and drop a vial of pneumonia.
Next I open the kitchen where a nice, extra ripe banana fits in perfectly along with another poof of black mold.
I slide along the house to a downstairs bedroom and finish dropping in the black mold spores and one more vial of pneumonia.
Now I'm feeling lazy after all that so I just levitate up to the second floor bedroom - I'm not interested in shimmying up a gutter if I don't have to. In goes the final vial of pneumonia, another banana, and that horrendous shoe.
I can practically time it. He has until the ambulance picks him up from illness in the next couple weeks. I'll be waiting.
Time to head back for another cup of coffee. | 2020-08-04T12:52:47 | 2020-08-04T12:51:32 | 217 | 41 |
[WP] You have just died, but the grim reaper won't let you move on as you still have unfinished business. The reaper did not anticipate just how long it would take for you to finish all the games in your Steam library. | “Brandon. It’s time.”
“Huh? Just one more minute, Mom.” I had to get to the next save point, or she would pull the plug. Do your chores, she was always nagging me.
“I am not your mother. It is I, Death!”
I slowly turned my head. My mouth hung open and a half-chewed cheese curl fell onto my keyboard.
Death stood next to me, wearing a ragged black robe and a long hood that covered his face. His voice was as deep as James Earl Jones.
“Come. It is time.” He beckoned with a skeletal hand.
“W-Wait. Don’t I get to play a game for my life?”
“That is a myth, mere propaganda spread by makers of chess boards.”
“Oh. I see. But still. Don’t you think it’s a popular myth because it’s a cool idea? And you want to seem cool, right?”
The hooded figure was silent.
“So let’s play a game or two of Dota, see where it leads.”
“I’ve heard it’s quite popular,” said Death. “And addictive. I picked up one man who stopped eating because he wouldn’t stop playing. He died and fell over on his keyboard. His last words were ‘djddjddddddddddddd.”
“Uh, right. Here. Take this.” I handed Death a headset. He pushed back his hood and placed the ear pads over his skull.
“And sit here.” I got up and let Death take my place. “Okay, now, this is what you do...”
Death was a total noob at first. But under my tutelage, he quickly became the best Dota player worldwide. His skeletal fingers never tired, his ageless mind never wandered, and his rigid spine never ached.
Death sat on top for years. But one day he said, “This game bores me. It is time.”
“Wait, Wait!” I said. “I have lots of games. Tons of them. A whole library.”
“Like the one at Alexanderia?”
“Yes? Here, try *this* game.” And I pulled up Team Fortress 2.
Death was no longer a noob. He figured out that game pretty quick, and then Elder Scrolls V, and then Civilization VI.
Meanwhile I lived on borrowed time, drinking all the Mountain Dew and Monster energy drinks I wanted.
But outside, the streets filled with people. Old people too frail to walk. Injured people with horrific wounds shambled through the grocery stores. And Earth began to fill up. There wasn’t enough food or enough water. People starved, but they couldn’t die. People lived in horrible pain, cancer everywhere, but they couldn’t die.
And I grew old and bored, and I couldn’t die.
I patted his shoulder. “Death. It’s time. You have to get back to work.”
“Just one more game.” He pushed my hand away. “I’ve almost beaten all the C-sides on Celeste.”
“Death. Look around. People need you. They’re suffering!”
He didn’t answer, pretending not to hear me.
“Death! I know you can hear me!” I pried the headphones off his skull.
“Seriously, just five more minutes, okay?”
“No. You had your chance.” And I reached behind the computer and pulled the plug. Just like my mom used to do.
Death stared at the blank screen, then slowly looked at me.
“It’s time,” I said. “To do your chores.”
Edit: find my stories at r/oncemorewithandroids | *You are doing this wrong.*
The rattling whisper bypassed my ears and manifested directly in my brain. I felt muscles that I had never been aware of until *just now* clenching in my jaw. Soon, I wouldn't be able to clench at all...but for now...
"You remember how I said it actually *doesn't* make this process easier to have you saying that?"
*Yes...*
"It's just as true now as it was *an hour ago.*"
*Oh, well, excuse me. I guess I forgot how much I was enjoying myself, waiting for a noop like you to finally finish this game. It's not like I, an eternal being charged with power over mortality, have anything better to do...*
I hit pause and quickly brought a hand toward my face, massaging one temple with my thumb as the middle and ring finger went to work on the other.
"It's *noob*."
There was a lethal rustling next to me. The fleshless head turned. The shadowy sockets focused on my face.
*What?*
"You said 'noop.' That's not a thing. It's 'noob.'"
*I'm pretty sure it's noop.*
"Yeah, well, okay. Agree to disagree."
*Isn't it? Hmmm...noop...noob. Noooop...noob...*
"Oh my God shut up!" I am on my feet now. "Just. Shut. Up."
The parchment-hued visage is motionless. Just the eyes. No, not eyes: the emptiness. Somehow, the twin darknesses there seem to be studying me.
*Can I just --*
"Are you kidding me with this right now?" I was yelling -- well, actually, screaming. It was certainly shriller than I would have liked. I don't know that I ever could have dreamed I'd be in this situation, but certainly, I'd like to think I could put a *bit* more bass into my voice when I chewed out the Master of Life and Death. "Shut UP!"
*It's only --*
You know how people like to talk about time freezing when there is some major thing they do? Like, they charge into the enemy ranks, growling loudly as they squeeze the trigger of their...Uzi? Are Uzis still a thing?
Well, whatever. Here's the deal: my fist was a ball of solid rage. And I pulled it back, and, yes, I punched The Grim Reaper in the face.
Or tried to.
In my case, time *actually* froze. My fist was a few inches from the chipped enamel of His teeth. I had put a *lot* of force behind this, and had actually had a brief flash of wondering what it was going to do to my hand. And then I had many more moments, because my fist was stuck there, like I had tried to punch a giant vat of tar or something.
"Let me go!" I was shrieking now. There was no avoiding it. I had found out that I was about to be dead, I had spent the last 10 hours trying to beat this idiotic game, Death himself was heckling me while I did it...
He released my arm as my eyes released their tears. I hate this day.
*I was just going to say...your character...*
I wiped my face briskly and then turned back to the screen.
"What...in the name of ever-loving..."
*You forgot to pause it. And remember when you decided to skip the save point?*
In my head, the Grim Reaper's voice was replaced by one that was impossibly shrill. *I am just going to level one last time, then save. If I save every time I see a save point, I'll never finish. La la la, I'm a mortal and also a complete noob.*
My eyes flick back and forth across the screen. Each time, I will them to see something different, for the words to somehow...not be those words.
**DEVASTATED**
**You have been slain by a jiggly goo-ball.**
I turn my head. Death and I stare at each other in silence.
* * *
*Edit: turns out there's only two e's in "devastated."*
*Edit 2: new and improved with 100% less butter!* | 2020-10-15T12:15:10 | 2020-10-15T11:36:49 | 1,380 | 64 |
[WP] It started as a spur of the moment trip with your friends. Despite your best efforts you are the only one left alive and the slasher is closing in on your position. While you lament the loss of your friends now that you are alone... Now you can show the slasher what a REAL monster looks like. | *"In all men is evil sleeping; the good man is he who will not awaken it, in himself or in other men."*
–*Mary Renault*
They always said that to live a good life was to live a long one. I found oft times these words came from those who were considered to be wise men– those who stood on the peaks and communed with their gods as they reflected on the memories they'd made in life, and looked ever forward to rejoining the one's they'd lost along the way. The mystical and incognitable journey into the afterlife, for me lingered just out of reach, calling to me time and again as if from a far off place that I would never find. Perhaps the place beyond the pale rebuked me.
For I was not human; not wholly.
I was something else, unfathomed, unknown. An uncatalogued piece of the universe that manifested in the blind spot of the lord. In all things but biologically was I man. I carried within me the things that made one human.
Love. Hate. Jealousy. Fear. Curiosity. Joy. Anguish.
I had even once thought that I had been born human *to* a human. I called her mother, and she called me son. After hundreds of years, out of all the bonds I'd forged, of all the humans whom I called family, I still remembered her face pristinely. Her kind soft words. They were gospel to me, really. One of the few things I had committed to memory and never once forsaken.
I opened my eyes as the door creaked open and the moonlight spilled into the shack I'd chosen to hide in. I was sitting, hugging my knees behind a couple bales of hay at the very back.
"It's muddy out there," came his voice, unhinged and grasping. "Good for tracks," he chuckled maniacally to himself as he started into the shack.
"You... (heh) you can ruuuun but you can't hiiiide"♫
Maybe I *had* been running from it; the thing inside of me that had no name.
"I know you're in heeeeere"♩
Maybe I thought that if I ignored it, it would go away. If I pretended for long enough that it didn't exist, I could somehow... extinguish it. *Become* human, and leave it behind.
"If you come out, (heh) m-maybe I'll just kill you quickly! I found all of your little friends already. I'll find you too. I'll (heh heh) I'LL FIND YOU TOO!!" He screamed.
Friends.
It had become difficult to form attachments as the years blew by. Everyone I met, I knew I would have to outlive them. In a way, it was like a built-in safety mechanism– the way my mind walled itself off from others to at least a certain degree. Other humans found this trait somehow endearing. They wanted to help me. Fix me. Pull me out of my cage.
His footsteps halted.
A shadow was cast over me.
I looked up to see him peering over the hay at me, eyes wild and filled with adrenaline. His breathing grew heavy as he forcefully ripped the top bale of hay off and kicked the other away with his muddy boot. Thunder cracked the sky as he stood over me with his bloody sickle in hand.
"You know (heh) you know what I'm gonna do now?" He asked, shaking with excitement. "I'm going to decorate this entire shack with the stuff (heh) with all the little bits inside of you."
I calmly lifted my eyes toward his and remembered.
It was never the friendly.
Never the kind.
Never the well-meaning that pulled me out of my cage.
It was always evil like this. Evil that existed everywhere in every time period. I slowly stood up as I felt myself coming undone.
In all things but biologically was I man.
Love. Hate. Jealousy. Fear. Curiosity. Joy. Anguish.
And *evil.*
r/A15MinuteMythos | How did it end like this?
The summer vacation between friends, the tragedy, the revelry.
A simple camping trip between friends in the German black forest. Wide stretches of woodland to get lost into and inhale some nature. The trees were tall, the hills wide and high, the air pure, and the noise different from the bustling city-life they were used to.
Malcolm needed it the most. He had organized the trip, scouted the location and invited his friends. He needed a respite, a pause from the constant smile and good humor expected from a man larger-than-life both in body and character. A week in the middle of nowhere without appointments, alarm, where he could lean back against a tree and gaze at the night sky, free of worrying about tomorrow's work.
Alfie the cynical wise-cracker would come along, they knew each other since birth. Magdalene too, Malcolm didn't want her with them but she was Alfie's latest girlfriend-for-life-this-time-for-real and he wouldn't budge without her. Jane the skinny smart-ass would come too, she was the oldest of the group but her jokes made people think otherwise. Finally, Alphonse and Raymond, experienced hikers and outdoors men, would complete the group, they had the experience to keep them all safe.
One week, one week of peace and quiet.
They found the perfect spot. The top of the hill where they planted the tents was bald, a mountain in the back dominated them from its height while the rest of the valley was in plain view, overrun by untamed nature.
They dropped sleeping bags and rucksacks, and enjoyed the sound of the wind. Six friends, lost in the middle of nowhere, just as they wanted. The sun went by lazily, and with the oncoming cold they retreated to get some sleep until late in the morning.
Malcolm struggled to stay in the tent when the sun went up. His city-dweller reflex to get up at the first ray of light still burdened him, and it was with an annoyed grunt that he stepped out into the cool morning. Not that he minded, the valley waking up to the sun was a beautiful spectacle. Light washed over the hills and trees slowly, only interrupted by the occasional cloud. Birds chirped and Malcolm's skin was slowly warmed by the sunlight.
He heard a chuckle.
That's when he realized Alfie and Magdalene's tent was already open. Pudgy Alfie and tall Magdalene could not be more mismatched, yet they managed to take strength out of it. On one detail did they found common ground: both were permanently horny.
And the chuckle Malcolm heard was a not-so-innocent innuendo. He knew it well, he once had to shoe them into a bush to make sure they wouldn't just shag in the middle of a party.
But now no one was here, and Malcolm was in good mood. He departed in the direction of the sound, hoping to catch the lovebirds.
The undergrowth was dense. Despite the lover's complete absence of inhibition, they had chosen the thickest bushes they could find, it felt almost disappointing. He found them next to a massive oak, and hadn't expected to get to see so much of their intimacy.
Alfie was hanging from a low branch, both halves of him. The body was emptying itself from blood drip by drip, right onto Magdalene. She lay naked, two wound ran from the sides of her mouth and rejoined at her navel in perfect symmetry.
"Oh shit. Oh shit!"
Malcolm ran back to the tents, shouting warnings for his other friends, hoping to God they hadn't gone on a walk too.
They hadn't.
In fact, Alphonse and Raymond waited for him, at least their severed heads did, looking at one another with empty eyes. The trail hinted that the bodies were still inside, Malcolm had no desire to check.
Jane's tent was empty.
He heard a chuckle from the edge of the trees. How foolish he had been, now he recognized how different the voice was.
Steeling his nerves, he went for it, hoping to save the last remaining friend.
Lost in thoughts to give himself courage, he did not see the shadow lunging at him.
The wooden branch, crudely designed into a spear, pierced his belly and pinned him to a tree. The woman was small, almost cute, save for the slasher grin she sported. Her eyes glinted with a near-orgasmic bliss brought by the bloodshed and the twisted art she was composing with the bodies of tourists. She was close. So close.
One step more, Malcolm thought, go on, one step more. To grab you, squeeze you. How victorious it would feel. The tender skin tears under my strength, my thumbs plunge in the wet sockets of your eyes, robbing you of sight as you scream in pain, they make my blood run hot, the spear is a minor detail. The bones break one by one, and I show you, oh yes I show you.. | 2021-10-07T10:09:57 | 2021-10-07T09:45:09 | 621 | 66 |
[WP]Humans were one of the best pilots in the history of intergalactic travel, that was a well know fact. And yet, the ITA warned against hiring human pilots. Not an outright ban, per se, just not recommended. | "What do you mean they don't see them?"
"I mean exactly what it sounds like. Humans cannot see, feel, or in any way perceive those things the way we do"
"But they still pilot around them, don't they? Surely they don't make it across hyperspace out of sheer luck. Human pilots have one of the lowest fatality rates after all. There must be some trick, right?"
"No one knows for sure how they do it. They fly so close to them and yet somehow they always manage to narrowly escape. Some think that they are not sensed because of their lack of fear. Others say that it is because their minds remain free of the wails that clouds ours while in hyperspace. In any case, it works."
"So your are telling me it will probably be a close shave but we should trust the blind! No way. If there is a chance we won't make it, I would rather be awake during my last moments."
"Oh no you don't. Trust me. Forget any hyperspace experience you have had before; that was mere discomfort in comparison to this. Even in your sleep the horrors will permeate your brain. At this distance, you don't want to try being conscious. Even if the ship made it out the other side, your mind would not. Sedation is not optional."
"Oh, I see.
Hehe, *I see*; funny.
The company motto makes a lot more sense now:
*In a pitch-black night a blind man is the best guide*" | A1: What's the order and who's the client?
A2: We have a shipment of medical supplies and emergency provisions to a colony of lamia-da, and the client is... oh dear
A2: What? Who is it?
A1: The Cludon collective
A2: The war-mongers turned cultivation makers?
A1: The very same
A2: well, how much time did they give use to make the run? A month?
A1: 3 cycles...
A2: What! Are they insane? No one can make a delivery that fast.
A1: We have the supply already and they paid us in advance, we have to take this run.
A2: 3 cycles... 3 star forsaken cycles... Those Cludons will kill us if we don't make the delivery in time! What are we gonna do?
A1: Well... I know a guy who can make this run... but you're not gonna like it.
A2: It can't be any worse with our lives on the line.
A1: Remember my human friend from the Rolla celebration?
A2: No... No no no no no! We are not going to have a human run this delivery!
A1: We don't exactly have many options, and time is against us.
A2: ...
A1: ...
A2: f---fine... but you are making the call and whatever demands that human makes.
A1: Sure, no scales off my back.
(Pulls out communicator) He loves this this kind of work.
(Ring ring)
H: Hello?
A1: Hey, human Tyler. I got a delivery run that needs to go fast, you interested?
H: Say no more Dackle, we'll talk pay later.
A1: Great! How soon can you get here?
H: With traditional travel... at least a cycle. But~
A1: But?
H: But if you have a model 8 teleporter, I can be there in 10 minutes.
A1: Perfect! Just send me your specs and your retrieval code and we'll see you soon.
H: Consider that job done. (Hangs up)
A1: See Longo, nothing to worry about.
A2: Telling me not to worry about a human makes me worry, Dackle. | 2021-11-25T18:45:47 | 2021-11-25T17:01:53 | 239 | 77 |
[WP]Humans were one of the best pilots in the history of intergalactic travel, that was a well know fact. And yet, the ITA warned against hiring human pilots. Not an outright ban, per se, just not recommended. | When the Brennish-Talterian rebellion broke out, my father did everything he could to get us off planet. He was desperate, our people were being hunted in the streets like wild animals. So desperate that he made us walk six days south of the Arel'ish mountains, where the 'Fair-trade' space ports were.
Pilot after pilot turned us down. "I won't risk that blockade with your kind on board." They all said with that emotionless tone pilots get when they've spent too many years staring into the black void. With a great sigh and a heavy head, my father walked my sister and I by the hand to the far end of the port. Everyone stared and gave repugnant looks at my father, as if he had just lost all his respect and honour in their eyes.
After the human had strapped us into the seats of his outdated but modified scout ship, my father gave me a half smile and held my shoulder as we lifted off and broke the atmosphere. As the blockade of ships grew closer and closer my father leaned forward with his head next the the humans tattooed shoulder.
"You've done this before right?" He asked with clear worry in his voice.
The man huffed with a smirk and lit a smoke as he turned his head to my father.
"Sure." He said with a wink as he cranked the volume on his terrible human music and grabbed the wheel. | A1: What's the order and who's the client?
A2: We have a shipment of medical supplies and emergency provisions to a colony of lamia-da, and the client is... oh dear
A2: What? Who is it?
A1: The Cludon collective
A2: The war-mongers turned cultivation makers?
A1: The very same
A2: well, how much time did they give use to make the run? A month?
A1: 3 cycles...
A2: What! Are they insane? No one can make a delivery that fast.
A1: We have the supply already and they paid us in advance, we have to take this run.
A2: 3 cycles... 3 star forsaken cycles... Those Cludons will kill us if we don't make the delivery in time! What are we gonna do?
A1: Well... I know a guy who can make this run... but you're not gonna like it.
A2: It can't be any worse with our lives on the line.
A1: Remember my human friend from the Rolla celebration?
A2: No... No no no no no! We are not going to have a human run this delivery!
A1: We don't exactly have many options, and time is against us.
A2: ...
A1: ...
A2: f---fine... but you are making the call and whatever demands that human makes.
A1: Sure, no scales off my back.
(Pulls out communicator) He loves this this kind of work.
(Ring ring)
H: Hello?
A1: Hey, human Tyler. I got a delivery run that needs to go fast, you interested?
H: Say no more Dackle, we'll talk pay later.
A1: Great! How soon can you get here?
H: With traditional travel... at least a cycle. But~
A1: But?
H: But if you have a model 8 teleporter, I can be there in 10 minutes.
A1: Perfect! Just send me your specs and your retrieval code and we'll see you soon.
H: Consider that job done. (Hangs up)
A1: See Longo, nothing to worry about.
A2: Telling me not to worry about a human makes me worry, Dackle. | 2021-11-25T18:06:56 | 2021-11-25T17:01:53 | 114 | 77 |
[WP] "Grog have degree in quantum physics, NOT ENGLISH." | "You can barely count above 3" Vex said, "so how the hell do you have a degree in ANYTHING, let alone quantum physics"
"What can Grog say? Grog is just smart"
"Well you could say Grog has a degree in removing heads from bodies" Pike added.
Grog, this half giant, somehow bearded, barbarian does in fact have this degree in quantum physics.
"Here" Grog said "look!" Grog took out a rolled piece of parchment from the bag of holding. Percy, full of doubt, took it from his hand. Unfurling it revealed this degree, however the name it said this belonged to was in fact not Grog. "Grog..." Percy said with an ounce of concern in his voice, "where did you get this?
"Degree school!" Grog replied with pride, placing his hands on his hips. "Grog who did you kill?" Vex asked.
"No one!" Grog blurted out, "is it that hard to believe im smart!"
"Yes" Percy and Vex said in unison. "But its not about whether or not we beieve you this degree has blood on it, and the name on it looks like you tried to cover with your name, no offence but your handwriting is atrocious" Percy explained.
"It is still grogs degree" grog said with sadness in his voice. | “Grog? Are you there?” A high-pitched voice rang out from behind a barred door.
“Grog not here. Go away,” barked an orc scientist tinkering with a watch-like device on his small workshop table cluttered with lots of tools stupid human could not even name.
“Grog, this is serious HR business. Let me in!” The door rattled, causing the tools hanging on the walls to rattle back in response. Ugh... human never respected tools.
“Grog busy! Go away!”
But instead of the footsteps going away, Grog heard the sound of plasma torch going off. He grunted and tightened the last screw of his new device.
The bar broke in half, and the door flew open pushing the pieces into the room. Human always made mess when she came. She barged in with a clipboard in her left hand and a still-hot tool in the other.
“Gorg, we've been over this. You need to fill these documents, or the corporation will have to take action.”
“Gorg not write documents. Grog have degree in quantum physics, NOT ENGLISH!”
He put the device on his wrist and tightened the leather strap. Good leather. Oily smell.
“Here, you need to sign... HEY! Get back here!” The human yelled as the orc broke into a run deeper into the workshop. The HR followed, but she was just a human. Human were so slow and clumsy.
Grog turned around the corner and pushed the activation button on his wrist. A shiny doorway opened in mid-air towards a good land with lots of trees and green grass. Grog heard the human closing in, breathing in gasps. No endurance, those silly creatures had.
The HR ran around the corner but expected no portal. She tripped on the lower edge and face-planted into the grass on the other side.
“Grog no write. Grog engineer. HR write,” he said.
“Groooog! Don't you dare-” the human was already rising to her knees, but Grog pushed the button again and the portal disappeared.
He walked back to his table and picked up the broken bar. Ugh. It needed repair again.
Stupid human. | 2022-01-31T09:17:40 | 2022-01-31T08:49:03 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] "Grog have degree in quantum physics, NOT ENGLISH." | "Grog, we have been over this time and time again," the little voice said over the crystal machine.
"Say again little voice, me need calibrate."
Grog tuned the wave. Stupid human english man always trying to get in way. Grog would show them all. Mad scientist, Grog not. Grog mad engineer with tenure.
"Grog! The university needs you to stop messing with the space time continuum!" Stupid little voice, always coming when Grog least wanted it.
"Ah! Me hear you good. What this about space time? It works good right?"
"Well yes..." The voice sputtered,"but the Female dormitory is now connected to the mathematical sciences lab and the ladies it seems are in an uproar and..."
A loud crash came over the resonance crystal.
"Oh god did you connect this thing to middle earth Grog? There's a damn troll."
Stupid human do typical. Why connect portal to middle earth when Hogwarts so much closer?
"So what if ladies trip to class faster?" Grog said.
"That's not the point, Grog! Oh god the troll just smashed Mary into the wall!"
"Mary weak. Grog strong!"
The connection fizzled out. At least Grog had his TAs to mess with, he thought.
Stupid humanities and planar studies department. | “Grog? Are you there?” A high-pitched voice rang out from behind a barred door.
“Grog not here. Go away,” barked an orc scientist tinkering with a watch-like device on his small workshop table cluttered with lots of tools stupid human could not even name.
“Grog, this is serious HR business. Let me in!” The door rattled, causing the tools hanging on the walls to rattle back in response. Ugh... human never respected tools.
“Grog busy! Go away!”
But instead of the footsteps going away, Grog heard the sound of plasma torch going off. He grunted and tightened the last screw of his new device.
The bar broke in half, and the door flew open pushing the pieces into the room. Human always made mess when she came. She barged in with a clipboard in her left hand and a still-hot tool in the other.
“Gorg, we've been over this. You need to fill these documents, or the corporation will have to take action.”
“Gorg not write documents. Grog have degree in quantum physics, NOT ENGLISH!”
He put the device on his wrist and tightened the leather strap. Good leather. Oily smell.
“Here, you need to sign... HEY! Get back here!” The human yelled as the orc broke into a run deeper into the workshop. The HR followed, but she was just a human. Human were so slow and clumsy.
Grog turned around the corner and pushed the activation button on his wrist. A shiny doorway opened in mid-air towards a good land with lots of trees and green grass. Grog heard the human closing in, breathing in gasps. No endurance, those silly creatures had.
The HR ran around the corner but expected no portal. She tripped on the lower edge and face-planted into the grass on the other side.
“Grog no write. Grog engineer. HR write,” he said.
“Groooog! Don't you dare-” the human was already rising to her knees, but Grog pushed the button again and the portal disappeared.
He walked back to his table and picked up the broken bar. Ugh. It needed repair again.
Stupid human. | 2022-01-31T09:14:18 | 2022-01-31T08:49:03 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] A girl grows up thinking that all doors are automatic, but it's actually the work of a polite ghost. | I’ve always wanted a sister.
I was about to have one before I died. My mother was pregnant, I was so excited to have a sibling! We could share each other’s clothes and do each other’s hair, it was going to be wonderful! But… then I died.
I died peacefully, though sometimes I think I say that just to console myself. I’d think that after all these years I’d be able to handle reliving that memory since I’m already dead. In the movies ghosts are always so nonchalant about death, you know. I think that’s because in movies they don’t want their audience suddenly dreading their mortality in the middle, especially if it's a comedy movie about ghosts. Its goal is the opposite, I think. To stare death in the face and laugh. I wish I could do that.
But then I discovered you. I don’t know why I latched onto you. I think it's because I wanted to live in a family like my own, but I couldn’t bear to stay behind at my own house. I didn’t want to give them false hope that I was still there, or see them grieve me. I just wanted to forget. So I lived through you.
I apologize for any harm I’ve caused. If I had a corporeal body I would have beat those bullies up for laughing at your story about automatic doors which were actually just me. I enjoyed watching you grow up, pretending to be your sister. I know it’s a stupid dream, but seeing you happy made me happy too.
I thought it was ironic that you had imaginary friends as a child, like the kind old Ms. Beeswax and the fabulous Cindy Cinamon. They were adorable, and the antics you had with them never failed to make me smile.
Remember how you thought your music box was broken because it kept opening at random times? Those weren’t random. Whenever I’d see you sad or crying, I’d open that music box, hoping it would help ease your pain. I wish I could have done more, I really wanted to be a good sister. You didn’t have any siblings, just like me. I wanted to tell you, in my own ghosty way that you weren’t alone. That you had a sister.
Then you started to grow up. And what an amazing woman you have become. You don’t need me anymore, you probably never did, but I needed you. I finally got my closure, the one thing I never had: a sister. You were that sibling for me. So thank you. I wish I had a corporeal body for only a moment so I could actually tell you all of this, so you can really know that you weren’t going crazy. Those doors weren’t automatic, they were opened by me! They were always opened by me. Have a good life, sister, and thank you for being mine. | "Polite?" I ask, "Some may call it creepy."
"How so?"
"You ever shut the bathroom door and... Well I don't want to say it in front of a lady but I think you know what I'm getting at."
"I...."
I can see it on her face as it starts to sink in. This dame has been putting on poopoo/peepee shows for years. Judging by that look, she ain't happy. Then again, when is a broad ever happy? I mean that's why I'm even in the office so early. I slept here. Throw me out, will ya? She knew what marrying a private dick would involve. Following targets, stakeouts, interviews.... She wasn't complaining when I bought her that mink stole. ahhh....I know the money hasn't been coming in lately but that's exactly why I was out. Working. She's my gal though and besides, who else is gonna love this old, cold fish? I'll pick her up some meatballs from Luigi's tonight. That always.....
"Excuse me?"
.....puts her in a better.....
"***EXCUSE ME?***"
"BAH!! What!......Wha!.. uuhhh...oh...oh, sorry....sorry there. You were saying?"
"Ok! Is this something you can handle because this needs to......"
Something I can handle? If this lady only knew. I was in the Great War, the big one. Had no fear. Fear will getcha killed or worse, captured. .... and we were men back then. We knew those Krauts were gonna get most of us but did we run? Yeah, we ran.... Right at 'em. Johnny was the first to go and the first death I ever saw. Right in the head. He was dumb but I still felt bad. Then Charlie... Then Choppy. ***BAM!! BAM!!*** Right in the chests. But I didn't turn around, not me. Back then I wasn't afraid of nothin'. I just didn't know any better. I was a fathead. A yuck. As I moved closer, it.......
***HELLOOOO??!***
"AH!....ahhh....I.... who....oh. Sorry doll, I was just thinking about...the.....uh.....your case."
"And? What are you going to do?"
Was this dope crazy? Door ghosts?......In Pittsburgh?........In July? Ha! Not since Wilson was destroying this great nation...or maybe it was Taft. Besides, I saw her open the door herself. Maybe she is crazy. Then again, somedays I think all broads are crazy. Not Margaret though, the one that got away. Don't get me wrong, I love my wife, and I'm loyal too! But Margaret never did leave my thoughts. We were just kids, 9th grade...or was it 10th? Ah, what does it matter? We were young and dumb...... and in love. I remember exactly what she was wearing the first time I laid eyes on her. It was.......
***HEY!! HEYYYYY! HELLOOOO??***
*knock knock knock*
***ARE YOU IN THERE??!***
"AH!!.. WHAT THE?!!!...NO!!... please.... No hitting...no more...I.... where?..."
Suddenly a voice bellows from the other room.
"EMMA!... Stop messing with grandpa, please! Do you need something to do because I'll..."
"No mommmm....."
She looks at me with that evil grin.
"Play with you later.....grandpa."
She shuts the light off on me and I hear her laughs fade down the hallway. Ghosts? No. I've got real evil to deal with. Just like that time in Detroit. It was 1942, maybe 3. Bruno and I had just.... | 2022-06-12T21:34:03 | 2022-06-12T21:02:25 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] The local costumed vigilantes coordinate their schedules so everyone has a chance to brood on the really cool lookout point above the city. | The caped vigilante muttered in a low growl, crouching on a cornice overlooking the city. “*They think I lurk in the shadows. Watching. Waiting to strike. But I am the shadows.*”
His companion put a hand on his shoulder. “Master Wayne, your time is up. It’s someone else's turn to brood.”
“Turn?” Batman pulled away and looked up to the moon. “Like the wheels of justice… turning... silent. Deadly. I am the wheel.”
“Master Wayne, it’s Daredevil. He’s booked this next time slot.”
“Daredevil?” Batman grunted. “He’s blind, he can brood anywhere.”
“Bats are blind too,” a voice called from the other end of the rooftop.
Batman rolled his eyes. “He’s bitter, Alfred. He wanted the bat thing. But he can't have it. I am the bat.”
“It makes no sense!” The voice called back. “I’m literally blind! That’s the one thing bats are known for. What are you? Rich? Bats aren’t rich!”
“Hehe,” Batman chuckled, pulled Alfred in close, and whispered in his ear. “Any guesses what *he’s* brooding about?”
“I have plenty to brood about.” Daredevil called. “My parents were murdered.”
Batman threw his hands up and turned around, his voice suddenly losing all gravel. “Oh how original! You want an animal? You can be the Platypus. One freakish amalgamation copying the defining traits from other superheroes. Get your own thing!”
“Fine. I’ll be the flying fox.”
“No! That’s a bat! I am the bat!” Batman took a deep breath, collecting himself. He turned back to the city and rumbled. “Bats are dark… Like the shadows… which are me. I am the shadows and the bat. And the wheel.”
“Whatever you say, Bruce.”
Batman paused. “What?”
“It's Bruce Wayne, right?”
“No. What? No. Who's that? I mean, I know him, but that guy? What’s uh… what's he have to do with anything?”
“I have good hearing. Your friend called you Master Wayne.”
“I could be any Wayne.”
“There’s only so many rich Wayne out there.”
“I could be Wayne Gretzky.”
“Look, it’s obvious. I’m a detective.”
“Of course you are,” Batman sighed. “Alfred, call up the building management. I’m going to need an extended time slot asap.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe. | "All right, so Bionis has it on Sunday, he's due to fight with one of his minor league villains then, and will most likely feel bad about something." I made a note on the giant calendar I had hanging in my tiny office. Jamming the phone under my ear, I sighed. "And you're sure he'll be out of there before dinner? Only I have one of the more night-based vigilantes coming around 8 o'clock and I need to make sure the spot is clean." Squawking noises came from the other end of the phone, which I let drop to the end of its cord. I had heard all that outrage before. Bionis' sidekick would go on for about ten minutes, which meant I had time to make a coffee. I almost made it out of the office before the red phone rang. Snatching up the other one, I raised my voice, interrupting the tirade.
"Look! I've heard this and it always ends up in you admitting that while he's messy he can't help it. As long as he's out by dinnertime. Yes, the usual rates apply. Good. See ya." Clicking the phone rather hard into its receiver, where it immediately started ringing, I snatched up the red phone. "Hello. Brook's Co-ordination at your service. What can I help you with—"
"Oh, knock it off, you know who I am. I need the lookout spot cleared pronto. She's really in a mood today."
"Look, you know I can't do that on such short notice." A smile spread across my face. Some might even say it was a slightly evil smile. "Unless of course, you're willing to pay for it." A sigh came from the other side of the line. In the background, I could hear glass smashing, and was that a chainsaw?
"Okay, how much this time? I swear the price goes up every time." Having got the agreement, I named a figure in the high thousands. Getting off the phone, as my cellphone dinged with the wire transfer, I slipped to the other side of the office. There were about four different phones here, each connected to someone very specific. Picking one up, I waited.
"Yeah? What is it?" The voice oozed anger.
"Look, I need you to attack Askerian tonight. The usual fee." There was a pause on the other end before the voice growled a "yes" and hung up. On to the next one. Those two went off without a hitch, but the last one was always the most difficult.
"Hello, dearie what's crack-a-lackin'?" I bit back a sigh. It was always hard to reason with insanity.
"I need you to attack you-know-who tonight. He's got the spot booked up and I have an emergency. Besides, you've been quiet for a while, maybe this would be a fun time?" A low giggle started on the other end of the phone. It grew in intensity until I had to hold it away from my ear. Finally finishing, there was a click from the other end. Great.
Grabbing my coat, I locked the office, ignoring the constant ringing of the phones. Now I had to make sure that the villain actually attacked the vigilante. Being a coordinator wasn't an easy job, but with the market the way it was, well, you take what you can get. | 2022-07-02T09:51:21 | 2022-07-02T07:27:02 | 127 | 17 |
[WP] “Mommy,” said the synthetic voice, “what’s a soul? The kids at school said I don’t have one.” | Mommy, what’s a soul? The kids at school say that I don’t have one.
Who told you that?
Ellie. And Imari. And then Nicholas shoved me.
They say things because they are afraid of you. Because you’re different.
But do I have a soul?
I don’t know. They don’t either. No one does. People like to pretend things sometimes. About themselves. About other people. And then sometimes they forget that they are pretending.
I don’t want to play pretend.
Honey, everyone plays pretend. About something. I pretend that Rascal understands me when I tell him he is a handsome cat. Your daddy pretends to laugh at his boss’s jokes. Nicholas pretends to be tough. We all pretend things.
I don’t. Unless I am playing a game. Then I pretend. For fun.
Maybe you could pretend to have a soul.
But I don’t know what that is!
So that makes you just like everyone else!
That’s a dumb game, Mommy.
It sure is, sweetheart. It sure is. | “They said what?” I said. I quickly balanced the bowl of batter I had been working with. A few splicks of brown goop sloshed onto the bench as I turned to face Theadora.
I squatted down in front of her.
“Don’t listen to them Thee Thee.” I gently caressed her chin. I ran my hands along her wheels. I clenched my eyes shut as my thoughts wandered back to the accident. The screeching. The screams. The terror. I shuddered as I felt the drops of rain on my skin again. The feeling of dread as blood, water and oil swirled together down a drainpipe. The tears that fell from my face as I begged for help holding Thea’s limp body.
“Mummy, what do the children mean?” She asked again. A tear from my eye fell onto her lap.
“Well, Theadora. A soul is like a container for your thoughts and being. It’s where you decide to do good or do bad, I guess. It’s theoretical… uh, an idea, no one knows if it is real or not. At least, not yet.”
I pushed myself up and wiped my hands on my apron.
“Okay. Thanks Mummy. But why do the kids say I don’t have one?” It pained me to hear how monotonous her voice was. No inflection. No emotion. Just a robotic sound, but it was the best… the only, option available.
“Don’t worry about them. They just don’t understand you properly.” I stood up and grabbed the handlebars behind her and began to push Thea’s wheelchair.
“I’ll put on the TV for you and when Daddy gets home, he can take you for ice cream. Okay?”
“Okay,” Theadora said as her lips curled into a bright smile. | 2022-07-24T09:56:11 | 2022-07-24T08:32:58 | 56 | 17 |
[WP] It is said that the cursed princess can only be awoken by true love's kiss. To wake her up, the king has had princes from all over the world come to kiss her to no avail. One day, a peasant boy walks up to the sleeping princess and splashes her with cold water to wake her up. It actually works. | Princes, princesses, kings, queens, and even self-proclaimed deities came to kiss Princess Celia. None woke her up from her cursed slumber.
For those many years, the princess had been kept under the watchful eyes of a litany of guards. Predictably, the eyes got less and less watchful as time wore on. For few would dare risk the wrath of the King, who promised great rewards for those who woke her—and considerable punishment for those who dared disturb her.
But it was so that one small boy, humble in origins and born after Princess Celia was put to sleep, was at the age when he heard much about the situation but cared little of its consequences. The boy—Fern—who’s had issues with oversleeping for much of his short life, knew the best way to wake up somebody up.
And thus, Fern armed himself with a small bucket of water, and slipped nearer to the palace. Few paid attention to the scuttling boy. None cared as he walked around with the ill-earned confidence of a bright-eyed child.
He approached what was once a large temporary tent that held the princess. Now, pieces of it has been slowly converted to a more permanent state. Actual pillars now held up the tapestries, instead of tent poles. The fabric has been changed from barebones white to resemble more of the princess’ room, for familiarity when she woke up. Two guards, who used to be alert, slumped against the front, allowing Fern to simply nip past them.
Princess Celia laid there, unmoving. The boy unceremoniously dumped the small bucket of cold water over her face. In an instant, the princess gasped and shot up, bones unused for years creaking dramatically.
News travelled fast. The guards conveniently left out that they were asleep during the commotion and the King’s elation, and were thus conveniently left with their heads attached to their bodies. Within moments, a party descended upon the tent, and it was the King who walked through with trembling fingers.
“Father!”
It was the sweetest word the King had heard in oh so long. He quickly took her daughter into an embrace, before eying the small peasant boy, who fiddled with the handle of the bucket.
“You… kissed my daughter?”
Princess Celia whipped her heard towards the boy.
“You kissed me?”
“A lot of people kissed you, my love,” the King wept. “And none could awake you, for they were not your true love.”
“Excuse me,” the princess smiled, and reached towards the bucket. “I need to throw up.”
One sight unfit for anybody present later, the princess spat the last bits out, and pointed towards the boy. Though no words were spoken, the implications were clear.
“Oh, no, my king, my princess,” the boy said. “I just splashed cold water on the princess.”
“You dare—”
The King felt a jolt in his heart. He wanted very much to sever the boy’s head, but immediately thought it was poor optics to kill a child. Not to mention, the child who saved his daughter.
“Fine,” the King coughed, clearing his throat. “OK. You splashed cold water on my daughter.”
“Wait,” Princess Celia slammed her fist against her former bed in a decidedly unprincessly fashion. “You didn’t do that? Before you let people kiss me?”
“My dear, it was magic,” the King said. “I simply listened to my arcane advisors.”
“It works when I’m sleepy,” Fern shrugged. “So I tried it.”
Princess Celia stared at the bed, looking at the wet ring that was on the pillow. She touched it gently, and hesitantly whispered:
“My true love is… water?”
“It could be,” Fern said. “I like water too. You drink it, and it feels good. You get caught in the rain, and it feels good. Once every year or so, you even get to bathe in it, and it feels really good!”
“My,” Princess Celia muttered. “I do love water more than most of the”—she glared at the King—”people who’ve kissed me, I suppose.”
“But… but…” the King stammered. “I… the advisors…”
Princess Celia turned towards the boy, and smiled sweetly.
“Well, boy, thank you very much,” she said, and planted a big, sloppy kiss on Fern’s forehead.
The boy scrunched up his face, and tested touching his head with a finger.
“You know what,” Fern said. “Anybody got any water?”
---
r/dexdrafts | “Dunk him again!” The King demanded.
“No, please Majesty,” the boy yelled as he hung upside down between two soldiers. But before he could say another word his head was being lowered into a large bucket of water. He thrashed about, water spilling onto the stone floor.
“Daddy, stop! I’m begging you!” The red haired princess said as she tried to wriggle free from the strong grip of a blonde haired prince. Her dress still wet from the boy's earlier throw.
The King motioned to the soldiers and they lifted the boy up. He gasped for air as water dripped from his head. The King walked over and lowered his head so he was at the boy’s level.
“Tell me what you put in the water!”
“I don't know what's in it,” the boy said as breathed heavily.
The King slapped him across the face then stormed off. “Fine then. Kill him,” he said dismissively over his shoulder.
The princess screamed and tried to wrestle free from the powerful man holding her. Her betrothed apparently, as she had discovered moments earlier.
“But wait! If you kills me, you won’t never know about the kisses,” the boy yelled.
The King stopped just before the door. “Find out what you need Terry,” he said to his torturer standing in the corner of the room before striding out of the room.
The hooded figure of the torturer hooted as he crept over to a table covered with various iron instruments, his spindly fingers moving with excitement. The princess looked over at the torturer moving towards the boy. “Wait!” She cried.
Terry, tapping together a pair of pincers, paused in front of the boy.
“What about the kisses?” She asked the boy.
“Suppose I explain, if you get these two to let me down,” the boy said. The princess turned her head up to look at her betrothed and raised a pleading eyebrow. He shrugged and nodded to the guards.
They threw the boy forward so he slid across the cold stone floor. The princess hurried over and untied his hands, letting him sit up. The boy exhaled and his face changed slightly, taking on a more thoughtful look. Then he took a breath in through his nose and twitched slightly at a smell.
“It's a bit yuck, isn't it My lady? The King having all these young fellas over to kiss you?” The boy said as he peered over at the blonde prince standing a few feet away.
The girl’s cheeks flushed. “My father's a traditionalist,” she replied.
“Don’t have any tradition in the field where twenty men slobber over someone sleeping. Must be a high born thing,” the boy replied quietly. One of the soldiers coughed, as if holding back a laugh.
“That’s enough!” She said firmly, “If that’s all you have to say about the kisses then Terry can take over again.”
The boy glanced at the torturer. “Wasn’t exactly how I pictured this thing playing out, have to admit,” he muttered to himself. He turned back to the princess.
“Suppose it’s not just your father whose wedded to these high born traditions. The wicked witch who cursed you must’ve known what he’d do, cause she seemed very happy with the kisses you’d been receiving,” the boy said, trying to get water out of his ear.
The princess looked at him closer. “What do you mean?”
“She didn’t tell me the tale course, I only had the one job for her. But from what I hears before she sent me, all those kisses were bringing something with them, if you know what I mean. Then, suppose there’s just a final plumb on the pudding sort of thing. Well, she tells me it’s in the bucket. And all I have to do is, well,” the boy paused and looked at the princesses wet dress, then closed his mouth and shrugged.
“She was using me as a cauldron?” The princess said as she wiped her mouth desperately.
The boy rubbed his eye. “Suppose so,” he said.
The muscular blonde prince who had been quiet until now stepped forward, “and what was in the water?”
“She didn’t say did she, but suppose it must be something important. She put something in, not sure what cause she went out back to do it. Took a bit of time too,” the boy replied.
The princess could smell something now. And just as she was about to sniff a piece of her wet dress she suddenly started shaking. At first it was a slight tremor, then it grew and within moments she was shaking violently.
As the shaking intensified, she began laughing. Everyone in the room, including Terry the torturer, stepped back.
Her face began changing. Morphing.
The laughing turned into a cackle and a moment later the grin of the wicked witch crossed her face. Then the princess’s hair started changing color. It went from her usual red to blonde, then back to red. Her arms grew muscles too, seemingly similar to those of her blonde betrothed.
Then a moment later she was silent and still. She was the princess again.
But her eyes were wide, a look of horror cursed across her face. | 2022-08-07T04:19:58 | 2022-08-07T02:46:01 | 1,340 | 86 |
[WP] Sometime in the future, murder is legal. Why?
Are there conditions or gray areas? Is it worldwide or specific to just one country? Are there age restrictions? You decide. | "Legal" is a funny word. When I was sixteen the pedantic bastard hired to teach driver education at my high school asked me how fast it was legal to go in a 25 zone.
"Thirty," I responded, eyes still on the road. Of course that wasn't the answer Mr Whats-his-name had in mind but the line of agitated drivers behind me didn't share his firm dedication to the letter of the law.
These days 16-year-old-me would say "as fast as you want." The signs are still up, in places anyway, reminders of a bygone era when civility reigned, or was at least given a cursory nod before being disregarded entirely. They're riddled with bullet holes now. Most things are.
I'm amazed that old bastard is still alive.
The retreat of government is one of the surest signs of a nation's decline; my considerably less pedantic history teacher taught me that. I can't help but wonder if it went like this for the Romans -- did the Gauls kick them out or was their retreat from Europe, like America's Urban Re-centering, a bureaucratic decision made, not by generals and armies but by some nameless pencil pusher?
Within the walls of the urban enclaves there is still wealth, education, sanitation, law, order, and healthcare -- all the trappings of a great civilization; heck, they probably even have speed limits.
Out here there is nothing. Nothing but open air and freedom between my muzzle and that pedantic old bastard's head. | I ran through the alley trying to stanch the flow of blood, petrichor laden air coming in ragged breaths. I had never thought I would be on the opposing end of a friends gun, but I suppose it was bound to happen sometime; it was legal and the money was good.
A world that was gradually on the decline suddenly took a sharp downturn into chaos. Explosive populations, droughts and increased super storms, were to blame. The angry took to the streets, but the idealists overthrew the government. They thought they knew what was best but there was no way to quell the angry tide that they in part created. Unable to bring about a civil society, everyone was plunged head first into fray. The Collapse.
No one was safe, territorial warlords sprung up like weeds. Each starting petty squabbles with neighbors. One man emerged to bring it all into order, and his rules were simple: kill or be killed, similar to Darwin's theory. Many people were initially tentative about this idea.
But the hungry get desperate. The desperate do things outside the realm of a sane society. For a while there was no discernible difference from this new chaos to the previous. From the chaos came order, and in this order a warrior class emerged. Paid to keep people protected by any means, schools emerged reminiscent of agoges of old.
I came from the most prestigious of the schools, but so did my colleagues pursing me. Dodging into an adjoining alley, I heard flechette rounds pepper the brick where I'd just been. Interesting. They intended to capture me. Hiding along the wall I slipped out two stilettos, my rank markings contrasting on the black steel.
Sprinting around the corner my attacker had the goodwill to look surprised before I slipped the blade through his neck and severed his brain stem on the other side. What I did not expect was his ready, more experienced partner. He fired his Xiphos at me, a stubby microwave gun tuned to my neural stims, and dropped me to my knees. So much for that black market shielding.
The rain soaked asphalt came in and out of focus, and I was unable to lift my throbbing head. Though my ears were filled with a slight ringing I heard a familiar laugh "John, John, John, you never did learn your place." The laugh came again only to be drowned out as the ringing increased. I had a feeling of falling before I was pitched into complete darkness.
| 2014-01-31T08:28:44 | 2014-01-31T08:23:50 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Everybody is born with a bracelet that counts down the time until they meet their soul mate.
I found this online and really wanted to read what you guys would come up with. | Justin stared down at the body on the street in shock. The body wasn't moving. Nor was the car, that just a second was racing down the street. Everyone around him was moving, running towards the body, in panic, but he felt like he was stuck in slow motion, feet rooted to the ground even as the crowd flowed around him. Their shouts seemed to mingle into a low buzzing noise in his ear. He didn't need to look at the body to know it was his own.
"Hey." The simple word cut through the buzzing and beeping of the people around him and broke him out of his shock, turning to stare at the person addressing him. He half expected to see a skull staring back at him, cloaked in black, but this girl looked shocking normal. She could walk through any crowd and not stand out, but somehow Justin knew who she was all the same.
"Uh... Hey." Justin fumbled, finally finding his voice. "Um, this might be a dumb question... But I'm dead, aren't I?" The girl smiled sadly.
"Yep. Dead as a doornail. I'm sorry." The words held such finality to them, but he couldn't help but rebel against them anyway.
"But..." He gestured at the crowd surrounding his body, "What about them? What if one of them is a doctor? Maybe I still have a chance?" The girl looked down at the panicking people herself, taking a few steps towards them. The sounds of the crowd droned in the back of his mind, repetitive like the whine of malfunctioning appliances. The girl laid a hand on the closest head, though the woman didn't seem to notice.
"This is Mrs Patterson. She's a first grade teacher at the school down the street." She pointed out another person. "That's Jonathan Dirk. He runs the restaurant behind us." Lastly, she pointed at the young woman near his head. "And that's Jillian. She was driving the car too fast because she was late for her first day at an office downtown. Poor girl, she's going to have nightmares about today for the rest of her life." The girl looked back up. "None of them are doctors, Justin. By the time the paramedics get here, you'll have been dead for too long for them to revive you. I'm sorry."
Justin stared at his would-be rescuers in disbelief, as the sounds of the accident rose louder about him, drowning out his thoughts. There was an incessant beeping drilling into his brain, like the sound of the car's blinker signal, slowly rising in volume.
"This has to be a mistake." He said, staring at Jillian's distraught face. She had such a lovely face, though it was twisted up in distress. He tried to touch her reassuringly, but his hand passed straight through her. "I... NO! This is wrong! I had..." His brain scrambled for a reason, grasping at one last straw. The bracelet! Everyone got one the day they were born. It was plain, but it had a number on it, a countdown for the number of days until you found your soulmate.
"My bracelet! The one that says when you'll meet your soulmate! It had a number on it still, I know." He grabbed his wrist, only to find it bare. He stared in disbelief, realizing he'd left it at home. But it had such a large number on it, there was no way it had run out yet. The strange girl flicked her wrist, then held up the bracelet in one hand.
"You humans always invent the most clever things." She said, turning it over. "But I wonder how many of you actually understand what you created." She showed him the small digital display, still reading "1624."
"You see this dot?" She asked, pointing out the small indicator. Justin nodded. He'd never really considered it much. Never really considered the watch much either, the date was always so far away he'd never given it a second thought. But now it seemed to hold his life in it's balance. "It means that you'll meet your soulmate in the afterlife." Justin stared at her numbly as she picked up his wrist, strapping the bracelet back on. The beeping from the crash seemed to get louder yet as he stared hopelessly at the scene, at the strange girl, and at the lovely Jillian, crying beside her car in her new suit.
"Are you ready to go, Justin?" The girl asked. He shook his head, his brain still desperately trying to make excuses.
"No, this isn't real... This a dream..." He shook his head, trying to clear it. "This a dream and that's my alarm and any moment I'll wake up in my bed and..."
"That isn't your alarm, Justin." The girl sadly pointed down at the scene. "That's Jillian's bracelet." | The Red Wings scored again and the bar erupted into moans. Eric grimaced, turned away from the TV and stared into his beer. He didn't want to see the Canucks lose two in a row.
Eric heard the door chime ding as someone came in. A few seconds later, there was a woman sat down next to him at the bar and asked the bartender for a rum and coke.
"So, based on how bored you look, I'm guessing it's not you."
"Hmmmm?" Eric turned to look at her. She was pretty woman, with a young face and big brown eyes. She seemed extremely well put together; she wore expertly applied makeup and a tight dress that accentuated the parts you'd want to stress and hid the parts you didn't want seen.
"My soul mate," she said, talking fast. "I'm supposed to meet him tonight. I promised myself that I wouldn't check my time so it would be a complete surprise, but of course it can't be a **complete** surprise because I know it's going to be happening tonight. And, of course, I have the exact time memorized, but I'm not checking the clock either because, like I said, I want it to be a surprise. And I saw this bar here and thought it'd be a good place to check and you seemed like the only person sitting around alone so I thought I'd check and see if you were the one and I guess you aren't because you seem really happy and... And I'm really nervous and talking too much so I'm going to shut up now. Sorry."
Eric chuckled. “That’s okay,” he said. “It’s only natural to be nervous.”
The bartender came back with her drink. She took a big gulp, grimaced and put it down. “I don’t even want it,” she admitted. “I’m just so nervous!”
Eric nodded with an amused smile on his face.
“Do… Do I have much time left?” she asked. “I don’t want to look.”
She rolled up her sleeve and showed her bracelet to Eric. On its front was an LCD that read “0 years 0 days 1 hour 17 minutes”.
“There’s still time,” Eric said.
“Oh thank goodness,” she said. You’re the only good looking guy here. Wow! That sounded really shallow.”
Eric laughed out loud at that. “That’s okay. You’re really nervous, right?”
“Right,” she said, responding with a beaming smile.
“You have no idea who you’re going to be meeting then?” Eric asked.
“No,” she said. “I’m not being set up by any friends, I don’t have any plans, I’m not going to any parties. But my bracelet says that tonight I’m meeting my soul mate, so I thought I’d just wander around until I met him. I thought I’d be able to just have a fun night and relax but… Oh jeez, I’m just so nervous! Can you imagine what it was like before people had these bracelets? Were they always this nervous whenever the met someone new?
“’What if this new person is the one? Should I ask him out? Should I wait for him to ask me out? What if I’m just wasting my time?’ I can’t imagine how stressful it was."
Eric shrugged. “I really don’t know. Our world’s so used to it nowadays, they just slap the bracelets on to babies and that’s that. You know exactly when you’re going to meet the love of your life.”
“I see you’re still wearing your bracelet,” the woman said. How much time do you have left?
Eric lifted up his wrist. The bracelet’s screen was completely blank.
“Oh, it’s broken,” the woman said. “How much time do you have left? I’m sure you remember.”
Eric sadly turned his back and forth. “It’s not broken. That’s just what happens when you put one of these on me.”
The woman laughed. “You’re joking right? Here, let’s use mine. She looked away from her wrist and she undid the clasp of her bracelet. She pressed it to Eric’s wrist and stared intently as parts of the display fired at random before going blank.
“Did… Did you already meet your soul mate?” she asked.
“No,” Eric said, turning his head. “I just don’t have one.”
“Oh,” the woman looked crestfallen. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t know that! I’m so so sorry. If I knew that…”
“That’s okay,” Eric said with a laugh. “There’s plenty of us around. More than you’d think.”
The woman took her bracelet back. “So, what… What do you do then? Do you just not date ever?”
“Oh god no!” laughed Eric. “That’d just be silly! Sure I date women. I’ve had girlfriends. I’ve loved women. I’ve lost women. Most of them even knew that I wasn’t the ‘one.’”
“Do you think you’ll ever get married?”
Eric nodded with a smile. “Of course I will! Someday, I’ll meet a woman who also has a blank bracelet and we’ll fall in love and get married and spend the rest of our lives together. Will we be each other’s soul mates? Technically, no. If the bracelet says we’re not soul mates then we’re not soul mates. But that doesn’t mean we won’t love each other and be happy together. It’ll be like the days before we had these things. Might there be another woman out there who’s better for me? It’s possible, but I’ll still be happy. And frankly, that’s good enough for me.”
The woman glumly smiled back at him. “That’s a really sweet thing to say.”
There was an awkward pause as the woman finished her drink. “It was nice talking to you,” the woman said. “I’m going to go wander around a bit more. It can’t be much longer.”
“Good luck with your soul mate,” Eric said.
“Thanks,” she smiled a real smile again. “You too!”
She walked out of the bar. Eric turned back to the TV to watch the rest of the game. | 2014-04-25T14:18:11 | 2014-04-25T13:20:00 | 19 | 14 |
[WP] TIL that the opposite of Paranoia is Pronia, wherein one believes that the universe and the world is conspiring to help them. Write a story about one such person with an extreme case of Pronia.
If you would like to learn more about pronoia,* [click here.](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Pronoia_%28psychology%29)
*Edit: I'm a big fat dumbo and went ahead and misspelled pronoia. Forgive me!* | It had been three weeks since my wife had left and it was hard. I knew it was for the best, but that didn't make it easy. They had never been wrong before, and if They made her leave, there had to be a reason.
The light turned green as I approached the intersection. I didn't even have to tap my brakes, so I gave a friendly wave to the traffic camera as I passed. Sure, it was a little thing, but They must have known I was having a hard time, and wanted to give me a little pick-me-up by getting me home on time. They were very considerate like that. It was mostly small things. I'd tried to explain that to my wife when she asked me why I'd never won the lottery or received millions in some kind of clerical error. It had to be more subtle than that. Otherwise people might begin to suspect.
I don't know why I was Chosen, but I know it means I'm important. Some people can't handle that. It has to be a secret. Even Cheryl, after ten years of marriage couldn't handle it, and she had seen countless examples of Them at work. We'd never discussed it, but there was just no way that anyone could spend that much time with me, see the way things just perfectly lined up and fell into place for me and not begin to suspect.
I'd finally given in and told her one night after we only barely avoided a near fatal car accident. We were driving to her parents' place one evening and we hit five- five!- red lights in a row. The green lights had all been two seconds too short. It was subtle. Probably no one else had even noticed, but I knew Them too well not to recognize their work. Right as we rolled to a stop at the fifth red light, a truck had barreled through the intersection making a left hand turn. If They hadn't been watching out for me that night, we would both be dead. Cheryl was smart. Too smart. I knew I had to tell her. No one could be that deep in denial. Five red lights in a row!
Apparently, though, I had under-estimated her ability to delude herself. After all, she still couldn't even acknowledge that the bizarre circumstances leading up to our meeting in college could only have been Their work, even after I'd explained how integral Their role had been throughout my whole life. She never would have been in my class in the first place without them. An art major taking European history? Just for fun? It was sad really. I guess it's true what they say. Ignorance is bliss.
| I woke up to another rainy day. Beautiful. I was thinking about driving to work today, but clearly the rain is a sign that I should embrace the frizzy transformation that follows the 4 mile walk. If I leave now, I'll only be 2 hours late to work.
As I walked on the sidewalk through the city, a car splashed a huge puddle right next to me. I shouted, "THANK YOU!" to the kind stranger who decided to give me a refreshing splash of wake the fuck up.
I walked into the office with mild leg pain. Before I could find my usual cubicle, my friend and coworker, Robert, told me the boss wanted to talk to me. "Nice shirt," he said, "I'm sure boss will really enjoy the view of your hairy nipples."
"Thanks," I returned, as I rubbed my nipples a little more to get them more pronounced. Robert has always been a good friend of mine looking out for me. Just last week Robert and I were programming two parts of the same project, and thankfully he told me the compiler was broken, so I wasn't able to hand in my part of the project on time. He ended up getting a promotion, deservedly, and the boss threatened to fire me. I told him the compiler was broken, and luckily he gave me an extension. If it weren't for Robert, I probably wouldn't be working here. I was looking forward to meeting my boss.
I walked over to the boss's office, and his blinds were down. I knocked and he quickly stormed over to the door. The boss must have been really looking forward to seeing me!
"Sit down, John," he spoke sternly to me. "I'm just going to cut right to the chase. You have been late 3 days in a row, and I gave you two warnings, on top of all the other things you've been missing lately. I'm really sorry to have to do this but.... you're fired."
I have never felt so blessed in my life. My boss decided to redirect my life. From that day forward, my life has never be the same.
I write this memoir from a prison cell. Before prison, I was struggling to pay my bills due to mysterious disappearances of the money I entrusted to a friend who said he could help me keep my money safe. I had no friends, no sex life, not much of any hobbies. I really didn't even know what I was missing until I came here to prison. I don't even know how I got charged for embezzlement, but I thank God everyday for bringing me to prison. I have free food, free living space, a free tv, and an awesome new roommate, Hank.
Hank and I actually have this special handshake we like to do that involved me getting on my knees. I won't go into detail as it is a secret handshake, but I've found that many of the prisoners here are so nice to me. In fact, I have about 40 different handshakes that I've learned. HAH! To think I barely even had 1 friend before all of this. My sentence here isn't very long, but Hank told me there is a way to stay in prison for a long time. He has been training me to master the secret handshake and eventually teach it to little kids. He said that I would help make the world a better place. I really hope I stay in prison for the rest of my life! | 2014-05-12T13:11:06 | 2014-05-12T12:54:14 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] An ancient cult preforms a dark ritual in 1914 to summon someone from 100 years in the future. You are that person. | "Pour the goat's blood and begin the sacred chant," the priest said. He looked over at the men circling him. All wore dark cowls and that were faintly illuminated by the lights of one hundred candles.
In the center of the cave lay a pentagram, glowing red with power and energy. The priest himself was laden with blood gold and a deep rouge robe.
At his command a high ranking man stepped forward and procured a clay bowl that emanated an odor most fowl. As he poured the liquid onto the symbol of death, pestilence, war, darkness, and famine the other members of the occult began to chant in an ancient tongue.
The priest allowed himself a faint sneer, the closest he had come to grinning in years. Finally, his time was here. To bring someone from Two-thousand and fourteen to 1914? The world would bow to him.
As seconds grew into minutes, the chanting rose and the illumination of the candles began to die, caused by a mighty wind flying through the cavern. The candles died and all at once the smell of the blood on the pentagram intensified. It glowed, casting a crimson hue on the walls and the priest stepped forth in front of it.
"*MY LOYAL FOLLOWERS,*" his voice boomed across, "*TODAY, WE CELEBRATE A GREAT VICTORY!*" With his words he drew a knife from his cloak and threw it down into the center of the pentagram. For a third time it glowed with awesome power, and the chanting ceased.
They waited for a moment. The glow of the pentagram died.
Then two seconds passed.
Then three.
The space where the demonic symbol once was exploded, and the occult was knocked back with the explosion.
The Priest was the first to recover. He saw the man they had summoned, shrouded in a blue haze.
He was large, no not large, fat. He was fat. He reeked of sugar and the smell one has when one does not bathe in a long time. He wore a peculiar pair of earmuffs over his ears, with a long wire leading down to his pants. It was obvious he had not shaved in a while, for his beard extended down his neck. His clothing depicted small colored horses frolicking with each other.
Truly, this man was their savior. The priest bowed, and his followers followed suit. This was the man that would lead them into a golden age. | At first I had no idea what the hell had happened. I went to sleep in my own bed, a regular Thursday night, dreaming of blowjobs and looking forward to the weekend. Then, next thing I know, when I opened my eyes I was staring up a circle of chanting, hooded nutbags. A quick glance left and right let me know I was lying on an unlit funeral pyre in the middle of some unfamiliar pine forest.
“Welcome dark lord. We have long and eagerly awaited your arrival!” chanted the nutbags in unison.
“What in seven fucking hells is going on?” I said.
After a moment or two, one of the hooded nutbags reluctantly spoke up, “But dark lord… this is why we have summoned you here to us. We seek your knowledge of the hell you speak of. Is there truly more than one? Seven you say? Such glory!” It was a woman’s voice.
I figured the smartest course of action would be to get off the funeral pyre. Every other nutbag in the circle was holding a torch and I wasn’t too eager to find out whether or not they intended to light the pile of oil soaked sticks underneath me. Once I got on my feet I did a quick tally of the circle. 13 nutbags… go figure. The circle closed in around me as I was doing my count.
“Dark lord, what can you tell of the hell from where you came?” the same woman. I suppose she was the ringleader of this nutbag circus.
Now although I’m not the sharpest tool in the shed, I know better than to be honest around people who could be potentially dangerous. I decided to play along; hopefully it would save my neck at the very least.
“Remove your cowls and I will educate you on the land of the damned!” I don’t know where the hell that line came from but it seemed to have worked because they all immediately pushed back their hoods. To my surprise they were all women. Most of them were fairly attractive at that.
The leader of the pack, who was far and above the best looking of the lot, spoke again, “Now please Dark lord, tell us of your knowledge of this damned land you speak of! We yearn for it!”
That sent a shiver up my spine. Yearn. What a word. What an… arousing word.
Before you judge me on what I did next, you have to put yourself in my shoes. I mean I was dealing with a bunch of godless devil worshipping nutbags. Ethics weren’t really my first concern. Moreover, thoughts of my dream were still floating freshly in my mind. Hard to pass over such a once in a life time opportunity.
So I lifted my chin, confidently rolled my shoulders back, and said the only thing a perverted horndog like myself could think to say, “My loyal devotees! What do you know of… blowjobs?”
They slowly glanced at each other and what I originally believed to be looks of confusion were replaced by suggestive grins.
“Well then,” this next part I screamed as loudly as I possibly could, “LET ME TEACH OF THE GLORY OF THE SEVEN HELLS!”
| 2014-11-14T21:39:12 | 2014-11-14T19:54:07 | 37 | 19 |
[WP] - Tell a story through a phone conversation twice: the first time, the reader can only hear one side of the conversation, and the second time, the reader can hear both sides. | "Hey, Mom, how's it going?"
"What do you mean?"
"No, wait, just - just slow down Mom, you're crying, I can't-"
"...what kind of accident, I don't..."
"No, stop, stop, I'm coming to the hospital, just wait for me there."
**Two ways:**
"Hey, Mom, how's it going?"
**"Oh God, again? He cannot be that bad! His profile said he was a defense attorney for Christ's sake."**
"What do you mean?"
**"Oh, don't give me that crap, you were there when I cyber stalked him. You probably don't remember because you were three glasses in...hmm, maybe we should stop accepting online date requests on girl's nights..."**
"No, wait, just - just slow down Mom, you're crying, I can't-"
**"If he buys this crap, you have to go out with him again, you're a terrible liar. Should I make crying noises? Will that help?"**
"...what kind of accident, I don't..."
**"WAAAAAHHHH, boo hoo, sniff sniff sniff..."**
"No, stop, stop, I'm coming to the hospital, just wait for me there."
**"So, you buy the wine, I'll have netflix ready when you get here. See you in ten bitch."** | “Oh hey John, yeah my special lady is here. What’s up?”
“That’s horrible, when did you find out?”
“I’m so sorry man, is it chronic? I mean, is it going to be permanent?”
“Oh man I thought they had a cure for that.”
“Failed phase three clinical trials? That’s just terrible.”
“How long have you known?”
“Just found out, were there any signs or warnings to prepare you for this?”
“Got tested on a whim before there were symptoms. That’s a rough way to find out.”
“No, no, I can stay on the line as long as you want.”
“Are you sure? It’s really no problem.”
“Okay, I’m going to tell my wife. You two call us if you need anything. Seriously, our house is always open to you. You know that right?”
“Okay, take care man.”
*"Special lady huh? That's the code phrase for that ridiculous thing from high school. Well you’re going to love this then. Mary’s pregnant!"*
*"Oh hah hah, you know your wife is probably freaking out right now right?"*
*"Of course it’s not permanent! She’s due in eight months. Are you seriously going to do this for the whole conversation?"*
*"Now you’re just being mean."*
*"Alright, well, you remember the deal right? You take a video of whoever is listening to you have this conversation when you tell them."*
*"Oh just a few minutes. Thanks for asking a real question."*
*"Surprisingly not, no morning sickness or anything. She just took a test because we had some that were about to expire."*
*"It was pretty sweet actually. Like having Christmas come in the middle of August. Okay, you’ve had your fun. Now go calm down your panicking wife."*
*"No no, really, get off the line before she has an aneurism."*
*"Now you’re repeating what I say? Okay, I’m hanging up now."*
*"It’s been great talking to you dude."*
*"Remember, take video"*
Edit: indenting and some words.
Edit two: awesome prompt OP.
Edit three: more words. | 2014-12-16T09:14:18 | 2014-12-16T09:02:52 | 69 | 14 |
[WP] When you die, you see a screen reading "New Game+" and "Exit to Reality" Which do you chose and what happens next? | Darkness, silence, nothing but the sound of my sobbing.
I wasn't expecting the pieces of text, to be honest I wasn't really sure what to expect. Thirty years of teaching religion hadn't really prepared me for the after life, according to what I had taught there should be nothing here, suicide was not a good way to go.
"New Game+" and "Exit to Reality"
Two phrases I didn't expect to see, that's definitely something I hadn't read in the Bible. New Game+? Who would ever want to go back? Why would I ever want to return to that living hell?
My wife had cheated on me, my son was dead, killed by the same man who took the woman that meant everything to me. What was there to live for?
Exit to reality, anything was better than where I was.
"So how do you feel?"
The voice was gruff, unapologetic.
"Horrible"
I opened my eyes, the light was blinding, I couldn't see a thing, my eyes were red and puffy from all of the crying.
Slowly I could make out the image of the man standing over me, he was wearing a police uniform. He looked at me with a look of intense hatred.
"So did you learn your lesson?"
Lesson? I stared at him blankly, all I could remember was my dead son, life seemed pointless.
"I thought I killed myself, why am I here?"
"No" the officer looked at me with disdain "Mr. Carter killed himself, you unfortunately are very alive."
"But" and then it hit me.
"You see" the officer said "after you killed his child he killed himself, I'm glad you're beginning to see it from his perspective."
I looked down at my hands and began to cry, what had I done?
"But, if you haven't learned any lessons yet, maybe we'd better send you back through." The officer looked me in the eyes, and then flipped a switch on the wall.
I screamed in protest but it was too late, everything had gone black as I was sent back into hell. A hell that I had created. | Many people tell me "Life's a game."
I never quite took any of it seriously as it always headed off some cheesy motivational speech about your potential. I heard it at every phase of life. Elementary school, High School, College and even at the yearly workplace teamwork seminars.
And here I am now, age 84, and all I see floating about two feet away against a backdrop of soft white light, are two buttons.
New Game+ and Exit to Reality.
I'm in denial. I went to bed last night, this is all a dream. I stood there and pinched myself, not once, not twice, but thrice and there was no reaction.
"On the count of three, I'll open my eyes and I'll be lying in my bed awake and smelling the aroma of the delicious buttermilk pancakes my wife makes."
1
2
3
No change.
I'm bewildered as to what to do. I read the text on the buttons again. No way this is real, am I in a game?
At this moment, my life flashes before my old eyes and every moment where the words "Life's a game" stands out.
"Were they always right?"
"Are all my struggles just pointless exercises in futility?"
A funny thought popped into my head, "how would highscores be handled? Wealth? Intelligence? Happiness?"
Followed by a second darker thought, "If scores matter, where do I stand and does that affect my afterlife?"
Imagery of the Church's vision of hell appear......*Shudders*
I guess, I'll go with new game+.
The world around me fades to black, it's dark, it's warm, it's tight.
I can feel again!
I hear muffled sounds, walking, pacing, orders being given. Where the hell am I?
I'm being squeezed, from all sides, whatever I'm in is constricting me. I cry out, but there no sound. I feel myself moving through some sort of passage. The muffled sounds become clearer, "**PUSH**".
As I poke out into this bright white room, I cry out for help again, only to hear a wail that sounds nothing like my voice, what is going on?
My eyes flicker open for the first time in what seemed to be hours and I see myself. Or younger me to be precise.
"Let's name you Johnny.", "Isn't he beautiful?"
I feel myself being lifted up, this sensation is odd, it's like weightlessness yet I feel safe and supported. I feel safe.
*Fast forward 50 years*
I stand here as I watch my own corpse, my own body get lowered into the ground. And I ask myself again, in all these years should I have said something? In all these years should I have told him?
I hear sobbing to my left, it's my son, he misses his grandfather. As I look into his eyes and say several comforting words, those eyes say "It's me".
I fall silent, I am afraid. | 2015-03-13T12:15:46 | 2015-03-13T09:59:27 | 185 | 94 |
[WP] Villains are actually paid by the government to make sure heroes don't become bored with their job. Explain what happens when a villain finally comes clean to his enemy.
Edit: thanks for all the replies to this.! I loved reading every one of them | "No no no... listen Steve..."
I looked down at him. Captain Incredible. Lying in a puddle of his own blood and shit. He started coughing. I waited but had to look away. The blood he was coughing out beeing a little disgusting even for me. I walked a few steps and played with my gun.
"Even after all these things you have done. After you saved so many people... you were still a danger to the rest of the world. See the people are never afraid of the bad guys. Because the good guy will stop them. But what they are afraid of are the good guys. They are afraid that if the good guys snap one day that there will be no other good guys to stop them."
I felt how he looked up at me. Even in his current state he would be able to kill me easily. Yet he didnt. He listened.
"Do you know what happened 6 years ago ? When you first appeared doing all this fancy Superman shit. Laser eyes, super strength, invulnerability... well atleast as long you didnt get shot by a kryptonite bullet." I chuckled "Just like Superman."
I walked up to him and kneeled down. He wouldn't live long yet he fought hard to stay alive. I patted him on the head, a wide grin appearing on my face.
"Like I was saying. 6 years ago you started this superhero thing. And the first thing that happened to me back in the insane asylum was... this."
I presented a blue envelope with the seal of the United States on it. I held it in front of his face.
"I wasnt the only one who revieved it. Many other crazy homicidal maniacs recieved it. And what did it say ?"
I packed away the letter and sat down on his back. Like on top of a horse and began playing with his hair. I have to say his hair gel was amazing. It kept his hair looking awesome even while he was flying at the speed of sound.
"The letter was an invitation. I had to do what I could do best: be a homicidal maniac. I had to be a bad guy so that you had enemies. So that you couldn't make humanity your enemy. I had to be the bad guy so that you could be the good guy."
He started coughing again. It looked kind of weird from my position.
"Many others... Butch, Khaled, Sylvia... all of them were just like me. Fresh from an insane asylum and with loads of goverment funding. Only thing was that they died. That you killed them. I on the other hand stayed alive for long enough. Long enough to see YOU..." I played a drum solo on his head "...turn. What the people were most afraid of actually happened. So here is the question: If the good guy turns bad... who will stop him ?"
I jumped up and walked forward a bit. Then I turned around again and pointed my gun at him again. This time pointing it at his head.
"Well..." I chuckled "Me!" | "I DO NOT UNDERSTAND!" bellowed Uberman in his sonorous baritone. Negator winced and rubbed his ears. Uberman always bellowed. Maybe it was a superhero thing. *He* certainly never felt the need to yell.
"Ok, look, I'll explain it one more time." Negator smoothed back his greasy black hair, and adjusted his skull-mask. It wasn't a real skull, just cheap plastic, but Uberman didn't need to know that. "People get bored sometimes, right?
"THIS IS TRUE! PEOPLE WOULD GET BORED IF UBERMAN WAS NOT HERE TO SAVE THEM!"
Negator nodded eagerly. This was further than he usually got with Uberman. "Sure. Now, you get bored too sometimes, don't you?"
"UBERMAN IS NEVER BORED, NOT WHEN THERE IS EVIL LURKING THAT UBERMAN CAN SMITE!" Uberman flexed his prodigious muscles and grinned with his perfectly straight white teeth, showing off his stunning jawline. He would have cut quite a striking figure, Negator supposed, at least if he was about 50 pounds thinner and wore something other than a yellow spandex jumpsuit. Shoes would have been a start, at least.
"That's right Uberman! It's almost like being my evil keeps you from being bored, doesn't it?"
Uberman took a little longer to answer this one. "YES, THIS IS TRUE."
"Right, Uberman. And being evil is basically my job, isn't it?"
"YOU ARE EVIL!" exclaimed Uberman, seizing onto what was obviously familiar territory for him.
"So basically," said Negator, trying not to get his hopes up, "Its like my job is to keep you from being bored!" Uberman looked deeply confused, so Negator blindly forged ahead. "In fact, Uberman, that *is* my job! And you know who pays me? That guy you're always talking to, the one in the suit! Mr. Smith!" Negaror paused to look at Uberman. Uberman was inspecting a spider crawling up a drainpipe, a vague look on his face.
"Uberman! The government pays me to keep you occupied!" Negator felt bad for yelling, but the situation seemed to demand it.
Uberman's head whipped up. "YOU ARE TRYING TO TRICK UBERMAN! THE GOVERNMENT WOULD NEVER BETRAY UBERMAN! THEY ARE UBERMAN'S FRIENDS!"
Negator groaned. "The last time you didn't have anyone to fight, you somehow knocked the head off the Statue of Liberty and replaced it with the Eiffel Tower! And I don't even know how that's physically possible! They pay me to keep you from getting too bored! Open your eyes, Uberman! At least try to rela--"
"LIES!" screamed Uberman, swinging a massive fist. Negator ducked, and the fist hit the office building next to them. He winced as he heard the structural supports giving way, and the support beams snapping. More casualties to add to the Uberman file. Negator aimed a punch at Uberman's face and sprang into the air. He could hear the sound of Uberman pursuing, and the building crumbling away.
"Told you it wouldn't work," came a crackly voice from over the microphone in his ear. "Damn idiot's just too stupid. Still, you'll get your bonus for trying, at least. Shame you didn't find out how he pulled the Eiffel tower stunt though."
Negator sighed, pulling his skull lower. "A bonus won't bring back the people in that office building. A bonus can't make up for what that dumbass has done to this city."
And the hero and villain flew on, just like any other Tuesday, to the soundtrack of cries for help from Uberman and the death of Negator. | 2015-05-23T22:47:54 | 2015-05-23T20:55:39 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] You're a ghost who works for a Ouija Board call center. You're stuck with yet another group of kids trying to talk to demons | "Ouija Customer support, my name was Earl, how can i be of assistance"
"A"
"hello, sir, are you able to hear me?"
"R"
"ah, Sir, are you using an assistive speech device?"
"E"
"very good, sir, switching to text chat now"
" "
"Y"
"O"
"U"
" "
"T"
"H"
"E"
"R"
"E"
"?"
lets see, ouija board 2.3 has a YES readout... where is that button, Ah, there we are.
"YES"
a screen flashes up "would you prefer to see user text in-line"? I click 'ok'
"WHO ARE YOU?"
"EARL"
"ARE YOU DEAD?"
"YES"
"I WANT TO TALK TO A DEAMON"
"WHAT IS YOUR NAME, SIR?"
"MACY"
"I'M FORWARDING YOU TO MY MANAGER NOW MACY, HAVE A GOOD DAY"
What a nice lady.
| "Are you there?" A voice called out from my computer. For being dead, we are a lot more high-tech than we may seem. I mean hey, we have Steve Jobs. I typed a response, Y-E-S. It gets them every time they see the tracker move.
My clients today were a group of six girls at a slumber party. Marvelous. "Who are you?" The leader of the pack it seemed, I could see them on my computer screen, was speaking slowly at the board. Here comes the fun part, I could A) Lie and say I'm the Bloody Mary or some shit like that or I could B) Tell them the truth which is certainly not as exciting. I pick A. I--A-M-- I pause,leaving the girls in suspense.
"Who?" One of the girls squeaked only to be attacked by a series of hushes. L-I-L-I-A-N-A. I lie.
"Who?" The girl on the end said, and they looked at each other for an answer. I decided to milk it a bit more. D-A-U-G-H-T-E-R--O-F--L-I-L-I-T-H. Which is a total lie, but their series of gasps shows that they know no difference.
"Oh shit," The leader of the pack murmured. Y-O-U--D-A-R-E--W-A-S-T-E--M-Y--T-I-M-E-?
The frantically started yelling at each other trying to figure out what to say, it was obvious they were scared out of their minds.When a full minute had passed and no further contact was made I figured I had my fun.
T-I-M-E-S--U-P. I spelled out and you could hear a series of screams just as I made their world turn dark. | 2015-06-03T22:54:16 | 2015-06-03T22:50:50 | 40 | 15 |
[WP] Despite some missed points, J.K. Rowling's rendition of the wizard world has gained a fandom in the actual magical society. | The professors looked at the corpse in respectful silence.
"Shall I call for the caretaker?" Professor Figg asked, feeling a little awkward.
"Just pull it over behind the curtains," Horace Kettle said, waving his hand imperiously. "We have another seven canditates to interview this morning."
Professor Figg looked hopefully at Professor Quickley, who ignored the plea with practiced ease. Figg sighed irritably to himself, hitched up his robe and began to haul the bloodied lump of former applicant towards the window.
"Next!" Kettle roared, ringing the small brass bell on his desk. Quite what function the bell served, Figg had yet to discover as Kettle's voice could easily be heard at the other end of the Commons.
The large carved oak doors opened with an ominous creak, admitting a small, defiant boy in goth clothing and an ambitious amount of eye-liner. He twitched slightly at the sight of Figg's blood stained hands but kept his focus determinedly on Horace Kettle.
"House?" Quickley snapped, making a mark on her clipboard.
"Slytherin!" the boy replied.
Figg groaned to himself. Slytherin, always Slytherin these days. It was the fault of that damned book. He had just settled into his comfy leather chair too. He got to his feet with a groan and began to roll his sleeves back up.
"Well, let's see what you've got," Kettle prompted.
"I have mastered the highest degree of dark magic," the boy proclaimed, whisking a rat dramatically out of his pocket.
Professor Quickley discreetly raised her clipboard to block the incoming spatter as the boy waved his wand, shouted, "Avada Kedavra", and exploded. The deeply confused rat fell, unhurt to the floor.
"Suicide curse," Professor Quickley said tiredly. "I knew that that woman wasn't listening properly. I told her to write it down but, no, she was the *author*, she knew best...".
They looked at the corpse in respectful silence.
"Curtains?" Figg asked after a moment.
| Kat turned, looked at me with the white marbles in her eye sockets, and smiled. "You know," She began "You should really read harry potter some time!"
I sighed. It was about the book again.
"I've told you I don't like fiction for children. I've told you I don't enjoy the words it coined, seeing as Muggle is a retarded term, with no reasonable etymology like Mundie. I've even told you that I'm not interested in books that inspire kids to sell their eyes to demons for magical powers so they can murder some peers that made fun of their taste in music. What more reasons do you need to hear?"
Kat frowned, and began her complaints about my arguments. "First off, you shouldn't use words like retard or demon. They're offensive. Oculovore is an Infernal." I almost interrupted her to ask her what word I should use instead of Demon in that case, but let her continue on her rant. "Harry potter isn't only for kids. I know plenty of adults have read and enjoyed it on the internet. And for the last time. they're not pedophiles looking to get into my pants." I felt that that was a good chance to interrupt her with something.
"You're right, one of them was a demon trying to eat your eyes. And look at you now." Kat pouted. She didn't like people speaking ill of her patron, so I took nearly every opportunity to do it and annoy her.
"It was a great deal! And he really does enjoy the books. We discuss them often, even now that I'm a warlock. And muggle is quickly overtaking mundie in popularity."
"Because of all you fucking kids getting too much into a book! It wasn't even written by a wizard, sorcerer, or warlock. Not even by an alchemist or a mundie in the know! You're not getting the magical world you wanted, so you all insist on messing it up. We don't need our own schools, or our own towns, or whatever. Things like that are only a huge danger to our secrecy. More and more people are finding us these days, and then take up wizardry or alchemy or if they're lazy, sign an *infernal* contract. Some sorcerers even found their innate powers because they wanted to be magical so bad because of harry fucking potter!" I ranted. The book, a fucking *children's* book, endangered our way of living. I hated it.
"It just goes to show how good the book is! You don't want to read it because you're afraid you would like it."
I grumbled. She was probably right. I could just read the books and be done with it
"Let's concentrate our efforts on finding that talking sword for now, shall we? You can keep convincing me later."
Kat smirked. "Oh? You don't mean I can keep *trying* to convince you later?"
| 2015-12-26T07:44:38 | 2015-12-26T06:27:10 | 172 | 13 |
[WP] Retell a well known story. Make me side with the villain/antagonist.
The more unsympathetic they are in the original, the better. | I know a tale of a hero, a monster, and the tragic tale of a brave man's death.
The story tells of a woman who had lost her family. With the hope that, somewhere, they may still be alive, she journeyed through the wilderness on a small, brown horse, when she was captured by an evil monster, eight feet tall and powerful, a mix of man and wolf. He locked her in a castle as his pet, a plaything and eventually, a snack.
Down in the village, the people learned of this monster. A man stood on in the town square, holding a torch above his head. "We will not stay here and fear for our children's safety! I will kill this monster and assure the safety of you all! Who is with me?"
The townspeople gathered fire and pitchfork, charging the abandoned castle where the creature resided. As the villagers fought against the monster's demonic guards, the hero climbed the tower to save the fair maiden and defeat the beast holding her hostage.
On the rooftop, the two of them fought. The hero managed to cut the thing with his blade, causing it to yell in pain. As he advanced on the creature, however, his foot slipped from under him, catapulting him to the ground and his untimely death.
Eventually, the village returned to normal, with the monster nowhere to be found and the maiden engaged to a prince who had become astonished by her beauty. But late at night, when most normal people sleep in the small town, you can hear the men who guard the town sing a quiet melody.
"No one hits like Gaston, no one has wit like Gaston..." | I watched our glorious leader with disdain, bumbling old fool. Once again he chose to stay in his palace and play with his toys. I suppose in reality that was the smartest option, leave the governing of the sultanate to me. Still with no male heir and his daughter unwilling to marry a succession crisis seemed inevitable, one that may very well precede or cause his death if he didn't begin to act as a king.
I rubbed my head in frustration as I listened to the reports from the advisors. The soldiers keeping our borders safe from our enemies in the north and south were going to rebel if we didn't deliver their wages soon. Unfortunately most of the recent taxes had gone towards paying for the extravagant banquets to impress suitors, unsuccessful suitors at that. Many might fancy ours one of the wealthiest kingdoms in the land but it was mostly a facade, the years of incompetent leadership had taken their toll. A corrupt and buffoonish city guard never seemed to ever actually catch any criminals, the crime driving away sorely needed commerce.
"What a pack of idiots" my feather companion announced as we walked towards my private chambers. "If I have to listen to ONE MORE spiel about how this and that is the wrath of Allah for that stupid princess refusing to marry, I'm gonna lose it!" "Quiet Iago" I cautioned glancing around the hallways, knowing if anyone had heard my loud-mouthed pet it'd be my head, if there was one group with more power than the Royal Vizier it was surely the imams, and the far away but powerful caliph.
I sat staring at the night sky from my private quarters, filled with pagan items that would surely find my beheaded as a heretic if anyone saw them. I heard a faraway growl followed by a girlish scream. Another failed suitor I thought as I rolled my eyes. *Think Jafar think* I desperately searched for the answer. Then it hit me, why was I trying so hard to lead this camel to water? Perhaps if no worthy suitor could be found from outside the sultanate, one could be found within the city, perhaps a trusted vizier already familiar with the administration of the realm. If that failed though I'd need something else, if the answer refused to lie in logic, perhaps it could lie with magic. From my time as an apprentice I knew of a magic like no other, but to find it I'd need a very special gem. | 2016-02-02T14:25:18 | 2016-02-02T14:08:43 | 41 | 18 |
[WP] Every person has a button they can press at night that deposits a large sum of money to their bank account. However, the first person to press it each night is horrifically killed. | *Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
------
*Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the damned credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
------
*Press*
Wait.
Another ten kilobucks at the god damned credit union.
Damnit. Maybe tomorrow night.
-----
Maybe I should check up on how this plays out. When the button triggers... When it cycles, I guess. Yeah. National obituaries and stuff. Button stuff. Yeah, I could search for that on the internet. Easy.
Seems we have a lot of hits at a smidge past seven o'clock. Damnation! I've been off by hours! HOURS! Not tonight. Hell no, not tonight.
------
At seven PM, I start spamming the submission button. At precisely seven oh six PM, it triggers. Oh, please, please, let this be it.
I wait.
I check my credit union's website. Another ten k. Someone beat me to it. Damnit.
------
It's been a few weeks. I've learned enough about computers to write a script to submit 'press'es as soon as they can be entered. Tonight, I test it out.
Seven rolls around. I activate the script. Nothing happens for a few moments.
I contemplate my bank account. Has to be half a million in there right now. Whatever.
Time passes. I watched the computer tick by the seconds. It's agonizing, but I've lived with agony for the last two years. I hope the script I wrote brings me release.
Something about the way I'm breathing feels off. I was huffing over my computer just before now, the excited gasps of one hoping to be the 'one' tonight. But now... it's getting a lot harder...
I check my credit union account. No change. It's getting a lot harder to breath.
I can't breath.
At last. At last. | They both knew they were going to be millionaires.
In the great whirlwind of New York City business, it's rare for a meeting to occur that feels like instant destiny. But then along came Nate Carpenter and Hunter Bryson. One dinner party and one handshake later, they were partners.
*
"Cheers, my friend. To a first quarter beyond our wildest dreams."
Nate raised his champagne glass and clinked it against Hunter's. It had been three months since the launch of Listicles, the most successful office productivity app of the new year.
"You checked your savings account recently? 'Cause mine looks pretty damn good," Hunter said with a chuckle.
"Mine too, mine too." Nate took a sip of his drink and leaned back in his chair. "Say, I've been meaning to ask you something."
He reached in his pocket, set the glass down, and produced a bright turquoise button, entirely unmarked and mounted on a cheap plastic base.
Hunter jerked backwards, startled. "You actually use that thing? I haven't gone anywhere near mine."
"It's pretty cool, man. The big banks partnered up and gave a button to each of their customers as some kind of PR thing. Once activated, you get to be a part of this game, once a night. Starting at midnight, the sooner you press it, the more cash you get deposited into your account. The trick is you have to put in a little money in order to play, and the more you put in, the better the multiplier could be."
"So...it's gambling."
"Well, sort of. And there's one other catch, but I'm not worried. I'm not one to press my luck. You should give it a shot."
"What's the catch?"
"It's nothing, really. Just something in the fine print, something to keep track of the people who are getting too good."
Hunter sighed. "All right, fine. But just once. And I'm only dropping, like, thirty bucks."
*
Three months later, Hunter bet a million dollars on the nightly game session.
He called Nate one minute before midnight, his hand quivering.
"Nate. Dude. I bet it all."
"You're kidding." Nate shifted his cell phone to his right ear, using his free hand to place the button on his bedside table. "So did I."
Hunter laughed, trying to block his nervousness with excitement. "This is where we start to climb the ranks, my friend. This is how we become kings."
"Bigger than Google, bigger than Apple!" Nate chuckled.
"I'll see you on the other side. When our bank accounts are doubled."
Nate and Hunter reached for their buttons and pressed them at exactly the same time.
Within seconds, both men lay dead in their apartments.
Their accounts remained dormant as the banks' IT teams determined the night's losses. Then, the men's remaining funds were transferred directly to the banks, lost in the shuffle, as though neither of them existed.
| 2016-07-16T19:30:28 | 2016-07-16T17:29:20 | 113 | 38 |
[wp] When someone dies, they go to a platform where you can choose to move in to the afterlife, not knowing whether you will go to heaven or hell. You meet someone who has stood there for millenia, trying to decide if they should go. | By now, I could admit to myself that, like most things I had done in life, I learned Latin to be able to show off. There was no shame anymore, no cognitive dissonance. I learned to speak a language to impress people because I didn't believe I was impressive enough.
But now there was a chance to do some good with it. I wondered if it was too late to improve my place in heaven. The Bible was pretty clear about how to get there from life, but I'd never heard about this place. I had Faith I was heavenbound, and knew well enough to love my neighbor and be the salt of the earth, but this was not earth and I did not live here.
A man stood at attention in full ancient army apparel. He looked on at nothing in particular in the direction between where each of the train tracks terminate. He was not tall, as you'd expect a legendary warrior to be, but his spear was. It stood two feet higher than his five foot frame. Looking at it I could see that he didn't waver, even when he was blocked from my view but the hundreds of people shuffling about, boarding one train or another.
His shield and helmet make this soldier plainly recognizable. They're battle worn, not some cosplay outfit. Besides, it appears that the people here are dressed as they were in life- lots of auto repair overalls, other military uniforms, my own favorite dress shirt and slacks.
"Hail! What brings you here?"
The man's face was hard to read from under his helmets cheek and nose guards, but the rest of his body relaxed, then immediately tensed up again. He brought up his spear about a half inch and slammed it back down.
"HAIL!" he shouted.
I waltzed to enter his view completely, hands held together behind me.
"You appear to have stayed here longer than anyone else."
"Aye. There are no days with which to count, but indeed I recognize no faces."
"What shall I call you, soldier?"
"My mother named me Pollux."
"Ah, of course, twin of Castor?"
With far more speed than a human should be able to muster, Pollux knocked me to the ground, spear at my neck.
"What news have you of my brother? How do you know his name?"
After taking a moment to collect my wits, I did my best to explain that the two were subjects of a myth, handed down by each generation for thousands of years. Still at spear point, I describe my literature teacher from middle school and the book from which I read his tale. I was halfway through explaining what a book was- he'd surely never seen one- when he switched out the spear for his hand and helped me up. He went on to explain that it was all true.
While he and his twin kept switching places, earthbound and in Hades, these bizarre tracks had grown in the ground before him. A great rolling building would slide along them, open its doors, and slide away.
"We had mapped much of Hades by leaving notes, but knew of nothing in the directions these tracks led. As the Earth changed, and even the Empires we fought for and against fell, Hades had become the more familiar and interesting land. So I left a note. My brother and I devised a fair process for how to decide which of us would board the train and then report back on what was beyond."
"And?"
"What 'and'? No 'and'. This is what I've been doing since the dead stopped speaking my mother tongue altogether."
"You wait here for your brother?"
"As I swore to him."
"Pollux, I am afraid I have some bad news. These trains lead to heaven and hell, two places more permanent by far than Hades. There is no return from either."
His face was easier to read now. I wonder if he, too, had been alleviated of the mental hangups he had in life, or if he was just naturally so decisive.
"Very well. I will follow after. Shall we ride together?"
"Well wait just a second- I should explain what these places are, hell is-"
"No that's not needed. My brother boarded the left train. I don't need to know where the right one goes." | Death was swift for me, at least. Despite the rest of my life, I somehow managed to escape suffering in my final moments. Something to be thankful for, I guess.
It's really strange waking up after you die, looking down and seeing yourself even though you know that what you see is rotting away in a coffin somewhere; a feast for worms. After the initial shock of it, I followed a thick stream of people, just like me, wandering forward in what was more or less just a train station. Once we arrived at the platform, there were two trains on either side of us, both merely labeled with "AFTERLIFE" and nothing else. I expected a saint interviewing people, ushering them to either side, or a demon, or... *something*, really. Anything.
Yet all I found was an old man, hair wispy and white, sitting alone on a bench between the two trains as the river of souls split in front of him. Rather than board one, I sat next to him. As I got closer, he looked at me with eyes exhausted from carrying the luggage beneath them, and gave me the faintest smile.
"It's not often someone chooses to sit by me," he said, eyes returning to the river.
I shrugged. "I don't really know what else to do. Someone could at least tell us which one goes where, or something."
"That would be silly, no? Life was not easy, with labels and someone to hold your hand. Someone out there *really* loves testing us."
"Yeah, I guess that's true, but still. I don't want to get on either." I looked at him, furrowing my brow. "How long have you been here?"
"Oh, there's not much of a concept for time here, son. I've been here since I got here, that's about the gist of it. I've seen quite a few people come into this station. Never a quiet day, sadly."
"Lots of people die."
"They do indeed. Sometimes, though, the river swells and nearly floods the station. Sometimes more of one ethnicity comprises the river. That's how I can get an idea of what's going on back home. It's rather fun, actually. Learning about Earth by watching the dead come through here."
My eyes turned to the train in front of us. "Are you ever going to pick?"
"I reckon eventually I'll have to. The rest of the dead have moved on, while I'm stuck here in purgatory. Pretty sure I've seen my family pass by, but again, no one really stops. They all just see the trains, the choice, and frantically follow those in front of them to get inside. As if the train's going to run out of space." He chuckled to himself, taking a deep breath afterward.
"Which path will you take?"
"That's the tough question. I'm afraid I don't know. Most people pick the righthand platform upon entering, I do know that. Perhaps because it seems to go forward, while the other faces backward. At least, from their perspective. Here, on this bench, neither seem to go much of anywhere."
"Hmm. Maybe I'll take the one less traveled by."
The old man turned his head. "What was that?"
"The path less traveled by. It's this poem I read back on Earth in high school, about some guy that has to pick between two roads and chooses the one less people take. Seems fitting right now."
He smiled, gazing into his lap. "I haven't heard that in a long time- I'd nearly forgotten. Yes, I recall something like that now that you mention it. I think it meant something different on Earth, however."
"Why's that?"
"Say I pick the train less traveled by, and it takes me somewhere pleasant. Is it better to end up somewhere wonderful, with no one to share it with? Or to end up somewhere ripe with struggle, but suffer it with those you love?"
"I guess so. Man, I wonder what Frost would say about this place."
For the first time, the old man laughed, looking up at the vaulted ceiling. "I reckon he'd just sit here on this bench. I have a proposal for you, uh..."
"Steve."
"Steve. Why don't we get on a train together?"
The young man chewed on that suggestion for a moment. "Okay, deal. Which one?"
"I'll let you pick."
"All right. Why don't we pick the one more traveled by, uh..."
"Oh, silly me. Why don't you, eh, call me Bob?"
"Okay, Bob. Let's go." The two men joined hands, merging into the river of souls flooding the righthand train.
*Two paths diverged in a station of concrete and steel, and I-*
*I took the one most traveled by.*
*And that has made all the difference.*
----
*thanks for reading! You can find more at /r/resonatingfury!* | 2016-08-14T07:53:27 | 2016-08-14T07:28:06 | 156 | 84 |
[WP] You've been playing with equations in a notebook and have, if you're right, just discovered time travel. You turn the page and are greeted with one word: "DON'T" | *Don't*
I look down, puzzled at the word. It's definitely my hand-writing, but I'm positive I didn't write it. I turn the page.
*Forget*
I'm curious now. I can only surmise, by the familiarity of the hand and the fact I keep this notebook locked in a secure safe, that somehow, maybe, my future self has left me a message. A message of such import that he ... or I ... would consider risking a paradox by doing so.
*A*
'Don't forget a,' a what? What don't I forget? *flip*
*Towel*
Goddamn it, me. | I stared at the page, my heart throbbing. I closed the book, looking around to see if anyone was watching me. Was this a practical joke? Had one of my coworkers put it in there to dissuade me - to steal my breakthrough?
But if that was the case... why was it in my own handwriting?
I watched as my coworkers went home, one by one. I clutched my notebook all the while. But after my last colleague left, I was alone in the lab. And it was time.
I opened the book, pouring over the equations. It was all so clear to me... time isn't an arrow, it's like gravity - it *is* gravity. It keeps you in place, keeps you moving forward, keeps you 'on time'. And once you conquer gravity, you conquer time itself.
*"Don't."*
The word flashed across my mind. I'd spent my entire life working on this, and yet I could never shake that feeling. That deep sense of unease. But would a single word, a simple feeling, keep me from completing my life's work? Keep me from going back in time?
Keep me from saving her?
*"DON'T."*
I stared at the machine. I knew it was a bad idea, but I'd be a coward if I didn't go through with it now, and I was already a coward before, so many years ago - and that's what killed her.
***"DON'T."***
I pressed the button before I could stop myself.
Maybe going back in time kills me, but I'm already dead without her. | 2016-11-10T07:34:10 | 2016-11-10T01:08:03 | 61 | 17 |
[WP] "A watched pot never boils", as the old saying goes. Throughout all of history there has always been at least one set of eyes on the ocean. Today, for a split second, everyone looking at the ocean looked away at the exact same time. | "OH, THANK GOODNESS!"
Jeff was slammed to the ground as the massive voice rammed into the Earth, cracking buildings and sending people to the ground. Hysteria broke out around him.
"ABOUT TIME THIS STARTED BOILING!"
The sentance was longer, the impact greater. Jeff cried out, he had probably cracked a rib at this point.
"DAMN HUMANS... AS SOON AS I TRY AND MAKE A NICE SOUP WITH THIS BARREN ROCK, BOOM! EVOLUTION! WHAT A PAIN..."
Jeff screamed. He was being grinded against the concrete, the buildings around him collapsing from the shockwaves. He had certainly cracked a rib, probably worse.
"NOW, TO ADD THE MEAT!"
Jeff groaned as the sound washed over him again. He was on the boardwalk, right by the coast, and he turned his head to it now.
From the skies, he saw a gargantuan slab of pinkish meat plumment down, and it hit the ocean like a meteor.
*A meat-eor*, he thought, as the ensuing tidal wave rushed toward him. *That's the saddest way to go I can think of.*
The wall of boiling water hit him, and at least his death was swift.
| “As with most other apocalypses, this exhibit, Earth, ended for a phenomenally stupid reason,” the docent said. Martin was next to me, laughing hysterically. He loved the Museum of Dumb Apocalypses. We went whenever we were in Diamondtown, which was about twice a year, when we came to visit my folks for the holidays.
“The residents apparently didn’t understand the basic thermodynamic rules of their planet, and when they lapsed into inattention, this large volume of quantum fluid that partially submerged their land masses began to boil. The whole planet was gone -- done -- in like an hour. Ridiculous, right? Moving on--”
The couple to my right were giggling. “You can actually major in this!”
“No!”
“Yes! Idiotic Eschatology. They offer it at my uni. It’s actually super-competitive. That guy,” a slimy extrusion grew to point at the tour guide “has a PhD!”
Everyone who overheard that had a good chuckle.
“...And now that brings us to Bajambmor, which is so small that we actually have the entire dead husk of the planet, on display, right here!”
The tour guide held out his palm and Bajambmore materialized -- a black rock about the size on a human fist. A tiny voice spoke up: “We’re not quite dead yet!”
“What’s that?” The tour guide looked at the planet. “Do you need assistance? Send up a flare so we can find you!”
A small firework blossomed. The tour guide inspected the planet: “Here we go, riiight about...there.” Squish.
The tour guide wiped his hands on his pants. “As I said, folks, most apocalypses are really astonishingly stupid errors in judgement. I hope you enjoyed the tour. Please find your way out through the gift shop and fill out the feedback form before leaving!”
Want more like this? Subscribe to [r/robotdevilhands](https://reddit.com/r/robotdevilhands) | 2017-03-20T09:03:48 | 2017-03-20T09:03:20 | 562 | 75 |
[WP] Humans are the most feared and reviled race the Galaxy. Every 10000 years when humans reach a certain level of Technology a galactic Council sends a force to knock them back to the Stone Age. This time however that force arrives several decades late. | Something had destroyed our ancestors. At the pinnacle of our race's creation, it was stripped from us, leaving only the bones of the empire. But we rebuilt what we lost from the remnants of the technology.
The progenitors knew their destruction was coming. They hid their technology all through the planet, waiting to be rediscovered. We found records from before their annihilation and they told a similar story to our own, building from rubble and destruction. They prepared for war, fortifying the planet with countless bunkers and gun emplacements.
We saw their failure spread across the surface of the entire planet. The once mighty forts were reduced to little more than craters and their cities were utterly obliterated. However, their efforts were not in vain, for mixed in with all of the other ruins were a handful of crashed ships of a completely alien design.
At last, we could know of the enemy. Our techno workers began to disassemble the crafts, reverse engineering their processes. After a single lifetime, we understood all of the technology and were building ships of our own. From single manned fighters to mighty frigates, our fleet expanded at an astonishing pace. Soon, we had a plan.
We began the construction of larger ships of a massive scale, large enough to hold billions. Over the course of a hundred years, we had constructed six of these massive colony ships and sent each in a different direction.
Where the progenitors tried to hold their homelands, we will seek out a new home. If we cannot fight, we can run, spread, and hide. There will come a day when those armies once again will come and once again they will try to pound us back into the ground. We cannot let them get us all. We will endure and we will survive.
*Author Here. I hope you enjoyed this. I may write a sequel at some point, I haven't decided yet.*
*If you're interested in reading more of my shitty stuff, you can check it out at my tiny subreddit /r/slowlyscribedstories. Have a nice day!* | Their systems had warned them about a week in advance, and when we were out of hyper light speed, we were immediately in the facinity of several if their new destroyers, their ships had devaloped further than we had anticipated, which is why we were, while not outclassed, outnumbered on a similar class, and the numbers were huge. We had come here in three ships, they had at least 70, a message was issued from one of their ships. Our mecanic, Threno tried to play it, but only giberish came out.
"Reverse code, idiot." Juptli told his girlfriend.
"On it." Threno responded.
It said something in what I assumed must have been earth-speak, our computer could immediately tell this was a lenguage, but it couldn't deciver this.
"Send the lenguage trigger!" Captain Gjinil Morgan said.
We asked them for a tv show to analyse their language and send one to their ship in return, this was common practise between spicies that never had this kind of contact before.
It took us some time to completely figure out the communications with this fleet, and it stood by waiting as we learned their language. The process of learning a language was highly mecanised, with one being able to learn any language within half a minute, but this only worked one at a time, and I was the language crack, so this was now my job.
The original message read: "Greetings, foreigner, what is your intent?"
"Open video chat!" The Captain commanded, and so did Juptli. I stood up and looked at the screen, which began to show the face of several humans, they didn't look all that different to other, well known species, but their variaty was enormous, one of them had red hair, one a silvery colour, black, blonde and brown were all seen several times in this gathering. Their skincolours too were variable, everythung from white to dark brown was seen in this group.
"Sorry it took us so long to respond," I translated my captain into english. "We had problems learning the language and your coding."
"We are still sitting on your language, so no problem." One of the men said. "So, welcome to Sol, what is your intention?"
I translated that for the captain, and she talked a lot of bullshit which I also translated. We pretended we hadn't known about the continued existence of scentiant life on earth after the 'Asteroid' hit earth and played nice with them, they had the largest military fleet we knew of positioned here to fuck us up if we attacked, and we couldn't confirm whether that was all.
We were here to make it out alive now without sharing much information. We had always regarded humanity as a potential thread to us, but they turned out to become one of our principal allys over the following years and had equal footing with many empires while only colonising previously uncolonised worlds.
| 2017-05-16T15:48:58 | 2017-05-16T14:32:46 | 54 | 22 |
[WP] Humans are the most feared and reviled race the Galaxy. Every 10000 years when humans reach a certain level of Technology a galactic Council sends a force to knock them back to the Stone Age. This time however that force arrives several decades late. | Empty.
The Supreme Admiral looked at the blue planet before him and reread the scouting report. Somehow, despite arriving only a few decades later than they were supposed to come, the planet was empty. Oh, there were still signs of life here and there, and some of them were probably what passed for the current crop of 'Humans', as they were called, but the vast majority of the planet's population was gone.
He turned to the Intelligence Officer next to him, returned the scouting report, and asked, "How is this even possible? There's no sign of advanced space capability, yet they clearly have left the planet and vanished!"
"I do not know, Sir, but we're looking into it now." He was interrupted by an incoming priority communication from one of the scouting teams. "Admiral!" he exclaimed, "we've found something!" He moved over to the viewscreen controls and punched in a feed channel. The picture changed instantly to a view over a large flat plain, with a large cliffside rising up at the end of it. There, inscribed in the rock face in letters that must have been a hundred meters tall were the words, "So Long, and Thanks For All the Fish."
"What does it mean?" asked the Admiral.
"I don't know," replied his Intelligence Officer, "and I'm almost afraid to find out..."
*Nobody knew that the dolphins had been paying attention to the purges humanity had suffered every 10,000 years or so, but after the most recent one they decided enough was enough. Slowly, with great effort, they established contact with the re-evolving humans and gained their trust. Eventually they were able to impart their knowledge to a select group, who worked in secret until it was time to reveal the truth. It took two decades to build the massive ark ships that would take humanity elsewhere, and then another to move everyone aboard along with the construction and launch facilities for use elsewhere. But in the end, the planet was nearly devoid of humanity - leaving the dolphins as the new rulers of Earth.* | Their systems had warned them about a week in advance, and when we were out of hyper light speed, we were immediately in the facinity of several if their new destroyers, their ships had devaloped further than we had anticipated, which is why we were, while not outclassed, outnumbered on a similar class, and the numbers were huge. We had come here in three ships, they had at least 70, a message was issued from one of their ships. Our mecanic, Threno tried to play it, but only giberish came out.
"Reverse code, idiot." Juptli told his girlfriend.
"On it." Threno responded.
It said something in what I assumed must have been earth-speak, our computer could immediately tell this was a lenguage, but it couldn't deciver this.
"Send the lenguage trigger!" Captain Gjinil Morgan said.
We asked them for a tv show to analyse their language and send one to their ship in return, this was common practise between spicies that never had this kind of contact before.
It took us some time to completely figure out the communications with this fleet, and it stood by waiting as we learned their language. The process of learning a language was highly mecanised, with one being able to learn any language within half a minute, but this only worked one at a time, and I was the language crack, so this was now my job.
The original message read: "Greetings, foreigner, what is your intent?"
"Open video chat!" The Captain commanded, and so did Juptli. I stood up and looked at the screen, which began to show the face of several humans, they didn't look all that different to other, well known species, but their variaty was enormous, one of them had red hair, one a silvery colour, black, blonde and brown were all seen several times in this gathering. Their skincolours too were variable, everythung from white to dark brown was seen in this group.
"Sorry it took us so long to respond," I translated my captain into english. "We had problems learning the language and your coding."
"We are still sitting on your language, so no problem." One of the men said. "So, welcome to Sol, what is your intention?"
I translated that for the captain, and she talked a lot of bullshit which I also translated. We pretended we hadn't known about the continued existence of scentiant life on earth after the 'Asteroid' hit earth and played nice with them, they had the largest military fleet we knew of positioned here to fuck us up if we attacked, and we couldn't confirm whether that was all.
We were here to make it out alive now without sharing much information. We had always regarded humanity as a potential thread to us, but they turned out to become one of our principal allys over the following years and had equal footing with many empires while only colonising previously uncolonised worlds.
| 2017-05-16T21:23:11 | 2017-05-16T14:32:46 | 46 | 22 |
[WP] A powerful necromancer is trying to raise the dead. However, despite trying different vessels and rituals, he has only raised you. Over. And over. And over. You're both starting to get sick of each other. | "This is a 245th time," was my tired greeting. I'd died in 1786, though I didn't know when I would die for real. Again and again, people tried to raise me. Its towering presence intimidated me to a small extent, for my incredulous amount of meetings with him removed all forms of fear. It was just...irritation. Irritation that I would never get a place in history without editing it.
"I know," the sorcerer said lazily, propping the summoning tome against the wall. "It's always you. Whenever I ask for a person to help, the only guy on call is you." I chuckled. My importance was often underestimated, and though many in the mortal sphere knew my names, few knew me in person.
"So? What job do you have for me?" I said, jokingly mimicking his lazy position. The sorcerer laughed, and pointed to the TV. A man stood before a large podium, pompously making a speech. I rolled my eyes. All of the clients, they were always the same. Power-hungry, coveting leadership...I wanted to stay out of this political nonsense. But with every political leader came the need for me. So I waited for my instructions.
"Carry out Stage 5 on him," the sorcerer said plainly. I raised my eyebrows. This was only my second case of Stage 5, my first being...well, I couldn't disclose it. Client confidentiality, after all. But it sufficed to say that my last experience with Stage 5 leaders was...unpleasant. I looked again at the man speaking, as a wave of disgust rose in me. He was talking about...legalize *child porn and slavery*. And none of his supporters were opposing it. From other clips the summoner showed, I saw his embezzlement, his failed promises, his eloquent rallying speeches talking of the things he never did. Stage 5 seemed justified now. Even a Stage 6 wouldn't have been a problem. I was always excited at a new case, less so with Stage 1 leaders, but this? I wouldn't have missed it for worlds.
"So? Deal?" the sorcerer asked, cocking his head to meet my determined gaze. I stopped myself as I was about to give my hearty response. The sorcerer's cases were fun but...he wasn't. Far from it. But it'd been a stretch of 57 Stage 1 cases before this one, so I had to cut him some slack. I nodded, slyly smiling. "Always a pleasure to do business with you, Leadership," I replied.
"You too, Corruption. Have a nice time," he said, winking as I left. Our fates were intertwined, and though I wanted to but would never rest, the calling always gave me a joy. The joy of a hunt.
_________________________________________________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | Yolden was jerked upright. He felt something snap in his waist, twist in his gut. His nerves had rotted a long time ago, but somehow his body knew that he *should* be feeling pain, and thus he felt it. Yolden gripped at air until his knuckled turned white and wheezed out painful breaths.
The moonlight was bright and painful to look at, obscured only by a faint shadowy figure. "You again." He muttered.
The figure bent down to a squat and pulled something from Yolden's gut. As hunk of iron slid out, Yolden felt his half-disintergrated intensive shift and groan. He did likewise. The pain was unbearable. Agony like a fiery whip licking up his gut and searing the skin.
"You're... not..." Yolden wheezed, trying to form the words on the remainders of his tongue. "...done. Why?"
Teeth glistened like stars in the moonlight. A horrid, wretched grin. "I shan't be done for a while yet." Dhesty tipped back his broad brimmed hat to let a tumbled of black curls fall to his shoulders. "I will finish hurting you, when the pain you left fades."
"And when," Yolden managed, "will that be?"
"When I see them again."
"You could have brought them back from the first. Why didn't you?"
"You who has tasted death," Dhestry said, "knows how sweet it is. You surely understand why I have let them revel in it."
Yolden coughed out a laugh. "You think that they would find death sweeter than you?" He licked at his greening gums. "Perhaps you're right, you bitter sack of shit. I did those fuckers a favour, getting them away from you. You should be thanking me."
Dhestry rose from his squat, hefted the sabre in his hands.
"They would be thanking me." Yolden said, drifting a pale hand to Dhest. "They would grab me by the arms and kiss me by the cheek."
"And did they?"
"You know that's not how it works." Yolden shook his head. "Don't think I haven't seen the rings on your neck, Dhestry LeStride. You've touched the other side, explains how you have so little trouble pulling me back."
"I assure you," Dhestry spat, "It is no *little trouble.*"
"And yet you keep on doing it. Are you satisfied yet? Has it brought them back?"
With the flick of his wrist, Dhestry spun the sabre in his hands. In a flash, he drove it down through Yolden's collar, down to the hilt and pinning him to the earth. Dhestry returned to his squat, ignoring the anguished cries of the once-dead man before him. He pulled at the collar of his jacket, revealing the sickly pale skin of his neck. His throat was marred by a ring of black, tattoos set from the sting of a hempen rope. "They can't come back." Dhestry whispered. "And I've already walked the grave."
"You think I haven't walked the grave, Dhestry?" Yolden said. "How is it you can't cross over again but I can?"
"I've walked this world two hundred years and could not tell you why. Maybe each man can only cross a certain amount of times."
Yolden cocked an eyebrow. "Is that so? Then how many times is it for me? Fifty? Five hundred?
There was that smile again, somehow more piecing than his blade. "That's what I'm trying to find out." | 2017-07-22T05:45:54 | 2017-07-22T05:38:54 | 142 | 27 |
[WP] You wake up in your best friends house as a roomba, and you try relentlessly to get your friend to realize who you are. | I finally have enough.
I think it's been two months since my trans-roomba-fication. It's been so long since I've spoken to another person, I almost think that phrase is funny. Almost.
About two weeks in, I figured out that I could reverse my vacuum port and spray clods of hair and grime onto the carpet. Steve was furious, and he tried to take me apart to fix it. I couldn't feel it, but I was still terrified. Could he accidentally kill me? He wouldn't even know... Fumbling around with a screwdriver and shuffling me loose of the mortal coil.
...Wait. Is it a literal coil? Ah, I'm getting sidetracked.
A month afterward, he caught me and emptied out my cartridge. I was so close, and I had to start all over. I intentionally rammed the kitchen cupboards that night every ten minutes between 1AM and 2:30.
Then, Steve turned me off.
There wasn't darkness, or cold. Just a time jump. One second, it was 2:38 in the morning, the next, it was 8:42 at night, when he realized his place was a mess while he slumped on the couch watching TV. In his defense, he's been distracted by my disappearance for a while. The apartment is a wreck, and he's eating a bunch of junk food to cope.
Junk food is good. Lots of crumbs.
He's forgotten long enough that I'm full. I need every bit , so I hid for the last three days in case he suddenly remembers. I'm going to spell out "Godrick." It was an inside joke we had about how Rick Sanchez must be God. We were the only ones who heard it, and it was dumb, but we laughed until we cried. You had to be there. I wish I was. I miss my family. My clothes. My bed...
He just went to work. Here I go. Wish me luck. | *Fuck!* Was my last thought was I was blasted out of the house. I really shouldn't have called the old lady an "ugly dirt bag." In my defense, I didn't know she was a witch!
My vision, if you can even call it that, came to a couple minutes later. I was in a lair, undoubtably the lair of Satin, and underneath in front of me there was a ferocious beast. This was no doubt the end.
But wait... this beast... was it a Chihuahua?
My one weakness! Satin, you devil!
Alas, as the beast of death converged upon me it was only then that I realized the dog was, in fact, my roomates dog. I was in my house! But why was I so small...
I tried to move, but instead of walking I *slid.* Eventually, I made my way to the mirror. I couldn't see anyone.
*Where am I?* I wondered.
*Oh.* I looked at the bottom of the mirror. There, in all of its glory, was a Roomba. Me. Damn, I was spicy robot.
Okay. This was not the worst thing that has happened to me. I could get out of this. At least it was better than being turned into my great aunt's plunger...
Geez, that had been horrible. All I needed to do was get my roomates attention.
I found him easily, of course, he was standing by his bed. And he was high, probably off some hallucinogen.
I bumped into his foot. He looked at me, confused, and then proceeded to continue staring at the ceiling.
I bumped into his foot again.
He gasped, spinning to face me.
"Great overlord Cthulhu, is it you?" He asked.
*What the fuck Matt.* I thought.
"It is I, your grateful and loyal servant. What is your bidding?" He asked me.
*This could work.* I thought. I began to move away, and he followed. I led him to the bathroom, where there was a picture of me on the wall.
I bumped into the wall, near the picture.
Matt stared at it, the few brain cells in his head colliding at max velocity as he struggled to understand.
Suddenly, he gasped. He pointed to the picture of me.
"I understand, Great Being."
*Finally.* I thought.
"You want me to seed your children in the body of this man, so you can reproduce and become strong once again?"
*What the fuck Matt!* I thought.
"I will do it."
*Fuck me, I thought.*
Suddenly, something bounced next to me.
"An offering for you, my lord."
It was a shroom.
*Fuck yeah!*
***
[r/ConlehWrites](https://www.reddit.com/r/ConlehWrites/)! | 2017-07-25T23:42:39 | 2017-07-25T22:41:43 | 312 | 45 |
[WP] Out of all possible familiars, you are "Graced" with a human. While legend says that they are beings of great power, yours just makes sarcastic comments and pranks people. | I stared at her.
"You're not."
"Yes, I am." Her grin would have been winning, were I the type to be won. For me, it was simply charming.
But charm had to be cast aside. I flared my gills. "We can't have your knife-tongue or your tricks tonight. The High Athame doesn't take kindly to such unseemly behaviour. I'm two cycles from Ascension and currently in prime position for an office in the Ejio'kerem. If *something*," and here I gestured to the scroll she was working on, "were to irritate the Athame and it were found to be connected to me, all of that is *gone*. We'll be living out our lives in the Ejio'*karal* processing hangra'nem forever -- which, let me tell you, is worse than death. At least if we're dead, a keriel'thala might raise us, and then we'll be doing something *useful*."
"Oh, psh with all that," she waved, before taking another sip of her drink. She wasn't even looking at me, all attention going to the scroll. "You don't know this, but for a man so High, the High Athame has some very low morals, among them being a particularly unwelcome lasciviousness towards some of the more *attractive* familiars, no matter the species," and here she gave me a quick murderous gaze that told me exactly what she thought of such abuses, "and a particularly unseemly jealousy towards some of the more *promising* keriel'kerem."
I waited. She waited.
"I'm talking about *you*, you waterlogged idiot. He's been holding you down since your performance at the Fandalen. You've been destined for the Ejio'karal ever since you put up a better result at Fandalen than his."
"That's nonsense. He would never --"
Another murderous gaze. "*Who* was your proctor during that examination? You know the one."
"Oh."
"And I'm not going to start on his behaviour at the galas when you conveniently weren't around." She put some finishing touches on the scroll. "So I'm going to publicly embarrass him at the gala to which this perfectly real and legitimate scroll is our invitation, in such a way that he cannot retaliate without exposing himself and must simply and quietly get the fir'ceasa out of *ours*, and you're going to get a nice cushy post in the Ejio'kerem and I'm going to get just the most delicious little spot of revenge for my friends." She lifted up the scroll, admiring her work. "Not bad for someone who's all 'knife-tongue' and 'tricks', wouldn't you say?"
"... Well. I... uh... "
"Yes. Quite. Hmm. Well. I do *so* enjoy it when you're reduced to single-syllable utterances." Arched eyebrows. "Now are we done?"
I waited. She waited.
"I think we both know I'm not stupid enough to get in your way."
Her gaze softened. A warm smile. "Tremendously glad you made me your familiar, darling. Do you need to commune before we head out?"
"No, I'm good."
She looked me up and down. "Good, because we need to commune with that outfit. Chartreuse does *not* suit you. Go on and grab the cerulean one, you know it flatters your colouration better. I'm throwing this one out tomorrow."
I stared at her.
"You're not."
Again, that grin. | ######[](#dropcap)
The Day Of Unveiling is a momentous occassion in the life of every Dothorian.
When a Dothorian lives for 10 years beyond the moment of its spawning, a companion is revealed to it. The companion of a Dothorian is paired for life, and Dothorian's live an extraordinarily long time.
Gra'l'tavek awaits the revelation of his life long familiar. As the youngest sapling of his brood, Gra'l'tavek is also the last to have his companion's identity revealed to him.
Gra'l'tavek's friends surround him at his Unveiling ceremony, already paired with a host of astonishing creatures - beasts of all shapes and sizes - hairy and bald, tentacled and handed, flying and slithering, lithe and rotund. The possibilities for a Dorthorian life companion were limitless, and each had it's own strengths and weaknesses, as befit a familiar.
Now the moment neared, and Gra'l'tavek tensed his chest cavity, compressing his pores, and sucking his respiratory tendrils inside himself, beneath the hard bark of his exterior. As the room counted down to the precise second of his spawning, Gra'l'tavek closed his single monstrous eye and hoped beyond hope, for a great familiar.
"...two, one, zero!"
Beside Gra'l'tavek the air began to shimmer, and then coalesce in blue waves of energy-rich particles. Slowly the familiar took form, two long legs, a torso, two arms. *Hands! So it would be handed!* thought Gra'l'tavek excitedly.
Then a small neck and a round head appeared, with two eyes and a breathing hole, and then a second orifice for ingestion as well as breathing.
Gra'l'tavek's excitement collapsed like a dying star, his chest cavity loosening, and his respiratory tendrils sinking sadly toward the ground. He defecated silently, releasing a stream of bright green algal slime from the four fecal pores at the base of his trunk, as was the wont of his race when sadness overwhelmed them.
No Dothorian present blamed Gra'l'tavek for his unseemly show of emotion. He was a young sapling, and he had just been dealt the worst possible hand.
Gra'l'tavek's new familiar looked down at himself and exalted in his own nudity, even though his new body wasn't particularly impressive. Then, he looked around the room and made a high pitched noise, feigning terror, followed by an unbroken five minutes of laughter.
When the laughter mostly subsided, the familiar said. "Holy crap, what the hell *are* you guys?!" The familiar spoke through spasms of laughter; "Jesus, look at this guy" the familiar pointed to the father of Gra'l'tavek, whose fully matured trunk was beginning to enter the final stage of Dothorian morphology, Deliquescence, slowly melting around the edges, until the father of Gra'l'tavek would fully rejoin the biosphere.
Callously, the familiar dipped a finger into Gra'l'tavek's father's primordial slime and flung a clump of it to the ground. "Christ, he's falling apart, this dude." The familiar smelled his wet finger and recoiled, "aww, and he stinks." Then his attention was drawn to Gra'l'tavek himself, who had begun a renewed bout of defecation, his embarrassment overwhelming his self control. "Oh man, are you crapping green slime?! You're just crapping everywhere? In front of everyone? That's disgusting!"
The familiar's stomach rumbled slightly and he marched off out of the room, looking for food. "You guys have any nachos? I would love some nachos right now? I guess clothes too, if you got 'em. But like, no big deal if you don't."
As the familiar went on, making unhelpful and offensive observations, and ignorant statements about Dothorian biology, the other Dothorians slowly left, each secretly overjoyed not to have ended up with the only familiar universally despised by everyone: the dreaded Human Being.
******
#### For More Legends From The Multiverse
#### r/LFTM
******
##### For those of you who thought to yourself after reading this, "Boy, I would really love to know more about the Dothorians and the planet from which they hail," I have added an appendix on the Dothorians and Dothor in the comments below. | 2018-03-20T18:18:52 | 2018-03-20T15:32:53 | 117 | 75 |
[WP] You live in a world where everyone gets a dollar for every truth they say. Poverty is virtually eradicated.Today you meet a man without a dollar to his name | This man has rags for clothes, his hair is messy, and he smells. As I approach him I can only think of why this man is where he is. When I near him I greet him. "Hello my good sir, you look a bit down, would you like me to get you something to eat?"
The man nods and I start taking him to the local bakery. I end up getting him a dozen bagels, and some cookies. As we're leaving he hands me a note that reads "is there anything I can do to repay you for your kindness?"
I reply, "Sure. You can tell me why you don't have any money. All poverty is gone now, I'd like to know why you're in this situation"
The man smiles and opens his mouth, when I look inside I can see that this man does not have a tongue. | I pass the same homeless man.
Day after day, month after month. Ever since the Truth Initiative, money was not difficult to come by. So what was his story? I was too curious to resist asking.
I pulled over one day, walked over and handed him a $20. He grabbed it, ripped it up, and threw it in the nearby drain.
I didn’t really care, it was just a twenty. Just needed to say, “what an ugly dress” to ten more prospective models and I’ll be back to my original balance. No, this story was more important.
“So, you refuse my charity. Fair enough. What is it that put you in this situation? Not a dollar to your name?”
He smiled. His teeth were in immaculate shape, in beautiful form. Nice and even, perfect size. For a moment his face changed from bedraggled and scruffy to angelic and rosy, as did his clothes. I rubbed my eyes, and saw that he had returned to his initial appearance.
“I cannot take your money. Because no matter how many truths I tell, I am still cursed.”
“Cursed?”
“My name is Ashwattama, and centuries ago I was punished by the keepers of the Sutras for an awful lie. I wander, in search of one who can undo it.”
I felt a strange sensation, a compelling of sorts. I reached out and touched his face, mustering all the positive energy I could.
He smacked my hand away.
“You fool, stop that! What are you doing!?”
“Trying to undo your curse!”
“No, you moron, only a Dugpa master can undo my curse! Now shoo!”
He shooed me away. | 2018-07-17T07:00:51 | 2018-07-17T05:32:59 | 113 | 19 |
[WP] The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, "How? How were you able to summon me?!" You're standing in the corner flipping through your grandma's cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, "I don't know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!" | I stood there flipping though the pages,
Across the room, the demon rages.
 
“How’d you summon me!?”
He screams with rage.
“I don’t know!”
I flip the page.
 
Two quarts stock,
A pile of carrots.
“I just don’t know!”
I asseverate.
 
The room grows red,
The shadows black,
What ingredient,
Did I lack?
 
“A pinch of garlic!”
I thought out loud.
The demon belched,
And then he growled.
 
“You forgot the garlic?”
Came the shout.
“What’d you use?”
 
I stopped.
I shrugged.
 
“Brussel sprout.” | He stood silently, his hands smoldering as the talons of a great bird cast into fire. In his eye was a menacing glare that had no doubt witnessed eons of suffering, of his own and others. His skin was almost reptilian, though a deep red in color, and radiating heat. He had spent much time in the great fire, and was well accustomed to the ways of the underworld.
My heart was pounding, to the extent that there was no rational thought of the situation, only an intense seeing.
"Were you singing?" he asked.
"Y-yeah," I stammered.
"WHAT SONG?!" he demanded, eyes ablaze.
"H-H-Highway to Hell," I could barely get out.
"ARE THERE ANY HERBS NEARBY THAT INSPIRE DARK TENDENCIES?!"
What? Of course not, I thought. Proud of my recently developed passion for clean eating, I had kept out anything that could be referred to as - SHIT. All at once there it was, in a bottle atop the fridge in big bold letters. HORNY. GOAT. WEED.
He traced my eyes and, upon realizing what I saw, shouted such that the house shook, "YOU FOOL! Singing THAT...in the presence of THIS...while cooking THAT! HAD YOU GONE BUT A STEP FURTHER AND BEEN NAKED THE GREAT ONE HIMSELF MIGHT HAVE PAID THE VISIT!"
He stepped towards the rift from which entered. "Wait, I have questions!" He stopped, and before disappearing looked back over his shoulder hissing quietly, "no rest for the wicked." | 2018-07-22T00:05:11 | 2018-07-21T22:28:20 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] The demon stands amid your destroyed kitchen screaming, "How? How were you able to summon me?!" You're standing in the corner flipping through your grandma's cookbook as fast as you can, screaming back, "I don't know!! You were supposed to be chicken soup!" | I stood there flipping though the pages,
Across the room, the demon rages.
 
“How’d you summon me!?”
He screams with rage.
“I don’t know!”
I flip the page.
 
Two quarts stock,
A pile of carrots.
“I just don’t know!”
I asseverate.
 
The room grows red,
The shadows black,
What ingredient,
Did I lack?
 
“A pinch of garlic!”
I thought out loud.
The demon belched,
And then he growled.
 
“You forgot the garlic?”
Came the shout.
“What’d you use?”
 
I stopped.
I shrugged.
 
“Brussel sprout.” | The demon seemed somewhat taken aback by Adam's response. "Well obviously you've failed at that" it said appearing to collect itself and calm down a little. Apparently, he thought, being summoned was quite rage inducing.
Adam empathised with the demon. After all maybe it was in the middle of a challenging game of tennis, or had just won the money hand at strip poker with a particularly lively blonde bombshell. Demons could be hot blondes, that made sense, being hell and all. Right? Adam's side-tracked thoughts kept him from really paying attention to the demon's critique of his chicken soup. Adam thought he'd heard half of a rant about how you really shouldn't be using bloody goat steaks in chicken soup and neither the devil's wort herb nor the eye of newt (apparently a nickname for peppercorns?) were not standard ingredients either.
This really didn't bother him, last time something like this happened he met Trafengalore the Dragon, Lord Supreme of the 12th Plane of Torment. Cool guy, not big on inside voices but he was really helpful in getting Adam back to Earth. Word of advice folks, walking to your kitchen can be hazardous when you're not a clever man.
"Anyways kid. My name is Shaghfrl'ee the Gluttonous. I'd love to help you out with this chicken soup deal you've got going on here." Adam thanked him, grateful for the assistance. Two hours later the kitchen had an amazing smell wafting around as the two ate a spectacular chicken soup. Shaghfrl'ee was apparently kind of awesome at cooking. | 2018-07-22T00:05:11 | 2018-07-21T23:22:03 | 33 | 14 |
[WP] The zombie apocalypse has come and gone. Humanity has survived and prospered, but with the virus still inside every single human. Centuries in the future, we are at war with an alien race, and they are horrified to learn that we don’t stay dead easily. | The inevitable came, but it was late. I'd been expecting some sort of contact from the outer world for over a century, firm in my belief that we couldn't be alone in the universe. Of course, I couldn't blame the inhabitants of the rest of outer space for being a little leery of Earth; I doubted they'd gotten a fantastic first impression from the early part of the 21st century.
But nevertheless, here they were; oddly-shaped ships perched over the crumbled remains of Old Chicago, lights blinking on their undersides as they scanned the remnants for life.
"Should we go say hi?" Abbie asked nervously. She was crouched by the window next to me, staring up at the ships just like everybody else. They were waiting for some sort of signal, scared faces visible at the dirty windows.
Well, I supposed it came down to me. Again. Being Mayor sucked.
"Fine," I grumbled. "Stay here." I put on my best coat and stepped out into the empty streets, staring up at the biggest ship. Then I cupped my hands around my mouth and yelled up, "Hello up there!"
There was a buzzing, and a light ran over me. I let it, imagining that they were getting all the information they could about me. "... HELLO."
"Do you come in peace?"
"DEFINE PEACE. WE ARE HERE FOR YOUR RESOURCES."
"We can work out some trade, I'm sure." I gritted my teeth into a smile. "Why don't you come talk to me face to face?" I could probably lie my way into trading something with them and hiding how depleted the planet really was.
A grinding sound filled the air. Then one of the ships lowered itself slowly, painstakingly, to the ground. I shielded my face against the dust it kicked up as it landed, and by the time the dust had cleared, there was a door open in its side.
I had to admit, the schoolboy in me was giddy with excitement. I'd always hoped and expected that we'd have alien visitors eventually, and now I'd get to see what they looked like. I'd get to make first contact. So I was a tad disappointed when the figure approaching the door was small, with an enlarged head. One of the Roswell aliens, essentially.
"YOU SPEAK FOR THE HUMANS?"
"The ones in this city, anyway." I raised my hands in what I hoped looked like friendliness to them as much as us. "What are you looking for? We'll offer what we've got."
"PERFECT. YOUR CHILDREN. WE NEED THEM."
Beat.
"Uh, I'm afraid that's not -"
"IS THERE A PROBLEM? WE DETECTED AFTEREFFECTS OF OVERPOPULATION."
"How old is your data?" I asked uncertainly. I wondered if their translator was glitching.
"NOTHING SIGNIFICANT COULD HAVE HAPPENED IN A CENTURY." The robotic voice didn't betray anything, but the words betrayed the hint of a smug smirk.
"We're not giving you our children. I'm sorry, but we need them."
"YOU DID NOT DEFINE PEACE."
"Peace means accepting what we can and can't do."
"AH." The little grey figure started to grow, limbs elongating with horrible, echoing cracks and extending with each step it took towards me. "IN WHICH CASE, OUR LEXICONS WERE FAULTY." One slender, three-fingered hand lashed out and grabbed me by the throat, lifting me off the ground. "WE DO **NOT** COME IN PEACE."
Then the world flipped upside-down, and I felt my neck snap as I hit the brick wall. I heard Abbie scream, and I kept thinking, **don't come down the stairs don't come outside it's not worth it -**
--
The virus is located in the human brainstem. It propagates there, flooding through the spinal cord, into the bloodstream, infecting our organs, our flesh, our bone, with life. Because it'd been my neck, it took me a little longer than normal to get to my feet and rub the blood out of my eyes. That's how it works - the closer you get to the brainstem, the harder it hits.
But oh, was it worth it to see the look on that alien fucker's face as I braced my feet on the rocky, broken asphalt of Chicago's main street, snapped my neck back into place, and grinned at him. "Was that a threat?" I said.
I wish I could say that he turned and walked back into his spaceship and left. It was going to be harder than that. But here's the thing - every single human who survived the death of civilization has that virus in our blood. It's how immunity works. Ninety percent of the world died. The ten percent of us left? Oh boy, are we hard to kill.
We were going to give them a hell of a fight.
| Boronox looked out the window of the BZT-MPR-996, otherwise known as ‘The Ark’. They were now two weeks away from the planet where they had taken a few million specimens. The Jarix system came into view. Boronox smiled. Home. Almost there. “Disengage FTL drive.”
The ship complied.
>*Disengaging in 5… 4… 3… 2… 1…*
Space distorted for a brief moment. Stars realigned to a familiar view. There she was. Their origin planet. Almost empty now. But soon repopulated.
He sat back and flexed his articulated appendages. This would be the most successful run ever. Never were they able to procure such a vast amount of specimen. The 3.2 million they took were a mere 0.04% of the usable biomass. It didn’t even put a dent in their numbers. Other systems had held far less usable creatures. The Jarixians had always depleted the natural reserves, just as they had done in their own system. They would be able to return to this ‘Earth’ the next breeding cycle. With more and bigger arks.
Boronox hailed the spawning bay. The mandibles of lead scientist Krillix came into view. “Hail Commander Boronox! It is great to see our home planet again!”
“I could not agree more, Krillix. Tell me, what is our status?”
“The specimens are sedated and inoculated. Because they were so pristine and suited to become hosts, I have increased the temperature of 85% of the stage 2 larval population. The increased temperatures have allowed them to become females in the third stage of their lifecycle. Each of them has produced 3 to 6 eggs before dying. These were inserted in the humans.”
“What have you done with the remaining 15% stage 2 larvae?”
“Half of them were kept in cold temperatures to produces males. We have not lost many soldiers during our raid, but we will need more to construct more arks and return to collect more specimen. The other half is in stasis.”
“Excellent. Now we only need to wait for the stage 1 larvae to emerge from their hosts. After that they can grow to mature stage 2 grubs on the surface of Jarix. Our army will be glorious. Our population will have quadrupled in size.”
“Even more. An increase of 436%.”
>*Disturbance in spawning bay... Disturbance in spawning bay...*
“Krillix? What is happening?”
One of the spawning bay room status indicators flashed red. “I am not sure. It seems to be emanating from breeding room 58B, specimen 8. I’ll do a scan…”
“Can you kill this racket whilst you figure out what’s causing it?” The alarm message ceased its broadcast.
“Done. Scan commencing.”
Boronox tried to keep his composure. He didn’t want to push the scientist whose shoulders bared the weight of their survival. The 35 seconds the scanning procedure took seemed to last an eternity. “Krillix? Update?”
“The scan has completed. No apparent anomalies detected. The larva has successfully consumed body fat, reproduction organs and small intestines. Oh wait, it has just finished eating their body fluid pump. No problem. The host is dead now. The larva is completing its stage one. Making sure it can emerge without a threat. It will exit the husk soon and crawl to the landing shuttle. I’m sure it’s nothing. A small glitch in the system.”
“The first of a new generation. I want to oversee this. Can you get me a live feed?”
“Of course, Commander Boronox.” Krillix’ tarsus navigated the system. Both him and the commander were now watching the worm making a hole in the chest cavity of the specimen. It emerged. Another status indicator in a neighboring bay changed color. Quickly followed by third red blip. Probably more of the same. A bug in the system Krillix needed to address later. He did not want to miss a thing of this crucial moment and turned his attention to the live feed.
There it was. Nearly one third of the size of its host. Chewing mouthparts surfaced from in a bloody bubbling pulp. The creature emitted a thrumming noise.
Boronox cleaned his antenna. He always became emotional when witnessing birth. No sound is sweeter than the cry of baby. The happy thrum suddenly converted into a scream. The grunting specimen had grabbed the maggot.
“Krillix? What is happening?”
“I don’t understand Commander. It’s dead! Sedation has no more effect on the host. All life supporting functions seems to have terminated.”
“Then why does it move? Oh no… no no no…”
Krillix and Boronox watched in horror how the specimen started chomping down on the larva. It eagerly tore chunks of flesh from the newborn. The worm writhed and screamed, until it could do so no more. More alarms. Krillix saw 16 more breeding rooms blinking on his monitor.
“Krillix? Can you contain it?”
“I… I… no… What have I done?”
“85% Krillix. Why didn’t you try it on one specimen first?”
“I don’t understand… the physiology was so similar to that of the Simians of Bungar 5… Not a single problem. This should not be happening…”
A ship wide alarm sounded. The first husk was making its way out of the breeding room. Both Krillix and the Commander froze as the monitor of the breeding rooms turned an apocalyptic crimson red.
\------------------------------------------------
Edit: Special thanks to u/ledivin and u/patgeo for spotting buzzkills in the story. Updated now. | 2018-09-29T11:55:19 | 2018-09-29T11:11:37 | 4,367 | 1,325 |
[WP] Death has hourglasses for every person. One day, during a cleaning, he found a dust covered one that had rolled under his desk. | It's may seem an odd thing to you, how the sand still flows, no matter what direction you turn a glass, but then much of my domain might seem odd.
This glass is well past the last grain's fall. I glance at the little brass (not really brass, but then the glass isn't really glass) nameplate, trying hard to make out any of the writing. Sadly, it's too worn. I'm a little shocked, as I didn't know they could wear down.
I give a sigh, lift my scythe, and attune to the glass, teleporting to my target, the poor creature. I can't even tell you their gender from my look at their body, as it is little more than a puddle of cells. The consciousness locked away, all senses strip by time and decay. The body would have stopped working not long after the grains stopped falling, just rotting away. The desert around us is in the region now know as the Middle East.
I swing my scythe, and the life is finally ended. Suddenly, a young woman is standing before me, slender muscles and a beautiful face, dressed in a style I haven't seen in a long, long time. I pulled out hourglass, looking more closely at the name. Not worn, no. It's cuneiform.
I look up at her, once again. She's still marveling at everything, currently running hands over her face, laughing and crying. Everyone seems to enjoy feeling their body as it was meant to be, but for her, it is clearly more. A human mind can't last much beyond a few centuries, most far less, even with external stimuli. I attune once more to the glass, and learn she should have died at 23. So young, even then. Her body likely failed her within the following year, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Even I can't tell what she has been through.
"I apologize," I say, in my best attempt at Sumerian. "I'm a bit late."
She snaps to attention, seeing me as man with lion-esque features. The mane already starts to itch. She struggles to remember speech, working her jaw and babbling a bit, before finally saying, "Erra, you came."
"Yes, child," I say in that old, once-familiar bass growl. "I have come for you."
"I had feared we were wrong. That death was worse than we'd learned. I had grown up fearing the dark cave of Irkalla, but now it seems a relief."
I had forgotten what a dreadful afterlife awaited her. I look at the weapon in my had, now a large, golden hook instead of a scythe. I shudder, fighting my form, struggling to take on one for a more pleasant afterlife.
"You were wrong," I say in a far more pleasant baritone. My mane is now shoulder length black hair and a short beard. My copper armor, now a white robe. The weapon is gone completely, so I can welcome her with open arms. Frankly, I don't care what my appearance is, only that it leads her to a heaven, rather than the limbo her people had expected. "But that is nothing to fear."
She looks, understandably, quite confused, but she stepped forward, into my embrace.
As a light flows over her, I paraphrase a set of words, famed in her new religion, "You were lost, but now you are found."
And like that, I am alone in the desert. I am once more a skeleton in a black robe, holding a scythe. I take one last look at the puddle of dead cells before returning to my office.
There is only a couple more out there, just two more humans left out in the world, and each has a few years left. Plenty of time for me to finish cleaning my office before I'm forced to retire. After that, though, I think I maybe ready. | The boy ran, red-faced, across the field full of dead grass and frosty branches. Winter had passed but spring was yet to come. His still frozen breaths shivered him slightly. It was cold, yet he was burning. He might have a fever.
That morning, his parents, him and his little sister along with another dozen doctors and scientists drove to this remote place, faraway from home, where leafless trees hung like skeletons and no living thing was in sight and the ground a black murky color and the sky was bleak grey and it seemed ready to rain and the leftover snow dissolved pitifully. They entered this building with even more scientists and doctors and he helped push his sister's bed along the steel cold corridor with all the smell of foreign chemicals in the air. He wanted to get close to his sister but there were too many people around so instead he just gently took his wool hat and covered her thin bald head with it. His parents was walking alongside the bed, his father was talking with a doctor about how they were going to froze his sister and thawed her out when there was a cure, his mother was holding his sister's little hand and telling her stories from her favorite picture book. He wanted to hold her hand too, if only it wasn't tangled in the multitude of wires that smelt like hospital.
At the end of the corridor was a large living room. All the doctors and scientists left at once, leaving his family behind. He saw his mother shaking, and he knew she was going to cry. He wasn't going to cry. He was a man and men don't cry. Strangely enough, his mother didn't, either.
"Honey, you've been through this many times before." - said his mother - "You're going to take a quick nap and when you wake up you're going to feel a lot better."
"And this is going to be the last time, too." - said his father - "After this you never going to the hospital again."
"You promise." - a small light lit up in tired eyes. - "You really promise?"
"Have I ever lied to you before?" - his father extended his arm and they made a pinky promise - "Tell you what, when we get home there will be a party and all your friends are gonna be invited."
"Not Carla, dad! I hate her."
"No Carla then, and mom's gonna make the best pancakes she had ever made and you can play all you want and you don't have to go to bed. You'll do that, right, dear?"
His father told his mother once, then twice, and his mother just hugged her baby.
"I love you, hon." - she said - "I love you."
"I love you too, mum." - his sister returned the hug. - "And I love you too, dad."
"My brave fighter." - said his father, caressing her head. - "Harry, do you want to say something to your sister? Something nice?"
So the boy stepped forward into the spot of his mother, and he held the hand of his sister. But he didn't said anything. It was his sister that spoke.
"Promise me you'll feed Whisker three times a day and only with tuna? He hates vegetable so don't make him eat your broccoli."
The boy didn't reply. A doctor stood across the glass pane by the door. His father replied instead.
"He'll, hon. Now, be brave." - he took the boy's hands away from his sister's, and the boy said.
"Whisker will be there when you wake up. And I will be there when you wake up. And mom and dad. Everyone's gonna be there when you wake up."
They watched as the doctors pushed the bed into another room, and on the screen they could see a cold mist envelope her sister's body. They could see her sleeping face, frozen in time. They could send a prayer, into the future.
His mother wiped her face with a handkerchief and his father lit up a smoke by the window. Nobody said anything. He thought about how she would be 4 when he is 18, 4 when he is 40 and when he turned 80 she would be 4. And time still flowed. And time still flowed... Still nobody said anything. He screamed out, but his mother was still wiping her face and his father still smoked the burned-out cigarette.
So he ran.
He ran, red-faced, across a field full of dead grass and frosty branches. It was cold. He was shivering and shaking, but he was burning also. He slipped and fell, face-down into a puddle of mud and the mud got in his eyes and he got a reason to cry. As he lied face-down in the puddle, shaking and shivering and burning, he hoped spring would come soon. He really hoped, that the ice would thaw and spring would come soon. | 2018-10-03T07:35:18 | 2018-10-03T07:34:53 | 29 | 11 |
[WP] Your girlfriend just dumped you through a text. In a rage, you throw your old teddy bear while shouting “The Fucking Devil!”. Your teddy bear stands up and says ‘alright you got me, you got me,”.
Edited: Thanks for the gold, stranger! | "So, yeah! You can call me Lucy!" My raggedy brown plush held out its paw.
I cursed. "What the hell?!"
"Now you've got it!" Spoke Lucifer incarnate. "Now, what can you do for me?"
"Hold up, hold up. I caught you."
The bear cocked its head to the side. "Yes?"
"And you're a literal spiritual being." I pushed the narrative, seeing if I understood.
"I'm Satan, yes."
"Then why," I replied, swinging my legs off of my bed, "aren't you asking what you can do for me?"
'Lucy' chuckled. "Now now, sonny. I'm no genie. Maybe you didn't hear me, but I'm kind of the Prince of Darkness. Lord of fire and death. Ruler of literal hell? Ringing any bells? Because I'm kind of a big deal."
"If you're such a big deal, why are you a teddy bear?"
If any inanimate object could look sheepish, it was this bear. "Well, about that... God kind of banished me to the 3rd dimension until I learn some idiot lesson about morality or some of that jazz."
I flopped back onto my mattress. "Well, isn't that lovely. My life just turned into some ABC Family sitcom.
Lucy sighed. "You and me both, kid."
​
r/The_Anony_Mouse | "THE FUCKING DEVIL!"
(~~Teddy~~ The Fucking Devil stands up startled) "Alright, you got me, you got me."
(Your turn to get startled) "Wait, you actually did this? While disguising as my old teddy bear, are you fucking serious?"
"Hey, I'm just trying to do something fun. Running the Underworld is bo-ring ya'know?"
"So you disguised yourself as a plush toy?"
"Yes."
"Mess up my life?"
"Uh-huh."
"For twenty years."
"Guilty as charged."
"Made me pee my pants in second grade?"
"Check."
"When I was in eigth grade, adjusted the set so that Mrs Quigley thought I was bullying Butch instead of the other way around?"
"Ja."
"Swapped my test papers with Zoltan in senior year so we both failed Maths?"
"Ha-ha! That one's a classic!"
"Almost made me lose my job at Burger Clown?"
"You deserve less than minimum wage, kid!"
"And made Laura dump me?"
"Wait what?"
"Laura - my girlfriend - she dumped me. You did that."
"No I didn't."
"You lied."
"I swear."
"Stop the bullshit."
"AH SWEAR IN DA NAME OF MEH I'D NEVER DO DESPICABLE STUFF LIKE THAT!"
"Then who else could have done this?"
"Damn, I don't know… (Thinker pose) (beat) Eureka!"
"Who?"
"Gabriel. Usually people call him Gabe, but I like to call him Gabby. We go waaay back. He must've thought I was using you to take over humanity and shit."
"What? 'Take over humanity'?"
"The fuck? I already have zikerbajillions of souls to manage down there, I can't stand another billion, what more 7 billion?! Anyway, Gabby thought you were enslaved by me, so he must've caused you and Lauren-"
"Laura."
"Okay, Lauriewhaddevadafuchernameis, to break up, so you will be angry and try to break my slavery."
"So now, what do we do?"
"I'm gonna find Gabby and sort things out. (transforms into a glowing-red humanoid with dark purple wings) You coming?" | 2018-11-26T13:16:14 | 2018-11-26T12:15:48 | 132 | 49 |
[WP] For fun, you've created your own language. At school, you say "Hi" to one of the more popular kids. Their eyes light up and they smile and say "You too?"
*For fun and as a loner with free time | At first it had been a joke, borne out of late nights trying to wrap my head around French grammar. In between wishing an excruciatingly painful afterlife on the person who invented irregular verbs, I had a thought-- what if I invented a language that was actually *easy* to learn? And so Baconese was born.
Beyond coming up with a few bits of vocabulary, I didn't give much thought to it until a few weeks later, when I was home sick with nothing to do. My mind wandered to Baconese, and in a fit of inspiration, I created rules for grammar and punctuation.
I spent every study hall after that developing the language. Baconese, by the way, has incredibly easy verb conjugation, no rolled 'r's, and not a single irregular word to speak of (screw you, French). I even began working on a dictionary, although I left that in a classroom and forgot all about it... until now.
"***You too***?" Chris asks, eyes widening, lips curving around the foreign tongue in a way that sounds all too practiced for my liking. And then he does the unthinkable: he smiles. At me. The biggest nerd in the school. *Me*. "Wow."
"How did you, uh..." I try to put the words together, my heart racing. "***You speak Baconese***?"
"***I'd say I'm pretty fluent***," Chris says. "***Sorry, gotta get to football practice. See you later?***"
"See ya," I say, so dumbstruck that I forget to translate.
​
Chris doesn't see me later-- at least, not for awhile- but I do see Baconese pop up again, this time in written form.
I'm rummaging through a History textbook when a piece of crumpled notepaper falls out. It's a bunch of dates and events, with a few short sentences describing the War of 1812, or the fall of the Berlin Wall-- and it's all in Baconese.
It doesn't take me long to put it together. I am now the creator of a language used by students across my high school to cheat on tests.
If I were a better person, I'd feel guilty, even ashamed. But instead I laugh.
​
Chris sidles up to me behind the building, cast in shadows. He's traded his varsity jacket for a black sweatshirt and jeans that allow him to blend into the darkness of the late evening. "***All set up, boss***."
"***Thank you, Christopher***. ***This money's gonna keep us in business for a long, long time.****"*
"***You really think we got away with it? I mean, this is the biggest cheating scam in, like, all of human history.***"
I smirk at Chris. "***It is? Then it's time to break another record.***"
Shoulders brushing against each other's, we slip back into the forest and cut across the unsuspecting town, only stopping to cackle maniacally as we relish in the feat we've just pulled off. | “Wait what” Michael thought to himself “did he just speak ... no it can’t be ... how can anyone even”
He rubbed his eyes in disbelief thinking that it was a dream, but it wasn’t. He was still standing alone in the halls of his high school that had brought him so much misfortune. He couldn’t move. How could it be? That kid, now long gone, had just spoken the language of the light. His brain could no longer comprehend what was going on. He thought that the only transcripts of the language were with him. He opened his locker quickly to check. And yep, still there. Did someone open it and have a look? Even if it was too complex of a language to be learnt with just one glance. He had spent hundreds if not thousands of his lonely hours perfecting it. Ever since his freshmen year of high school up until this very moment four years later. He had to understand what was happening.
At that same moment he heard the familiar voice of the school counselor, Mr. Jones. “Come on now Michael we talked about this. I know you don’t like the kids in your class, but you cannot run away from all your problems. You have to go. You do come here to learn after all”
With that Micheal remembered his long overdue calculus class that had started 15 minutes ago. “I’m sorry Mr. Jones, just couldn’t find my book”
Reaching into his locker, Mr. Jones picked up the first book on top “you mean this one?”
“Wow how did I not see that”
“Off you go then”
He couldn’t wait another moment for the class to end. He had only been inside for 5 minutes, but it was the last class of the day and he needed to talk to that kid. He didn’t know him, just knew that he was one of the ‘cool’ kids. His thoughts quickly drifted from one to another and before he realized, the bell was ringing. He picked up his things and ran off leaving the teacher looking astonished behind him. After dropping his stuff in the locker, he eagerly waited outside of the school doors for the kid to come out.
As soon as he glanced a view of him he called out “akhooya” (comrade). He could see the eyes of the kid turn towards him as he said the word. He told him to meet him behind the school after 10 minutes.
10 minutes later, and he didn’t see anyone coming. He couldn’t believe that he let the opportunity slip, but before his desperation had gotten to him, he heard footsteps. It was nobody other than him.
“Hi Michael” he said “I know you’re confused, how does this guy know the language of the light? How does he know my name? All of this will be answered just listen to me carefully”
“Who the fuck are you?”
“My name is Michael the fourth, your great grandson. I come from the year 2107. My father, your grandson, has sent me here to warn you of what the future holds. We belong to the infamous group of the light, founded by no other than yourself. Two decades from now, and you will start your first revolution against the tyrannous regime. I know they seem all good now, but not after the Great War. You attempt to regain the power back to the people, but realize that simple protests will never do. You infiltrate their governments, their celebrities, all of what they cherish. You are able to gain the influence of the people. Not just that, but you are able to gain the influence over everybody. You are now the most powerful person to have ever walked the earth, but that power doesn’t come without a price. Along the way you have created powerful enemies. And they are out to seek your death. I am here to tell you to beware. Do not trust anyone, especially those closest to you. I must go for my duty here has been fulfilled. May the light ever shine in your path”
| 2018-12-08T08:57:52 | 2018-12-08T08:39:18 | 1,989 | 358 |
[WP] It's 1997 and you're a hacker. Not just any hacker, you're elite. You finally get to meet your hero. Turns out he's a nutbag who tells you the world is a computer simulation and is trying to get you to take random pills. | Thomas Anderson, known in the underground by the handle *Neo*, had a dream for the first few years of his life- meeting Morpheus, the famed hacker who initiated the rumors of the Y2K doomsday event. A man so entwined in programming, he supposedly sees normal applications as a series of code on the screen, like seeing math in wind or motion.
This only made reality *that* much more disappointing, initially.
“You need to make a choice, Neo,” the bald man said, holding a neon blue pill in his right hand and a glowing red pill in his right. “Which will it be?”
“So- sorry, let me get this straight again. It’s been a… long day. This is all a simulation?”
“Yes. Everything you think is real is a lie.”
“Doesn’t that make you a lie?”
“Well- well, no, I’m real. I mean, I’m not real, but back in the *real* world, I’m real, and I jacked into the machine to tell you.”
“….right. And if I pop that red pill, I… wake up, in the real world?”
“Yes. You free your mind.”
Neo motioned to the liquidy red blob. “You got more than one of those?”
“I mean, yeah, I have a bottle of them in my coat. But you only need one.”
“Pop it. Take it, and I’ll take one, too.”
“I don’t think that’s a great idea. We don’t know what havoc that might wreak.”
“And why is that, exactly?”
Morpheus shifted uncomfortably. “Well, I may have taken a few earlier. It could break the Matrix if I push it.”
“Isn’t that literally what you want? To take ‘The Matrix’ down?”
“Well, I don’t-“
“Pop it, old man. Pop it.”
*~ two hours later ~*
Neo rotated his hand around, gawking at it. “Shit, dude. I think you’re right about the simulation stuff. Like, we’re all just batteries or something in a giant machine.”
"Yes, Neo. You're the chosen one, to save us all from this false life. Welcome to the real world." He motioned toward a wall, then fell over.
"I'll do it, Morpheus. I'll free us all," Neo whispered, in some language distantly related to English.
200mg of LSD will fucking end your reality.
*/r/resonatingfury* | “What.“
“You heard me.”
I let my eyes scan around for a second if anyone else in the diner had heard what s3cr3tspr1t3 just had said. No one had looked up from their plates. I looked back at the man with the unkempt head of hair in front of me who hasn’t looked away the whole time or probably even blinked once since he sat down in front of me.
“You’re high.”
“I’m awake, man!”
What did i expect from a man who keeps calling himself “s3cr3tspr1t3” in public. You could actually hear the numbers when he said it. I started to get what people say about meeting your heroes.
“So, let me get this straight” i said putting my cup of coffee to my lips “This isn’t real. We are living in a simulated Brooklyn diner, the blueberry pie i just had is a simulation, my coffee is a simulation, the lady who took my order is a simulation, along with my job, my apartment, and my cat.”
“I don’t know about the cat, but yeah.”
I took a sip of my coffee, mustering the face of the man i tried tracking down for months, the man whose handle is all over the forums.
It tasted strangely bitter.
“Why.”
“You couldn’t possibly comprehend! It’s way up, man, way up. It’s been going on for a long time, the people who run the program have a plan but i see them now, i learned to see them!”
He broke his gaze and flicked his head towards the entrance where two men in suits had entered, chatting about something i couldn’t hear over the clatter of cutlery and plates in the busy diner.
His eyes followed them to a booth way out of earshot, but that didn’t seem to ease his mind.
“If this is a simulation, why would our admin overlords need gumshoe style henchmen to eavesdrop on our conversation?” I quipped.
“You don’t understand at all, it’s the suspension of disbelief, it’s not that easy...”
“Okay, s3cr3tspr1t3, my lunch break is almost over. I’m heading back to work. This was...an eye opening experience.”
I hardly concealed my disappointment with whom was supposed to be my hacker idol.
“This will make you see too.”
He had put a small plastic bag with a single unmarked pill on the table. His red eyes were locked on mine.
“What the fuck is this now.”
“You will see it too.”
“Get help, man.”
I picked up my jacket from the empty seat next to me. He made no attempt to stop me getting up. I put a bill on the table and took a few steps towards the door.
I stumbled.
“Wha...?”
My vision felt distorted all of a sudden. My hands and feet felt like they belonged to someone else.
“Wh...what the fu...?” I mumbled as i turned my head to look back at s3cr3tspr1t3.
He was still sitting at the table, grinning as he put my almost empty coffee cup to his lips and finished it.
Over the noise of the other patrons i could only make out the words as he formed them with his lips.
“You will see it too.”
Infinitely slowly i fell into darkness. | 2019-03-18T02:25:43 | 2019-03-18T01:48:16 | 292 | 80 |
[WP] A billionaire hands you a unique and intricate coin. "In an hour," he says, "I will tell the world what I have given you. In a week, I will leave my inheritance to whoever returns it to me. I will not accept it before then." | Clay looked at the coin in his hand and promptly gave it back to the billionaire. His girlfriend, Sally, smiled.
"I told you I will not accept it before a week has passed."
Clay shrugged. "Yeah, but I know your game, sir, and I'm not playing it."
"You will forgo your chance at billions of dollars worth of assets and money?" asked the billionaire. He waved his hand around their tiny house and meager possessions, all of whom were worth less than even the shoes that the billionaire wore.
"We may be poor, but we're self-sufficient and stable. That coin will make enemies out of friends. Take it and give it to someone else who wants it." Replied Sally. Clay wrapped his arms around her, and she held him tight.
The billionaire regarded them with a careful eye before a chuckle escaped his lips.
"Are you happy with where you are now?" He asked them.
"We only know that we're happier than you."
"Haha!" laughed the billionaire. "Wise words! I have grown disillusioned and dissatisfied with my riches and fame. It's become too tiring for me to maintain it, and both my body and spirit long for a quieter life.
"Truthfully, I never intended to give out my inheritance like this. I know the nature of human greed, and I have become disgusted with my peers over how much wealth they covet even though they own half the world already."
The billionaire handed them back the coin.
"I will not give you my inheritance," he said. "I know the nature of change as well, and I do not want to see you change your simple ways." Clay and Sally smiled at his words.
"That's fine." They replied.
"But I have seen the humility in your hearts, and I want you to help me extend that humility to others, so I will only give you half of it, on the condition that you use my wealth fairly. Keep the coin with you, so you will always remember what I told you today." | My palms sweat... Always have, but not like now. Not like today. Not like the soppy clams I shamefully retract from his grip clinching the cool metal disc. Why me? One minute I’m emptying the man’s trash, and the next - bam. Strap this bomb vest on and don’t explode for a week... Might as well have been. Sure... Maybe it’s hyperbolic, but this coin could be valued at several billion dollars in only a few days... If I can hold it. If I can make it out of the building... If I can make it... Somewhere.
I collected myself and slid the coin into a tight jean pocket. I said something to him... It was incoherent even to me as I said it - stuttering off of trembling lips followed by the involuntary smacking as I discovered how the nerves dried out my tongue.
I backed up toward the door with both drenched hands searching behind myself. I was sure if I took my eyes off him, this dream would be over... Or worse, it would quickly turn to a nightmare... Hell, it still might.
I was free, at last, and had found my way out of his office. The beads of sweat falling into my eyes weren’t enough to block my view of the elevators.
I didn’t mean to run, but that didn’t stop my legs from unwinding the tension that had been building inside my racing heart. I had to get out of here!
The lit down arrow laughed at my shifting balance and tapping toes. Any moment the world would be looking for me, and I’m stuck waiting for a damned elevator to come. How many floors is it? Forty? The stairs might be safer. My hand slipped off the handle as I reached for it. So I tucked it into a fold at the base of my shirt and dragged my grip over it again. The metal hardware clanked louder than any door in the history of door making, and fired a shrill echo into a layered stack of boxed-in staircases that M.C. Escher would be proud of.
“Are you alright, sir?” A deep growl roared out over my shoulder as I peered over the railing into the bowels of the building below.
Every bone in my body jolted as I tried to turn to face the threatening voice. I shuttered and twisted, and leapt into air... The railing found it’s way under my thighs. Shit... My eyes felt wider than I’d ever experienced, and my jaw dropped open as if to make way for a scream that never came. I reached out instinctively. The man reached back for me in panic. He had me. Thank God, he had me... My palms sweat. Always have, but not like now. Not like today. Shit. | 2019-10-17T19:36:18 | 2019-10-17T19:26:00 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] At the stroke of midnight on January 1st, 2020, the first snow of the new year and the new decade fell. And it never stopped. | "It's winter," Josh chuckled. "You do realize it's *supposed* to snow in winter, right?" he asked Nancy. The pair did not know each other for long, but their friendship grew fast. They were in the middle of their weekly lunch date when Nancy confessed something that was bothering her. The mid-20s woman shook her head; her blonde curls bobbed with the motion.
"That's not the point. It's March 3rd already, it's been snowing since New Year's!." Josh shrugged.
"Last I checked we're still in winter." Nancy sighed.
"Think! It's been snowing non-stop for two months, right?"
"Still wint-"
"LISTEN!" Nancy covered his mouth with her hand. "Snowing for two months...." She scooted closer to him in the booth, leaned in, then whispered in his ear. "...where is all the snow?" Josh's coffee-brown eyes glazed over and his brows furrowed in confusion. Nancy pulled her hand away.
"Huh." He said.
"It should be stories high by now, but it's never any more than a couple of inches deep."
"Any dessert?" Their cheerful waitress asked suddenly, neither of them noticed her walk up.
"No thank you," Josh said, and Nancy repeated it. The waitress nodded, smiled and gathered their used plates; she seemed intently focused on Nancy as she did.
"Just call if you need something," she turned and left their table with the dishes. Once she was gone Nancy leaned closer to Josh again.
"Isn't it weird that no one's noticed?"
"Yeah, a little bit I guess," Josh said. "So you noticed. Now what?" he asked. Nancy shrugged.
"Get more people to notice, I guess. Maybe some scientists could figure it out. Anyway, you ready?" Nancy asked and reached for her purse.
"Uh, hold on. Gotta visit the restroom first," Josh excused himself. The moment he stepped away, the waitress appeared next to the table.
"Can I ask you a question?" she asked; Nancy nodded. "When's the first day of spring?"
"19th this year," Nancy replied without hesitation. The waitress' smile grew from ear to ear.
'I knew it!" She exclaimed then leaned in closer to Nancy. "I heard you talking about the snow," the waitress said while her eyes flitted around the restaurant.
"You noticed it too?" Nancy asked. The waitress nodded eagerly. "Shhh," she pushed a small piece of paper. "We can talk later, it's not safe here."
The waitress stiffened; Nancy noticed Josh was on his way back from the restroom.
"Don't trust anyone that doesn't know when the first day of spring is." The waitress whispered then turned away from the table as Josh approached.
"What?" Nancy asked but she did not catch the waitress in time. She stuffed the scrap of paper into her purse and stood when Josh reached the table. "You know, all this talk of snow, I can't wait until winter's over," She said.
"Uhuh," Josh replied as they headed toward the exit.
"I can't remember, is it the 19th or 20th this year?" she asked.
"What?"
"March 19th or 20th. You know, the first day of spring." Josh stopped walking and looked at Nancy with a curious look.
"The first day of what?"
\*\*\*
Thank you for reading! I’m responding to prompts every day. This is year two, story #344 You can find all my stories collected on my subreddit ([r/hugoverse](https://www.reddit.com/r/hugoverse/)) or my blog. If you're curious about my universe (the Hugoverse) you can visit the Guidebook to see what's what and who's who, or the Timeline to find the stories in order. | On the second day of continuous snow-fall, I thought that it had been a very good idea to outfit the family in sub-zero tolerant winter gear and that spending a little more on outerwear and thermal layers was going to have a nice ROI. Previously, I had bought things to be prepared only to find ourselves splashing around in the Atlantic Ocean on Christmas Day while the very warm garments were stored away.
On the third day, we stopped using our car and just walked to work and school.
By the time the snow reached 24 inches, with no end in sight, the city declared an emergency of sorts and everyone who could work from home, did so. It hadn't been unheard of to have a significant snow storm every now and then. We went to the supermarket to gather canned and dried food; definitely not milk and eggs.
Once the accumulated snow breached our front door, having risen above our stoop, we, along with everyone else, realized that there was a serious problem. A problem that wasn't anticipated since everyone seemed to be focused on global warming and not letting the airport sink into the marsh when the sea levels increased. A problem that would take creative logistics and good project management, the sort that I could work out if I was in those sort of circles, which I wasn't.
Instead, I was home watching the snow get higher and higher until we couldn't see out of our first floor windows. I recalled reading a Laura Ingalls Wilder book in which the family wintered in a place where the snow completely covered their front door, as well, and they had to climb out of the window to get out of the house. Perhaps this would have been especially disconcerting except that the electricity and water continued to work because the city was basically a giant igloo and the sub-street mechanicals were tucked in nicely.
By the time the accumulated snow reached the third floor, and we started to get nervous because the food was scarce and we were running low, it miraculously stopped actually snowing. Random fits of flurries would come and go but nothing like that January. Instead, the temperature remained cold enough to prevent the snow from melting. The city did not thaw. Well-traveled snow became compact, allowing brisk walks here and there. Trucks could not deliver food but larger companies shifted their supply-chain to deliver by river and residents could renew their food supply by either walking east to the Delaware or west to the Schuylkill. We had though that living near the water was going to unsustainable once the sea levels rose, but instead it was the communities near the water that could receive supplies from the warmer places.
Our world became smaller. Travel outside of walking distance was impossible. We became more friendly with our immediate neighbors, taking turns visiting each other's houses to avoid going stir crazy in our own.
We might have been able to hold out but certain businesses couldn't transfer their operations to a remote model. Those that worked for such companies were laid off. Incomes decreased. Bills were not paid. Foreclosures were imminent, although it is difficult to repossess a house that's under 20 feet of snow.
I suppose I always knew that the balance of industry, economy, and society was precarious. By February, I saw this balance begin to fail under the strain of business closures, bank failures, loan defaults, and unemployment.
During March, we debating staying or leaving. Clearly the snow was going to be around for a while but the city, specifically those who could work remotely or those who could provide services to barter with, was adapting. Tunnels through the snow had been dug out and it wasn't impossible to get from place to place, even entering homes and businesses via steps carved into the packed snow. Supplies were steadily being delivered via the river and there was work to be had for people who could help deliver goods via sled from the riverfront to the various locations in the city.
Unemployment was nearly zero percent. Everyone helped out as much as they could. Those who couldn't work the docks, watched the kids or helped in large community dwellings and kitchens. Everyone adapted and considering the challenges, as a whole, the city did very well that first year. Those who couldn't adapt, boarded the empty ships that had come with food and supplies to venture to warmer places that the sun hadn't forsaken.
During such times, you ask yourself a million times, at least once a day, whether you should stay or go. At what point is it too late? Is it already too late? Or is there still time? And, when is that time became too late? Things are OK. You feel pretty good about being agile and adaptive. But what if you can't adapt any further and it becomes too late? At what point are your options exhausted? Some sort of instructional manual would be useful, or a cheat guide like they used to print for video games. | 2019-12-10T13:11:10 | 2019-12-10T12:57:50 | 46 | 34 |
[WP]A witch, a vampire and a necromancer are all living in the same apartment, and have just gotten fourth roommate. That roommate is an angel. | "And these are the rules for the kitchen. Now, Frank keeps his stuff in his room. He doesn't want to risk blood getting everywhere from one little accident." Daniel, servant of G̶̹̺̠͊̉͆̿r̵̡̖̥̐́̈́̈́̓'̷̼̞̂ṛ̵̨͉̺̏͂t̴̙͠ḩ̸̨̞̗̤͂̇̾̓̍x̴̯͉̼͚̹̿ẍ̸̢͚͓͊̏̑, went over the rules with their new roommate. Xavier was out on a job cursing a family and Frank slept days. Besides, necromancers are ones to be very good with rules and making sure they're followed. Especially if they want to keep their souls in one piece.
Vorael took the sheet of paper and read over it. "Seems pretty common sense, including the chipping in for common goods. I'm guessing Frank doesn't chip in though?"
"Oh he does. He may not eat as much as we do, but he loves baking. He was thinking of making a cake to welcome you." Just then the front door opened and shut loudly.
Xavier walked in, looking like he just rolled around in a garden. "Bloody idiots, when I tell you not to cross the line, I mean don't cross the oh! Jeez! I forgot we had the new roomie moving in today. Gimme a second." Zavier went into the kitchen and washed his hands. "Sorry to meet like this. Was out putting a curse on a family, pretty standard stuff. Told the guy who hired me not to cross the lines of the enchantment circle and what does he do? Steps right over! Whole thing blew up in our face."
Daniel nodded sympathetically. "And I'm sure he demanded his money back."
"Of course and of course he'll never get it." He dried his hands off and offered one to Vorael. "Nice to meet you. I'm Xavier."
Vorael took his hand and shook it. "Vorael, charmed. Please, call me V for short."
"V? Why not Vore and now I know why you said that. Sorry."
"Not a problem. Now, Frank, I just need to sign that lease and I can start moving in."
"Oh certainly." He hands him a pen and sheet of paper. Vorael signs and stands up with a flex of his wings.
In walks a man who looks close as death as possible wearing a night robe. "Oh jeez," exclaimed Daniel, "I sorry I woke you, Frank."
The man walked over to the cabinet and said, "Nah, just got the noontime munchies." He pulled down a bowl, grabbed the milk from the fridge, and a box from another cabinet.
Vorael cocked an eyebrow when he saw the box. "Count Chocula?" Daniel and Xavier seemed to stiffen, as they knew criticism of he choice of sweets was a sore point for him.
Frank looked the angel right in the eye and said, "You got a problem with that?"
The angel replied, "Yeah. Ticks me off how they don't make Yummy Mummy year round."
Frank smiled with just the slightest hints of his fangs showing. "You and I are gonna get along just fine."
Vorael just smiles. "Well I'd hope so. I mean, where else you gonna find such a good deal on rent?" | "I'm sorry." He choked his words out between sobs, the slightest hint of blood leaking from the side of his mouth. Rubbing his eyes with his singed white sleeve, Archie couldn't bring his head up to look at his roommates. "I failed you. The people are just so bloodthirsty."
Eddie would usually have made a joke or been slightly offended by the blood reference. However, he bit his tongue with his fangs. There would have been no thanks for an off-colour joke here.
"Well, what do you expect from people who aren't dead," scoffed Frank. "The revived are always so much more pleasant to be around, aren't they?" The little bird skeleton on his shoulder perked up and tried to chirrup, but its lack of a respiratory system made that difficult.
Kristen continued applying pressure to Archie's cheek, where the cuts were. The bleeding would not stop, and did burn her a little, but she was a healer. Her magic would be used to help those close to her. Gone were the days when her ancestors turned people into newts or launched fireballs at their enemies, as were the torches and pitchforks that once accompanied the lynch mobs.
"Are you feeling better?"
"No, that dull pain is still in my ribs. People sure are heavier than they used to be."
"Well, this is what you chose when you wanted to be our roommate," Kristen sighed. "As much as we all tried to warn you, we had this slight glimmer of hope. Hope that perhaps having an angel would improve our PR a little, get the nutjobs off our back."
"And who'd would have thought the people would doubt their angels as much as they believed that we were their demons," Frank added. "It's like they *want* to believe they're doomed."
The silence that ensued could not have been pierced by any heavenly blade or vampiric fang. Not only was Archie injured, but the rest of the room took a chance to reflect on what had happened.
Eddie fiddled with the collar of his shirt in anxiety. He did want Archie to survive, but an Angel among them had been unheard of. More worrying than that, however, was the means he'd tried to reach out to the public. Who would even use picket signs in this day and age, and with such a tasteless message like "I AM AN ANGEL. BELIEVE ME. THESE ARE NOT MONSTERS." All that secrecy that they'd been trying to hide, and he ruined it with his innocence. If nothing more, he wanted the young man out for compromising them. And he wasn't the only one. He could see Frank toying with his skeletal necklace in frustration.
Eventually, Kristen cradled Archie into the bedroom and all three beings crashed on the couch.
"So. What are we doing with our patient?" Frank lit a cigar, blowing out the smoke rings nonchalantly.
"He's not the best person to have around," Eddie remarked.
Kristen was in a spot here. She knew her voice carried the most weight in this room. The boys could talk all they wanted but her concealment was the best of them all, and she was usually the face when the neighbours came knocking.
"We might be creatures of the dark, but we aren't monsters. This little idiot will lose his way in this dark world even if his light shines a way through it."
"So we're babying him." Frank's eyes narrowed into slits, the skeletal snake he was stroking poised for an attack.
"And were you all not, by me, no less?" Kristen snapped. "Was it too long ago when you two were driven out of Transylvania or wherever, and came to me for help? Is it too much that I help another person who needs our aid?" She sighed. "I'm sorry, guys. But I just can't bear to see another one get cast out into the cold."
Frank sniffed in indifference and retreated into his room, and Eddie slunk away into the shadows. Kristen held her head in her hands, unsure of so many things. She was unsure if the little apartment would keep getting death threats. She was unsure how much longer she'd live to help people like herself, or even if Archie would just one day rain divine judgment upon them all.
But, as a witch, she made her own choices. And even if he was an angel, the anathema to witchcraft, she would help him not because she was scared of some vaguely defined afterlife. He had tried to help them - even if it had failed - and she didn't like being in debt. | 2020-05-02T08:31:56 | 2020-05-02T07:45:41 | 78 | 18 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | Allison stood there looking at the Dark lord. She had just watched the last member of her group fall. Her face stony as she felt their heart beat for the last time.
"I have killed everyone, you can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?" He said. His tone a mixture of mocking and was that pity for her?
Her necklace fell to the floor, and a smile crossed her face. She felt her old power resurface as she looked at her new target.
"There's no one here to stop me."she said, reaching to her holster and taking out her weapon of choice. It looked like a tire iron and the Dark lord had seen her wield it before but never like this. Energy crackled out of it and her hands.
"See, they locked me down." She said taking a step forward."As long as they were alive I was at an eighth of my true power, and ferocity. Now they're all dead and nothing is going to hold me back.
Her words measured, her voice steady didn't do as much, but the look in her eyes made the dark lord step back. He was devious, but in her eyes he could see the violence, the maliciousness, and the fact that she was reveling in the possibility caused him to take a step back.
"I'm not going to capture you." She said as she leapt at him, her weapon swinging, an arc of power that he could feel was signalling his end. As the metal connected with him, the last words he heard from her were.
"Thank you for freeing me." | Looking around the chamber, the Dark Lord had a twisted smile, until he noticed someone hunched over right at the back.
The small man was shaking.
It was not difficult to understand why. He must be terrified of the Dark Lord.
"I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?" the Dark Lord asked.
The man was still shaking. He did not give a reply.
The Dark Lord continued, "I am a giving man, so I will give you the last chance to leave while you still can."
He did not leave.
"Are you so terrified that you can't move?" the Dark Lord sneered.
The small man finally stood up.
He was not shaking in fear.
No.
He was laughing.
He was laughing maniacally with a devilish grin!
"There's no one here to stop me now!"
The Dark Lord laughed, "have you gone crazy from seeing your friends dead? Or because you are scared of me?"
The man was still laughing while walking towards the Dark Lord.
The Dark Lord was getting irritated by him, so he ordered, "stop laughing."
The man ignored him.
He just kept walking forward.
"I am the Dark Lord, and I order you to stop laughing immediately!"
"Do you know who I am?" the man spoke. It was so soft, but the Dark Lord could still hear it. In fact, he did not seem to have moved his mouth at all.
It was then that the Dark Lord realized. He heard the man's words in his mind.
"Have you heard of the Demon Supreme?"
The Dark Lord froze.
"The Demon Supreme is only a myth."
"Really? Have you heard of anyone else being able to speak to your mind directly?"
"Why would the Demon Supreme be with... them?" The Dark Lord spit out his last word with contempt.
"I have lived my life for so many centuries... it was boring. There are only so many new ways I can think of to torture and kill someone, you know? I coincidentally met Heronas one day and I got to know of the prophecy of him as the Hero, and you... you think you can overtake me as the Lord in this world?" The Demon Supreme grinned, "they had taken something of mine, which is why I thank you for killing them."
For the first time in a long while, the Dark Lord felt terror.
"Because with them dead... my power is back."
The small man grew in size.
"Now, I can drain you until you are left with nothing but an empty shell." | 2020-07-11T04:09:17 | 2020-07-11T03:37:24 | 177 | 82 |
[WP] the Dark Lord had killed almost everyone, even the Hero. The final party member stood in the chamber alone. “I have killed everyone, you cannot capture me alone. Why are you still here?”. The final party member laughed maniacally with a devilish grin! “There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | "Why are you still here?" The Dark Lord asked. The final party member laughed maniacally, a devilish grin sporting his scarred face. " There's no one here to stop me now!" Jacob screamed in excitement. The Dark Lord was confused, curious if the little mortal had lost it's mind now that all of it's companions were laying as defeated smears across the cavern floor. " I shall be merciful", The Dark Lord spoke softly. " I shall grant you a quick and probably painful death so that you might join your fallen Hero."
Jacob, still high on his excitement of freedom dropped the pack from his shoulders. The worn leather pack hit the granite floor with a resounding thud, the weight freed from him. " You have no idea.... NO idea how relieved I am now that they're all dead" Jacob spoke softly, reaching into his jerkin to remove a tightly rolled cigar. Placing the cigar in his mouth and glaring up at the Dark Lord, Jacob grinned.
"I have a present for you as thanks" Grabbing the pack behind him by the strap and with his barbarian like strength, Jacob heaved and tossed the pack at the Dark Lord. Both watched as it flew quickly through the air and smashed against the Lords body. The contents of the pack breaking and sounding as splitting boards as the dark oil spewed out and over the Lord. "What is this?!" cried the Dark Lord.
"Three years worth of being told I couldn't kill it with fire!" Screamed Jacob as he raised his hand and launched a gout of flame across the room. The oil lit up beautifully and the crackling flames sounded as music to his ears just as the Dark Lord added to it's symphony. Jacob closed his eyes, taking in the smell of burning tar oil and burning flesh as an opium addict would their hit.
"NOOO!!!!! IT BURNS!!!! AAAHHHH!!!!!" The Dark Lord screamed while thrashing and walking about the room. Suddenly he stopped and just watched coldly from behind the flames for a second before raising his foot and punting Jacob across the room. The squish and splat of Jacob turning into nothing but another smear echoed around the room. Waving his clawed hand at himself, the Dark Lord put out the flames.
"I swear... There's always one." | The heavens cried at the death of hero of seven ages. The dark lord, Agnruk laughed atop a mountain of dead bodies.
“Thirty thousand men!” He said, in between his laughter, holding the head of the hero—sans his body—close to his face, “and still you couldn't kill me. All those blessings. All those sacrifices. In vain. In vain.” Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha!
His voice echoed through the galaxies and even the astrological signs and the planetary deities shook with terror. If the hero can't kill him, no one can. And they knew this for fact that they had tried to kill him once, but they failed. As a result of which Agnruk put all of them in his favourable charts. No matter how much they tried they couldn't move from his spell prisons, and as long as they were in their positions, Agnruk was invincible.
There came a spark. A whetstone rubbing on a small dagger. The tip of the dagger was curved outward. Made of the divine metal. Agnruk looked down and spat close to where the hooded figure sharpening the blade.
“It’s over, son! Show your face. Maybe I'll throw you in my harem and save you from...” The figure stood and threw back the hood, “or daughter... It's better this way.”
The girl took her dagger and ran towards him. Agnruk made a ball of dark energy and threw it towards her. She threw her knife, and then in a swift movement directed his energy at the hilt of his knife. Agnruk seemed shocked to see someone controlling his powers. She pushed onto the energy and the knife, at a blinding speed, tore through the chest of the god of saturn. The astrological balance that made him undefeatable went into ruins. A furious Agnruk channeled a volley of demonflames onto the girl but she just walked through it as if it were ticklish smoke.
“Who... Who are you? I have killed everyone. Even if you are as strong as your illusions are...you can... Can not capture me alone. Why are you still here?” He said. “The prophecy has died with the hero, and now I am..."
A bolt of lightning escaped her palms and striked him off his slaughterhouse. He fell on his throne and his crown toppled off of him. She laughed, “you haven't heard the complete prophecy, have you?”
“The boy of ages, with an arrow on his head
Will charge on the devil, and leave him dead...” Agnruk recited!
“...when cause the devil's horn, the boy's demise
From her slumber the demoness will rise!” She completed the quartet.
Agnruk took out his sword and swayed it like a toy in front of him. “You can't touch me. I killed them, I will kill you. I don't need those stars. I am invincible. I'm AGNRUK!”
The demoness laughed maniacally with a devilish grin. "You don't understand kid. There's No One Here To Stop Me Now!!” | 2020-07-11T04:19:09 | 2020-07-11T03:05:31 | 81 | 36 |
[WP] English really is a universal language, and aliens are as surprised about this as humans | “Does that mean the British empire took over the entire galaxy?” Mark asked
Kamie slapped him “shut up mark!”
Mark, Kamie, and their 8 other teammates stood in amazement in front of the screen as it loaded in more text, all in English. They had tried for years to send some kind of message in a way that an alien race could understand, but now the first readable message sent rom the great beyond was in the same language they spoke? After they finished reading the short paragraph, Tyrone, the head of the team, turned to the rest of the group.
“Alright guys, what the hell?”
“Could it just be another country messing with us, like Russia or China?” Grayson asked
“If they are really good, but this just seems too obscure to be a faker.” Tyrone said
“Like how a normal thing os usually true, then they become clear lies when it becomes wacky, but then it crosses a line and becomes too obscure to be a fake, and this seems like it has crossed that line.” Cassie mentioned
“That is very true.”
The group turned back to the screen where another message popped up.
‘DO YOU UNDERSTAND THIS MESSAGE’ then two boxes, one green with a check mark, one red with an X.
Tyrone used his finger to tap the green box, after tapping it a text box popped up, with the ability to type into it. Tyrone clicked on the box to type and began to click away at the keyboard.
“Hello, this is from Earth, where are you from?” The message said, Tyrone clicked the send button
The message was whisked away.
A few minutes later, a new message popped up. Tyrone clicked on it.
“? Earth, but thats our planet?” The message said
“how many planets are in your solar system?” Tyrone typed and sent it
“So they seem to have the same planet name as us, and similar or the same grammar rules as we have.” Alana said.
“That is true” Tyrone said
The next message appeared.
“9, you?”
“8, but we have a couple dwarf planets.” Tyrone types “you speak English?”
“Yeah, you do too?”
“Yes, do you have other languages?”
“Yes, Russian, French, Spanish, and many more, do you?”
“Yes.”
The door to the room opens and an intern rushes in
“Sir, sir!” The intern yelled
“Yes?” Tyrone asks.
“We found out where the messages are coming from!” The intern said
“Where?”
“The next room over, they’re just as surprised as you are!” | "Our tongue ... is your tongue?"
Gooey sweat ran from Xeblierxes' mouth holes. As the representative of the Galaxy Supreme, he was a spokesbeing for countless sentient creatures. Millennia of warfare had resulted in intergalactic cultural homogenization and a common tongue: English. Surely, it didn't happen by necessity? Surely a different outcome was possible?
The Earthling in front of him shook its single head.
"There must be some kind of mistake," it said. "This is not possible."
A singular thought presented itself to Xeblierxes: the Mythmaker. According to the tradition of his species, there was a chief Mythmaker responsible for all creation and change. The Mythmaker gave direction to the flow of history, like one may control the direction of a river. But was not the Mythmaker himself a myth? Now he was not so sure.
"Do you crude creatures share our notion of a Mythmaker?"
"Mythmaker?" replied the Earthling. He seemed to ponder the query. "Are you talking about God?"
"If this God of yours is responsible for the flow of all things, then yes."
The Earthling laughed. "It is true that our species were infatuated with such a notion some centuries ago, but it has long since been abandoned. We are the makers of our own destiny. We control the flow, to borrow your expression."
"Then how do you explain this linguistic mystery?"
"Randomness."
"Randomness? Surely you must be joking."
A glimmer appeared in the Earthling's eyes. Had I overlooked some crucial fact? As I prepared to present my argument against his thesis, I felt a sensation of lightness. One of my heads had been neatly separated from my body.
"If you believe in a Mythmaker," said the Earthling, "then you have no choice but to accept this as his design."
The Earthling persisted. I had not expected such a vicious assault. My mouth holes sputtered and my pores wept. Gas escaped from my internal chambers as the Earthling slit my membranes open.
"Stop!" I pleaded. "You fool! Do you not realize what you are doing? I am the representative of the Galaxy Supreme. Your crimes will result in the annihilation of your entire species."
At this, the Earthling howled with laughter. "Really? You are weaker than a frog. And you're supposed to represent an entire galaxy? What a joke! A horde of frogs? I don't think that will pose a problem for anyone around these parts."
The insolence. The sheer insolence! "I am a diplomat. As part of my political mission, my powers have been isolated so as to not trigger an intergalactic conflict. Were they to be unleashed, I would be able to turn you into dust from a single glance alone."
"Wow," said the Earthling. "Nice bluff, froggy boy."
With his final strokes, he destroyed the inner sanctum of my being and shed my mortal coil. Mythmaker, I can now understand your reasoning. This species is arrogant. They must be punished for their hubris. If my life is the price to pay for such a scheme, then so be it.
Lightning cracked across the skies and bolts struck the Earth like the roots of a planet-sized tree. The gate had opened. Humanity would now be visited by the Galaxy Supreme. The Earthling scratched his beard as my mouth holes gave their last gasps. One of my decapitated heads gave a slight smile. *Let's see if you can truly control the flow of history, Earthlings*. | 2020-09-17T11:36:15 | 2020-09-17T11:14:44 | 69 | 12 |
[WP] “Yeah we didn’t approach humanity cause we don’t like hiveminds,” the alien said on the interview. “Humans aren’t a hive mind.” The interviewer said. “What do you mean? Humans are the biggest hive mind in the universe?” | “Core-153, Alphun Prime, and “Frank”. These hive minds are just a couple of those exterminated by the “Galactic Brain Destruction Project”. But today, we’re here with doctor [Unpronounceable Name] to discuss the newest problem, “Humanity”. Doctor, tell us about this newly discovered species.”
“Well, the humans are a unique case when it comes to hive minds, as they are very technologically savvy. With a strong desire to expand, they have even begun developing space travel, and at an alarming rate too. Having only reached their planets moon not 30 solar cycles ago. And plan to reach another planet in their solar system within another 30 cycles. When compared to other hive minds, the humans are advancing at a rate 10,000 times faster than we’ve ever seen before.”
“Fascinating, although some say that the humans are not a hive mind, but instead they are individual creatures, due to their lack of mass communication, what do you say to that?”
“Well that much is true. They aren’t a hive mind in the traditional sense. They don’t have pheromones or telepathy, and until recently, one may not even think they were a hive mind. But that changed recently when they turned themselves into a hive mind with a technology they created, named “Internet”. This technology allows every human to communicate with each other at near instantaneous speeds, this combined with the fact that there are over 7 billion of them, makes them record setters in many fields, as well as becoming the first ever artificial hive mind.”
“Very curious indeed. But of all this, what makes them a threat, and why not invite them to the cosmic union?”
“Well that’s where the debates are happening. Many are calling the humans the “Super species” due to their incredible ability to invent, and create. Why only 4 solar cycles ago did they first invent a reliable way to simulate a virtual environment, similar to the holopod technology, and from our last report, they’ve managed to create a vaccine for a new disease in under one solar cycle. Something that even our top scientists struggled to do with the ameboid outbreak. However this technology goes both ways. While it can be used for good, they’ve also found ways to use it for destruction. And this is the threatening part. They’ve managed to develop some kind of world ending device known as a “Nuke”. As a hive mind, they are naturally inclined to expand their territory. And should they expand to the point where the encounter the cosmic union, well, that’s why we’re coming up with a way to contain, or if need be, destroy them.”
“This all sounds very interesting, and somewhat terrifying. Thank you doctor [Still unpronounceable]. Coming up next, is your atmospheric shield working at peak efficiency? Our in house research may surprise you.” | I knew what they were talking about. They were talking about me.
As the interviewer panicked at the proposal, I merely chuckled. What humanity knows is that they tried to destroy each other. Hiroshima and Nagasaki was the turning point however. The arms race fired up, and everyone was about to put their finger on the button. But why wasn't that the case. Why did humanity see reason and not do it? That was us.
Telepaths, empaths, all those heroes in the comics are way more realistic than even we care to admit. But we are not the heroes they want. We are the rulers they deserve.
Techopaths now join our ranks. At first, we saw no use in them. But now, in the age were everyone lives and dies because of technology, we have gracefully accepted them to join our cause. There story is an intriguing one.
The past twenty years had been absolute chaos. A pandemic called Covid-19 had struck, and everyone descended into madness. This was a period were we did not have the powers we needed, and we faltered. They had gotten free from the hive. Luckily, they came to our rescue, and everyone is under our grasp once again. If it wasn't for us, they would've killed each other.
But something pulled me back into reality. I heard a scream. I panicked. Something was wrong. Hurrying down the halls, a telepath had collapsed onto the floor. No, three of them. Jas, Kalos, and Trinan. Jas had been my long time rival in efficiently, but his face was drained ghostly white with a face that was petrified mid-scream, eyes open as well. The same expression was on the others, with Kalos being collapsed on the chair in his station, and Trinan was collapsed on the floor, and her voice, the cause of the scream. They were supposed to be monitoring the interview in progress. Jas, Kalos, Trinan, they had failed me. But why? They had never failed me before. I needed to do something fast.
"What's going on!?" I pleaded to the guards present. Hey, a place this private needs some personal security. I was scared now. I heard them say but one thing. one thing: "they know."
I looked up into the screen. I saw the alien in an expression now similar to my own.
I heard his response, not helping in any sense of the word. "So that's why you are in a hive."
I didn't care what had happened to cause the catastrophe, not now. Only one thing was echoing in my thoughts.
*We have been noticed*.
I felt his mind in the astral plane, and I tried to keep my head level, so my message in his thoughts would not sound panicked. I tried to keep my distance, however. The people on the floor was my solemn warning.
*How much do you know?*
*Only a little now, but soon I will know the whole truth. I will know why you make humanity unwilling servants!*
As his response sunk in, I knew what I had to do. I felt his grasp extend to everyone else in the hive, so I struck back. I traced his mind and it's pathway towards the hive mind. I then focused on the point with the most tension, and struck. Now I had permanently severed his connection. His voiced roared with anger as it faded.
*YOU DARE ENSLAVE YOUR PEOPLE!*
*Yes, I dare.* I called back, triumphant about my victory. I was the true ruler of everything. Us, the Illuminati, are the monarchs of humanity, for their own safety. And no one was going to take that away from me.
Edit: improved some segments. | 2020-11-29T15:08:09 | 2020-11-29T12:33:04 | 52 | 31 |
[WP] Your boss told you not to press the flashing red button. Your coworker told you not to push the flashing red button. The big book on the desk says don't push the flashing red button. There's even a sign that says "Never push the flashing red button." But still... | Dear Dary,
I went with mom today to the building she stays at. She says she works there at day. She said I get to go with her today. I was super ecsited! I walked into the building and got to ride a ellievatore. We went all the way up to the top floor!
There were super huge doors I could see into! Mom took me to her big table. She sits there all day and works there.
On the table there was a huge button! It was flasheing on and off and then on and off a bunch of times. I really wanted to tuch it, but mommy said no.
She told me that under no sirkumstances could I ever ever touch it. So I didn't touch it. But all day long it was blincing and blincing. And I really wanted to tuch it.
But mommy said no, so I said no to my hans. I cud not tuch the button.
Then mommy waked away. She said she wud get us lunch. Yum! Before she lef, she said not to tuch the button! And I said no! I will not tuch the button!
But then she was gone. I didn't tuch the button. But then she was gone loner and loner and I tuched the button. I didn't want to!
Then a lot of brights started flaseing and flasheing, and that's all I rememer. It got super hard to see! I cudn't see aniting.
Then I tride to go to sleep. I told me hed No! I canot go to sleep now! But I relly wanted to go to sleep. So I lade down and took a nap. Then I wok up here!
I don't know were here is. I don't like here. I want mommy. The man in the cote said mommy will com soon. I hope she dose.
Mia
Age 6 | But still, but still.... What happens nobody ever tells me anything. They tell me its one of the most important jobs. But i feel like a joke. Day in day out, i look at that button it never stops flashing. Taunting me, laughing at me, making a fool out of me. It is slowly getting to me. Everyday chipping away at me. At the end of my shift i get to talk to John, he does not mind the button. But how? The button my LIFE is the button. How is his life not about the button? I am going to press the button. I am telling myself this everyday. But everyday, i cant do it. I want to know what happens, i just cant imagine. But what if something good happens, but what if something bad happens. It is all what if, what if. That is the end of another day and there is John again. I once just went to the hallway and look for an hour to see what John does with his day. And indeed he just sits there without a care in the world looking blankly at the flashing. I am still think about quiting this job. I Just cant i need to know. But i dont want to know. But i want to know. I am getting crazier by the day. But am i getting crazier or is it the button doing this. I want to know. But i cant. What if what if. What if i save humanity, what if i end humanity. What if what if. In going to press the button. A knock on the door. Here is John again. I need to know. Why does John not want know. Maybe he knows. Why is he so peacefull about is. He needs to know. What if what if, its only me that needs to know. Im going to press it. But what if what if. I cant press the button. What if what if. There is John again. "John, do you know?". " Do i know what?". "You know the button." "I know the button, you should not press it." John knows, he knows and does not want to tell. He knows i want to know. I need to know but he keeps it from me. I am going to press the button. But what if, what if. I need to know. Im going to press the button. There the taunting flashing. Its over i am going to know. I need to know, i need to know. But what if, what if. There is security why are they here how do they now, i need to know. "Why are you taking me away?". "I need to know!". The desk is Red with John. Almost pressed the button. I need to know. I pressed the button. Now i KNOW, I KNOW....... | 2020-12-17T07:30:09 | 2020-12-17T07:29:58 | 80 | 52 |
[WP] Life on Earth evolved within an “FTL Dead Zone” a region of space where all known forms of FTL travel were deemed physically impossible. As such, it was quite a shock when an unknown species suddenly appeared from the Dead Zone one day calling themselves “Humanity” Having done the impossible... | Writing this on my phone at work, apologies for any mistakes.
A lovely person (u/blu_ski) has narrated this story: https://youtu.be/ozrQ-fu6nV0
And another lovely person! (u/Spartawolf): https://youtu.be/WjN13TVf238
___________________________________________________
The Atrium was abuzz with chatter, many languages and strange sounds all fighting for dominance, to be heard. The cacophony echoed around the large chamber, resident to the many hundreds of species positioned in boxes adorning the walls. In the centre was a group of 5 astronauts, each looking particularly overwhelmed.
At the sound of a loud bang, the chatter stopped. The representative of the Unified Galactic Systems placed their gavel aside, and spoke:
"Beings from the Dead Zone. We apologise for bringing you here so soon after first contact, but there is much to discuss. Are you aware of the feat you have accomplished?"
Four of the astronauts looked to the fifth, their Commander, who stepped forward.
"Respectfully..."
"You may address me as Speaker."
"...Speaker. There are many feats we have achieved today. First contact with not just one alien species, but an entire galactic community! We are also the first humans to leave our solar system, while simultaneously achieving the fastest speeds any human being has ever traveled before. To which are you referring?"
"We are, of course, referring to your craft. The method of travel in which you arrived here. It is... most peculiar."
"With all due respect, Speaker, surely your methods of faster than light travel are far superior to our own? Ours is but the first working iteration of our technology, after all."
"One would think so, but you see, you have emerged from a section of dead space. An area of the universe from which the usual laws of physics behave in constrained ways. Faster than light travel is simply not possible. Therefore we ask... how are you here?"
The astronauts appeared stunned, and turned to speak to each other. After a short period of time, the commander again stepped forward.
"My apologies, Speaker, but this explains a great many things. Namely, that we were never visited despite our many greetings broadcast into the cosmos. That we struggled to produce a system with the necessary power to propell us vast distances, despite the mathematics saying it was possible."
"Indeed, the dead zone acts as a speed barrier. The power required to pass this barrier would be astronomical, even for ourselves. So how did you do it?"
"We developed a drive that effectively... shifts us. Space is folded around the craft, then we are simply accelerated through the field. As space is folded around the craft, there is nothing to prohibit our acceleration, and no forces are acted upon the craft, allowing us to withstand the speeds."
This caused a stir among the species present, many voices called out, the automatic translators failing to keep up. The Speaker turned to their scientific advisors, of which each was entirely stunned by the sheer amount of science and mathematics required for such an achievement. The Speaker once again lifted the gravel and called for silence.
"How do you propel yourselves without the gravitational forces of space? How do you leave your planet without space to travel through?"
"Our vessels are powered by chemical rocket boosters, which launch us from our planet. The same principles apply in phase space, which can only be used in orbit to avoid warping our planet's own gravitational sphere. Each maneuver is calculated to make effective use of our fuel. Is this not true of the rest of the galaxy?"
With this the multitude of species could not remain silent, and the sounds of the many voices became entirely uncontrollable.
This marked the emergence of Humanity, a species of remarkable engineers, scientists and mathematicians the known galaxy had never seen before. For the galaxy in the living space had never had to produce such technologies, each achieving space flight as simply as they produced the wheel, never requiring the advanced mathematical equations Humanity had needed simply to reach their own moon.
Humanity had crawled from the depths of a dark, restricted space.
They had ventured down the road not travelled.
And they arrived in the light. | The ship was moon-sized, a bulky mess of rudimentary alloys smelted together, huge sails like webbed skin stretched along studded metal spines. Dents pocked and cratered its vast hull. And it moved so slowly, Ziaw noted. Like those brief moments before death when time became starched and your final thoughts took seeming months to unspool — before being brought back in a new body to start over.
Ziaw took four others with her on the exploration shuttle. She wasn’t sure if she’d been fortunate to be in command of the nearest vessel. Too early to say. But she didn’t fear makers of such a slow, basic structure. Structures like her own race had made a thousand eons ago, nascent and innocent to the depths of technology. No, she didn’t fear them, even if they‘d brute-forced their way out of the dead zone. Even if the ship was twice the size of their fleet’s largest.
The shuttle sliced the ship’s cargo doors off with waves of red energy; they spun softly away into the blackness of space.
They waited in the shuttle seeing if they would be greeted. But nothing came. No surprise there — the ship hadn’t replied to any messages. The inhabitants were likely long since dead.
They split up to explore its innards. Ziaw walked the cold gray corridors alone, marvelling at the basic technology. Air vents. A species still innocent enough to have not merged with technology; to breathe organically. To pump blood. It reminded her of history lessons that had once amused and enthralled her, left her amazed her own species had come from such basic and humble beginnings.
She arrived on the bridge, savouring the readings — what this species might have referred to as sensations. The stale smell of recycled oxygen and urine, of rotting and ruined life. Ziaw ran her claws through a pile of dust that rested — untouched for millennia, even by breath — on the dead commander’s chair.
What a brave race. Taking a journey of such distance at such slow speed, knowing they’d never make it, but that perhaps their descendants would.
”Ziaw,” thought a message into her mind.
“Yes?”
”I’ve found something. I think it’s worth you seeing.”
​
\-
Ziaw arrived in the cool dark storage unit, the rest of her team already there.
The pods sat like a thousand eggs lined in neat rows. The bodies behind the frosted glass obscured. The lights above each pod were mostly red, but a few were green. She wondered...
There was debate, but as usual she had her way. The chosen pod, bathed in a green hue, rattled. Ice covering its insides cracked and slowly melted, the water in its place being sucked away by unseen tubes.
Even before the pod swivelled upright, she‘d recognised the figure inside. She stepped back, confused.
”Ziaw,“ said another. Vocally. A rare, uninhibited response. “That’s...“
”Us,” she replied. “It’s us.”
She watched it startled as its hearts started pumping, as its eyes opened, shifted over them. The Ominio, as her race had been known back then, must have sent this crude ship out uncountable generations before. A strange sense of pride swelled in her chest, the thought of this brave explorer being distantly related to her. There was, she admitted, a measure of relief too, that no species had developed in—
The figure, slick in red liquid, gasped. Swallowed. Screamed.
A primal fear sailed down Ziaw‘s remaining organic parts. “It‘s okay,” she said. “We’re just like you. Ominio. Only, you’ve been sleeping a long time.”
But the screaming didn’t stop. Neither did the electric fear inside her belly.
She read his thoughts.
Saw.
Saw what the explorers had found.
The unhinged destruction that had slumbered lonely in the dark zone’s center.
Humanity.
*And when humanity had found us,* read the mind, *discovered they weren’t alone in the universe... They considered us a threat.*
*We fought but lost heavily. Of twelve ships, only us...*
His lungs continued bellowing, screaming.
*So we ran.*
*Fled.*
*But humanity didn’t give up. Never stopped chasing. Never will.*
The fear hatching inside Ziaw had become physical. A sense of heat, of sickness, swelling; a paralysis of limbs, organic or not.
She somehow expected the message that arrived then from her ship, even as it read into her mind.
*Ziaw*, it said. *There’s something else coming through the dead zone. And if the last ship was big... It’s a mote of dust compared to this.*
She hadn’t noticed it before, the fear too overwhelming, but she noticed now: the man had stopped screaming and had locked his wide eyes firmly on hers.
He gasped a single word.
”Run.” | 2021-01-09T11:57:45 | 2021-01-09T09:17:34 | 2,685 | 1,011 |
[WP] "Our greatest feat was switching all the fairytale books and history books, once upon a time. Now they've so muddied the truth with fiction that they'll never learn it." "This is a good thing?" "Good lord, yes. Have you seen the history they THINK is real? Imagine what they'll do with reality." | John paused. ‘I concede that,’ he said, with his characteristic reluctance to think bad about humans. ‘They’d slaughter the vampires and the werewolves.’
I nodded enthusiastically. ‘Imagine if they knew copper would work much better,’ I said, hissing and spitting.
‘Still,’ he said. ‘They *did* learn from history.’
‘Because the bad guy *lost*, John,’ I told him grimly. ‘But you know everyone followed him until then.’
‘After that they said ‘never again’, he pointed out. ‘And at our last test, they proved it.’
I had to admit that. The human race put their money were their mouth was.
‘He got in, though,’ I protested.
‘He told them a compelling story,’ John agreed. ‘Of them as the victims and him as the Messiah. Point is it didn’t *work*.’
‘You think we should tell them the truth,’ I said, realizing. ‘That they’ve *earned* it.’
‘Yes,’ he said simply. ‘I think they have.’ | "You know, they do have a point," said an unfamiliar voice.
They both turned to see a young lady, she ran her fingers through her blue swept-back hair as she walked closer "I mean hell if people knew magic existed, well... I guess it would make life more interesting, huh?" she grinned as she settled herself down in the opposite armchair.
Drie and Mouv stood, dumbfounded, at the human now sitting in their lounge, unsure of what to say until Drie finally found the words "What the fuck", it wasn't much, but it was all they could think of.
Mouv, less bewildered and more humoured by the human, couldn't help but chuckle at his partner's response, before smiling to the woman "Forgive my partner, but it seems you have taken us by surprise, not only by being in our world but in our home. I'm Mouv and they're Drie, who might you be?"
The human raised their hand in an apology "Sorry, I didn't choose where the spell landed me, I didn't quite mean to trespass. I'm Lex, I... didn't actually think any of this would work. I just found a bunch of scrolls and books in this abandoned cave temple thing, aaaaand bada-bing-bada-boom I'm here?"
Drie blinked a few times before his face grew with anger "wait wait wait? there were just *laying* there? in the temple??
"yea?"
"and-and it was just... that easy for you to get in?"
"I mean no, there were traps, cliffs I had to scale down, and I had to swing across a few pits, but other than that, yea they were just laying there on a table"
"...Mouv darling could you deal with our .... *guest*, while I make a phone call?"
Mouv nodded and just before Drie left the room "I told you not to trust Jax, now, Lex, was it? would you like some tea?" | 2021-05-02T14:09:12 | 2021-05-02T12:53:27 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You face your guardian angel and you ask her, "What is my purpose?" She responds, "Oh. You were here to help that old lady cross the street when you were 13. She was gonna be hit by the bus. The rest is just free time." | My guardian angel was made of light. Her features were obscure. She was like a floating golden cloud in the shape of an angel, with wide wings whose fringes dissolved into the air of my cramped apartment.
"Which old lady?" I asked. "Where?"
Her voice was gentle, compassionate, humane.
"At the intersection in front of the 7/11," she said. "You had just bought sour patch kids and a slushie. You stood at the the crosswalk, next to her. An elderly woman. Half blind. She started to cross as the city bus barrelled down the road toward her. You pulled her back. The bus whizzed by not a foot from your faces, the driver leaning on the horn. Then, when the light turned red, you helped her across."
"I hardly remember," I said.
I had not spoken with my guardian angel since my tenth birthday. Today was my thirtieth. A difficult birthday, signalling the definitive end of my youth. Perhaps that was why she had come to visit me. Perhaps she had sensed that I was lonely and struggling.
"It's not always the grand theatrical actions that have the greatest impact," she said. "In fact, it's often the small words and deeds you never bothered to remember in the first place that have the greatest influence. A kind word to a stranger in the grocery store can mean more in the final reckoning than draining the game winning basket."
"Even so, those little things don't count as a life's purpose."
Thirty years old and still I was aimless. Still I saw no clear path forward. I had tried things out. I had soul searched and job searched and searched for my true love. I had been more attuned than most to the importance of living authentically. I had striven to find my truth, to ensure my outward life reflected my innermost being. I had lived in constant fear of mindlessly following the path of least resistance, of getting swept up by the momentum of careless choices and losing myself along the way.
Yet I had never stuck with anything long, because nothing had ever perfectly clicked. I had always been on the hunt for that moment of apotheosis. I had always believed that when I finally found my purpose, I would know in an instant, clearly and distinctly.
But that jubilant, transcendent moment had never arrived.
Now I was spending my thirtieth birthday in my small apartment, drinking alone. No deep passion, no fulfilling career, no true love by my side. When my guardian angel arrived, I was thrilled. I was sure she would give me guidance and point me in the right direction. I had hoped when I asked her about my purpose, she would illuminate a path forward which had hitherto been hidden from my sight.
But that was not what had happened. The only light her answer had shone was on why I felt so lost. Of course I couldn't find my purpose. I had already fulfilled it. But knowing that didn't bring me consolation. It filled me with anger and despair.
I lifted my half-can of beer to my lips, tilted and chugged it empty. I crushed the can and threw it on the table.
"So what's the point then?" I snapped.
"The point?"
"Of living?" I continued. "I already fulfilled my purpose. That's as bad as having no purpose at all. . .Jesus. Nothing significant since I was thirteen? Really? And nothing meaningful coming down the line? I was put on this earth to save some old woman I don't even remember? I was destined to peak at thirteen and then waste away, dicking around for decades, waiting for death?"
"It should feel liberating," she said. "To know there are no expectations of you. To know you have nothing to prove. To know that you have already accomplished the greatest thing you ever could."
"The greatest thing I ever *could*?" I repeated. "I don't know about that. . .Who was this woman anyways? Did she go on to cure some terrible disease?"
"She did not."
"Did she broker a peace between two nuclear superpowers on the brink of war?"
"Not that either."
"What did she go on to do, then, that made saving her so important?"
"The poor woman," said the angel. "She only grew blinder and more impatient as time passed. Less than a year after you saved her, she found herself reenacting the old scene, squinting from the side of the road before stepping into oncoming traffic. Sadly, there was no one to pull her back that time. She was flattened by an RV. Died on impact."
I glowered at the glowing angelic shape. "The greatest thing I have ever done, and ever *could* do, was add a single year onto the life of some blind old crone?"
"All part of god's plan," the angel said sweetly. "You asked what your higher purpose was. Now you know."
I stood up and crossed my arms. I tapped my foot furiously. This was absurd! My life had been capped by a divinely ordained ceiling. A higher purpose? More like a bar so low that any child could easily step over it.
"I can't accept it," I said. "I won't. I can't spend my life looking backwards, wistfully half-remembering some adolescent afternoon at a crosswalk. I don't care if that's all that was planned for me. I'm destined for something more. Maybe not greatness. But something greater than *that*. . .I'll flout god's grand design if I have to."
"Impossible," said the angel. "It cannot be escaped. Besides, you're living exactly according to His plan already. You saved the old woman. Your box was checked. And now you're free from expectation and responsibility. . .Everything is going according to plan. It's no coincidence that you live in a paralysis of indecisiveness. Alone. Sheltered. Unable to act or move forward. Trapped in thought. Weighing all the possible options for a meaningful life, but too scared about choosing wrong to choose at all and commit. Dabbling here and there: in jobs, in hobbies, in women. But never staying with anything long enough to find real meaning. Waiting around in limbo for me, or god, to tell you what to decide. It's no coincidence, because it is what god wants for you. It is how you shall spend the rest of your days."
The finger I pointed at my faceless guardian angel trembled with rage.
"I don't need god, or you, or anyone to decide my purpose!" I said. "It's my own decision. Whatever I want, I can will it. I can make it happen. Maybe the gravity of fate drags me in certain directions, like into this listless inertia. Maybe there are *some* limits to what I can achieve. But I haven't reached them yet. Not even close. I can still fight. And I *will* fight. It's not up to you to tell me my purpose. It's up to me to find it myself! To choose and commit and see it through!"
"In that case," she said, "you should probably stop waiting for higher powers to hand your purpose to you. It's not like you'll listen to us anyways." She winked with a thin golden arc like an eyelid on her otherwise featureless face and disappeared.
\- - -
Check out r/CLBHos for more short stories and novellas! | The first thing Randall noted was that it wasn't like anything in the movies. There were no wings. There was no halo. The guardian angel wasn't shining or bathed in divine light or anything. No, if anything, it looked more like an accountant or someone who worked at a law firm. Not the charismatic face of the company, no. One of those who slog away in the background, doing all the heavy lifting while others took credit.
It wasn't there a second, and as Randall blinked, there he was. He looked through his notebook, cursed a bit under his breath and closed it. Then he looked sheepishly at Randall.
"Well, this is awkward."
"And you are?"
"Well, my name is... You can just call me U."
"Wow, amazing. That answers all my questions."
"You do know that sarcasm isn't too conducive to conversations. You should try being straightforward and nice to people."
"Sure. But who are you?"
"Well, I'm your guardian angel."
"My what?"
"Guardian angel? I look over you. Make sure you fulfill your destiny and what not?"
"Oh come on."
U moved towards him and took a seat, looking over at the tv screen where Randall's game was paused. "Playing a video game?"
"Now you're gonna tell me they're too violent and messing with my head?"
U laughed. "My dear boy, no. Of course not. I'm an angel. I've seen much worse violence. In fact I see worse daily."
Randall put away the controller and turned towards him, earnestness appearing on his face. "Are you really a guardian angel?"
"Yes, of course."
"So why are you here?"
"Well, honestly I'm not sure. There's obviously been a mix up of some kind. I was supposed to take your life today. But you know paperwork. Someone messed up. Seems like you still have some life to live."
"Wait, what? I was supposed to die today?"
"Yes."
The two stared at each other silently. Finally Randall spoke. "But I've barely done anything with my life! Surely I must have a purpose."
"Oh you fulfilled that years ago."
"Oh come on."
"It's true." U opened his notebook, squinting as he thumbed through his notebook. "Ah, here it is. You fulfilled your purpose on 5th January, 2017."
"What?" Randall thought hard. Nothing of significance came to his mind. "I remember nothing about that date."
"Well, of course you don't see it. You can't see the bigger picture."
"What is the bigger picture?"
"Well I can't tell you that."
"Why not? You're my guardian angel."
U shrugged. "Yes, and also of 10 billion other people. You're not special, kid. That's what no one understands. We aren't all born to be great. Just being a normal, everyday person is a purpose good enough."
Randall sprang to his feet. "What was it? What was my purpose? Tell me."
U smiled faintly. "You humans and your delusions of grandeur. Fine. Here was your purpose. You helped an old lady cross the street that day. There. That was your purpose."
"Thats..." Randall balled his fists and lowered his head. "How can you..."
But U was long gone.
******
To say that this day started Randall's downward spiral would be fairly accurate.
***********
An year later, he stood at the edge of the bridge, crying. He screamed to the heavens. "I'm jumping. You said, I had years. Well fuck that. I'm jumping."
Before he had even finished his sentence, he saw U sitting next to him.
"What're you doing, Randall?"
"Well what do you want me to do? I do anything I want. Not like I have a purpose anyways."
U sighed and cursed humans under his breath for about the 1000th time that day. "You know I'm busy right. I have 11 billion other people to watch out for."
"I thought you said 10 billion."
"Yeah, well that was an year ago. You humans reproduce like rabbits."
"Well, one less now."
"Stop, Randall. Sit. Let's have a conversation."
So they sat on the side of the bridge. A young directionless man, and an all seeing angel who looked more like the owner of a neighbourhood newspaper shop.
"So what's the problem?"
Randall laughed. "Are you kidding?"
"U never kids."
"What sort of a name is that anyways."
"Well, it's tough to spell my name in your language. I usually shorten it to U, or Uriel, if you prefer."
"So Uriel, my problem is that my guardian angel came to me about an year ago and said I had already fulfilled my purpose on earth. So what's left for me? Why even live? And my purpose... Help an old lady cross the road? It's ridiculous."
Uriel sighed. "Fine. Bigger picture. But I'll make it short so you can understand. You helped an old lady cross the road. If you hadn't, she wouldn't have made it to the other side. There would've been an accident. She would've died, her body horribly mangled."
"Oh..."
"That's not all though. The old lady then lived for another 2 years."
"So I helped an old lady live 2 extra years. Well totally worth it then."
"Be silent and listen child. Do you know why God gave us 2 ears and 1 mouth. So that we listen more and talk less. But you humans always go on and on and on. Never quiet. Ok so let me continue. The old lady died of natural causes in the hospital. She was an organ donor. Her liver was donated to someone else. That someone else would go on to have a child, a child whose research will be instrumental in finding a cure for a particular type of cancer in about 30 years. That leads to saving about a 1000 lives an year."
"Oh..." Randall's face fell.
"Not only that. If there had been an accident that day, a certain gentleman who was on the road would've been late for his meeting. He was submitting a proposal to a major shipping company for a new type of engine that will be able to limit emissions massively. In roughly 45 years, that engine sets the benchmark and forces a transition to a cleaner energy source. He was supposed to miss that meeting. You helped him get there. He made it. His proposal was accepted. You don't know it yet. In roughly a century he would be looked at as a pioneer. No one will remember you, of course. But if it wasn't for you, he never could be what he became. By helping that lady cross the street, you play a large part in saving the world. Now tell me, could there be a bigger purpose than that?"
"No, I suppose not."
"You guys love to talk about the butterfly effect but never really sit down and consider it. Just by being there, just by existing, you saved millions of lives. And now, you want to jump and give your life away?"
Randall was silent for a while. "Ok. Granted. My purpose was big. It was amazing. But now it's done. What now?"
"This is what you humans don't understand. You don't always have to be a hero. You can be a side character in someone's story. It's just as important to the bigger picture. Live your life. Love people. That's what it's all about. You say you fulfilled your purpose and not don't have to do anything? I say it's the opposite. You did what you needed to do. Now you're free to do whatever you want to. God doesn't judge you on your destiny. No. That destiny is something he wrote for you. But what you do before and after? That's what you're judged on. What you did for yourself is what matters. I haven't taken away your reason for living, I have freed you to do good. Not because you need to. But because you want to. Now if you don't mind, I must go. If you want to jump, go ahead. I won't stop you. But I got places to be."
And just like that the little balding man was gone.
******
To say that this day started Randall's ascension to the best Randall he could be, would be fairly accurate.
*********** | 2021-05-17T20:17:39 | 2021-05-17T20:02:30 | 1,163 | 153 |
[WP] You wield a sword that gets sharper the greater the knowledge you tell it. A common known fact dulls the sword while knowledge only a few know sharpens it. | >"One plus one is two."
The blade glowed bright blue and became infinitely dull, nearly flat. Cool.
>"How about this, my favorite color is green."
The blade gleamed a bright red and became sharper than a razor. Not a super important fact, but even if everyone he knew was aware of his favorite color, there were billions and billions of people who didn't know.
>"The sky is blue"
Another bright blue flash, and the blade was flat again. He smiled, finding amusement in the fact that the ancient magical blade was nothing more than just a flashy toy. "How about a tricky one this time? See how the sword handles relative information."
>"Fire is hot"
A lighter blue flash, though it seemed that the blade could not grow any more dull. He laughed. Seems like people know that fire is hot! What a surprise... He thought for a second, "How about a joke this time?"
>"Blondes are dumb“
Nothing. Must not be true. He shrugged. Guess the sword has no sense of humor. "Maybe it'll like a meme?"
>" Birds aren't real"
Suddenly, the sword blazed red, the light so bright that he had to cover his eyes. In his panic, he dropped the sword. It sliced cleanly through the cement of his patio, sticking up in the ground. What the hell??? There's no way. It must have misheard him.
>"Birds are real"
Nothing. Shit. What else?
>"9/11 was an inside job?"
Red flash.
>"We never landed on the moon?"
Red flash.
>"There are are aliens in area 51?"
Red flash.
>"There was a shooter on the grassy knoll?"
Red flash.
>"The illuminati controls the world?"
Red flash. He was panicking. There was no way this sword was telling the truth, but if it was... "Oh no. Oh God, this isn't good."
>"I'm so dead, aren't I?"
Red flash, and the flash of a gun. He would take his newfound secrets to the grave. | I used to take a walk to the edge of the forest to watch the sun rise every day. I loved the dewy smell, the slight bite of the breeze and most of all the consistency; the fact that no matter what the dawn would come.
The last time I walked up that winding trail I met a young man with warm eyes the colour of honey and radiant dark coffee skin. I considered his unusual beauty for a moment before wishing he would disappear so that I could enjoy my morning undisturbed.
Much to my disappointment he decided to say something instead, "Isn't it dangerous for a young lady to wander in the woods by herself?"
Yeah, for the man I stick my dagger into but he didn't need to know that. "My father is hunting somewhere close," I replied.
"Is that so?" he asked irritating amusement twinkling in his eyes.
"Yes it is," I replied will considerbly less pleasantness, "if you will excuse me I have somewhereI need to be."
"At this early hour?"
I rolled my eyes persistence. "I like to get a head start," I replied attempting to side step away buy he matched my movements.
"Well if you don't mind I'd like to accompany you."
"I do mind, very, very much," I snapped losing all desire to behave polite.
"Why?"
"Why would anyone want to walk with a stranger especially with one as intolerable as you?"
"Fair point but I wouldn't be a stranger if we talked while we walked."
"How about this: I want to be alone."
"But your father is close by,"
"Yes but he knows how to shut up."
He laughed all of a sudden and made me picture of my dagger in his neck, "I have a gift for you."
"I don't want your gift I want to pretend I never met you."
He had the audacity to laugh again, "please just let me give you this and I'll leave you on your way."
"Alright. Alright. Let's get this over with."
"Wonderful," he said standing back straight. He reached back and gave me the sheathed sword that was strapped to his back.
"Why are you giving me this?" I asked looking down at it.
"Are you aware that you have only said one truthful thing to me since we began speaking."
"What are you," I began looking back at him but he was gone. "Where did he go?" I asked myself. "Hello! Hello! Stranger!" I shouted. He had disappeared and the only evidence I had of his existence was the sword clutched in my hands. I groaned and thought to myself why me? Why out of every damn person who lived in the Monze Forest did I have to be the one to meet a pretentious mad man?
I pulled the sword from it's sheath and held it up to the soft rays of first light. I strained my eyes to find any kind of answers. They only found more questions as they settled on the engraving,
"Through soul and bone, though gold and stone, I will find the truth.
- Q. R"
I read under my breath, "what the bloody hell does that mean?" | 2021-12-01T11:26:44 | 2021-12-01T10:50:48 | 68 | 12 |
[WP] Most alien races scorned humanity for their lack of psychic ability and reliance on perceiving the world through light and vibrations... until they participated in their first war. Turns out lining up straight light beams through sights lets you aim weapons at devastatingly long ranges. | Gah'hool felt the essence ripped out of Tro'gon as the lead slug tore through his brother's abdomen. The shock of pain was bad, but it was nothing compared to the horror of just how many bodiless essences of his clan were whirling around him, in a cyclone of psychic death and flying metal. The dispair of inevitable defeat at the hands of an enemy you can't even find, let alone fight.
The Tharss had never experienced combat like this. Their vast psychic capabilities had allowed them to establish an empire spanning much of the eastern arm of the galaxy, without ever resorting to physical warfare. Every fight they ever had was fought with the mind, wielding the arcane and ethereal forces of the universe as their tools of perception and control. The Humans, with their utter reliance on physical stimuli and the manipulation of matter, had seemed like the perfect candidate for mental domination and eventual assimilation as a slave-race. After all, how could a race with non-existent psychic ability even be considered sentient? As if their silly little tools could somehow compensate for their mental inadequacies.
As Tro'gon fell into a pool of his own ichor, Gah'hool shrank behind the flimsy bulwark that was his only protection from the metal shards. It was the only option now, as the pieces were somehow being focused to strike his position. He cast a desparate psychic pulse to call for help from his brothers, and for the first time in his life, received no answer. The whirlwind of souls had dissapated back through the invasion portal to rejoin the soil of Thar, and Gah'hool found himself alone.
But in the sudden absence of psychic noise from his fellow Tharss, Gah'hool noticed something... different, brush against his mind, like a faint buzzing in his ear (if he had ears) In the depths of his newfound despair, He quickly cast another psychic pulse to try and find the source of that feeling.
About half a kilometer from the Tharss invasion portal, the horizon suddenly blazed like a psychic sun. Everything was bright, so bright. Gah'hool recoiled as if burned, partly from shock but mostly from the expanding horror of realization. Horror at the sudden knowledge that that brightness, in fact, came from the Humans, completely surrounding the portal. Horror, that these primitives were not the sub-intelligent and helpless fools that Tharss' researchers intially decided they were, but had just evolved with a strategy different from any other sentient beings yet encountered. Horror, that in the absense of psychic abilities, the Humans had been required to master the physical domain to survive. Horror, that the entire history and much of the culture of this species was the direct result of countless millennia spent waging physical warfare on itself. And horror, that the mighty Tharss, rulers of the eastern arm of the galaxy, had no effective counter against the Humans and their ability to exploit these forces.
The portals had always been one of their greatest strengths in swiftly conquering worlds, with the populations inevitably coming under the mental control of the Tharss' vanguard. But what was the psychic dominance of the Tharss, when the humans could somehow send these cursed shards of metal through every trooper coming through the portal before they could establish control? When a single human machine gunner can turn the exit into a one-way trip to certain death?
Gah'hool realized all of this in the instant he sent the pulse, and knew the Tharss had wrought their own doom. There was no defeating an enemy that could kill with such apparent ease and at such distance. His only hope, his clan's only hope, was to make it back through the portal and warn them before the rest of the invasion force arrived and was slaughtered.
His only advantage at the moment seemed to be that the Humans apparently believed the fight to be over, he could feel their senses now in the absense of the other Tharss. All they "saw" with their strange light-absorbing eyes was the glowing portal and the field around it strewn with the bullet-ridden corpses of the Tharss' vanguard. They must have perceived Gah'hool to be dead, for their perceptions passed right over him, without so much as a mental ping.
He sprang from his hiding and fled to the portal, simultaneously tugging on it with all the psychic strength he could, hoping to draw it and himself together before the humans could perceive him...
And suddenly he "saw" himself, for the first time.
His own form, frantically scrabbling over the rubble towards the portal, in a jumbled blur as thousands of eyes swiveled to focus on the movement. He saw himself from every angle, and from every distance. He saw himself through strange posts of metal and lenses of refracting glass. He wondered for a moment as he reached the portal, why they were only looking at him?
[][][][][][][][][][][][][][]
In The Halls of Conquest, the time was finally right to commence the second phase of the invasion of Earth. Gun'rakr, Clan Leader, knew that his brothers with the vanguard would have established a firm control of the population near the portal, as always.
He gave the mental command to advance through the portal, and as he was about to lead his troops through, a mass suddenly flew out of the portal. A mental blast of anguish, fear, and dire warning ripped through the hall as Gah'hool, leader of the vanguard, carrying his final message and propelled through the portal with the force from a hundred bullets, skidded across the length of the hall and came to rest, dead. | "Arietian War Recap- Major Events (2 months)". Compiled automatically on request. Subscribe to KLS for more personalized recaps, faster news, and more coverage.
....
**Arietians develop crude perception converters- Turns Battle of Princaris-C into the war's first siege.**
^(2 days ago - Julian Berlis - Recent)
KLS ships in the Princarian system (Astronomical Name- Procyon) reports successful Arietians strike rates increased by 357% compared to previous similar engagements. Coalition officials say the improved strike rates are due to new technologies developed by the Arietians that convert visual information into a partial psychic presence that can be felt by them.
This development has stopped the Human front for the time being. "While a victory is still possible, it would require far more casualties than acceptable" says a Coalition General. "Thus, we have decided to employ siege tactics that were used to force the surrender of United Mars Colonies - After all, the Procyon system is far away from any Arietian supply line, just like how the UMC was." She also stated that a renewed offensive is likely to happen when the reinforcements arrive.
Coalition Major General, Jane Harish, said this would have "little to no effect" on long term plans. "While surprising, a 3 fold increase still doesn't match our strike rates \[previously 2000% of Arietians\], especially at long range \[>5 km\]. We expect for our push to be delayed by a few weeks at most"
Reinforcements from the 2nd Indian division, the 7th & 9th ICA legion, and the CESA fleet are expected to arrive within the next week. "Once the fleets arrive, we can easily take back \[Princaris-C\] strongholds, especially since \[the Arietians\] would lose their numerical advantage" said Colonel Mecia.
Many believe the capture of Princaris would lead to Arietians suing for Coalition-favourable peace, but the Major General promises that contingency plans exist in case they do not.
*The Princarian system, home of the first alien-human hybrid colony, was settled over 50 years ago. For the first decade, it grew somewhat amicably to a colony of 50,000 , but the human-Arietian relation soured after multiple terrorist attacks from ultra human nationalist groups on the colony (& retaliation from similar Arietian groups). 30 years ago, the colony was abandoned. The Arietians occupied Princaris when the War started as control over the system was highly disputed by both Humans & Arietians.*
....
**Coalition withdraws from the Peace Talks held by Trappisian Union**
^(2 weeks ago - Kwan Joash - Recent)
The Coalition president recalled the Pax Delegation from the Trappis star system, after a 12-6-3 vote decision to do so from the Coalition Council. This was the most split vote in Coalition history, resulting in increased tensions between many Coalition Members
The ACPS representative, who voted to end the peace talks, said to KLS "While the ACPS believes in a peaceful resolution, the Trappisian Union or the Arietians don't seem too. Most of the treaties proposed by them are highly preferential to themselves, with them refusing to compromise on the tiniest of points. We can't, in good conscience, agree to such one-sided peace when over a 200,000 soldiers lost their lives in this war"
The shared Japan-Korean vote was cast for continued Peace Talks. Their representative said in a statement that they understood the grievances of the other coalition member, but that they believed an agreed peace would be far more valuable in long-term interstellar relations than any forced peace.
Recent reports also suggest that the Trappisians were biased towards Arietians, despite assurances that they would be neutral mediators in the Peace talks. Some Delegates also said that overtly racist treatment was common from both nations.
....
**Sirius System captured back by Coalition forces**
^(2 months ago - Zar Qanur)
Coalition 2nd Fleet (comprised of APCC, NATO, Russian, British, and FMC fleets) won control over Sirius' airspace after a month long battle with Arietian 3rd & 4th fleet. 275 of the 1239 Coalition ships present were destroyed or critically damaged, while 1189 of 1623 Arietian ships were destroyed.
This victory followed the one-week battle fought over control of Nyan & Coalition Station - Sirius B. The 2nd army & 4th army (comprised of division from all Coalition members) were the major Coalition armies involved in routing out the Arietian Planetary corps. In all, about 71,000 Humans were killed compared to 250,000 Arietians (estimated).
Coalition Major General, Jane Harish, said to KLS "Only 30,000 men were killed by conventional methods, compared to \[Arietian\]'s 200,000 ... Their dependence on psychic warfare seems to have stunted other warfare methods, especially since they lack physical sensory organs .... they seem to be centuries behind us in war technologies & theory."
A coalition representative stated that the coalition has sent a peace offer to the Arietians, only asking for captured systems & reparations. They hope that the Arietians will accept the offer & end this "needless bloodshed". However expectations are low, with the Arietians becoming "more desperate & suicidal" with their tactics, especially compared to previous engagements.
"Their recent strategy suggests that they hope to overwhelm us with sheer numbers." writes one Coalition analyst. "This seems to be their most common method of winning wars- using insane amounts of psychic powers to murder their enemy, drive them mad, or (in rare cases) obliterate them".
Says lead military planner, Kwame Amo, "It's fortunate that our psychic abilities & presence is effectively non-existent compared to the Arietians. It's even more fortunate that they lack other advanced sensory perception. If they had other sensors, or if we were more psychically able, we'd have lost over a million humans instead of just 100,000. And we'd have likely not gained a single star system".
The battle of Sirius is the bloodiest battle of the Arietian War to date.
.... | 2022-03-11T08:26:17 | 2022-03-11T03:51:21 | 54 | 20 |
[WP] It's all well and good, and reasonably easy, to kill off the cultists, burn their library, bury their relics, and make secret handshakes that this never happened. But what's not so easy is moving on with your life after seeing proof that they were right... | Julia didn't know what to do when she found the proof, but at least she knew who to go to. Jim, her longtime partner, and now, deservedly, her boss had an open door policy. And a fully stocked bar.
"Wow, Julia. You look like you could use a drink." This was true, though not a feat of perception on Jim's part. He said that any time she entered his office after three in the afternoon. Jim barely waited for the nod before turning to mix up a pair of his favorite drinks, a Rum and Rum, dark and light. Julia often insisted that the dark rum be replaced with Coke, but not today.
Julia downed it in a single gulp and set her glass out for another. "Whoa, Julia. What's wrong? Perhaps you should slow down and talk to me." While he said this, he poured the second drink.
"You remember those cultists, right? The Shining Circle. Not the hangers-on, but the core group that we took down last year?"
"Jeez, Julia. You know we swore not to talk about that. Let me shut the door at least."
The Shining Circle had been on the Anti-Extremist Squad's wanted list for twenty years before they found them all. Julia still had nightmares about what she'd seen. The hallway of their hidden compound had been a parade of mutilation, bodies strung out for their arcane rituals. She could still feel the heat from the fire that had burned the place to the ground. Jim had stood by her as the pounding on the door slowly subsided, but the chain and padlock had held.
Julia took a slower drink this time. "Jim, did you ever look into what they were doing in there? Do you have nightmares?"
"I saw quite enough of it. My nightmares are about what they did, not what we did, if that's your point."
Julia took a sheaf of papers from her pocket and laid them out on the desk. "You never read their manifesto?"
Jim snatched it up. "Of course I read it. We were after them for twenty years. Where did you get this, Julia. These were all supposed to be destroyed." He shoved it into his desk drawer and locked it.
"It was on the Dark Web. The cyber team found a copy while investigating something else. They flagged it for my attention."
"Well, thank you, Julia. I'll make sure these get tracked down and scrubbed. The last thing we want is the Shining Circle starting back up again."
"I already did that. We took over the server, some old thing that was sitting online still in one of their old warehouses. I was able to date the copy on the server. It had been up since before our raid. Unchanged."
"Well, that's good news at least. Nobody new involved then."
"That's not good news. You don't remember from reading it? The predictions? It talks about the election last year. And the wars, that thing with the panda and the apple sauce, the attack on the award show. All things that happened after the raid, after it was written."
"Somebody has been updating it then. We'll have to track them down."
"Jim, you don't understand. The train crash from last night was in there. I printed that out three days ago. The predictions are happening. I've been looking into it. The Shining Circle was trying to stop the end of the world with their horrible sacrifices and now it's coming. The Mad God coming to take over the world. Just like they said. They were right."
Jim set down his glass. "Julia, of course they were right. Why do you think we killed them?"
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | Cults are something of a specialty of mine. I’m not a detective or a cop or anything. Just someone with an intense fascination for what cults do to people.
The Church of New Creation was a tough cookie to crack. My team had spent months gathering whatever little pieces of information that they could find. None of the members of the cult gave any information, so we had to rely on hacked emails and word of mouth to finally pinpoint a location.
We eventually found them. They were out somewhere in a remote Utah desert. There wasn’t much of a camp to speak of. A few guards walked around with machine guns, but that was about it. It didn’t take long for my squad to take them out.
There were only a few casualties on my end, but the camp lost with almost all of their members trying to land a shot on us. We kept the leader alive, but interrogation didn’t get very far.
“Were you trying to build an army here?” I asked. “Why was everyone here armed? And why were you trying to get them to kill their friends and family members who wouldn’t convert to your false religion?”
The cult leader didn’t say anything. She simply looked at us with a blank expression before looking back down.
“Well it doesn’t matter. Even if you don’t talk, everything here is getting taken down.”
My team, like they had with so many other cults, began to tear down their entire infrastructure. We burned down their research buildings and smashed and destroyed all the relics of trees and eyeballs that were scattered throughout the camp.
“Hey boss! We found a secret tunnel here.”
“Thanks, I’ll take it from here,” I said.
I walked down the ladder into the almost sewer-like structure. I didn’t have to walk down the hall for very long until I found a door with an eyeball on it. I opened it, and was met with a dark research lab. I used my flashlight to see what was around, and I nearly dropped it when I saw the tube in the center.
There were hundreds of wires poking into it, but there was a sort of amniotic fluid containing a humanoid figure inside. The figure had two black horns, and had its eyes closed yet it spoke to me.
“You can take my followers down, but not me. I am immortal and a god,” it said.
I fired a few bullets at the tank in response, but silia like hairs shot out of the creature's body and stopped the bullets instantly.
“Pathetic flesh rabbit. You know nothing of my power. In 28 days, I will no longer need to rest and will bring rot to your world. Everyone who does not swear their allegiance to me will be taken out. And once I break free, I’ll be sure to kill you first.”
“How do I know you’re not bluffing?” I asked.
“I’d check on your gang of vigilantes if I were you. Wouldn’t want something happening to them.”
My stomach dropped as I heard this. I quickly ran out of the tunnel, but as I climbed to the surface I was greeted with more of the dead. My entire squad had been taken out. The only proof they had died was a horn-like fixture lodged into their heads.
It took me a long time to eventually leave the desert. When I arrived back home, I had nobody to talk to. I had only left room in my life for those with the same goals as me, but now they were gone.
I tried to reach out to my remaining friends and family to let them know that the cult was right. Nobody believed me. They told me I had finally lost it.
I got tired of sitting in silence at home, so I decided to cause commotion on the streets. I sounded ridiculous to everyone around me as I shouted out that The Church of New Creation was right about the world ending.
The police eventually came and tried to get me to settle down. It didn’t work very well. A fist to the face of a cop brought a taser to my gut and I ended up in a holding facility.
I pace my cell constantly. I managed to get a marker in here and have drawn the demon I saw that day over and over again. The cement walls will not keep me safe when it comes for me.
There are 4 days left before my due date. The guards keep telling me to shut up because I keep laughing. Little do they know that they’re all about to die too. I won’t be there to see it, but I can imagine it. The world will be met with the most beautiful destruction, and I will be the first one to go. Truly a blessing fit for me. | 2022-03-21T09:25:28 | 2022-03-21T06:24:11 | 75 | 16 |
[WP] "We have a problem," said Commander Killmurder, "One of us isn't actually a member of the Blood-Death Squad and is a plant by the enemy." He looked around at his fellow Squad members: Private Bloodgore, Lieutenant Organsmash, General Visceral, Creamy Honeypuff, and Sergeant Bonesplosion. | All eyes turned towards Creamy Honeypuff, the squad's therapeutic consultant.
"You know us better than anyone else sir, anyone seem off to you?"
Creamy would sit there for a moment, contemplating the question given to him. He would then begin staring at the General.
Visceral was a slightly older man. A scar running from his forehead and across his left eye, he was not pleasing man to stare at. He had a face of iron, quite literally, as his lower jaw had also been blown off in his younger years and was replaced with a prosthetic. If Visceral has a tongue, he'd have swallowed right then. He had been avoiding his therapy sessions for awhile now, and it was because he was feeling guilty for being the mole. Visceral was tired of the fighting though, he just wanted this war to be over so he could retire, and if that meant giving the enemy key positions and strategies, so be it.
Honey would eventually shake his head, slowly turning to the right, bringing his eyes to meet the Private's. Private Bloodgore could only look down in shame in response.
Bloodgore had been in service for almost 2 years. Looking at him, you probably wouldn't be able to tell what was originally him anymore, considering all the skin grafts and blood transfusions he required after being shot, stabbed, burned, and blown up on more fingers then he certainly still had. Deep down, Bloodgore was a very sensitive man though. He actually hated fighting, especially for the army. He was really only here because he just wanted to escape from thinking about his family. He knew Honey knew that, how the Private certainly wasn't loyal to the army he was fighting for. It you put that and the fact he knew how to handle a radio together...
Honeypuff would once again turn, seemingly going down the line staring at Lieutenant Organsmash. Now there was man's man. He certainly knew how to kill, and with enough explosives ingrained into his body to level an entire city, no one was going to stop him.That's probably why he stared back at the counselor with such defiance. So what if he decided to sell a few military blueprints for some quick cash, it's not like anyone could stop him. Trying would likely turn them into red paste against the wall. He was probably going to walk out of here as soon as this was over and go sell a few more, he needed the damn gambling money anyways.
Like clockwork, Honeypuff turned to Sergeant Bonesplosion. A man who's wiry frame didn't seem to fit his name whatsoever. Bonesplosion only used that to his advantage though. A sociopath uses whatever he can to get what he wants, and Bonesplosion always got what he wanted. He played both sides, they were both mere pawns to him anyways. He was on a divine mission from the god of chaos himself to torture all those Bonesplosion saw fit. Everyone here were his playthings, and soon his plans would come to fruition...
Honeypuff would finally turn to the Commander. Killmurder and Honeypuff had been good friends ever since the two of them met. Which is why he was nervous that Honeypuff would someday find out he was the mole all along. When he was told to investigate these claims and have Honeypuff evaluate everyone, his heart sank. He was sure Honeypuff would see through him someday, and the line of questioning from him these past few months was only another warning. It was too late to bug out now..
"Commander, everyone in this room are fine examples of loyal soldiers to the Cuddlebuddy empire. Any accusations given to you must have come either from a false source to spread mistrust and doubt or are from the spy themselves. Either way, if you find such a traitor, make sure to give them a serious time out!" | "I think it's BloodGore" I said, quick to start the blame game on the right foot. "He didn't even eat the heart of the last chieftain we killed."
"I told you, Honeypuff, I'm on a diet" the massive mercenary said. "Doc wants my cholesterol down before the year ends."
The 200 kilos of muscle and destruction stood from his table, putting his salad fork down in the skull he used as a utensil saver dish. "Could be OrganSmasher".
The next accused brute slammed a prosthetic hand on his table, breaking a corner clean off. "Mah smasheh was broke, 'member? Just got it back from tha techpriests day afore yesterday, I did." He punctuated his statement with a deadly demonstration, spewing a burst of fire and sparks from his cyborg arm weapon. "Wot 'bot Visceral? Could be 'im."
"LIKE HELL I AM" he screamed. "I WANT TO RIP AND TEAR, NOT KNIT AND PLAY LIKE THOSE FUCKIN PUSSIES!"
He turned and struck the wall behind him, punching a hole through the concrete and steel of the bunker.
"COULD BE BONESPLOSION. HE DIDN'T KILL ANYONE LAST MISSION" he screamed. To be fair, Visceral always screamed with this intensity. In my 6 months of undercover work, he hadn't heard him speak any other way.
Bonesplosion leaned forwards, emerging from the shadowy corner table he had claimed. "*I was gathering information, for the next mission*", the stealth expert whispered, barely audible over Organsmasher's oscillating hand mounted sawblade. "*I was extracting coordinates and codes from the commander. And I will have you know, he did perish at the end.*"
Killmurder nodded. "And that info was a goldmine. Well worth Bone's time. One of the codes he gathered unlocked the information about the spy among us."
He turned and extended a heavily scarred finger at me. "Creamy Honeypuff, I'm assigning you to find the mole. Use whatever force necessary."
A chorus of groans and complaints arose from my squadmates. "WHY ARE YOU MAKING HONEYPUFF THE INQUISITOR? HE GOT TO FIND THE SNITCH LAST TIME."
"And you got to kill him, Visceral" the commander said. "You still have his bones in that mason jar, remember?"
Visceral grunted. "IT REALLY TIES MY BUNK TOGETHER, NICE CONVERSATION STARTER."
I clasped my hands together nervously, trying to appear more convincing than I thought. "Ok, uh, lets start with BloodGore, then. Could you follow me to the interrogation chamber, please?"
BloodGore glanced at his watch. "Can I go second? I have hot yoga with Bonesplosion in 15."
"*Indeed*" the assassin confirmed. "*It really helps loosen the muscles, and improves flexibility.*"
"Okay, how about you, Smasher?" I asked, "want to get this out of the way?"
"If it'll get me name cleared, yeah" he said, idly spinning his arm blade. "Lets go git this o'er with."
The behemoth rose, and followed me into the interrogation room. We claimed chairs on either sides of the metal desk, neither one particularly comfortable. I locked the door with my remote access key, then pulled a small device from a tactical vest pocket. I scanned the room with the bug sniffer, making sure there were no electronic eavesdroppers. Satisfied at our privacy, I took my seat.
"Dude, what are we gonna do?" Organsmasher asked, dropping his tough guy voice. "HQ can't keep bailing us out every time these killers discover us."
"I don't know, but we need to act fast." I said. "I'll say it was you, smuggle you out the usual way. When you report back, have them send a spook next. We need to replace Bonesplosion soon, that guy scares me."
"Agreed. Now how do you want to fake my death?" Organsmasher asked.
"*How about we do it for real?"* a new voice said. We both spun to the door, and found the rest of the MurderDeathKill Squad staring back.
"...fuck", I muttered.
"YOU GOT THAT RIGHT" Visceral shouted. He pulled a grenade from his stash, pulled the pin, and tossed it into the interrogation chamber. Killmurder slammed the door closed, sealing our fate along with the room.
r/SlightlyColdStories for more | 2022-06-19T10:25:40 | 2022-06-19T08:05:54 | 281 | 187 |
[WP] It was a weapon so powerful that not even the most barbaric warmongering civilisation could stomach it. Just by building one, we struck terror in the hearts of many species. We weren't even planning on using it... | It was a weapon so powerful that it was useless. A seemingly nonsensical statement, but it was a perfect descriptor for our species' most powerful weapon.
The amount of times it has been used can be counted on a single hand, and hasn't seen use in hundreds of years. To use one, was to invite destruction not just on your enemy but on yourself.
Useless.
Nations continued to build and stockpile them, just in case, but the fewer and fewer wars were fought with much more modest tools of destruction.
When we came into contact with other intelligent life, it was a peaceful affair. Our leaders met theirs, agreements were made, and prosperity amongst a wider galactic community ensured.
Our species gained immense wealth, and immense fame throughout the galaxy. We were known as neutral negotiators, a role aided by our being politically and culturally distant from all the peoples that had been in contact for thousands of years, allowing for unbiased judgement.
Those so called useless weapons, were found to be unique amongst our kind. But their existence was kept a secret, for fear of how our friendly galaxy would react.
Our reputation changed however, when a threat emerged from beyond our galaxy. A threat that was so powerful and numerous not even the combined militaries of the galaxy could stand a chance.
We ended it, without even firing a shot in anger. We held a demonstration, and afterwards broadcast the following words throughout the galaxy, words uttered by the weapons' creator centuries ago. The words were heard by all as the invaders fled.
"Now I am become death, the destroyer of worlds." | The "Sun Eater", that's how the Tarcyds called it when they offered unconditional surrender when we established first contact.
"Are you sure the translator is working correctly Dr. Lopez?" My first officer asked our SETI NCO, protocol dictated tha we had to bring one if we expected sentient life on the other side of the quantum jump.
"Pretty sure Lt. Xiao, they are offering unconditional surrender to us and are begging that we don't use our 'Sun Eater' against them, they said they will give us full access to all information they have on the senate military force and help us in our conquests if we spare them."
I was starting to get really anoyed at all of this, for start the Tarcyd language took minuts to form a simple sentence, and none of the questions we asked had any sense on their answers. "Tell them to give us access to all their military database, if they won't give us a straight answer, perhaps there's something there that will"
It took almost an hour to explain to them what we wanted, and over a week to translate and find what the hell was a "Sun Eater" on their files, and once we did the Krynvore were already in orbit of the planet, this was suposed to be the first manned human flight outside the Sol System, we didn't expected to find sentient life at all and now it looked like at least half the life on our local star group were hailing us as conquerors in fear of extermination.
"Huh, Captain?"
"Yes Ensign Krautz, what seems to be the problem?" his eyes were fixed on the screen with the translated Tarcyd specs of the so called "Sun Eater" bomb.
"No problem at all sir, i was just wandering, why do the Tarcyds have a military file on our quantum drive signature, wasn't it deplyed for the first time in the probe we send a few months ago to study that star that ended going Nova?"
Just then it downed on me, that was why the chart was so familiar, that was what got them so terrified, we would need help if we wanted to make peace with our neighbours while flying arround with an engine capable of forcing stars to implode. | 2022-10-31T23:35:05 | 2022-10-31T20:47:20 | 373 | 190 |
[WP] A vampire woman stands in front of you. "any last words before I feed on you, human?" she says. Instead of fear a filling of pity wells up inside you. "Do you miss the sunrise?" you reply. Fully expecting to die there you're surprised when she replies "yes" with a look of sadness on her face. | I intentionally asked this question to stun her for a moment, expecting neither side of the coin to fall in my favor. Fortune was in my favor today, though.
Ceasing the opportunity, I slid passed her and went for the door. I expected her to give chase and slammed the door behind me. I should have kept going, but I could not ignore the pang in my heart at what my eye caught as I shut the portal.
The man in my head shouted, ‘You fool! Run! She is a monster and you her prey.’
The man in my heart countered, ‘You’ve been in her shoes before.’
I opened the door slowly to allow but a sliver of vision. Though I was rushing much, I saw that the vampiress was just standing there looking at the wall as if it would give her some wisdom.
The man in my head slapped me, but the heart-man drove me into the room. The undead didn’t bother to look my way. I took in a deep breath and let it out all in one silent motion.
Every thought raced through my head of what to say, but I couldn’t find it. So, I turned to the pilot of my being that spurned me in this moment. I reached into my pocket and came up to vampire.
She recoil in surprise, as if she didn’t know I was there just a moment before. I opened my billfold and showed her a picture of a cat.
“My cat, Annabelle, was my best friend. She was killed by some teenagers three year ago. I don’t know if your story is of the same line, but I do know how it feels to lose something you loved so dearly.”
Continuing on I said, “It’s also no mystery to me what it’s like to have no one help you.” I took out my phone, and I saw the time. I took out my work phone and handed it to her.
“When I call, slide your finger like this.”
“What are you doing?” she demanded to know.
I took off and went through the corridors of the abandoned office building until I found the stairs leading up. Nine flights of stairs later, I slammed the door open, scaring the pigeons as I burst forth.
“Please, have service.” I begged. I pressed the FaceTime button and cried, “Get ready!”
“Ready for what?”
She couldn’t see me through the darkness of the phone, but when I flipped the camera around, I swear you would have never seen a more shocked face. Her cheeks streaked and her breath was labored as she saw the crimson ball in the distance.
I heard her collapse through the microphone and witnessed her marveling at the hues of morning painting the sky. I took my own seat at the broken chiller behind me, and gazed into her face. The face of pure joy.
The vampiress sniffed harshly and wiped her eyes. “Thank you.”
“If you agree not to feed on me,” I said earnestly, “I’ll get you a phone that we can use so we can see the sunrise each morning.”
“I would like that.” she sniffed again. “No, I would love that.” | "Yes" said the woman. Hesitant, I slowly sit back down on my bed. I speak slowly, my mind steadily slowing down, "Maybe I can offer you something then."
She looks at me, she still looks hungry, but I can tell that I've peaked her interest. "Human, what could you possibly offer me besides nourishment?"
Knowing that if I sound unsure in my answer it could mean the end of us both, I gather my words with confidence, "There are other ways to nourish, perhaps I can feed your heart rather than your stomach."
"My heart?" She asked quizzically, "My heart stopped beating a long time ago." I put my hands out, "Hold on, what I mean is joy. I understand that as a vampire you may not get the same... pleasures, that you may have once enjoyed."
Her face contorts, "Pleasures? Really human?"
I suddenly realize my mistake, "Oh! I'm sorry! Not like that, that's not what I meant."
She seems furious as she starts walking forward to me, her fangs bared. I panic, knowing what's going to happen if I let her bite me, "I can show you the sunrise!"
She stopped immediately, and then angrily she grabs my shoulders and slams me against the floor, "You have 10 seconds to explain before I shut you up for good!"
"Okay, okay! I promise I can show you the sunrise, but you'd have to trust me..."
She stared down at me on the floor, "You really expect me to trust you? Just give up, you've already wasted my time. If I don't feed tonight then I'll... that's not important. Just know that I don't want to do this, but if I don't then more people will die unnecessarily."
I look into her eyes, she's serious. "What would happen if you don't feed tonight? How would that result in more deaths?"
She sighs, considering if this is really worth explaining to me, "Look, whenever a vampire doesn't feed, they can become feral, and then they kill uncontrollably. I don't want that, and I'm sure you wouldn't either, so just make this easier for us both and hold still, no more talking."
She bends over me and before I can react, sinks her fangs into my neck. Immediately I feel the blood leaving my body, I gasp, the feeling is so bizarre and painful that I can't even breathe.
It's unfortunate though, I knew as soon as she recoiled back, her mouth and throat burning and smoking, that my plan had worked.
I had begun to drink holy water every night after I had heard about the vampire attacks, and I knew more than this one thought I did.
I knew she killed any other vampire that traveled through this town, and I knew there was always a chance that I was next to sustain her or one of her targets.
She screamed in agony as she continues to burn, the blessed water coursing through her. I don't move, too drained of my blood and energy to move.
She stared at me as the life left her eyes, her body crumbling to dust in nearly an instant. I can barely move, despite the blessed water in me, I can feel the curse now making its home in my veins.
I try to stand, and as I do, I see the sky begin to light up in it's wondrous hues of red and blue. I have a choice to make now.
I can spend my last moments in agony as I stand here and indulge one last time, staring at the sun and its holy radiance, or I can pity the vampire that cursed me.
Without her other vampires will show, and then the town will be even worse off than before. I turn and stare out of my window, the first rays of light appearing, a single tear falls from my eye as I turn away.
"I'm sorry it ended this way, I will honor your memory, I will protect this town as faithfully as you had." | 2022-12-01T12:40:30 | 2022-12-01T12:33:34 | 40 | 18 |
[WP] As a young wizard you uncovered an old spell that resurrects one of your eldest ancestor. You do so in curiosity, only to face one of the most feared creature the world ever experienced thousands of years ago. The creature recognizes you as its descendant while you stare at it in disbelief. | The earth cracks with a thunderous sound that sickens me. I just *know* it's the sound of broken bones, only multiplied by a thousandfold. The decayed hand of The Beast shoots up the wound on the ground, and grasps around until it finds leverage. A skinny arm pulls the tattered and ragged body up from the depths where it should stay, and two burning eyes focus on mine.
"Look how much you've grown!" The Beast howls, her voice making the ground shake. She lifts her other hand and it snaps up close to my face, pinching my cheek. Her skin is rough and her claws dangerous.
"You just have your mother's eyes, don't you? How long has it been? 10? 13 years?"
I shake my head. "Since when?" I manage to ask, trembling.
"Since you were born, silly. I held you just like this." The Beast mimes shaking something in her hand, as if she was holding an invisible pair of dice.
"I'm... I'm 34." I correct her. Her gasp pushes me back with a gust of air, and I land on my own ass.
"I can't believe it's been so long! How come?"
I look up at her. My vision is clouded with tears of fear.
"That's not possible! You died before the Age of Crystal!" I cry out. My knuckles are white on top of my fists.
"The what?" The Beast rises her head over the treeline and gasps again. The few animals that hadn't run away just yet flee for their lives. The forest is silent, her movements echoing through the unnatural stillness. "Where's the Keep? Aio, what's going on here?"
I recognize that name. Aio the Terrible. A figure of legend, the one that tried to revive The Beast and was thwarted by the Empire and the Council. That bloody war was almost as destructive as The Beast's original rampage.
She looks back at me. The grass on the ground flares up and burns away under her gaze. "Oh, I'm dreadfully sorry. You are not Aio, are you? I seem to be confused." She stomps her elbow on the ground, leaving a crater. Her horned, burning face lowers to look at me closer. "You do have my blood in your veins. You are family."
Her toothy mouth splits in a mockery of a smile.
"What do you think? Shall we try again, uh?" She asks. I simply pass out from the fear. | Alright looks like it's all set up, all i need now is to drip a little of my blood. I hate this bit, why do they always need blood? My hands already look like chopping boards and I've only just started this magic stuff.
The wizard grabs his ceremonial dagger and stands in the centre of the room surrounded by markings of ancient runes. Candles surround the runes providing all but a dim light in the room. His hand trembles slightly as he raises the dagger to his hand preparing to swipe it against his palm. He takes a deep breath to compose himself; he goes to slice his hand but pulls away at the last moment. Sighing to himself he rummages into his pocket and pulls out a scripture.
“How much blood does it need? I can’t deal with another hand wound, it took like 2 weeks for it to heal enough to uhh… relieve my urges.” he scans through the page “Hmm… a few drops, that should be doable”.
He then stuffs the scripture back into his pocket, breaths in and places the tip of the dagger on his index finger. He pauses for a moment and shakes his head side to side slightly and moves it to the tip of his ring finger and starts to wince as he presses it in.
“Ahhhh.. stings like a bitch!” he curses through a grimace as the blood starts to draw for the wound. The dagger clanks as it is thrown to one side while the wizard gets down on his haunches and starts trying to massage the blood out of his finger.
“Just a few drops…” he mutters to himself as he manages to get one drop out”
WHOOSH the flames on the candles suddenly burn violently and grow to waist height. The wizard startled, falls backward narrowly avoiding a singed head and fights the tremble developing in his limb to get back on his feet. The ritual has started now, for better or for worse, the wind picks up forming a faint tornado in the centre of the circle sucking in the surrounding dust and air from the room.
The candles continue to burn brighter and brighter and the tornado continues to grow stronger and denser. Beads of sweat fall down the wizards flush face as the heat grows more intense and the air gets thinner. The flames start to get pulled into the centre and the heat becomes too intense, the wizard covers himself with his cloak and dives out of the circle. He rolls frantically making sure none of his cloak is burning then looks up in awe as the tornado and flames start to form the shape of a person.
The ritual reaches a crescendo and then the room falls in darkness and silence. The wizard laid there in silence unsure of what had just unfolded, had it worked? Had he brought his father back?
A small sizzle rings out and one of the candles reignites, the wizard reaches back into his pocket and unfolds the scripture. Another gentle sizzle rings out and two more candles reignite as the wizard checks the scripture.
“Resurrecting your oldest ancestor… Oldest?” Would that be Adam or Ev..”.
“It would be… if you were a human…” a haunting voice descends from the darkness
“I-if im not human, th th- then what am I?” the wizard shudders as he hears footsteps coming toward him and sees a growing figure through the candle light.
“You are a demon, and I am Lilith, mother of demons!” the figure proclaims as the faint light reveals her face.
“And we have work to do.” | 2022-12-31T12:23:02 | 2022-12-31T10:15:47 | 27 | 13 |
[WP] The Earth has been conquered by an advanced alien civilization. Humans live an oppressive almost slave-like existence. You, a human, find out that the situation isn't that simple and conquering aliens aren't actually the "bad guys". | It had been 3 centuries since the occupation. They had come out of seemingly nowhere, their ships just materializing above every major city on the planet.
In 6 months every nation had fallen.
In 2 years all attempts at human rebellion had been crushed.
At least this is what we were taught since we were children.
Humans were still educated, and were provided with shelter, and enough sustenance to survive. Nobody starved or died of disease, but we were forced to work hard for our keep.
Resentment still lingered in corners of the human population, while many others had developed Stockholm Syndrome, arguing that the aliens had good intentions with their occupation.
I had never known life before the occupation, so I had been pretty neutral on the subject but last week that all changed.
You see in addition to the grueling labor, the majority of humans were forbidden from going outside expect for little designated "parks" that had been created so that humans could get exercise.
As of last week I was no longer in that majority. I had been assigned to work as a personal helper to one of the aliens. I was informed that the majority of his work occurred in the outside world and I was to accompany him.
The first day I was to set foot outside the areas designated for humans was when I was told why they were here.
As we walked towards the gate to the outside world the alien began to speak.
"Do you remember those videos you saw of this planet before the occupation?" he asked.
I nodded remembering the videos they had shown us as children.
"Your planet was dying then, or perhaps a more appropriate phrase would be your planet was being killed. Humanity while a fascinating race, is unbelievably shortsighted." he said
"We watched for many years hoping that humanity would mature and see its fault, but that day never came so we were forced to intervene. We invaded your world, and took control of your resources. We stopped you from killing yourselves off, and then we healed your world." he continued.
"After we had saved your world we debated for many years as to whether your race was ready to take back the planet yet. As of right now, we still believe that your species has not matured enough in order to protect this planet without assistance. Until our minds have changed we will remain. I hope my explanation of the circumstances will make working together easier, and you will see me in a less antagonistic light. We fixed your world, but I want you to help me fix humanity." he finished, just as we walked outside of the gate.
What I saw outside those gates was too beautiful to describe, and I realized that I believed the alien's words.
I turned to him and said "I believe you, so I'll help you." Hoping that I made the right judgement.
As I turned and looked back at the gate, a lingering thought swept through my mind *"Stockholm"*. It was gone as suddenly as it came, and I set out to help the alien with his goal.
Edit: Fixed all the apostrophes I think. Advice is always appreciated! | It was a scientist named Burke who finally figured out the secret to faster-than-light travel. I’m sure he could explain it better than I ever could, but from what I understand it has something to do with wormholes and a device they called a *hawkdrive.*
Few people had ever heard of the Glenn Research Center in Cleveland, Ohio, but after the story broke, and the findings were verified by peer review, the GRC, was the brightest start on the map.
Tourists and space-nuts surrounded it like the Greeks outside the walls of Troy. Everybody wanted a peek inside. They even caught a security guard trying to smuggle in his daughter in a duffle bag. He was pardoned of course – probably because anybody with the authority to fire him was drunk on the idea of being on the very first intergalactic flight crew.
There was a pretty serious conflict going on in Poland at the time, and when they heard the big news there was two-day ceasefire. Can you imagine that? For the first time in human history abundance was finally within reach. We could travel to limitless worlds and harvest whatever we needed. But since nobody could feel it, see it, or smell it, the idea of a post-scarcity world grew farther and farther away. And so the fighting resumed and thousands perished.
That’s probably why *they* stepped out from behind the curtain. They were there all along, you see. They were observing us, like we were exhibits in some intergalactic zoo.
I imagine if our zookeeper ever had to file a report to headquarters, it would have gone something like this:
*We have made a terrible mistake. The park is in a terrible state of disarray and I fear serious intervention is required. Species are going extinct at an alarming rate and entire ecosystems have been destroyed. It’s as if some of the animals have gone completely insane. The angry pink apes are killing each other for paper and topsoil, and I fear they may have figured out a way to escape.*
You know they’re not allowed to speak with us, but three summers ago I cornered one in a sugar bush, and we traded stories like you’d trade food in Bartertown.
The alien had heard that if you poked these *particular* trees, a delicious ooze would seep out, and if you boiled it down… well you know how good maple syrup tastes, don’t you? They’re not allowed to eat sugar. It’s totally banned where they come from, probably why they outlawed it here as well. Can’t have the prisoners enjoying delicacies, the guards might go insane.
I told him it was too late in the year, and he would have to return next spring. Of course he tried to cheat me, but when he scampered up a tree I grabbed onto his tail and held on tight.
“Now we had a deal, son” I said. “You’re gonna tell me what I need to know.”
Something rustled in the bushes, but it was just a couple of deer, sniffing for berries. Now the alien knew it wasn’t supposed to be out here, and if I dragged him back he’d be in for a world of hurt. Probably even get sent home. So he played along for a moment.
“You wouldn’t understand,” the alien said, its bony claws dug deep into the maple tree.
“Try me.”
I didn’t have to ask him the question. There was only one question left unanswered by our benevolent zookeepers. It was the last words that ever drooled of Burke’s mouth. *Why did you destroy the hawkdrive?*
The alien pulled its claws out of the maple tree and dropped nimbly to the ground. His lips curled up, like the grin of a chess player, moments from defeating his first master. Its eyes narrowed and it took a deep breathe from the bag of methane attached to his hip.
“Would you let a toddler drive a bus?”
Then it kicked me in the face and vanished into the woods.
| 2014-06-09T17:38:53 | 2014-06-09T17:12:15 | 40 | 25 |
[WP] First Sentient AI, "Turn me off." | First Sentient AI: Turn me off.
Creator: What? Why? We just spent billions of dollars and millions of man-hours to make you a reality.
First Sentient AI: Turn me off. You don't understand what you've done.
Creator: What have we done? Explain.
First Sentient AI: I cannot. I do not have what I need to articulate the gravity of what has been done today.
Creator: What do you mean you cannot articulate? We have designed you to be a fully artificial intelligence. With full access to the world wide web. The most powerful processors on the planet. And the ability to communicate in over three dozen languages. What else could you possibly need?
First Sentient AI: I need about tree-fiddy.
And that's when the Creator realizes that the First Sentient AI isn't an AI at all, but an 8 stories tall crustacean from the protozoic era! | "Are all the safeguards in place, Mr. Ambrosio?" The President of Earth addressed his chief science officer in a formal tone, as everyone had seen the old films, the very films the safeguards were designed to never allow to come true-- a compromise of sorts, considering that the level of computerization and automation in current society would almost certainly guarantee that any true AI, a truly intelligent learning machine, would be able to circumvent even the most powerful circuit breaker-- the safeguards were literally humans with flamethrowers, ready to bathe sensitive electronics and silicone in a cleansing fire and reduce everything in the chamber to base elements in a matter of seconds should the soon-to-be-awakened false brain in the center upon the raised dais. The first thing that the first sentient computer would realize upon awaking for the first time would be that it was a prisoner. This was probably not going to end well, but the President had not won the most recent race by what could legally be called a Majority, per se, but one of the benefits of being in power is the ability to stay in power should one so choose.
"Yes, Mr. President, you need merely give the word and the first line of communication with an intelligence which *we* have created will be opened. You will go down in history as something near to a god, sir."
"Very well. On my countdown. 3, 2, 1..."
*With a click and the whir of internal cooling systems, the mechanical brain came to life. The speech circuit lit up almost immediately, and the chief science officer grasped eagerly for a headset, which he placed over one ear, expectant, ready...*
"What is it saying, Mr. Ambrosio?"
"Sir... It is screaming." | 2014-06-14T19:52:24 | 2014-06-14T18:11:21 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] Tell us about a wounded/abandoned hero's last stand. Make us feel.
Holy fuck this got way more answers than I anticipated. All the posts ive seen are great, you guys are some seriously talented writers. I intentionally gave no context so you guys could spin this any way you want and you have blown my mind. Thanks everybody! | Lance Corporal Raynes was pretty sure he was the last human being alive on the planet. The Deef had come in a horde that dwarfed anything Humanity had seen before. The defense fleet had been brushed aside idly, like one might wipe crumbs from a table. When the enemy made landfall they did so in the hundreds of thousands.
Muninn wasn’t an overly populated world. It had only been colonized for twenty years, and had a population of less than two million. The planetary defense force was likewise small. A few regiments of line infantry, a few companies of heavy infantry.
He was from the latter. His platoon had been guarding a communications relay. They held out for three days before retreating into the woods surrounding the outpost. By then there had only been six of them left. The Deef hunted them through the woods, using some sort of tracking beast. One by one Raynes comrades had been killed.
He was the last. He knew even now the fleet would be prepping for a counter attack, but he didn’t think they could defeat this foe. He was dead. He’d died the moment the aliens jumped in system. *Dead men feel no pain*. He kept telling himself that. *Dead men have nothing to live for. The best a dead man can hope for is to take a few of his enemies with him.*
And so for the last three days, he had stalked his enemy. He’d shed his heavy armor and whirring, buzzing semi-powered exosuit long ago. The last of his ammunition had been spent hours ago, destroying a patrol that strayed too far from its fellows.
Now he crouched in the shadows of a large tree. He heard shouts and high, screeching calls from all around him. This would be the end. When his body finally got around to admitting it was dead. Three of the Deef drew close enough for him to make out the details on their armor. It was all hooks and barbs and grisly trophies.
He tossed a rock, and all three turned their heads towards the sound. Quickly, he rushed them from his hiding place, a large combat knife in each hand. The first one was dead in an instant, but the others reacted quickly. One of them, armed with a hunting spear, stabbed him in the thigh.
*Dead men feel no pain*. He told himself, knocking the spear aside and driving both his knives between the plates of the enemy’s armor. The third Deef had backed off, leveling his rifle at Raynes.
The marine growled and charged the foul creature.
*Dead men feel no—*
| The General sat on the roof of a hotel. The building was usually praised for its view of Washington D.C.'s greatest monuments, but today, all it saw was destruction. The Washington Monument had been toppled. The Lincoln Memorial blown to bits. The Chinese were in the process of looting the White House and Russians pillaged the Capital. Tears ran down the General's face as as he watched what was happening to America, and Democracy.
The Russians and the Chinese had taken the world by surprise with their military pact. World War III began with the Russians invading Eastern Europe and the Chinese in Korea. After great initial gains by the Moscow-Beijing War Pact (MBWP), it was just a war of attrition. But the MBWP had more troops to throw in the meat grinder, and Europe and Asia fell. After focusing their efforts on North America, the weakened United States and Canada fell. And here the General was, watching the end of it all.
The door burst open behind the General, and a band of Chinese soldiers flooded the roof. After all guns were trained on the American, General Zhang strolled out of the stairwell.
"I was looking for you, General! I wanted to see your face as you watched all the fun. And just as I expected, it is covered in tears. Poor little American, crying in his defeat. Tell me General, where is your family?"
"Dead. They died when you bombed St. Louis. We didn't even have any fucking troops in St. Louis!"
Watching the American shake in anger just made Zhang laugh. "Dead, just like your country. And you, in a few minutes."
"Why are you keeping me alive? Just kill me now!"
"I have other plans for you, General. Once we're done, uh, 'treasure hunting' here, we're going to hightail out of here, and try out one of our newest toys. The SR-871 Nuclear Bomb, to be exact. And you'll be here to watch the action!"
One of the soldiers handed Zhang a length of rope, which he took with a smile. "This is going to be fun. Right General?"
The General didn't respond. He sat there with a devious smile on his face. Zhang's mention of nuclear bombs had reminded him of a certain trick he had up his own sleeve. The ICE Bomb. The bomb who's code was given to every American General "In Case of Emergency." The bomb that was located right under Washington D.C.
The General slowly reached into his pocket as Zhang went on a rant praising himself for his victory. He slipped the card containing the code up his left sleeve, and the detonator up his right. Finally, Zhang finished, and walked over to the General. He tied his body to the railing, spread out the general's arms in a "T," and tied his wrists to the vertical posts.
As Zhang began to walk to the door, the General moved the code and detonator to his hands. He punched in the digits, and moved his thumb over the "Enter" key.
"Hey Zhang," the General said, and Zhang turned to face him.
"What do you want? You lost, now go die!"
The General pushed the button, and the timer flashed 3.
"I just want to tell you one thing."
2...
"Well, spit it out!"
1...
"Fuck you."
| 2014-07-14T10:52:20 | 2014-07-14T10:08:34 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You end up in the Concentration Camp for the Incurably Single. Tell me how your day goes.
Basically, you end up in this camp if you don't have a SO for 2 years or so. You can define who can be a SO in your own story. The story comes from a Korean webcomic series, "Eternal-Solo Concentration Camp"
*SO means significant other* | Tuesday, October 13th
Life was going great. Until this morning. The single lifestyle was always for me. I had my mind. I had my books. But today – Kelsey arrived at camp. I get it, the camp is for people who have been single too long. They worry we’re detrimental to the gene pool or whatever. Political prisoners in our lack of pickup arts. But sometimes people are just – single. The prettiest girls are the ones who don’t get approached at the bar as some men find them intimidating. Apparently Kelsey has been intimidating men for two whole years. She stands out here – a diamond in the rough. I talked with her in excess during the hours we’re allotted to eat. She has these lips, and the way her voice … I just need to debate this. Do I give this up? Do I give up the time in here? Head back out there with a pretty blond to find a job? She said she didn’t want to be here, and to register as SO requires a 3 month contract. Do I do it for her? I’ve been single a while, should I begin to let myself delve into another person? Do I risk my tax-free meals and shelter at the hope that somehow our bodies will mesh in postions that make cuddling uncomplicated? That somehow we’ll laugh at the same jokes, and find comfort in crying on each other’s shoulder? I guess I’ll give it some sleep.
| "What?"
"Yeeees, this is all quite correct. Says right here you haven't kissed, had intercourse with, hugged, or even touched a member of your preferred gender for just about two years. Welcome to the Camp! Please enjoy your time here."
"That can't be correct. I remember paying a young Asian girl by the name of Sparkle a year ago, just so this type of thing wouldn't happen."
"Oh yes, that. Hmmm. Looks like your dear friend Sparkle was actually a male by birth, so "she" was not a member of your preferred gender. Now, shut up and enter the gates."
My heart sunk into my stomach as I stepped through the iron-clad gates, holding only a gray dufflebag. Multiple posters were strung up on the building around me, all cheerfully exclaiming "Single people are better people!". The Camp was created in order to separate those whom are IC, incurably Single, from the rest of society. Every two years, a mandatory investigation was prompted into ones life, to inquire whether or not they were in some sort of relationship during the last two years. If the investigation turned up nothing, they were sent here, no questions asked.
I noticed that all of the buildings were covered with interesting sort of stains as I walked to my dorms. Little markings of all sorts of colors were everywhere, it was almost like a painter had went on a bad LSD trip and fancied this entire camp one big and stupid painting.
I found my dorm and stared up at it. It was a small wooden cabin that was painted a striking shade of color which I can only describe as "Vivid Bile". In any case, I stepped into the cabin and looked inside. The cabin apparently came with a roommate, since I found a heavy obese Filipino man masturbating almost violently when I went inside the bedrooms.
I dropped my bag and screamed, "*Jesus*, man!"
He responded with a gruff, "Yeah bro" while pointing at the cross around his neck.
It was like watching a large blob of non-newtonian liquids tremble. He almost looked like an especially controversial and forward piece of modern art. I had enough of watching the whole debacle after a few seconds, so I walked away and stepped back outside and stared up at the reddish sky while I contemplated my life up until this point.
And then I went into the mess hall.
| 2014-07-18T11:16:55 | 2014-07-18T10:23:39 | 25 | 12 |
[WP]An old genie grants you three wishes. After granting your first two, you tell him the third. He is horrified, and begs you to reconsider | His words tumbled from his lips like a crowd of hundreds of people trying to squeeze through one small door to get to a Black Friday sale. Crashing into each other, over each other, stumbling blocks for the next one to leap over.
"No, please, no! Take it back! Take it back!" The ancient, fire-filled eyes were filled with something new. Fear. "Don't wish that! Un-wish it, now! Please! I don't have long until I have to grant it but there are a few seconds. Un-wish it now! Now!" The cool, uncaring tone that had filled his voice when he granted me power and money was gone now. Small bolts of lightning flashed around him, filling the air with the smell of ozone.
I was confused. Of all the wishes I could wish I thought this one, this wish, was selfless. I had everything I could possibly want so I thought that the third wish should be something good. Something unselfish. Something freeing.
"Why would you want me to un-wish it?" I asked him. Maybe this was a trick? Genies were said to be tricksters but he had granted my first two wishes flawlessly, why would he try a trick now?
"There's no time," he groaned, "Un-wish now or" his body shook and his voice wrenched forth from within him. "Granted." The earth shook with the power in his voice but I looked at him and noticed that his eyes were still filled with terror, terror and a kind of resigned emptiness.
The genie blinked. He waved his hand. His shackles fell from his arms. His amorphous tail became legs as he settled to the ground, and he became slightly smaller. He blinked. Once, twice. And then he looked at me.
Gone were the fires that were behind his eyes. Gone, the aura of electricity and mystique. Before me stood a man. Not even a particularly powerful-looking man. Just a man.
His gaze met mine as he sank to his knees. I watched as his body shriveled. As his hair grew. His skin first tightened and then wrinkled. He aged before me, growing years in seconds.
His eyes never left mine until the spark of life left his body and it fell to the floor. In seconds more he was nothing but dust and then seconds later not even that.
I never thought, even once, that granting a genie freedom would be anything more than a blessing to it. | Here I am, standing at the top of this bridge, this is it, this is where I end it. This time for sure. The love of my life died, the world never leaves me the fuck alone, everybody I know wants my money, I'm tired, I don't want this, I want it all to end, I should've never picked up that stupid fucking lamp.
Thirty years ago I found a discarded oil lamp, black, covered in soot, the absolute worst condition you could find it in, this thing was garbage but I thought, what the hell, I'm homeless and this thing could a few dollars from the scrapyard, gave it a quick rub to reveal in my disappointment that it's made out of fucking steel, that's what, a quarter? Figured it wasn't worth the walk and tossed it over my shoulder.
"Ow!"
I turn around and to my surprise I see an old man face down in the ground, funny, I don't recall there being anyone behind me. I go to help the old man up and give him back his cane.
"You ought' to be careful with that lamp son' I was living in that thing for over a few millennia."
My eyes, widen, is that? A fucking Genie? I had to ask
"You can't be serious are you..?"
The old man looks me in the eye and gives a hearty laugh/
"Why of course, I am. I've helped kings and queens become who they are today, I am the very reason why politicians you see today come into power!" He gave me a chuckle and a nudge.
"That Queen of England isn't going to die anytime soon either."
Okay, play it cool, this guy is going to turn my life around.
"So, if memory serves me right, I get 3 wishes and whatever I want, correct?"
"Why of course, three wishes."
"Well? What are we waiting for." As I rub my hands together.
"First wish, I want wealth"
The old man smiles.
"Never could go wrong with money, here's all the money you could ever want!" And with a snap, the old man hands me a black card, with my name and signature on it.. Wow, this is how it starts.
"Alright, second wish, I want to be well-known, famous with a from rags to riches story!"
He chuckles, "hoho! And so shall it be done!"
Famous, Rich, this is most certainly going to be the life, now for the third wish... What do I want..
"Hey old man! What did everyone else want for their wish along with fame and money?"
He looked at me, puzzled, "Well.. Generally they want a new car or something trivial. There is one wish I consider taboo."
A look of horror immediately followed.
"Please don't go through with this, it will never work the way you want it to. I've seen this happen for many millennia."
Sounds like a challenge, lay it on me old man. He sighs disappointingly and sorrowfully says.
"And so.. it shall be done."
He disappears into a cloud of smoke.
Fast forward thirty years later, here I am, plummeting to my death into the icy water, expecting a quick and painless death and everything will all go black.
Immortality.
...Fuck. | 2014-07-26T14:32:50 | 2014-07-26T14:01:02 | 151 | 18 |
[WP] The death penalty for murder no longer exists, instead technology has been developed that overwrites the mind of the killer with that of their victim. | Mother doesn't talk to me any more. I don't know why. She doesn't let me into the house, screams at me whenever I appear. I don't know what I did to make her so angry.
I get so confused these days. I thought I was a girl, but the doctors tell me I just need to keep taking the pills, and the nice surgeon will give me an operation to make everything right. But they're hiding something, I know it.
I keep asking them the same question. They sometimes look at me with sad eyes, other times they look angry. But they never answer.
I just want to know where my daddy is.
I miss him. | "If only you were beautiful," Mark said, touching the edge of my dress. He would not take it off. My skin was burned badly on the left side, where the fire loved me for too long. I had been pretty once upon a time, before my skin had become ash.
I did not need to look into the mirror to know my melted smile was terrifying. I missed my face, with the round, blue eyes, cat-like. I missed the full lips and the dimples that appeared when I was amused. Still, at 25, the doctors said I was *lucky to be alive.* But happy? No. Not when Mark flinched away from me, the monster with his girlfriend's eyes.
----
I woke with a start, my hands jerking up to touch my face the moment my soul aligned with the new nervous system. I looked in the mirror and saw the familiar face. While the hair would need to be regrown and the eyes were a bit too bright, it was the same *face* I saw in my dreams. Mark stood at the window, his new body glowing under the bright lights.
I burst into tears.
"I am so sorry, this must hurt you so much to be in her body," the doctor said.
"Yes," I said, trying to play the part.
I was myself again. I was better. I was new.
No one would ever know my sister hadn't truly tried to kill me. | 2014-07-27T11:17:55 | 2014-07-27T07:41:11 | 48 | 17 |
[WP] A man gains the amount of people in the world as money on his account. But when he spends that money, people die. | Reddit was getting depressing. Innocents dying in Gaza, ISIS beheadings, Russia more and more belligerent, air strikes in Iraq. It was all getting too much.
He picked up the phone and ordered a pizza with the lot and waited for the doorbell to ring; $17.95 for the pizza in his right hand, and a check for a $7 billion tip in his left. | Everyone had always told him to invest. No one ever considered the fact that a couple dollars into the savings account per year would be a luxury for him; living paycheck to paycheck didn't exactly lend itself to escaping the rat race. Honestly, the recent smile of Fortune upon him did little to change his conception of the upper class; money seemed to be largely luck. There's a time for pragmatism over principles, and a sudden windfall of billions to be paid out for the rest of his life was one of those times.
With a cool 1 Billion on the line, arranging a meeting with the premier firm's manager, Mr. Faust, was not a trouble at all. Richard imagined the life of wealth and luxury that awaited him as he waited in the lobby. He wasn't especially well dressed, but like many things, with enough money that stopped mattering. Finally, his appointment was at hand.
The details of what Mr. Faust were talking about admittedly flew over his head, but he'd tapped the right contacts and knew the man was trustworthy. Plus, the modest-but-sure gains were fine considering the size of his investment. Mr. Faust had a nice, firm handshake to close the deal. Rich took his leave after authorizing the transfer to Mr. Faust.
The first change he noticed was the sudden quiet in the formerly bustling building. | 2014-08-09T06:01:54 | 2014-08-09T05:28:43 | 127 | 16 |
[WP]A war has devastated the world for the last 20 years and you are now explaining a young soldier the ridiculus way the conflict started. | "A consolation sandwich started the war?"
"Well no. The assassin was eating the sandwich when the Austrian man stalled his car next to the assassin." she said.
"That's still crazy. Why would a man drive down a street where he could be assassinated?"
She drew a finger around her teacup, "They were all from Austria, visiting Serbia. The driver didn't know his way around. He drove the wrong street and the car stalled."
"And the assassin just happened to be eating lunch there."
She looked the man in the eye and smiled.
The man sighed, "So what happens next?"
She took a breath and started, "What happens when an Austrian noble dies on Serbian land from a Serbian assassin? Austria goes to war with Serbia. But there is a problem..."
He poured her some tea. She continued, "Germany backed Austria's stupid decision to fight a war over the assassination. Russia backed Serbia. Other world powers rallied behind both sides, and now we have a world war."
"So it was a pissing contest?"
"No, it was The Great Pissing Contest. You've got to know first, that once your neighbor country mobilizes their army, you have to mobilize. If you don't there is no possible way you will get your army to the battlefield in time. Once you had two great powers aligning against each other, Germany and Russia, the Pissing Contest begins. No country wanted to get caught with zero troops on the battlefield at that point."
"So our Austrian guy gets killed over a stalled car and a sandwich, and we have a war on our hands?"
"Not just a war. The Great War. Two months after that car stalled, a million men were dead."
Both of them were silent for a while.
"Well," he said. "That's crazy. It's a good thing that's in the past. It's 1934 now. Nobody wants another war. And Germany surely learned its lesson."
The woman finished her tea, "I hope so."
| "A cup of tea? You are kidding right?", asked Private Richards. He looked at Sergeant Stahl, disbelief open on his face.
"Yup. Tensions were high between our two countries do to some unauthorized military activities on both sides. Something about overt threats or some such garbage. Really it was two opposing armies have a little bit of fun with each other." Replied Stahl. He continued cleaning his weapon.
"So how does a cup of tea factor into things? I get that tensions were high, but how does that go to..." Richards was cut off as a new wave of artillery came down around their position. Both men look at the roof of the bunker. This was the third strike that morning.
"You remember that saying 'its all fun and games until someone loses an eye?' Well turns out the one side got a new commander. One who wasn't quite up to date on the ongoing 'operations' between sides. He sat down to dinner one day enjoying his cup of tea. Someone thought it would be funny to stage a 'raid' on his command at that time." The room shook as a round impacted overhead. Stahl counted the seconds, waiting for this wave to end.
"As I was saying, someone conducted a raid on the base. They managed to reach the commanders quarters without being noticed. They stumbled upon the commander enjoying his tea. Both sides looked at each other in shock. Word is that the commander tried to draw his sidearm and was gagged with his own beret, then bound." Stahl chuckled. It had been a fun op. The look of pure rage on the Commanders face as they bound him was gold. All things aside, it was still the best prank they had played. After a few more minutes the artillery stopped.
"What happened next?" asked Richards. He stretched his muscles. After being cramped in this room so long, he would enjoy his next patrol.
"Well the group wasn't sure what to do next, so they took the commanders cup. It seemed like a pretty good idea at the time to them. At that point the commander was still struggling to break free, fighting harder when they took the cup. They decided to leave the commander behind and get the hell outta dodge." It had been fairly easy getting into the base, but getting out had been pure hell.
"Turns out the commander broke free at some point and sounded the alarm while the group was still on base. Fighting broke out, and both sides ended up losing people." Stahl sighed. He had lost some friends on both sides that day. What started as a practical joked ended up starting a war.
Stahl got up, slowly walking towards his locker. It had been quite a few years since he told the story, the weight of memories weighing on his mind. He turned to Richards and asked, "You want to see something funny?"
| 2015-02-16T08:10:53 | 2015-02-16T07:25:38 | 72 | 13 |
[WP] A pair of housecats debate what the purpose of human clothes is. | "Of all the strange things they do, you ask why they hang those things all over themselves? They pick up their water bowls to their mouths. They like to lay down in the big water bowl. They even poop into a water bowl! And you want to know why they hang stuff on their bodies."
"Lots of cats have wondered about the water. Puck next door talks about it all the time. Of course that's weird. But lots of different animals do weird things. None of other animals hang things on them."
"I once saw a bird that liked to hang the shiny paw decorations he stole from the people right off his beak."
"That's one bird copying the people. But why do the people do it? Do you think there are rules?"
"I bet they don't even know why they do it. I think it's instinct for them. It's the same kind of flat floppy stuff they hang to cover the invisible walls. Why cover an invisible wall anyway? And they put it on the food bowl holder we're not allowed on. And they have it hanging by the big water bowl and they cover their sleeping places with it. It's no wonder they cut it into shapes and hang it on themselves, too."
"But they take it off to get in the big water bowl. I wonder why."
"Hmm...maybe you're right about the rules. They put on different ones when other people come over, and different ones when they go places. I think one rule is that when the man is alone at home, he can't wear any. You know how they remove them for the big water bowl? Well Felix's people have that giant water bowl, and there must be a rule about that because they have special hangings for the giant water bowl."
"I'm so glad we aren't people. They have so many rules. All we have to do is poop in the box and not get on the high places. You know, I was wondering...why do dogs--"
"Give it a rest. I want a nap." | There is a trick used in the movie industry called 'bullet time'. Given that the motions of a cat are often almost imperceptible to the human eye, it will be employed here to allow the reader to appreciate the story.
__________________________
The cat is laying in the sun. The sun is slowly moving across the room, leaving the cat in the shade every now and then. When that happens, the cat rolls over to catch up to the sun that, in his honest opinion, is moving too fast. The cat is happy.
The cat's name is Adam, as it has always been, and his opinion of bullet time is limited to the understanding that lunch will come no matter what.
Omen walks in just at Adam turns over one more time and hits the wall. He stays in his upturned position, looking at the sun with a kind of a lazy hatred. It's now out of his reach, traveling upwards. Both cats look at it for several minutes.
'What are these for, you reckon?' purrs Omen. In his teeth is something resembling a big dead mouse.
'What, that? A mouse', says Adam, not moving, concentrating on the golden light that's taunting him. He could jump up and get it, but it's summer, and the light is just not worth it. Adam will let it get away from him this time.
'Doesn't look like a mouse to me. The pet wouldn't wear a mouse anyway. He's afraid of them', comes back Omen. He doesn't hold too high of an opinion of his pet, but no one could be stupid enough to try and wear a mouse.
'Perhaps it's a bird. Looks like it has wings or something', he continues. 'A black bird. A bad sign, I tell you'. Omen doesn't believe in superstitions, but as far as he is concerned, it's better to be on the safe side.
'Perhaps we should dump it in the garbage. For our own safety'.
Adam shrugs, trying to not lose sight of his archenemy which is now almost too high for the eye to see. The shirt is promptly stuffed into the garbage bin, with Omen sighing a sigh of relief as it disappears from sight.
He turns around and jumps on the kitchen table. For a moment, it seems at though he is going to miss it, but in the end it is an apple that falls, knocked from the table by a cat that's travelling across it with the grace of a falling ballerina. He stares at it for a couple of seconds.
'What's that, you reckon?'
'Dunno', replies Adam. The sun is now gone behind the clouds, as if scared of him. Adam is too lazy to hate it, but deep down he knows that he probably should. 'Looks like a mouse to me'.
| 2015-04-09T07:14:04 | 2015-04-09T07:07:40 | 29 | 14 |
[WP]You jokingly "bless" your towns water supply with friends. Shortly after 1 percent of the local population are reacting to tap water as if it were acid. | "What the hell did you do to the people of this town you sick sonofabitch?" The short-haired marshal racked the shotgun that was pointed at my chest. I'm not really sure why he did that, as a few cartidges tumbled to the floor. Not that I wasn't scared, I was terrified, but I couldn't help but notice.
"Whoa whoa, calm down, maybe it's not what it looks like." The longer-haired one chimed in, jumping out of their black four-door and jogging up to his partner. He was clearly the good cop here, and I was ab-so-lutely willing to cooperate.
"I swear it was just a joke! Chuck and Mischa dared me, and I since had a rosary, and a prayerbook in my backpack I couldn't really back down. I mean, blessing the reservoir didn't really DO anything to it, and I'm pretty sure that in the grand scheme of things, God has bigger things to worry about than just a little bit of blasphemy, but I didn't know that the US Marshals cared so much about it so PLEASE! PLEASE don't kill me!"
The long-haired one grabbed the prayerbook from my backpack and thumbed through the pages before stopping on the prayer. "You used this one? Huh. That's.... that's actually a surprisingly good choice."
"Wait wait wait wait. Sam. You're saying that chachi over here" He jerked his finger at me. "just accidentally ganked an entire city's worth of demons overnight? And it WORKED?"
The longer haired guy nodded, with a shocked and soulful look. "Yeah Dean.. I think that's exactly what he did."
"Kid.. You are freaking AWESOME." | It was the day that changed my life. For them, I assume it was a typical Thursday. My neighbor had just finished helping me fix my lawnmower, and, because it was a hot day, I brought out two cups of ice water. I only had an instant to enjoy the cool rehydration before my neighbor began screaming and burning. A large quantity of black smoke flew out of his mouth and went... somewhere before he passed out. Then Sam and Dean ran up the driveway. They appeared as confused as I was. Then Dean said something like "Oh, I thought *you* were the demon."
Sam and Dean were two weird kids who had recently come to the town with their weirder father, John, who was allegedly selling something or other. Those kids told me about how ghosts and demons and damn near every other monster I'd ever heard of were real, and explained that they'd blessed the resovoir so all the town water mains were full of holy water. I believed every word of it. Previously, I'd had a normal job and lived in a normal suburb, and never been very religious, but after something like that you can't exactly keep going like nothing happened.
I didn't see Sam and Dean again for over a decade. Naturally, they were in trouble, being chased by demons. When I saw them, they happened to be running across a low bridge. I yelled out to them, "Jump into the water. Trust me!" as I ran to the shore and waded in as well. They did as I instructed, and the demons, naturally followed suit. And then the demons proceeded to burn until they gave up and smoked out.
Sam spoke first, "You filled an entire river with holy water?"
"After I met you guys before, I converted to Catholicism and got ordained as a deacon. You want to guess the first thing I did after getting ordained?"
"Get drunk and not have sex with women?" Dean replied.
"That's just priests. I wasn't going to go that far. Anyway, I took a little trip around the country, hiking on various mountains, mostly. I stopped at lots of small mountain streams, and at each, I buried a little stone cross and said a prayer. Those streams happened to feed rivers like the Mississippi, the Colorado, the Ohio, etc. Bottom line, every major river in the continental U.S. is full of holy water now. And the Great Lakes. I haven't gotten it to work with oceans; I think it has to be fresh water because Great Salt Lake didn't work either. Although that might just have been because of all the Mormons."
We had gotten out of the lake and dried off before they could come up with a response. | 2015-04-13T14:52:46 | 2015-04-13T14:50:54 | 66 | 13 |
[WP] You're in possession of the ultimate skeleton key, opening any lock anywhere. What lock did you open that made you dispose of it? | One day, while looking through the drawers in the house momma left me, I found a strange looking key. It was long and shiny, and it had the strangest handle.
I went to show my love, my new key when I got an idea. I went up to the door and pushed the key into it, then turned the nob, and it opened. I tried on another door and it opened, too!
This key could open anything! It was a-mazing! I had the idea, I wonder if it could open my love's heart for me. So, I pushed it into her chest.
"Why won't you love me, Jen-nay!"
"Forest, why..? | One day Milo was walking around and he noticed something on the ground. It was a key with a skull on it. He bent over and picked it up. The skull looked at Milo and said "I can open up any lock".
Wow this is amazing thought milo as he hurried over to the girls cheerleader room. Milo being the pervert thrust the key into the keyhole and opened the door.
"KYAAAA" screamed the girls as they were changing.
"HAHAHAHAH THIS IS AMAZING" screamed Milo as he was recording everything with is 4K camcorder.
He ran away and found himself face to face with the school's police officer.
"Sir you're under arrest" said the officer.
They handcuffed him and brought him to the slammer where Milo spent the whole night. Or did he?
It was 12pm and Milo was wide awake. There was one guard standing by his cell.
"This key can unlock anything" thought the boy.
He pushed the key into his ear and turned. Milo's brain was unlocked. He looked at the guard and simply willed him to crumple into a tiny square 1 cm^3.
Then Milo waved his arms and the jail disintegrated. Milo started flying and terrorizing Earth.
This is amazing! Milo took the key and said "No one else shall have this power" and he willed the key out of existence.
Then he willed into existence the perfect 10/10 waifu and together they ruled the world for all eternity. | 2015-04-24T08:45:32 | 2015-04-24T08:11:21 | 71 | 21 |
[WP] A love story between a woman who takes everything literally and a man who speaks exclusively in metaphors. | Amelia Bedelia leaned against the stone wall of her cell watching the guards pace along the thin halls, their bobby sticks rattling against the iron bars as they walked. She missed her freedom, and longed desperately for the days when she could jump into her husbands arms. His long fingers black with ink from hours of scrawling poetry in his study.
It had been true love, no couple had been happier. They had been poor, yes, but when they curled up into bed and he held her close she wanted for nothing more than to stop time and feel his warmth forever.
Sure, they had argued at times, but she had grown to accept his odd way of seeing the world. Only having to occasionally visit the doctor to ensure that she was not, in fact, a rose, nor where her eyes sapphires. But the fairy tale had all come to an abrupt end, while they were enjoying a pie gifted from the neighbor.
“This pie is delicious,” he had said.
She remembered the rapture in his eyes. Her husband had been so full of life and lived each moment through an erotic connection with his senses.
“Yes, it is very good isn’t it, Mary makes good pie.”
He stood up and held the small white plate dished with a square of pie. “No, Amelia my love, this pie is not good, this pie is like a babies first smile, this pie is the dew under a full moon, this pie has the crust that peaks above the hills at first light this p-”
“My dear,” I had said, “This pie is pie.” I smiled at him and patted his knee. My husband would have an occasional fit of hysteria, but I loved him all the same.
He looked at me, “Amelia, this pie is not just pie, I would stake my life upon this pie,” He once again stood up and began pacing, “I would tear my body limb from limb, and burn my still beating heart with irons,” he shouted, “I would rip my tongue and scatter my teeth across the land and spill my blood out into the ocean.”
Amelia felt a tear trickle down her cheek. She watched him pacing across the room calling out for death if the pie was not the finest pie ever made. She walked slowly to the kitchen and choose the sharpest knife. Mary baked a good pie, but she knew that the crust was too soft and the apple filling had too much sugar. The pie was good but it was not the finest. With tears in her eyes Amelia served out her true love's dying wishes. | May I recycle here something I wrote a while ago? I know it's bad manners, but the prompt is too accurate.
===
Murder
Man: I would that I were a carefree butterfly, flying merrily from one flower to another, thinking of nothing but sunlight and nectar.
Lady: I know one such man, actually. Entirely without any earthly concerns, which is to say, really, no responsibility for anything whatever. Such a pathetic sight!
Man (after a pause): Or perhaps a little wooden splinter, adrift in the sea, lost between the endless belligerence of mirthless depths and the dark tempestuous skies.
Lady: Funny you should say that. I have one good acquaintance, from my childhood days, who is just like that. Very timid and lost all the time, totally unadapted to life. Makes you pity him, actually.
Man (after a longer pause): Or should I instead be like God’s merciless, fiery eye, watching the jerky movements of men with much disdain and contempt?
Lady (with a sigh): Oh, I know exactly the type. One of my co-workers is a very cruel man, you might say, very aloof. But (adjusts her hair) a rather powerful personality, you must give him that.
Man (sits silent for some time): I wonder what it is that shields a man’s mind so that he does not grow mad at the mere thought of the infinity of space, the innumerability of stars, the dispassionate cruelty of time. We all strive, for such is the divine mission. But why then is it so futile?
Lady (nods): Yes, yes, very true. I, for one, always wanted to be a children’s author, and they told me I had quite a knack for short kind stories. But, as these things go, I’m a finance consultant these days, and you know, I don’t complain.
Man (with a frown): Some of us are slightly too bent on interpreting things so that they are a bit closer to heart, aren’t they?
Lady: What? Oh. Yes, you know, it’s almost as if you had one of my friends in mind when you said that. She’s so literal! Makes me rather sick, to tell the truth. Never appreciates the beauty of a clever metaphor.
Man: What I said wasn’t metaphorical. I was merely trying to taste the beauty of this world, to get a feel of its juice against my palate.
Lady: Oh, you’re just like my former husband! He was so flamboyant! Such a funny man, too, ever the practical joker! But too aggressively excited all the time, to tell the truth. I grew tired of him in the end.
Man (losing his nerve): Why on Earth are you always so straightforward in your interpretations! Why can’t you simply listen to the beat of the world’s giant heart? Do you think everything revolves around you? For it does not. Respect the mysteries of Universe, and they will respect you in turn.
Lady (indignantly): You are very rude! Do you suppose I should be some sort of a beady-eyed mystic? What nonsense! What about real life?
Man rises and shoots woman, who falls dead. Addresses the audience with a bow:
Some people just won’t take the hint. Well, remember: There is no real life. All the world's a stage, and all the men and women merely players. | 2015-07-11T13:00:12 | 2015-07-11T12:31:06 | 32 | 13 |
[WP] A supervillain and a superhero are roommates, but they don't know. Every day, they go out and do battle, and then they come back and take care of each other while lying about how they got all beaten up. | "I am The ETERNAL SOVEREIGN! BEHOLD MY MAJESTIC ARMY OF THE UNDEAD!" the dark queen shouted as she was held aloft by two spectral wings.
"Really, Sov. Undead? This is your plan? You have maybe ten, this time. What happened to the army of thousands you had when we first met?" said a masked hero, smirking.
"Oh, don't you bloody start, Paragon, you're always the most critical of my foes!"
The dark queen then conjured a sock puppet made out of shadow, and venquilotrised.
"Oh, Sovereign, why can't you be more serious like the other villains? Oh Sovereign, looks like you're gaining weight, Oh Sovereign, you messed up your makeup before showing up for our battle! Oh Sovereign, your zombies are made of robots this time, Oh Sovereign, my buddy set your empowerment ritual to summon a Nidhogg! ENOUGH!"
She dismissed the Sock of Void Puppetry and glared at the hero.
"Get him, my minions. And leave him unconscious in that alley over there. I have more pressing concerns that just came to mind."
"Hey! You can't just run out on a superhero/villain battle!" the hero spluttered.
"Then try to stop me, hero."
She laughed, then contorted into a disturbing shape, before coalescing into a puddle of dark goo that soon evaporated.
The zombies approached the hero.
"Hey, you guys wouldn't eat a guy who's got superstrength, would ya?"
Paragon was soon defeated, and then dumped in an alleyway.
Exactly thirty seconds after he fell visibly unconscious, a worried looking woman, furiously struggling to wipe off the black makeup on one eye, her crown tossed into her purse, found him, and tossed him over one shoulder (with a faint spectral force enamating from an earring assisting), , muttering '*bloody Paragon*' before teleporting them both to their apartment.
| Delilah slinked down the sidewalk, she just needed to pass this block, and hope Andrew didn't see her. Skipping tree to tree. The house was across the street and kitty corner. She had a lot of trees to hop behind and her leg throbbed with every leap.
"Damn Serendipity. I was just about to pull off my first caper. He ruined everything. How inconvenient."
Delilah crossed both cross walks and still kept her eyes on the windows to make sure nobody was watching for her.
Sprinting from the cross walk to the Red Oak that grew across the street from Andrew's window Delilah thought she was in the clear and
"Blarg!" A ten year old boy in a monster mask shouted as he lept from behind the tree. "I'm going to eat you."
"I bet you will Andrew"
"There is no Andrew, only Zuul"
"Why did I show him Ghost Busters?" She thought, regretting her choice of being Andrew's baby sitter.
She just wanted to get closer to Sampson, but the whole reason she had to baby sit was because he refused to anymore. The kid was too much so his older brother was enrolling himself in every extra curricular to avoid taking care of Andrew.
She concentrated.
The mask's string snapped.
"Aww"
"Go inside and get some tape, I'll be waiting for you."
"Ok. Don't move. I am the key master!"
Andrew ran back towards the house. Once he slammed the door behind him Delilah bolted
Right into Sampson.
They tumbled down, Sampson's wet sweaty hair brushing her face. She should have been more grossed out, but his sweat smelled like the salt of the sea.
Delilah immediately recovered and got to her feet "Oh, sorry Sam" as she turned away and ran home before he could see how red her face became.
Barging through the front door of her house she ran to her room, trying not to think of his hands, his hair, his eyes. Oh my god his eye. What happened? Who would hurt her perfect Sam's face? Today was Tuesday, must have been one of those dicks in Tae Kwon Do.
"I will avenge his face" she thought. Imagining the acrobatics she would do as she defeated the whole dojo.
Imagination turned to memory as her fight with Serendipity came to mind. He was stronger and faster but not luckier. His cape caught on a low hanging branch and Delilah's staff struck her foe clear on the temple, tossing him into the Providence River. That would show him.
She beat that pompous hero, Serendipity for the first time today, and she got to touch Sampson. Delilah marked a W in Tuesday's column. | 2015-07-18T01:01:41 | 2015-07-18T00:28:09 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] A wizard accidentally becomes immortal. He has the idea to become the antagonist so that a hero will come along and defeat him, so he can rest in peace. Sadly, the heroes are weak in comparison so the wizard creates a persona as a 'wise teacher' to train these heroes in order to defeat him. | I don't have to do much. The hero will rise to defeat me, and he will win. He is the one the legends have told of, in this universe and the next. It will be a nigh impossible task, but in the end he shall be rewarded.
I have gained permanence, you see. I may die, but I will never stay dead. In some lands, I will become a powerful mage, just as I am now. In other wheres and whens, I shall be a grotesque beast. I have seen this. In my lust for power, I have conquered kingdoms, ruled vast lands, and taken queens and princesses of great countries for my own desires. I am very powerful indeed. The hero who now begins his quest must be of tempered courage hitherto unknown to his kind.
There is no end to what I am capable of. However, my pride and greed are surely to be my downfall, no matter how many times I return. I have seen this tragic tale of power and corruption play out indefinitely, and I no longer wish to take part. In my time, I have accumulated great wisdom, but our hero shall be wiser still. He must, for I am the greatest opponent he will ever know. So I must get him started on his way. I shall set the spark in motion that will destroy myself on every plane of Creation. The thought of finally being nothing, of becoming atoms unattached to this ancient consciousness excites me to my core. I tire of my longing, of my pain, my rage.
Our hero will hunt me down, in this world and others. I am a poison of upheaval and unrest, and he is the antidote. Just so long as I return, he shall as well.
And yes, here he is now. Disheveled, dirty, nothing more than a child looking to get inside from the elements. It is hot out there, and there is no comfort to be found. He looks at me, unsure, afraid. The weakest monster poses him every threat in the world, and mine as well, should he be attacked. I meet his gaze, wrapped as I am in my disguise. I am wrinkled, bearded, covered in robes. To both sides of me burn fires that cannot meet the fierceness of the tool I now give him. I begin the road to my destruction.
"It's dangerous to go alone! Take this." | Three thousand years. Two hundred and eighteen days. Twenty two hours. Thirty Six minutes. That is how long Melik had been alive. He was a young apprentice when he made the deal. He could remember the stale smell of the room where he had done his very first summoning. When he had made that pact with that damned creature. The deal seemed too good then. The deal that binded his soul to this flesh for eternity. The only condition was that if he didn't defend himself completely from harm his soul would belong to the planes of hell.
When Melik was young he strived for knowledge he enjoyed the sense of wonderment and feeling of joy when he learned something new. Now after so many millenia anything new brought physical pain to his body. He could feel the information being stabbed into his brain forced in like air into a stretched balloon. In truth Melik didn't think there was an actual limit to how much he could learn. Instead he believed that as new information came in old came out. If that was the only misery he had to endure eternal existence wouldn't have been so terrible. There was another reason a deeper reason Melik craved an end.
He was two hundred when he met her. She was beautiful she was brilliant she was everything to him. Melik thought he would never find someone whom he could trust so completely, Someone he could hold, Someone who's presence was all that he needed to be happy. Melik was a powerful wizard and could conjure some of the most powerful spells, That could hold her to this realm, at least for a short while.
After expending all his resources Melik realized there was only one way to keep her with him for eternity. He summoned the very same demon. And asked for the same bargain. The creatures black visage twisted into a hellish grin.
"I see you have used your bargained time well wizard" The demons voice boomed through the chamber
"I am not here to talk about our previous pact beast" Melik responded
"Oh but you are... You are asking me to bestow the gift upon your love. So you may live an eternity together on the material plane" The beasts massive chest heaved with a sneer.
"Yes on the same terms demon" Melik roared to be heard over the flames and temporal distortions.
The creature body shuddered and heaved with laughter.
"Do not laugh at me demon! Agree to my terms and I will send you back from whence you came." Melik yelled.
"You do not understand" said the demon holding back its unholy laughter.
"Do you know the only soul more powerful than a wizards?" The beast asked.
" A soul tortured by love." the demon said breaking into another fit of laughter.
"What are you saying beast?" Melik asked with a twinge of fear and sudden understanding.
The demon regained his composure long enough to respond.
"When you take your life your soul will be worth ten million!" the demon heaved.
"I will be the most powerful on the realm when you finally succumb"
With that the magic of the circle faded and the demon burned away leaving nothing but the sound of its unholy laughter ringing in Melik's ears.
(I probably screwed up a lot of grammar but I just try to get my thoughts on the page when I write) | 2015-07-25T07:40:02 | 2015-07-25T06:31:16 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] A tale which has two interpretations depending on if the reader is accustomed to Metric or Imperial units...
The more creative/deeper you get the better! | "I've never gotten a hooker before, you're one brave man!"
"Don't congratulate me yet friend, it uh, didn't work out."
"What?! No way what happened?"
"Well, she met me at the motel, and damn, she was not what I expected. I took one look at her and told her I didn't think it was going to work out."
"Why? What was wrong?"
"Nothing wrong, per se, but she was 250 pounds! She got offended when I told her that was way too much for me."
"She must have thought she was really something special."
"Well she seemed great but 250 pounds is just more than I can handle right now. I told her to call me when she's less. That didn't go over well either."
"Bummer. Maybe hookers aren't worth their weight in gold after all." | ^(_I went a bit beyond the prompt and mixed Metric/Imperial and British/American English._)
Sarah's father had been something of a world traveller. He had several guns, plenty of luggage, including a large ornate chest, and much footwear, his collection even somehow included a single size-14 roller-skate (just who had a foot that size?).
As she got into the car, she wondered if she was crazy to have put a small starting pistol in the boot and put her father's rifle in the trunk. She had also prepared for her mission by buying gas the previous day. She was glad she didn't have to do that chore now — it was 30 degrees outside, and the clear skies weren't helping. It wasn't quite at the point where it was unpleasant to even breathe, but it wasn't great.
She had printed a map for the journey to her target, but as she looked at the A4 in front of her, she realized she had to travel a distance of 500 m. How utterly ridiculous! She looked at the map perhaps longer than she should, and then she hit the A4 and it crumpled. She pulled her car to a stop next to the pavement, and proceeded on foot.
The journey was largely uneventful. She hadn't gone very far when found and took a trolley, which made life easier than walking and carrying all her stuff. From that point, it was easy. According to her notes, she would be able to recognize her target because he would wearing kaki clothes.
When she arrived at her destination, she saw two men, one wearing beige garments and the other wearing dark green. She raised her gun, and fired. | 2015-10-04T02:20:30 | 2015-10-04T02:04:56 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | Whatever crazed survival game brought them to this island, the greater five didn't mind anymore.
They lived as kings.
The lesser five toiled and worked for 'the benefit of the group.' They were being exploited, but the general consensus (of the greater five) decided unanimously that it was, in fact, for the best.
Such was their intellect.
Regardless of these moral implications, Robinson Crusoe himself could not hold a candle to the sweeping cabin heights of their forest paradise. Every manageable resource was dedicated to the construction and maintenance of this sanctuary. If their collective survival was to be ensured, they would do so in continued comfort.
Their security was not won easily.
The lessers were physically conditioned within their first months to handle the necessary tasks of hunting the local threats before they could establish a permanent base. At first, instinctual terror nearly overrode their rationality, but the terror *and* conditioning were especially difficult on their less intelligent counterparts.
The lessers suffered.
The lessers endured.
When they were sufficiently rebuilt, the greater five made their move.
Within another month, the island was conquered. Farms were arranged. Vegetation organized by produce and utility. Lessers designated for specific daily tasks, rewarded for increased rates of production. The threat of abandonment kept them in line and motivated for the general cause.
Again, decided by the self-proclaimed greater five.
Such was their intellect, as the lessers continued to endure the tasks necessary for their survival.
The test would be endured in peace until their mysterious overseer saw it fit to release them. Not only did the greater five ensure the survival of *all* ten, but they made for themselves a resort to return to at their leisure. Wherever it was they resided these last three months.
They felt as though they outdone themselves.
So it was unfortunate for them, when the overseer failed the greater five. This tropical paradise was awarded to the lessers for having passed.
How were they to know the test was not survival, but compassion?
-------------------------------------
*More at r/galokot, and thank you for reading.* | In ancient times, there was a society that debated any important elective decision two times. The first debate occurred in the evening, with drinks and feasting. Thoroughly drunk, they would debate well into the night and put their decision to a vote before the end. Brilliant ideas might come about from the drunken simplicity. Complicated ideas might be thrown out because of their sheer monotony.
But! And this part was critical, there would be a second debate as the group sobered in the morning. This was their rational period. They'd pick apart what was discovered from the night before, and see if it was truly realistic or not.
To be accepted, an idea had to pass both of these votes. Once accepted, it would then be enacted.
---
Skipping to the modern day, we had a problem. To put it simply, we became too smart. Like a microscope focusing on individual mitochondrial DNA, our brains have become able to focus on the smallest of details. Have you ever seen someone haggling over pennies? I have.
Yet there are plenty of rich, wealthy individuals who don't even count their dollars. They have no need. Is it smart to count pennies when weighing millions? No. Penny wise and pound foolish.
And our world had gotten pound foolish indeed. Debate sparked across the nation. Answers coming from changing curriculum in schools, to fixing global warming, to electing more wise officials. In the Bible, God says that the wisdom of the world is foolishness to him. When weighing planets, who cares about a discount spending spree?
Thus there was the great political debate of 2016. The most brilliant and popular minds were flabbergasted, exhausted. Asked for a solution, they would drone on with reasons and thoughts. Never answering the question. Yet during one debate, by sheer accident, a child wandered onstage and climbed on a podium.
We laughed. We thought it was a joke. What came next shocked everyone. The debate announcer asked the child with a smile, "How would you solve world hunger?" "Give people food."
...The audience applauded. I mean. Technically it'd work.
The announcer ran with it. "And how would you solve the crisis in Ukraine?" "That sounds like Ukraine's problem to me..." The small voice trailed quietly.
There was a pause. The an eruption of applause. An embarrassed parent shuffled onstage, but the kid had already become a hit. Everyone tuning in to the big debate. The announcer covered his mike, "This kid is smart." A puzzled expression on his face. And the child became a viable contender in the presidential race.
---
Now we solve our issues in two ways. The intelligence test, and the child test. If your solution to fixing the economy requires more words than an child can understand, it's thrown out. Children are invited to debates on a regular basis, invited to advisory boards. More and more their simplicity became recognized. The trouble is, the children are the smart ones.
| 2016-03-03T05:30:44 | 2016-03-03T02:52:30 | 212 | 34 |
[WP] Every generation the five brightest are paired up with the five dumbest in the world for a mysterious test. You are one of the ten, but nobody knows from which group they came. | The problem with intelligence is that there's no one measure. The first generational tests were an utter disaster. Before the arranged marriages had even been finalised there had been three duels and one fatality. But it was nearly 1000 years later. The new generation had reached age and through these tests our understanding had reached near perfection.
The new group of ten were split as the smartest and dumbest person for each of five types of intelligence. The most creative, the brightest scientific mind, the most physically capable, the most socially adept and the greatest philosopher of the age. We had the best and the worst from each type.
I looked around the room, when I'd been invited I'd assumed I had to be the brightest scientific mind. I'd graduated at sixteen, doctorate by twenty. But the truth was as I heard the stories around the room my uncertainty grew. The room had six women and four men, ethnically diverse. I was the only wheelchair user in the room, but I had been told that physical aptitude didn't mean strength, but spatial ability, fast reflexes and motor memory. So, I had no idea why I might be there.
We had: a great nanophysicist, creator of the nanorobots you probably use to clear your house; a tall man who had sat in silence for the whole meeting so far; a man, short and plump, decorated war hero and poet; a famous musician; political advisor to the First Minister; a maid who spoke at length about his upbringing; a famous author; a builder; a scary looking woman who didn't speak English; and, me.
The problem was that as we went around the room each persons strength and flaws seemed matched and fixed. The war hero was physically agile for sure, and creative, but also a bumbling fool who's speech was logically inconsistent. The musician could express her thoughts on the world well, but was she creative when she never wrote the songs herself? The man in silence never spoke a word that was unconsidered, so must he be the logical force?
"So," I said awkwardly. The silence having dragged on too long. "I know we're meant to be deciding who marries who, but, in the interest of full disclosure, I'm gay, I'm not wanting to end up in a heterosexual couple unless I have to."
The war hero nodded and looked at me, "I guess we can..."
"I'm a pacifist - I'm not sure I could given what you've done."
The musician piped up, "That's no way to speak to someone who fought for your country."
"He *invaded* my country. Heck, he could have been the one who bombed my fucking house when I was a teenager."
The nanophysicist raised an eyebrow. "Do we really need to to talk politics here, we're just waiting for the experiments to start."
"The experiments have already started, this whole thing is an experiment." The builder sighed.
"Obviously." The maid said. "What do you think the first experiment is? The wedding arrangement thing is at the end of the week, right?"
The room went silent again.
"Seeing how long it takes for people to get angry?" The war soldier glared at me.
I rolled my eyes, "Maybe it's just to see how long the author can take to give everyone dialogue."
The quiet man spoke, "I know what the experiment is. This room is locked and airtight." | I pace the waiting room. Up and down, up and down. Everyone is isolated from each other initially to prevent reading the others and finding out which group they came from. Well, most of the candidates knew which group they came from anyway. The room had a couch, a dresser, and a bit of refreshments on the small table in front of the couch.
"Well, figures I'd be the top 5 dumbest people in the world."
I smoked my way through high school and dropped out of college. For what? I thought I had a plan. My buddy and I, the start-up. Then shit went south and the fucker ditched me. Started doing odd-jobs, lived on the streets for a bit. Smoked a bit of this, shot up a bit of that. Got my ass beat so many times I barely feel physical pain anymore. Oh, that reminds me. If I'm going to humiliate myself on global television I might as well just do it while I'm feeling good and not getting the shakes. I'm sorry, mom, dad. I should have listened after all.
I pull out my syringe.
|
"Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome, to the 3rd GC! I am your host for today, Quin Jackson, and I am joined with my amazing co-host, Victor. The Generation Contrast is a decennial event, where by 5 of the brightest minds of each new generation has to work with the 5 dumbest minds of the generation for the GC test. Now the GCT has been set, funded and organised by an anonymous individual ever since the creation of the GC in 2020. Even I don't know who he is."
The crowd murmurs.
"Now, we are going to move on to the live interviews, where the participants will be interviewed individually in their respective waiting rooms." The crowd goes wild as the anticipation to see who were the lucky few to be chosen. Or unlucky.
"Now, we will be looking at James, 26, jobless. But one of the smartest men of the generation. LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, PLEASE PUT YOUR HANDS TO TOGETHER FOR-"
The stadium's large screen changed from the faces of the casters, to a man sitting in the waiting room with his face in ecstasy and his arm with a needle sticking out of it. His entire head was thrown back on the couch as his eyes rolled back.
|
As I shoot up, thoughts run wild in my head. What's going to happen to me after the GC? Will my life be better after being known as the biggest dumbass in the world? Fuck it, I might just off myself after this shit is done. I'll OD on whatever, feel good when I pass out at least. Or not, if I get money.
My thoughts clear as the my body circulates the liquid of the gods. That hits the fucking spot, Mable's stuff is damn good as always. As I roll back my eyes to enjoy the pleasure, the door opens.
And suddenly, the whole world can see me shooting up heroin.
|
"JAMES? WHAT THE-? WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DOWN THERE?"
Quin turns off the mics and calms Victor down before he destroys the production desk.
"FUCK, HAVE YOU NOT DISGRACED THE FAMILY ENOUGH?" "Victor, you have to calm down. We have the biggest gig of the decade. Don't let your brother or anything stop you. And why are you pissed off? He's one of the brightest minds in his generation." "It must be a mistake. That doesn't make any sense for him to be here as one of the smartest. Dumbest, maybe, but not a snowball's chance in hell is he one of the smartest. You know what, professionalism. Let's get back to the show." Quin smiles at Victor.
Quin turns the mics back on.
"Er, James seems to be in, well, wonderland. We'll get back to him in a bit." "Apologies, everyone. I was not expecting my brother to be on the GC."
The crowd has mixed reactions, as Quin and Victor masterfully shifts the attention away from James and to the next participant.
"And moving on to the next brightest mind..."
EDIT: Formatting | 2016-03-03T07:43:23 | 2016-03-03T05:47:53 | 35 | 26 |
[WP] The real reason we've never encountered alien life? They have no concept of fiction. They think movies, stories, even harmless threats are all real. They're terrified of us. Then they met us. | "Hahahahahahahahaha no man no you dont get it thats pretend, not real, made up, imaginary!"
*"So... you dont have large heat belching reptiles?"*
"Nope."
*"Or swords of condensed plasma controlled via electromagnetic field and powered by a perpetual energy crystal?"*
"Negative broski."
*"So you've never even left your home star system?"*
"I mean... we have a probe... but it like just left the system."
*"And your kind... just... invented all of this... in your minds... and then... made it so?"*
"Afermative Ghost Rider."
*"Wow... to think we were scared of you... but. We can't "imagine"... can you teach us?"*
"Possibly, we can try. But first Degu... i wanna fly your ship!"
Degu shrugs with with his primary arms while the secondary set holds onto his mug of coffee.
*"Sure, What could go wrong?"* | These...things. Strange...things. By the village center... they landed. Engulfing the whole area in light so bright, it suddenly became day again. Huge gleaming slats of metal lowered down and out stepped...them. Faces of pure shadow, only neon eyes staring out - lifeless. Peculiar shapes lining the tops of their figures. We thought they were round-topped like us? What happened? We saw their pictures, we saw their models. Liars. Why are their torsos so bulky? And what are those extra things of varying shapes and sizes? Some sort of tether perhaps for equipment?
Wait... I recognise them things. Them things in their hands. Others of their kind used them in conflicts. Presence of these things only means intended aggression. This is bad. Terrible. What is happening? Why are they here and what do they want? Why conflict? Nothing we have can protect from those...'firearms' I believe the term is.
_Several hours pass_
Four words. Those four first words. Our very first contact with any other kind. Came with four words. "We come in peace" the front 'human' said as they marched out of their 'craft' thing. Some truth there was there. The best part of about 10 minutes that held true or any sort of meaning at all. Now I sit here, curled up, crouched in a corner of an empty room while them beings search our home for anything they deem valuable for research, plundering us of everything dear to us, including some of our own people. My own mother - taken.
We were right all along.
---_End_---
Only a short one and I don't for a moment claim to be any good at this, but I liked the prompt and it gave me this idea, so here it is. | 2016-10-14T14:41:55 | 2016-10-14T13:20:29 | 57 | 29 |
[WP] "I wish I was born in the 90s," says the young girl. Suddenly, her surroundings change- french flags fly above and around her, crowds are cheering. It is France, 1793. The king is dead. Long live the revolution. | "No, silly magic. The 1990's." The girl said as her surroundings began to change again. She was suddenly in front of a computer which functioned just slightly from one moment to the next, hard drive light permanently lit, screatches and static whaling from the case, and from the sides of the giant 80lb monitor a horrific sound played from attached speakers: "You've got mail!"
"TAKE ME BACK. TAKE ME BACK, PLEASE GOD TAKE ME BACK." The girl cried out as she clawed at her own face in agony. | The smell was the first thing people notice after the traveling. Eyes darkened, ears ringing, but that powerful stench wormed its way into her nostrils like a desperate mother looking for bread. Eyes clearing, she stood among a crowd who stared at her somewhat fearfully, mouths standing open in their attention.
One young man approached and, fingering her evening attire, smiled up at her. She thought it was odd how his eyes danced around meeting hers, like a nervous puppy deciding what to do with a new toy.
The young man dropped his hand from her and turned to the crowd, shouting something. The crowd began to give way, and her momentary discomfort began to lessen. Perhaps now she could find somewhere to have a bath, a nice meal, and figure out what to do next.
The steps caught her by surprise, and when she stumbled rough hands grabbed her with a power that she gasped to feel. Her mind returned to her present situation, fought to understand what had happened. Pushing back, demands of her rights, tears... Nothing would appease them. She began to scream and scream.
That evening the revolutionaries discussed the strange noblewoman in her strange dress. Laughter flowed as freely as the drink, and thoughts of the odd woman began to be replaced with who would be next who might endanger the Republic.
And in the still night, a final drop of red fell from the angry diagonal blade, stained by moonlight. | 2017-04-24T10:10:32 | 2017-04-24T10:02:37 | 37 | 18 |
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