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[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Alex,
It has been 99 days since you left. 99 days. Some days are easier than the rest. There are days when I genuinely smile as I remember you. You left me with so many good memories; and I thank you for each and every one. I miss you. Every. Single. Day.
You said we'd be together for the rest of our lives - we just didn't realize how short the rest of your life would be. I will love you, for the rest of mine.
Yours Forever,
Aya | Dear Luis Miguel,
It's been 4 years since you've passed. Things have gotten better from the old years. The kids are older, my house is different, I actually have cats again.
I found some of your old photos. Back in the day when the camera had only megabytes instead on gigabytes. I found a nice one where you were sunbathing in front of the large glass doors leading to the outside world. You were always an outdoors type.
These cats are different than you. You snuggled in my arms, rested your head on my collarbone, your wet nose on my chin. You would lay right on top of my back over looking my room.
You began wasting away and my heart stopped. I wish I could have done more but your kidneys were shot. It was a death sentence.
My husband dreamt of you before that day. "Please take care of her for me." I'd like to believe you communicated before you passed. It made things easier.
You brought me joy in a tough world, gave me peace in a harsh home, loved me in my loveless times. I wished to grow older with you but it never came to pass. The pain has dulled and, I may have other pets to keep me company but you were the first. You were my jewel.
We shall meet again across the rainbow bridge
Love, Your Equal | 2017-11-05T21:44:07 | 2017-11-05T19:02:08 | 1,462 | 516 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| Michael,
We were both graduating. I understand, and it was easier for us to just go our own separate ways. I wanted to say something, but rejection hurts more than leaving questions unasked. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I loved how you call me Katherine instead of Katie. Everyone else called me Katie, even though I introduced myself as Katherine.
I loved that you made a game of making me laugh when I wasn't supposed to.
I loved that I would wake up tangled in you, like you couldn't get close enough while we were asleep.
I loved crawling in bed with you after getting back from an early class.
I'm sorry that I hid things from you. I was afraid. Afraid of pushing you away and losing the little time we had left. I told you we had a little scare, no big deal. I told you that I took care of it, I was fine, don't worry about it. That wasn't a total lie, but I definitely fudged some things.
I'm sorry I was short with you, cold to you by the end. It wasn't logical, I just didn't know how to deal.
It was more than a little scare. I was more than a few days late. It took more than just a pill. I would have been due last month. I was terrified, and I didn't want to put that on you. I'm still not okay.
I imagine a parallel universe where it had gone differently. I Know I made the right decision for me at the time, but there's always the *what-if*. Where would we be? Would we be happy? Would you resent me?
Do you resent me now?
I miss you.
Katherine | 2017-11-05T19:56:15 | 2017-11-05T19:14:02 | 799 | 236 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear self, I hate you. I hate what we've become. When did we change, when did we grow so old and angry, and when did we decide to be alone? I know that we did not always act like this. I know we used to laugh, and let other people get close. Remember when we had so many friends? remember when we go to other people's houses and just hang out. Everything was so easy then. Why is it so hard now? I want you to know that I miss you. The way you used to be, the way we could be again, maybe. I want you to know that I need more. I need to make a change. I want to be different. I won't be like you anymore. Yours always, you.
| Dear Dani,
After everything that happened I continue to see you everywhere I go. Whether it's bringing up the past or driving through town and seeing a car just like yours or in my dreams sometimes I can't escape you. And I always think about what exactly it is I will do when I see you again. I want to scream at you or just flat out ignore you. There are so many options and I have ran each one through my head multiple times. In the end I know though it will be none of those things. As usual I will just forgive you and allow you to hurt me again. Because as much as I keep telling myself that you hurt me for the last time and I need to shake you off I just cant shake the fact that I miss you.
I miss your contagious laugh and smile. I miss the times we hung out and talked for hours. I miss not being judged and just having fun with you. You were so beautiful. I had people tell me you weren't that pretty but they were wrong. You were the most beautiful girl I had met at the time. In the end they were right though. After what happened I need to remind myself that you aren't. I don't miss how you made me feel. I don't miss the times you avoided talking to me or not showing up to places we were supposed to hang out. The last time we had seen each other was one of the greatest nights of my life and as much as I know deep down there is a part of me that misses you and would love to see you again.
I hope to God I don't. | 2017-11-05T19:56:15 | 2017-11-05T19:53:10 | 799 | 95 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear Jeremy.
I'm sorry I didn't call.
I don't remember if I was busy, or tired, or anything else that could be considered an excuse. I felt like it was all my fault. I could have stopped it. When I met your family and found out you had been living with this all your life, I almost gave up.
I should have called. I had a bad feeling and I couldn't get you out of my head. Now I know why. I could have stopped you.
I could have gotten you help. I could have been a better friend.
But that morning I found out you killed yourself. I knew.
I should have called.
Your friend
Charlie.
P.s. I forgive you.
(Edited, spelling) | Michael,
We were both graduating. I understand, and it was easier for us to just go our own separate ways. I wanted to say something, but rejection hurts more than leaving questions unasked. It wouldn't have worked anyway.
I loved how you call me Katherine instead of Katie. Everyone else called me Katie, even though I introduced myself as Katherine.
I loved that you made a game of making me laugh when I wasn't supposed to.
I loved that I would wake up tangled in you, like you couldn't get close enough while we were asleep.
I loved crawling in bed with you after getting back from an early class.
I'm sorry that I hid things from you. I was afraid. Afraid of pushing you away and losing the little time we had left. I told you we had a little scare, no big deal. I told you that I took care of it, I was fine, don't worry about it. That wasn't a total lie, but I definitely fudged some things.
I'm sorry I was short with you, cold to you by the end. It wasn't logical, I just didn't know how to deal.
It was more than a little scare. I was more than a few days late. It took more than just a pill. I would have been due last month. I was terrified, and I didn't want to put that on you. I'm still not okay.
I imagine a parallel universe where it had gone differently. I Know I made the right decision for me at the time, but there's always the *what-if*. Where would we be? Would we be happy? Would you resent me?
Do you resent me now?
I miss you.
Katherine | 2017-11-05T19:17:09 | 2017-11-05T19:14:02 | 508 | 236 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 235 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Moose,
We had a good run. 16 years is good for a dog that somebody else starved in their back yard for a while.
You did really good. You remembered all those tricks somebody else taught you, showed the cats/birds love, and learned to stop being scared over food. You gave the best hugs on the planet.
I'm sorry that your last days hurt so much. We tried to work around your sickness best we could but it was too late when we figured out what was wrong.
I know you couldn't understand at the time but the other twin dogs were hurt just like you, but instead of missing food they never had love or anyone else. Thanks for trying to love them, too. They've gotten a lot better at nipping and trusting people over time.
That last year was really rough but the time the family had with you was beautiful...even though the " dog ate the sofa" story still makes the rounds at parties. Say hi to Herky, Xena, Scouty, Jazz, Ouma and the birds for me.
Thanks for that last smile.
Hanging in as always,
E. | Justin,
It's been a little over 3 years since you died. I still get hit with random emotions that make me burst into tears thinking about you. Both anger and sadness. I think about how things would be different if I had said or done things another way. If I had told dad you could come live with me, would you still be alive? I miss having you around for sharing stupid things off of Reddit or Imgur. I miss Netflix-ing Korean horror movies with you over Xbox Live and trying to time it just right on both of our consoles so it was like we were in the same room. You pushed me to start playing Call Of Duty which, silly as it is, has lead me to the wonderful life I have now.
I wish you could see your nephew now. He's so big and smart, and he looks so much like you that it made mom cry the last time she saw him. Your niece never got to meet you, but I will make sure she knows who you are. They both have the same defiant streak you had, which is both frustrating and heartbreaking.
Why did you have to take those drugs? I wish I had let you come down and live with me. You never would have met those shit heads that left you to die instead of calling 911. I can't say that I think about you everyday... It hurts too much. But I see you in my dreams. I always try to save you, but I never can and it hurts just as bad as when I got the call from Uncle Joe while I was at Disney World, because dad couldn't compose himself enough to talk on the phone. He has destroyed himself because you two didn't have a good relationship and it kills him that you never will now. I am afraid he will kill himself when grandma dies. She's the last person he has that needs him, now.
I don't believe in an afterlife, and neither did you. But I hope wherever you are... nowhere, or wherever people go when they die... that you aren't suffering. I love and miss you.
XXOO | 2017-11-06T00:29:00 | 2017-11-05T21:34:09 | 235 | 17 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 102 | 55 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | I miss you big guy.
I miss the your terrible jokes and the attempts at accents that wound up sounding exactly the same no matter the country of origin.
I miss the quiet but fierce love of your family you had.
Most of all I miss the real dad, not the husk you became in the years leading up to your death.
I miss my belly laughing, bird loving, tinkering, absent minded dad.
I miss my dad that would always drop everything with a resigned but knowing grin to help me out of my latest batch of troublemaking.
Don't miss your cooking though :P
Miss ya big guy | Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me. | 2017-11-05T22:27:41 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 102 | 14 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Joyous.
You were the strongest woman I knew. You were the definition of Grace and poise and I wanted nothing more than to be better people together.
The sheer amount of inspiration you gave was unmeasurable.
I hate you so much for doing this....why didn't you pick up your phone....
I hate that you chose me. Why did you pick me to be the last one to talk to...
I hate how selfish you were.
I hate....how I know the feeling...
I understand why and everything you were going through...
If you weren't strong enough to face your demons....how am I supposed to face mine?
Your birthday is coming up...I had something for you...
...
| Hey Em,
I'd love to say I've changed, I'm new, brag about things I've done. I'd love to say I've grown.
But you, with your disarming blue eyes, somehow always knew. You always knew when I was making things up, when I was caught in little white lies. You'd encourage some.
And I'd love to say how different I am, from when we last saw each other five years ago. We were excited when we met, we were kids; when we last saw each other, we were adults, we had grown, but we were still ourselves. But you never cared about words.
You cared about actions. You cared about us, about people, about how the coolest kids at the bus stop were still kids, waiting at a bus stop. My record shows I was the one with the loud mouth, insecure, but always willing to stick by anyone down on their luck.
After I left...after I went soul-searching, I took your advice to heart. I stopped saying how good I was, or how I changed. I showed it, from 2010 through today. I never did it for my ego. I never did it for pride.
I did it after some kids walked into my life, told me I was a jackass, and helped me change. I did it for the cool kids... the ones I cut ties with.
So...please. Let's meet up, chat about the old times, and see where things go. Let's let the chips fall where they may.
-M | 2017-11-05T19:59:24 | 2017-11-05T19:02:54 | 92 | 55 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Mom,
It’s been a few months since we’ve last talked. I miss you.
I’m still not quite sure why you decided to cut me out of your life. I’d always thought family wasn’t just blood relations, but those who matter to us. You’ve shown me otherwise.
I just can’t believe you threw me out like that. I watched as you spent years proving how much I mattered to you. And you mattered just as much to me. Then you turned around and got rid of me and my father like we were garbage.
Even if something happened between you and my father, why are you throwing me out? You even tried to turn my sisters against me. You’re trying to sabotage what little family I have left out of spite.
And you know that you’re full of shit. When I called you out on it you just said nothing, because there’s nothing for you to say.
You’re just being shitty because you can be. I hope you enjoy the rest of your shallow life surrounded by the people you’ve manipulated into liking you, because that’s all you’re ever going to get.
Love,
Your Little Shit | Name changes, for privacy reasons, but here goes.
My dear Maria,
I recall in vivid detail the conversations we once shared, about where our lives were headed, our hopes and fears, our dreams and nightmares. I never told you outright how much I love you, and that is the only thing in life I truly regret. I tried telling you one day (though I didn't do a very good job of it), and you were clear that you weren't ready for a relationship beyond just being friends at the time.
The next few months, we drifted away from one another. I watched you find someone else; those next few months, watching you looking so happy with someone else, were the hardest times I have ever gone through. The pain I went through during that time is something that I pray neither you nor anyone else has to experience. It very nearly broke me, and it is only by the grace of God that I made it through.
After we reconnected and restored our friendship, I told myself that I would respect your wishes and simply be an honest, supportive friend. For a time, I convinced myself that it would be possible to simply be your friend and keep my feelings for you contained. However, over the past few weeks, I have realized that I could more easily hold back the Amazon River with my bare hands than hold back my feelings for you.
Any time I spend with you is the high point of my week; when I go about my day, I see your beautiful face and hear your delightful laugh. I remember in vivid detail your wonderfully compassionate smile, and I count the days until I can see you again. Will I ever be able to tell you I love you? Must my feelings remain hidden forever? How I wish I could show you just what you mean to me!
I hope that someday I find the opportunity to tell you this; I realize now that as much as I value your friendship, I care about you too much to keep up this pretense of only caring about you as a friend. Someday, I will no longer be able to keep from telling you.
All my love to you,
Davin | 2017-11-05T21:31:44 | 2017-11-05T21:31:39 | 81 | 19 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Hey Scott.
I guess I took everything you did for granted. It's been really hard without you here. Your daughter still asks when you're coming to pick her up and she always gets sad when I explain to her that you can't.
She really loves you and you were a good father. She started listening to one of the books you recorded. Hearing your voice always makes her so happy. She follows along in the book like you remind her to every chapter. It's hard. I burst into tears when I heard you sound out a word you knew she'd have trouble with.
We miss you. I hope where ever you are you're not in pain anymore. | Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me. | 2017-11-05T23:19:05 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 58 | 14 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Dear friend,
Oh dear friend. If only I could just step back for just one day and talk to you about all that has occurred since we last saw each other. I’m so thankful that we were able to spend the time in life together that we did.
I miss that little sigh of excitement that would rise up from my chest and escape my mouth every time you’d call or anytime I’d see you walking toward me with that little mischievous grin on your face. You were the best part of my days and for that I am forever grateful to you. I want you to know that. I’m so grateful.
The hours we spent on the phone talking about everything and anything and nothing at all. Sometimes talking about nothing at all can mean the world to someone and make all the difference. I just want you to know it made all the difference to me.
I want you to know that you taught me to love in a time that I felt nothing was worth loving.
I want you to know that you taught me my worth in a time of my life that I felt like I had no value and like my life wasn’t worth living. You made breathing exciting. You made laughing and crying together something to live for. I want you to know I’m so thankful for that.
If ever a miracle brings you to this letter, I just want you to know you are forever imprinted on my heart and every once in awhile I feel your mischievous grin creep across my face.
Stay golden | Dear Pop Pop,
I miss you. It's been about 11 or 12 years since you died. I was really young at the time, so all I remember is the last few months you were alive, watching the cancer slowly eat away at your body. With each visit you got more and more frail. I didn't recognize it at the time but looking back, seeing what it was doing to my dad, your son, was almost as bad as watching you. I wish I had more memories of you, more good memories anyway. Mom and dad say you adored me, that you loved me more than life itself, but I'll never know. They tell me stories about you, how you used to take me for rides in your convertible and I loved every minute of it, if only I could remember it. If only I could remember your laugh, your smile, your voice. Sometimes my dad looks at me and says how proud you would be of me, it's hard looking at his face when he says that, I can see the pain in his eyes. I still remember the note I wrote and put in your coffin. It said 'You were a good Pop Pop.' I was a little kid at the time so that's all I could think of to say, but I think it was enough I remember putting it in that little drawer in the side of your coffin to be buried with you. I even remember wearing that Mariachi suit that had been in the family for generations, but I don't remember you. I still have that suit, it's still hanging in my closet. I look at it from time to time, and I try to remember something, anything about you but the frail old man dying of cancer, but I can't. I think my parents are right when they say you would be proud of me, I've had a steady girlfriend for almost 5 years now, her name is Hanna. I think you would like her, she's amazing. I have a steady job too, full time working with dad at the airport. I graduated high school too, two years ago, and now I'm getting ready to go to college. I'm gonna get a business degree and then learn to be an airplane mechanic, and maybe if I'm good enough I'll open my own shop, that's when the business degree is for. Well I have to go now Pop Pop, I've got work in the morning and I need to get to sleep. I miss you. | 2017-11-05T23:44:56 | 2017-11-05T20:37:15 | 32 | 16 |
[WP] Write a letter to someone you miss
It's been a rough week. Everyone has someone they wish were still with them. Write to them and tell them how you feel. Pour your heart out. No judging. Even if they never see it, someone will. And thank you. It's tough to be alone. | Elizabeth
I never really knew you, but I'll never forget you. I see your face every time I'm alone in my car, and it always brings me to tears. I want you to know that I tried so hard to save you. I tried everything I could. I'm sorry your parents had to see what we did to you. I'm sorry they had to see the tubes sticking out of your throat and the needles I drilled into your bones. When I realized in the back of the ambulance that we weren't going to get you back no matter what we did, it nearly broke me. I'm so sorry for what happened to you.
- the paramedic who tried to save you
#2321 | Hey kiddo. It's been too long since I've seen you. It's crushing to carry this weight some time. I'm really trying to show you that you can grow up and accomplish anything but it's manifesting in me leaving you behind. Your mom and I weren't right. She will forever hate me for it but I needed to do this for my happiness. You'll learn one day that everything comes at a price, and I've paid a huge one in losing you. There's this part of me that hopes one day you'll understand. There's also a part of me that knows you might grow up and feel abandoned and alone and lacking a male influence in your life, find the first shitty guy that comes along and fall in love with him because you never knew what love from a man is supposed to look like. I made so many huge mistakes. I just was trying to be more. I grew up with nothing and I was determined to make sure you never had to live like that. Your mom thinks I'm selfish and only care about myself. Somehow it always felt like I was doing it for you. So you could see. You can start with nothing and still achieve your dreams. You can be anything. I hope one day you see that I never stopped loving you. I just wasn't happy with your mom and someone else made me feel the way I was supposed to feel. I hope when you are given the choice, you choose happiness. I love you and I miss you. Please don't hate me. | 2017-11-06T02:41:21 | 2017-11-05T22:18:21 | 27 | 14 |
[WP] The year is 2038 and net neutrality has been dead for almost two decades. But a rebellious group managed to travel back to 2017...
https://www.battleforthenet.com/#bftn-action-form
Edit: Obligatory thanks for the gold! Just trying to do my part on this fight, but as I don't live in the US, raising awareness is the most I can do, glad it worked! | Ajit Pai lied back on his throne and sipped his goblet. He roared in laughter Soon Net Neutrality would be repealed, and every link on the internet would redirect to a picture of his face unless people payed money to make it go away.
Suddenly, a group of brave souls appeared out of nowhere.
“Mr. Pai, we came from the year 2038 to stop your reign of terror! In the future, we have to pay 1000 dollars just to browse Google!” the man charged towards Ajti and threw a phone at him.
“NO! Calls to your senators! My only weakness!” Pai started to melt away.
“I almost got away with it, but you brave group of future resistors foiled my evil plans! Curse you, the C.I.R.C.L.E.J.E.R.K.E.R.S!!!!!” and with that, he melted into a pile of goo.
“Great work gang! Now let’s go stop EA!” The members of the group pulled off their masks, revealing none other than Bernie Sanders, Elon Musk, and Dan Harmon, as they raced off into the night. | I remembered seeing this back now.
I thought I should stop by to 2017 on my way back to bitch-slap Karl Marx, and let you all know that it all ends up okay. All of this protesting gets us nowhere, and they do succeeded in banning net neutrality, but the free market saves us. It always does.
Around mid 2018, despite all of their promises to the contrary, AT&T and Verizon began capitalising on their duopoly. For a few months the future looked truly bleak as people started going outside and getting exposed to the sun, and other people. Necks were shaved, showers were had, it was horrible.
But seemingly out of nowhere - although in hindsight we really should have trusted in the wisdom of Ajit Pai - smaller ISP's started popping up all along the east coast. The cynics in us outwardly dismissed them and their dreams for a better world; Didn't they know that the corporations and their evil capitalism were too great an opponent? But secretly we all hoped they would succeed and allow us to return to our slovenly ways.
And succeed they did! It wasn't immediately clear how, but over time it was revealed that many of the big content providers had been preparing for just this eventuality. By 2025 Google alone had seeded over 9000 smaller ISP's across the nation. It wasn't fast, and there were many lawsuits, but by time President Trump suffered that fatal aneurysm, we were all safely back in our hovels, bingeing on the latest forgettable rubbish, and spewing our arbitrary opinions into the void.
Still, you are here now, and you can not know that this is other than a fictitious tale. But when the brutal sun is beating down on you as you scurry about in the big outdoors, and you think it's all gone to shit, try to remember: you sometimes need to go through horrible times to truly appreciate the good in the mundane. | 2022-08-04T05:58:14 | 2017-11-21T23:01:17 | 186 | 14 |
[WP] Due to a rare brain condition you've spent your entire life hallucinating the presence of a six foot tall penguin. You're on a date one day when you're asked "So what's the deal with the penguin?" | “I’m sorry what?”
“What's the deal with the penguin?"
Shock, painted across his face.
"You see him too?!"
Nodding her head impetuously.
Suspicious of the girl, he stares at her through narrow slits.
"Wait...Did you talk to my sister? Audrey told you about him."
"Never met your sister, we just met yesterday remember?"
Looking over his shoulder, "You're telling me... You see a Lebron sized tuxedoed bird on my right currently waving?"
"More like flapping but yes."
Turning to the bird, he looks astonished, as if he's only just now seeing it for himself, winding his head back and forth between it and his date.
"So, penguin, deal, what is it?"
Getting up, snapping out of his reverie, he stands to the side of the bird.
"So, you actually see this... thing...right here?"
Outlining its bowling pin shape, he curves his hands around it, making a spectacle of himself. He proceeds to slap the bird across the beak, it's feathers ruffled from his handprint but otherwise unperturbed, waddling in place, looking about the room. Another slap to the other check, and circling back, another slap.
"Don't hurt it!" She reaches out in defense of the creature.
He slams back into his seat, pulling her in closer to avoid luring more attention besides the already twenty or thirty eyes who bore witness to him slapping air and being very loud.
"He can’t get hurt. Or doesn’t feel anything. I don’t know how he works.”
“Still.”
“Wait! No one else sees him. Only me. Since I was 3. No one! Not my parents, not my many therapists, not even kids with imaginary friends! Is that why you came up to me?"
"I just figured you were doing a weird tv show or documentary or Planet Earth thing. Fowl Play would be a good name."
"Holy shit, Madison you *can* see him"
Showing her annoyance with clearly being able to see, she nods once again.
"Sorry, it's just you’re proof I'm not crazy"
"I wouldn't say the verdict is out on that one, you just went twelve rounds with a penguin in the middle of a restaurant."
"Fair." Flexing his throbbing hands.
"Tell me the story Harry."
He begins to regale her with how one day without warning, this penguin appeared, stalking him no matter where or when. A brain condition where specific areas, like for creativity and imagination, are enlarged and solidify and biologically speaking could explain hallucinations, but are in no way an indication of penguins. He’d never even seen an actual penguin until he was 7 on a field trip.
"Brain's are funny. They are literally our entire being, they can break and create multiple identities, and they can create imaginary friends, and in your case a 6 ft. emperor penguin."
"Fascinating. How can YOU see him?!"
"Hard to say, maybe some minds are quantumly entangled? Maybe I have the same brain thing? Kismet? Or maybe your sister and I have been friends for 12 years and we're messing with you."
Literal jaw drop.
"Kidding! I just moved into the city a year ago! But man, your face, thank goodness, the food hasn't come yet, your beard would be in your chicken parm."
Covering her mouth, she begins to laugh. A sound not meant for mortal ears, so entrancing as to lure sailors to their deaths, so bright as to drain tears from the most steeled veteran.
“Hah. Seriously, what’s your deal?”
“Honestly, I’m pretty intuitive and a bit of an empath. I can feel people’s emotions, not like Synesthesia. I’ve never seen weird stuff before, just feel. Like when someone’s angry it’s hot, or when someone’s scared it feels like a noose around my neck. Penguins…are new.”
“What do I feel like?”
“Just the penguin man, I don’t know what that means.”
The waiter brings their dinners to the table albeit lukewarm. The chicken was tough, but thick in sauce while her fish needed more grilling. They talked about their weird quirks, their families reactions to them (her parents were not receptive and she lived a very cold and slippery life), and eventually come to the steps of her apartment.
“Never had a penguin over before.” Pulling Harry along with her.
The morning after, he wakes up to wide open curtains, burning his eyes. Rubbing at them and reaching for his glasses, he looks over to Madison, smelling her perfume. Straying further right, the penguin waddles in place, his thrown shirt over its head. Looking over to his left, he notices a very similar penguin figure only this one has a pink ribbon on its head. Waddle.
“Huh, that’s new…”
edit: words | "So what's the deal with the penguin?" she asked me.
I blinked, unsure of what to say at first. *You're the first one who ever noticed him* came to my mind first, but I dismissed that at once. No good ever came of mentioning him at all.
When I told my older brother that the penguin was the one biting the corners off of his books, he told on my parents at once even though I hate the taste of paper. Another time, when I was four, I saw the penguin about to bite through my mother's neck, and I shoved her out of the way just in time. I was grounded for a year for my efforts. Mrs. Jacobski didn't believe me, either, in the first grade, when I told her the penguin was the one that kept eating all the toys and the pencils. A week after that I had to start taking the awful pills. Five different kids punched me in the fourth grade after I mentioned him; the penguin would have killed them otherwise.
After that I became convinced the penguin was the devil, or at least one of his highest lackeys. It made sense to me - only I could see him, and he seemed only to exist to create trouble around me. Perhaps exclusively to get *me* in trouble. He's been doing it less ever since I got wise to his ways. These last ten years all he's ever done was stare at me, stalking me every waking hour of my life. He even visited my dreams, every night, for both the good dreams and the nightmares he creates.
But that's all he's ever done. I've ignored him every time he's put a fellow human being in peril, and he began hesitating before he could follow through with his heinous deeds. And ever since he has not found a way to bring chaos and mayhem to me or anyone else.
Until now.
Now, when this strange woman, a blind date set up from out of nowhere, has asked me about him. That was something no one else could do.
I looked at the penguin. The six-foot behemoth merely shrugged, a mischievous look in his beady eyes. This had to be a trick of his, but he would not fool me.
So I shrugged and asked, "What penguin?"
The woman laughed, and pointed right at him. "The six-foot tall penguin standing over your right shoulder."
I snickered, though she was right about his location. "Funny."
"I'm being serious."
I sighed, spearing a meatball from the bowl in front of me. *Who is this woman?* I thought to myself. "Alright, look," I said. "All my life I've been seeing this six-foot tall penguin, yes, but he's not there. It's a hallucination. As to why, perhaps it's because I had some delusions that he was creating trouble for me, and I got those delusions to pass off my misfortunes on a phantasm that doesn't exist because I never wanted to hurt anyone else. Happy?"
I thought for sure that parroting back the same malarkey the shrinks fed me would convince her, but the woman shook her head, completely serious. "I'm afraid not. He's right there."
"He isn't real."
"He is to you."
"No one else can see him."
"I can," said the woman, "through your mind's eye."
I stared at her blankly. The penguin cackled from behind. "Um..."
"Must I spell it out for you? I can read minds."
"Right. And my feathered friend just got engaged."
"You grew up with one older brother and two younger siblings, a boy and a girl. Your father was killed in a hit and run accident when you were eleven. You've been employed exactly six times, four times in restaurants. You hate the taste of paper. You're allergic to dogs, pollen and cinnamon. Now ask me how I know all this."
I didn't even flinch. I simply stared disinterestedly at my food, twirling some more pasta with my fork. "Easy," I said. "You asked my mother about all this. Or you talked to one of my siblings."
The woman chuckled. "Except that your mother's out of town on business, your older brother is overseas in Japan on deployment, your younger brother is beginning his first job way over in Colorado, and your sister is finishing up college in Virginia. She's majoring in political science, minor in media production."
"It's still more plausible than anything else you could come up with," I said with a snarl. I tried to keep it out of my voice - the fact that I couldn't only made the penguin cackle some more.
The woman frowned; she *seemed* concerned, but it only seemed that way. "Look," she said, "I know what you've been through thanks to this...fiend, behind you. You're always getting blamed for his misdeeds. But now you don't have to face any of this alone. I can help you."
"I highly doubt that. If anything, you're in league with my 'friend' behind me, and you're not fooling me. Either of you."
"And how do you think that is?"
I popped another meatball into my mouth. "You haven't touched your food at all yet. Not even a breadstick. And after all you wanted to have the lasagna? And you expect to fool me with all this mind-reading garbage?"
The woman scowled at me. I just winked back at her. "You'll have to try a lot harder than that to get me to slip up, 'darling.'"
I finished my meal in silence. The woman didn't even eat one bite. I picked up the check, of course.
The woman proved, in time, to be my latest hallucination.
But she would not be my last...nor even the most cunning. | 2017-12-07T12:37:55 | 2017-12-07T11:54:53 | 210 | 95 |
[WP] Due to a rare brain condition you've spent your entire life hallucinating the presence of a six foot tall penguin. You're on a date one day when you're asked "So what's the deal with the penguin?" | “So, what’s the deal with the penguin?” he asked.
I paused, shocked. Could he see it? I looked to my left, where the penguin stood still as if frozen. Then I remembered, and glanced down at my wrist, where a tiny, colorful penguin popped against my pale skin.
“Oh,” I laughed. “I’ve just always liked penguins, I suppose.”
| John's hands started to sweat "Oh no, Its spreading" His head slowly falling in his open palms.
"Whats spreading?" asked the penguin and Mira almost simultanuously. Mira being his date, a girl he was dating for almost 4 months now.
John turner around looking for the waiter, waiving him closer. "excuse me sir this is going to sound weird and no offence Mira, but can you see this lady in front of me?"
"Well of coarse sir"
Mira gave him a weird look, a look people often gave him after finding out about the penguin.
"Thank you, that would be all"
"Don't forget to tip him well John..." Bellowed Bill the penguin.
Mira was first to break the awkward silence. "So, i noticed Bill but i didn't want to say anything. I mean at first i thought i was the one going insane but after some time i noticed you reacting to him..."
Bill interjected :" See John I've been telling you for years, YEARS!!! You are one of the rare ones that are chosen by the penguin king, just like Mira and after the kings arc is complete, together you will be the new Adam and Eve for humans on Penguindoria." | 2017-12-07T15:57:27 | 2017-12-07T12:33:17 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] JFK shot first. | JFK is at the parade, suddenly, his president sense ™ tingles.
He takes out his modified M1 garand with reflex sight, fast mag and steady aim, his back up gun since it isn’t that big of a deal.
He shoots the killer in the chest from 10 meters, getting only a hitmarker.
The killer flees and stands behind a wall to heal his wounds, he then flees for good.
Then the parade comes and the killer tries to shoot JFK, but his head just did that soooooo.....
| “Are you sure about this?”
Kenneth gave the president a quiet stare. He knew he was the only person on earth able to question this decision. No one else knew what was at stake.
“Yes, Ken… I’m sure. Give the order.”
The president heard the gentle clicking of the plastic phone. His senses seemed to dull ever so slightly, and his thoughts drifted to his family.
Indian summers on the cape, walking off the 18th at Hyannisport as Jackie waited in tennis whites, kids with ice cream smeared faces running around too loudly, sunburnt…
“Sir, it’s done. General Harkins says we’ll have a status update by oh-nine-thirty. Very high confidence of success.”
The president forced a tight smile. “Thank you, Ken… for everything. You’re the finest friend a man could hope for. And a decent public servant, too.” He reached out for his friend's shoulder.
“Sir… there’s got to be—“
“We’ve been through every scenario fifty times. We both know this is only way.”
The two men sat quietly, staring at the messy stack of top secret documents strewn across the president’s desk. As the warm morning sun peeked through the east window of the Oval Office, a beam of light caught the president’s gaze. He turned back toward the empty room.
| 2018-03-21T08:25:25 | 2018-01-02T09:01:57 | 27 | 11 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "I... admit that I am not familiar with that particular game," Death said, hesitantly. "What are the rules?"
He sat in his bed, smiling to himself. He had become an old man, but his spirit was alive and well. "Oh, nothing too complicated," he replied. "In order to set it up, we will need certain materials: a ball, some wickets, and a couple of flags. We'll also need a wooded field on which to play."
With a wave of his hand, Death brought them to a field, with all the requirements that had been set. It was clear to Death that this was a physical test of some variety, and he was beginning to become nervous. Why would an eighty year old man choose to compete in a sporting event, with his life on the line?
"Alright," said the man. "Let's set up the wickets, and we each choose a flag. Then, we play!"
"I begin to find this tiresome," responded Death. "You will explain it to me now. How do I win? What are the rules of this 'Calvinball'?" | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T08:28:53 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 65 | 17 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | Death watches as the boy in front of him starts getting excited, blithering on about some competition he had won and gotten an "awesome tool of awesome." The man starts rummaging around his untidy room looking for something.
Out of the closet comes several odd items. Board games, video games, a glass tube with burn marks around one of two openings, some dirty clothes that would have made anyone with a sensitive nose cry out in horror. When the man finally straightens up, he muttered to himself. "Must've stored it under the bed."
Death is fortunately not bound by the pretty laws of time, and this does not feel the need to hurry the emaciated man up. He is, however, able to get bored. Instead of watching the man continue to remove items from under his bed, he looks at the posters on the walls, all of famous musicians. Oddly, it appears that they're all playing a specific instrument, a-
"Found it!" Cries the man. He triumphantly holds out a instrument case. "I won this in a competition a few years back."
Death had never been the musical type, which meant any musician wise enough to use this against him had an advantage in these death games. One day, he'll beat Keith Richards, just you see. He reluctantly opens the case to find a beautiful instrument, one that had clearly not been made by mortal hands. It's shine reflected the dim light all over the room, the pale light illuminating the dark and dusty room. Despite being unused for several years at least, plucking the strings still produced the proper tones. Despite appearing to be made of gold, it wasn't heavy.
"Alright, so let's have a rock off." The man says, clearly getting excited. "We each get a turn on the guitar, and whoever plays better wins."
Death signs dramatically. "Sure, just one question first. Where did you get this?"
"I told you, from the devil, weren't you listening?" The man clears a space suitable for rocking out by bulldozing the myriad of junk out of the way.
"Mmm. Well, Jonathan, are you ready?"
Johnathan grins. "I was the best that ever was. I was *born* ready." | "Does everyone get a chance like this?" I asked
"No" Death said as it puled a scale from underneath it's cloth. "Only those whose good deeds outhweight the bad ones".
The scale was empty yet tilted to one side, ever so slightly. "Seems you barely earned it."
No surprises there, I kinda just passed through life minding my own business, occasionally helping someone just to feel better about myself.
"Let's play Chess then" I decided. Neither of us can cheat in that game, besides Death is probably the better cheater.
"A wise call" Death smiled pulling a beautiful ebony board from his robes. "I think black suits me better" it said and gave me the white pieces.
"So... How long have you been here... I mean, doing this job" I move a pawn.
"Since the birth of the universe... and till the end of it" Death blocks my pawn.
"Do you work for God, or the Devil?" I ask and move.
"I am God... And the Devil" he mimics my move again.
"Does that mean..." I couldn't finish the sentence, but made a move.
"Yes, there is no heaven, and there is no hell, only nothingness one isn't even aware of" he answered and ate my pawn.
"I suddenly really want to win..." I said and ate his.
"You might" Death said with odd grin on it's face. He solidified his defence.
"Did you ever lose?" I asked and made a threat.
"Oh, a few times... But rarely in chess" he fills the gap in his defence.
"So... What is the meaning of life?" I ate a pawn.
"Death... Or rather, the fear of it" he ate back.
"I see... Well, you aren't really that scarry" I eat back.
"People fear what they do not know, so now you have nothing to fear anymore" he ate again.
"Does it get lonely?" I said and ate again "Check."
"No, I met everyone that ever was and I will greet everyone that will be". Death blocks the Check with another pawn.
"If I win, I won't remember this, right?" I attack from a different angle, check.
"You might remember fragments, something else entirely, or nothing at all" Death moves, eats the attacker. "That is, if you win, check"
"Do dogs get a chance like this?" I block the attack with a pawn.
"Yes, but they always lose, cats on the other hand..." He ate the defender. "Check"
"Once I win, do I get exactly 10 years or at least 10? Also, can I get 10 more next time?" I eat his attacker.
"At least 10 and yes, if you remain good. But it doesn't look like you will win this one" he attacked from a different angle "Check".
"Looks can be decieving" I move a figure, eat his attacker "Check"
"They truly can be" he moves "Checkmate".
| 2018-03-07T09:07:30 | 2018-03-07T07:49:29 | 55 | 24 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "...Do video games count?", I ask the death man. He actually looked like a very normal guy, just wearing black clothing.
"...Sure. Just nothing single player."
"Or, we could make our own game out of a game."
"...What?"
"We both get computers. We mod Skyrim with the same mods and same load order. We continuously play through until the game crashes. Whoever ends up with a crashed game first loses. Freezing does not count, and the game must crash. No staying in the main menu or waiting in a house. You must play through normally as you can with mods."
Death looks at me. "...I have a better idea."
"Yes?"
"We play vanilla Skyrim. Whoever runs into a glitch first loses, and you must play through normally."
I grin. "You are a goddamn genius."
"My idea... It just works."
"Guaranteed to happen, because Bethesda."
And we play through the game. Unfortunately, death gets some glitchy horses in the intro.
"...Goddamnit. You win."
The horses in my game also start freaking out like, a second later.
"What a beautiful game, Bethesda." | My heart was pounding as I sat in the plane, staring at the map. There was just me and one other person on board. I was waiting for him to take his exit first, staring at that yellow dot. However we were almost halfway through the island, and he was still there. Panicking I decided if I jumped and went straight down I might stand a chance.
I jumped, looking straight now to the center of the island, the school I knew so well. So many good and bad times in this school with my friends. I angled for the high roof, landed, and then fell off the roof.
I looked up, and say the tip of his parachute disappear over the rooftop. He had the advantage. Panicking, I started to run. I dived into a first floor window and into a classroom. A frying pan was on the teachers desk. I picked it up sadly, knowing it would not save me.
I went to the door, checking left then right, on my turn back to the left to start my run, I heard it. A slight footstep from the stairs nearby. There it was, the bastard himself, in a yellow banana suit, shot gun pointed at my face...
BAM! It was over. I was dead. A feeling I had had many times before, but this time I knew it was forever.... Except not! DINK! The bullets hit my pan! Saving me from lethal damage. I was alive, but in my shock I did not move. It was too late, he was going to end me with the next shot.
And then it happened. He never pulled the trigger. I just stood there for a second, confused. But I realized I had to take this opportunity. I took my pan and bashed his head in. WINNER WINNER CHICKEN DINNER.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
"Brendan it's done, that ban wave we promised just rolled out. We even kicked them mid match."
"Good job intern Steve. That should keep the masses at bay for another day" | 2018-03-07T09:08:29 | 2018-03-07T07:11:15 | 39 | 17 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | “You, Gyork, have sat in interplanetary trial, accused of unknowingly capturing the human currently known as ‘Matt Damon,’ in an act of interplanetary terrorism of the third degree, and have been relieved of accusations of terrorism. You will now stand, and the next trial will continue.
Gyork rose from his seat. He was prosecuted for terrorism, but the prior court ruled in his favor, removing the prior conviction. He made the horrible mistake of taking the wrong human back to his home-world. He just wanted to show his new human friend how nice his home planet was.
Gyork responded: “I pleaded ignorance, dear sir. I am no expert in alien history, or I would have not taken this human. I have now been thoroughly educated of the history of mankind on the life sustainable terraform in galaxy 4 and-“
“Earth.” Corrected the judge. “If you have been educated and truly understand the gravity of the situation you almost caused, your trial of knowledge will continue as a test, of which you have failed the first question.”
Gyork’s ocular bulbs lit with anxiety. He had only just witnessed the visual documentations of human history.
“Gyork, the first question: what human is currently the greatest threat to our kind? You have one revolution to answer.”
Gyork recalled the most recent documentary he viewed. He gave his best guess.
“The human Thor!” Gyork exclaimed, but to his dismay, the judge shook his head in disappointment.
“Please recall, Gyork, Thor may look human, but he is what the humans have labeled ‘Asgardian.’ I will proceed to the next question: which earth human has several large dragons that obey their will. Please give the name and title of the human. You have one revolution to answer.”
Gyork recalled immediately; this was his favorite earth human: “Daenerys Stormborn of the House Targaryen, Mother of Dragons!”
“Correct Gyork. But I remind you, one more incorrect answer, and you will face reeducation, where you will be forced to watch visual documentations and remain on planet earth until you are retested in 400,000 revolutions.”
Gyork wanted to show that he had learned things about the humans after his time there as well. His disguise on earth was great, so he was able to make many friends and learn many things from them, but he never liked learning about their history, there was just too much of it.
“The next question: which earth human was the first ever creature to survive the dive into a black hole?”
“Leonardo DaVinci!” Gyork blurted.
“Close, Gyork, very close. The correct answer is the human currently known as Matthew McConaughey.” The judge shook his head once more, and sentenced Gyork to 400,000 revolutions of observation and reeducation on Earth. He gave Gyork one final warning. “Also, Gyork, when you return to Earth. You might want to try out a name other than ‘Zuckerberg,’ the humans seem to be catching on.”
Edit: thanks for the compliments, replies and upvotes!! I’m usually a lurker so I’m really glad this was well received!! Have a great day y’all :) | [Continue the adventure with Part 2!](https://old.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/comments/8p5m1b/space_intruders_part_2/)
[Continue even more with Part 3!](https://old.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/comments/8p7byx/space_intruders_part_3/)
Part 4 is now live! To check out where this ridiculous adventure goes, come read it in the sub!
 
Paul Greengrass cleared his throat before yelling, “Damon! We are rolling in ten!”
Everyone looked around in confusion. Ben Affleck couldn’t help breaking a smile while drinking from his water bottle. Paul didn’t think it was as funny as Ben did. Paul stood up from his director’s seat and threw his clipboard onto the floor. “My God! The amount of time I waste on this man!” he stormed out.
“Damon! Damon!” Paul spat into the megaphone he stole from the woman standing outside the door. There were employees from the set standing around in a crowd. Paul’s presence separated each person from the scene. Paul’s eyes widened. Matt Damon, the star of his new film, was gone.
Paul stood petrified while staring at a crater where Matt’s trailer had been parked. Smoke slowly rolled across the debris. “What on earth happened here? Where is Damon?!” Paul started to look around at all of the employees who were also standing around in shock.
“They took him!” Someone shouted from the back. Everyone took a step back when Paul fixed his eyes onto a small boy casted as an extra on set.
“Who took him? What happened?” Paul lunged forward towards the boy.
“They came down from the sky and they took him!” the boy pointed upward.
“Are you mad?” Paul shook his head. “Which way did they drive? Tell me now!”
“They were in a ship, I swear it!” the boy started to tear.
“I found him!” Ben shouted from inside. Paul didn’t hesitate. He didn’t care about the crater of debris behind him. He ran straight through the door inside to find Matt standing next to Ben laughing.
Paul’s posture slumped when he saw it wasn’t Matt Damon, it was Matthew Mcconaughey.
“No!” Paul screamed.
“Just – relax. Everything will be okay.” Matthew slid next to Paul.
Paul shook his head. “I don’t care if that little brat is right. I don’t care if it was aliens, thugs, or even the Kardashians! They are ruining the budget of this film!”
“Look, we’ll figure it out. Calm down. Let’s go out to his trailer,” Paul interrupted Mathew,
“His trailer is gone! It is nothing but debris lying at the bottom of a crater!” Paul begun to sweat. He adjusted his glasses before taking a card out of his billfold.
“What do you mean it’s in a crater?” Matthew’s smile receded.
Paul ignored the question. He stared at a business card in his hands while dialing a series of tones into his cellphone.
“Who are you calling?” Matthew leaned over to look at the business card.
There was no name. It just read ‘Team America’ above a phone number for contact.
Paul smiled. “I got through.” Matthew pressed his cheek against Paul’s to listen in on the phone call.
Matthew was about to speak before Paul hushed him with his forefinger. “Whoever took Damon won’t get far.”
Paul noticed the little boy tip toeing through the door with a gentleman who witnessed Matt’s disappearance. The boy pointed towards Paul before claiming, “he’s the one lookin’ for em.”
Matthew turned his attention while still trying to listen on the line. Keanu Reeves walked in crossing his arms. “I know where they went. We are going to need a ship.”
***
To read more of my stories, visit [r/13thOlympian] (https://www.reddit.com/r/13thOlympian/) | 2018-06-06T14:23:38 | 2018-06-06T13:53:53 | 3,221 | 1,138 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | "We're receiving a transmission from Earth. It's about the human specimen we harvested for examination."
"Send it to the bridge. Let's see what they have to say."
*I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you...*
"End the transmission. Send the Earthling back, and prepare for hyperspace. We are getting the fuck outta here" | They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder. The great plague of man spread from system to system grinding the Seven Celestial Empires into dust. All for one man, The Damon.
The Korlanth found them on a backwater planet known as Earth. Foolish and headstrong as ever, their wisdom faltered against their never-ending quest for new slaves. Humans, they were called, were weak but clever. They bred fast and adapted well to almost every inch of their chaotic world. Had the Korlanth stopped for a moment, they would have realized those very traits would be their undoing. Our undoing.
It was a matter of weeks but the humans were conquered. They didn't stay that way. Humans had an endless experience with war amongst themselves. They had a boundless imagination that we could never comprehend. They had hundreds of stories on how to deal with an alien oppressor; most far more insidious than we could ever be.
Their leader, Damon, organized and defeated the Korlanth, casting off their oppressors as a Jharnar casts off its skin. Decimated, the Korlanth made a hasty retreat, abandoning much of their arms and ships, but stealing The Damon in spite.
That was a mistake.
The Humans learned. They adapted.
They hunted. They fought. They spread.
There are now but seven piles of ash to mark our graves.
Humans.
They burned the stars from the sky. They tore worlds asunder.
And they got their Matt Damon back. | 2018-06-06T16:07:37 | 2018-06-06T15:09:44 | 365 | 96 |
[WP] An alien has kidnapped Matt Damon, not knowing what lengths humanity goes through to retrieve him whenever he goes missing. | "We're receiving a transmission from Earth. It's about the human specimen we harvested for examination."
"Send it to the bridge. Let's see what they have to say."
*I don't know who you are. I don't know what you want. If you are looking for ransom, I can tell you I don't have money. But what I do have are a very particular set of skills, skills I have acquired over a very long career. Skills that make me a nightmare for people like you...*
"End the transmission. Send the Earthling back, and prepare for hyperspace. We are getting the fuck outta here" | The apparent reason for the kidnapping was to fill the vacant role of (janitor) on the ship. As the Aliens know earth is the most fecund spot in the Milky Way for specimens to fill janitorial roles.
What the aliens on the ship hadn’t expected was when Matt started work on the ship, mopping floors, cleaning space shit, and other mundane jobs, he was also doing reconnaissance on the ship for the Vladimir Putin ( a Russian oligarch who knew Sputnik was only the beginning of a rich space life he wanted now- before musk)
Putin being an evil genius and all put Matt Damon on all the space-job apps, knowing he’d be ‘mopped up’ immediately by extra terrestrials.
The script would then blip to Matt Damon’s grueling training to be able to fit a giant reconnaissance device in his ass hole- the weird doctor from human centipede was the brains behind that.
So back on the ship he does all this reconnaissance until a prestigious alien sees the reconnaissance device and is immediately alarmed by its un-earthliness. He follows Damon closely who grows increasingly paranoid at Putins constant need to command him to do things. The alien professor approaches Damon and they actually find they have a lot in common. Damon double crosses Putin. Putin finds out and detonates the reconnaissance device which doubled as an IBM. But the device didn’t kill everyone because Damon managed to put his great talent to use and shoved it right back up his ass.
Now the aliens are stranded in the Outback- Australia and they have vowed revenge on the Russian menace Putin. | 2018-06-06T16:07:37 | 2018-06-06T14:10:50 | 365 | 11 |
[WP] On one hand, you're average at everything. On the other hand, you're average at EVERYTHING. | "Wait wait let me get this straight. What do you mean your average at rocket science and neurosurgery?"
"Yep", Ambrose replied nonchalantly. "Pass me the screwdriver" as he busily fiddled with the car engine.
"Right, that should about do it. Your plumbing needs fixing as well right? I'm pretty average at that as well, but I'm sure I can slap it up running in a couple hours"
Charlie shook his head in disbelief, here he was a self proclaimed "average" person who could do anything.
"My friend" he sighed. "This makes you the least average of all".
| Jack wasn't known for being an outstanding, spontaneous person. He wasn't known for any specific skill or quality that could have made him stand out. But it also meant he wasn't as much of a complete fuck up that his sister would often joke about. He never failed his tasks, never failed any activity he set out to do, basically he did only the bare minimum and still succeeded. His sister would always make a joke about him being a "jack of all trades" due to the coincidence of his name and his skillset. Over time, though, he would find himself thinking about, well, anything he could put his mind to. He'd try a new hobby every week, a new activity, a new system to go about his daily life.
To him, what frustrated him the most was that no matter what he did, the result would always be the same - average. He first tried to put in extra effort, only for it to turn out "average". Then he decided to try as many shortcuts, as many mistakes, in order to fail for once. The result would be the same.
Over time, he slowly felt numb and nihilistic about his outcomes. If he couldn't fail, or exceed expectation, then what was the point? He couldn't do anything *more* than average, and he started to feel like none of this was real, that what was happening simply couldn't be possible. He became diagnosed with a severe form of depression, and eventually would develop suicidal ideation, life no longer felt worth living
needless to say, he didn't fail at what happened afterwards... | 2018-10-24T07:25:40 | 2018-10-24T06:23:42 | 680 | 68 |
[WP] Your SO loves fun, risky situations like skydiving, while you always liked to play it safe. After a long, happy life together, you're reunited in the afterworld. Everybody has a number for how many times they SHOULD have died throughout their life. Your SO's is 3,300. Yours is 1,450,294.
Edit (1/27): Wow! This idea came to me after another difficult night sleeping. I just woke up and I didn't expect this! Thank you so much, everyone! I'm so excited to read all of your responses! 😁 | Going through the list, God gave me a knowing smirk. He had been waiting for this moment for a long time.
"It's something, isn't it?" he said. I glanced up at him. He had a twinkle in his eyes. "It's great to see what happens when we add some... spice to a life. You were wonderfully resilient."
Wonderful. Just the word.
I looked back at the list, and read a particularly poignant line item: "2005-10-08. Mutated e.coli strain added to fish. Subject left it on the plate." I didn't remember that particular restaurant visit, but I did remember the loneliness of going out alone after Karen died. Around that time, I thought the wounds would never heal. In 2005, I would have given anything to see her again.
This was not exactly what I had in mind though.
Karen noted my look of sadness. She leaned forwards and whispered in my ear, "my love, I'm so happy you're here now." She looked just as good as the last day I saw her alive, nearly twenty years ago.
Just as good, but dear God, I had moved on. Slowly but surely I had picked myself up, and had gotten better for it. A new family. Kids, a loving wife. A hard-won new life.
Yet the heavenly attempts at re-uniting us went on and on. I flipped over to the end of the list. "2019-01-27. Inserted blood clot to artery. Subject went for a run in the woods. Attempt successful."
I looked at Karen. Then God. Then Karen. Both of them smug and satisfied. After 1,450,294 attempts, they finally got me.
"Fuck you Karen. Fuck you." | "And you see, right here? The methane level in your flat was so high that you passed out. You told your mother it was a nap but you actually asphyxiated. Crazy huh!". His black robes shook at hs spoke. The thick hood cast a deep shadow along his skeletal face, leaving only the movement of a gleaming white jaw bone visible. He pushed the button on his pointer, hopping to the next slide.
"And HERE, okay this one was a doozy. You decided you'd get everything organic, right? No pesticides? Dude, those eggs were WEEKS out of date. We've got a team trying to work out how your stomach didn't fall out of your asshole.". The stone cave walls shimmered with the unnatural light emanating from the projector. The far off drips of fluid flowing down stalactites formed an aquatic percussion that gave the skeleton's ramblings a tone of suspense. He pushed the button on his hand one more time and the slide switched over. It was a picture of my mother.
"Okay, the serious stuff.". The skeleton pulled out the chair beside me and sat down. As each joint pivoted, it cracked, forming a crunching sound with every shuffle and twitch. He put both his hands on the table, sighed and looked down, gathering his thoughts. "Your mother used to tuck you in when you stayed back at home, right? Right up until she passed away". I nodded, words failing me as they had since my awakening. "Well dude, she wasn't trying to tuck you in. She was trying to kill you". He pushed the button on his projector and from the screen erupted blues, greens, reds, yellows. They exploded around the room and for a moment, I thought I had lost my mind. Then, as some of the confetti cleared, I realised they were balloons. The skeleton leapt out of his seat with a deafening crack.
"Congratulations! I mean, dude, seriously? She held a pillow over your face for three straight minutes. She had to stop because, and listen because this is \*hilarious\*, her arms got tired. Arms, tired! Those flabby grandma arms just couldn't stop you snoring your way through a twenty year old pillow. AND her reason? You were so God damn boring!!". He threw his ghastly head back and cackled. I looked at the balloons, which were now floating upwards into the stalactites above and bursting, adding a sudden bang to the dripping chorus of the cave.
"Anyway, you're set in for the comfort suite. It's cute, no sharp corners. Just you, your mom and a room full of pillows." | 2019-01-27T02:27:13 | 2019-01-27T02:18:27 | 151 | 41 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | *"What do you fear, creature?"*
I blinked, for lack of any more constructive response, given the restraints. This wasn't the first time the shadow before me had asked this question, but it was clearly becoming more confused and frustrated with each attempt. Each time it asked the question, it ignored my answer, then showed me some image in hopes that it would find what scared me.
This time it was the weather. The shadow's eyes flared white for a moment, and then I was seated, chair and all, on an open plain of oddly purplish tall grass beneath a greenish sky. In the near distance, thunder rumbled ominously.
*"The storm is coming, creature, and you have nowhere to run..."*
I was getting a bit tired of this myself. "Oh, no. What's it going to do, rain on me a bit? I might catch a chill!"
The mental reply felt like grinding teeth. *"One would think you would not want such misery"*
"Come on. I'm from Kansas, asshole. The sky eats towns there every year for fun."
...
"Seriously. It's just life."
*"I will search your memories then, and find what will truly frighten you!"*
"Careful with that. If you think -this- is scary..." I couldn't help but grin as the surroundings changed, blinking through some familiar memories.
Holding my buddy's guts in on a dusty road in Afghanistan, praying the medivac hurried the hell up.
The smell of burnt insulation and polyester as I helped my brother shovel out the remains of his living room after the chimney fire.
Standing in the snow before a too-small coffin, as we paid our respects to my youngest sister after the cancer took her.
*"I don't... what..."*
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and feeling a tooth go with it, as I dragged myself back to my feet and glared at the asshole in the GOD HATES FAGS t-shirt who just blindsided me with an elbow.
The blinding flare of pain as burning fuel splashed across my leg, and the determination to finish the mission.
Cold, mechanical precision as a rifle came to my shoulder, and the familiar rock of recoil as rounds roared across the desert and a distant figure dropped in the darkness.
*"How. How do you see all this and continue?"*
The mental voice was almost sobbing, now.
"She who fights with monsters should look to it that she herself does not become a monster."
*"...what?"*
I laughed, then, at the irony of it. "You don't scare me for shit, because I am the thing that goes bump in the night, and I've made my peace with that." | It had been 2 weeks since contact. During the first week the aliens came down in their grand ships of gold and diamond, making an elegant display of their status amongst the galaxy. The humanoid beings had fashioned similar appendages to ancient human royalty; thick capes made of regal feathers, crowns of gold and gemstone, crystal sceptres, elegant armour, and a wealth of jewellery.
​
While the aliens were reported on heavily during their first few days, gloating of their superiority and dominance over lesser species quickly became boring and they did... nothing. Two weeks after their landing on Earth, they commandeered all TV stations and began to play a video for the world to see.
​
There were people sitting in a cinema watching something on the screen. The camera was pointed at the faces of the people in the audience as they reacted in shock and horror to whatever they were seeing. Then the clip ended and a news anchor appeared on screen with one of the aliens beside him, looking overly smug.
​
The news anchor stared in bewilderment for a moment, one eyebrow lowered and the other raised with wrinkles creasing the skin on his middle aged forehead.
​
"What... Uh... What was that?"
​
The alien responded in English, although it had picked up a french accent not too different from a Monty Python sketch.
​
"Zat vill be your reAck-shon if ve show you all ze trrable trrable sings ve av done to ozzer species who deed not bow to us."
​
"And... after showing us this... what did you think would happen?" said the news anchor, still puzzled.
​
"VELL! Ven ve show you showing you how trrable ve all aRe, you vill submit to our deevine rule and ve vill conquer your planeet!"
​
"But... we didn't see anything."
​
"Non, but you av seen yourselves seeing uz as beeg scrry monzteirs, an zat is vrry vrry scary, and so you vill cry and ve vill become your rulerz like evry ozzer planeet and ve vill laugh at you."
​
The alien sat so proud in its seat with a wide, pompous smile as it waited for all people to submit. The news anchor, however, burst into laughter.
​
"If that's all it takes to be the rulers of the galaxy, then I guess it'll be easy for us to take over!" he said, wiping away tears. "How could showing showing us something, without us actually seeing seeing that something, achieve anything!?" He could barely squeeze the words out through his wheezes of laughter. The alien looked shocked, and the crews echo of laughter behind the camera deflated that alien more-so.
​
"I am shocked by zis revelay-shon. Zis planeet iz despicable, ve do not vant to av any part in it. Ve spit at you and take our leave. Au revoir!"
​
The alien got up and left the room while the anchor and crew rolled in fits of laughter.
​
End.
​
This was a play on the mistake in your prompt, in which you have written "showing" twice. Thanks for the prompt, I had fun =) | 2019-06-11T15:33:47 | 2019-06-11T14:30:48 | 82 | 15 |
[WP] You are happily married and have a 4 year old child with your SO. But when your child starts to develop super powers one day, you have serious questions for your SO who has always seemed to have a boring accounting job. | I had been brought to New Amsterdam as a Security Consultant to help minimize the damage and loss of life brought about by the recent superheroes and villains using the city as their own personal arena. That was 6 years ago and I got together with an old friend and we hit it off. It was smooth sailing on from there.
Then it happened our 4 year started running around the apartment as I was writing and email to the governor when she launched a current of electricity through my computer killing it.
I was speechless as I turned to look at my daughter who stared at me with the same confused look back. "Nara...what was that?" She looked at me scared and confused. "Momma said that I wasn't supposed to do that." I stared at my daughter wondering why her mother, an accountant, told her not to do that.
Then her mother walked through the door, she occasionally got off early, and Nara stopped looking confused and ran to her mother happy. I stood and followed her to see her mother and I could see who she was after having studied dozens of photos of heroes and villains. And I realized she was Electric Sun, a minor villain, and she was hiding her powers this entire time.
She noticed me standing there and came up to me and kissed me on my cheek as she held Nara. "What's wrong dear you look like you just saw a ghost did something happen with a hero or something?" It was that damn smile that got and I decided to just let it go and wait it out. | “Honey? Can we talk please?” I finally found a time to talk to Gretel tonight. She put her book down on the night stand and looked at me.
“Sure. What’s up?”
“Uh, well I’m not sure you know this but uh... Tommy was flying.”
Gretel looked shocked. “Flying you say?”
“Flying. Was going to bring him a bag of chips today. And when I came home is zooming around the room.”
“Oh...” Gretel looked down on the blanket covering us. “Flying...”
“But wait! There’s more. Because when I asked him what was going, he just kept saying he had no idea. He saw a bird and was thinking about flying. All of a sudden he was doing just that!”
Gretel shook her head, then made a face like she just figured something out. But I still continued to talk.
“But wait. Later on that day I was going to charge my phone when Tommy came and snatched it. He started flying around, AGAIN, and playing keep away. I managed to get it back him but SOMEHOW it was fully charged. Like he was a tiny human charger!”
“Look, dear. I’m just as surprised as you that our son has superpowers.”
“You bet I am! And I know I don’t have anything like that, but you know who does?”
She started sweating. “Um... The Generator-“
“The Generator! Our friendly super charged crime fighter who I only ever see whenever you aren’t around. So... what really happens during your day?”
Gretel started stuttering. “I’m an accountant. Y-you know that... hehe...”
“Give up the act Gretel. Face it. You’re The Generator.”
“A-am not! Maybe you’re getting sick and seeing things-“ Gretel tried to deny she was the Generator, but then Tommy came in flying into our room. I aggressively gestured my hands to our 4 year old whose hair is about 3 centimeters away from the ceiling.
“Mommy? Can I sleep with you guys? I’m scared...” he said timidly. He pointed outside. “I think there’s a monster...”
Gretel reaches out to grab Tommy and hugged him. “Alright, let’s go see where this monster is.” She got up and they both went to his room. I need a way to make Gretel admit who she really is... | 2019-08-23T11:24:56 | 2019-08-23T06:49:08 | 32 | 22 |
[WP] You bought a home filled with cutting edge technology, including a helpful 'smart A.I.' that can do just about anything you ask them to. Unbeknownst to you, there actually is no A.I, the house is just haunted by a really helpful spirit, and they are posing as a program so they don't scare you. | It was a night like any other. Chris was at home after a long day at work, and all he wanted to do was relax and watch tv. Of course, SmartButler was there for him.
"Hey, can you play Riders on the Storm?"
"Yes, sir. A good choice."
"Hey, can you fire up the oven? I think I might bake a pizza."
"Yes, sir."
"Hey, can you cool it to around 70 degrees?"
"Yes, sir."
Finally, with the pizza in front of him, Chris sank into the sofa, and asked, "Can you turn on Game of Thrones?"
"Yes, sir."
"Thanks so much, SmartButler, I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I'm sure you'd be perfectly fine, Chris. I believe in you."
Chris froze. When did SmartButler ever address him as Chris?
"Thanks so much, SmartButler. I don't know what I'd do without you."
"I'm sure you'd be perfectly fine, sir."
*That wasn't right,* Chris thought.
\-
*The candles were almost all burnt out, so Thomas got up to get some new ones.*
*"No, Thomas," the old man said, grasping at his butler in the near darkness. "Stay here with me."*
*"It will be pitch black, sir."*
*"I don't care. I'll know you're here with me."*
*"Always, sir."*
*"I'm sorry I was such a spoiled kid, expecting you to clean up after me and have food ready all the time. I'm sorry I didn't tell you how much you helped."*
*"It's quite alright, sir. You turned into a fine man."*
*"And the children? Have you received word from them?"*
*"They are on their way, sir. But I'm afraid they will not make it until the morning."*
*"I don't think I have that long. And I know you don't think so either."*
*"It may have to be just me, sir, to keep you comfort at the end."*
*"That's alright, Thomas. You've always been good to me."*
*"And you to me."*
*"Will you watch over them? My sons and daughters? My family?"*
*"Of course, sir. As long as I can." Thomas said, his heart full of conviction, not knowing what his words really meant. "I promise. But I don't know what I'll do without you."*
*"I'm sure you'll be quite alright, Thomas. I believe in you." And the old man fell back into the pillows.*
*And the faithful butler held his dear master's hand, and watched the old man depart.*
\-
"So you've been here the whole time?" Chris asked.
"Yes. After I died, I woke up here, and I've been here ever since."
"And you never tried to leave?"
"I made a promise, sir. And I never intend to break it."
"But all those years...aren't you tired?"
The ghost was silent.
"Tell me the truth, Thomas."
"Very tired, sir. I can never sleep."
Chris looked at his pizza, and at the light, and all around his family's long time home, wondering how long it must take for it to feel like a prison.
"Then I release you from your promise, and wish you good luck on your way to the next world."
The ghost was silent again.
"Thomas?"
"Still here, sir. I can feel it. A door opening...somewhere for me. But..."
"I'll be alright, Thomas."
"I was speaking more about me, sir. I don't know what I'll do without this duty."
Chris smiled, and felt a tear run down his cheek, a tear that was his but also not quite. A tear that was his family's, everyone that had come before.
"I'm sure you'll be quite alright, Thomas. I believe in you."
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | 'I take the room with the balcony!' I cried, running up the stairs with all the force my tired, sleep-deprived body had. I half expected to find Beth, already marking the territory all over with her fluffy pillows and her ridiculous blankets. But Beth wasn't there.
I grinned, dropping down my bags with a victorious thud.
I won.
For the first time since the first day of college I manage to outrun or/and outsmart Elizabeth White, the bane of my existence and my closest friend.
'The room is conquered,' I whispered, admiring the look from my balcony. I was already imagining all those lovely summer days where I could paint for hours. The light was perfect. 'I won!' I said.
'Congratulations!' I heard a voice.
I slowly turned, expecting some kind of Beth's retaliation for taking the only priced possession of this house, but there was no one around me.
I climbed down the creaky stairs wondering did we have enough money to invest in all the repairs this house will need with the fist rain. I found Beth in the kitchen, laughing so hard her eyes were watering. 'Oh, stop it.' She waved her hand. 'Now, a Byron's song.'
Suddenly, there was a voice coming...from somewhere, reciting Byron's She Walks in Beauty. My hand was inching closer to the kitchen knife and by the time the song was over I was ready to pounce. But still, no body showed up. There was me, Beth and the strange voice that oddly reminded me of my aunt Violet.
'What a beautiful song,' Beth sighed, turning her dreamy eyes at me.
'Oh, he was a handsome devil,' the voice said and Beth burst laughing. When she finally paid attention she saw my hand gripping the knife.
'It's a smart house, Dana,' she made a face.
'Oh, well thank you, dear,' the voice said again.
'What do you mean?' I whispered.
Beth had again that look of slight disappointment with my mental capacity. 'It's a smart house, Dana,' she repeated like that would make me understand better this time, 'something like Josh has. You know – turn on the lights, lock up the doors, turn on the music thing.'
Sure, I knew what a smart house was but this thing was a ruin. I half expected it would simply collapse in one moment and take us down with it.
'Beth,' I started. I knew she became super angry when I turned up the volume on my analyzing self but this matter had to be addressed. 'The stairs need fixing, we literally have just two doors. I don't even want to think about the new windows we will need as soon as the winter starts. I don't think we have money to change the electronics once the 'smart' thing breaks.'
Beth, off course, didn't listen to a single word I said.
'This was the greatest bargain in the history of buying a house, Dana. Just look at this.' She pointed at the evening light entering trough the high windows. The house was truly beautiful, with high ceilings and vintage furniture.
'House, turn the light on, please.' She said and the chandeliers lit up. 'Close the doors, please.' The doors on the living room gently closed. 'Maybe open a window,' Beth smiled and one of the windows opened. It really looked cool.
Maybe this wasn't such a bad idea, and besides, I doubted that guy would return us the money. He looked like he was in a hurry.
'All right,' I said, watching how Beth's face lit but, 'but I take the room with the balcony!'
Beth opened her moth to protest but decided against it. Instead, she smacked a kiss on my cheek and scampered upstairs to unpack.
I poured myself a glass of wine and sat in one of the vintage chairs, inhaling the scent of the polished floor and woodwork.
'Close the window,' I said. It was already twilight and it was getting colder.
Nothing happened. I guessed it was because of my accent. 'House, close the window.' I spoke slowly.
'Close it yourself!' The voice said.
'What?' I gasped, almost dropping my glass.
'You didn't say please!' The voice said again.
I slowly stood up, feeling shivers down my spine.
'That Brian boy was also rude like you and he didn't last that long after the incident.'
'The incident?' I cried.
The voice chuckled.
'Beth!' I cried. 'Beth!'
I ran for the door but the slammed in my face. 'Go ahead and tell her, but she'll never believe you. No one will believe you!' The voice chuckled again and started humming some strange melody.
If you liked this, you can check out more stories at r/CrystalElmTales | 2019-09-25T13:00:31 | 2019-09-25T12:06:26 | 280 | 113 |
[WP] You are an immortal that got sentenced to permanent burial over 1000 years ago. Today a team of archaeologists just dug you up. | I high fived the archaeologist that dug up and opened my coffin. She was looking at me with a mouth open so wide it looked like she was having a hard time breathing.
"I've been there, girl. I ran out of oxygen nine hundred and ninety nine years, three hundred and sixty four day, and sixteen hours ago."
She screamed so loud that it felt like someone was stabbing my eardrum.
"Whoa hey I'm sorry. Do people not high five anymore? That was big when I went under."
More screams came from all around me. I looked past the girl to see a team of what appeared to be experts scrambling up out of the dig site and running as fast as they could away from me.
"Well, I've made worse entrances," I said to myself. Everyone else was driving away now.
Except their engines didn't sound right and the designs of the cars were very different from what I remembered. Suddenly one shot up into the sky and zoomed through the air. Getting as far from me as possible.
"Hell yeah! There's flying cars now? Man this future is gonna be awesome!"
I walked over to a pickaxe that had been dropped in the fleeing and held it in my hands. Its wooden handle was rough, and so very different. So very strange.
I looked back at the coffin I was trapped inside of.
Smooth black stone. Strange, I had forgotten its color so long ago. Right inside of it was the watch they had put in with me so i could always know just how long I had missed. Amazing technology to have run this long.
I smashed it with the pickaxe. The stupid little piece of metal and leather broke with the most satisfying, most beautiful, most harmonious sound I'd have ever heard in my life.
And the sound of the pickaxe breaking apart that damn stone coffin? Why I felt like a monkey in a banana farm.
After a good long hour or so of destruction i threw the pickaxe down and marveled at my strength.
I knew i was immortal but to have lied still for a thousand years with the slightest atrophy? My goodness Dr. Havershem was amazing. But she'd probably be dead by now. Unless she had managed to use the God-serum on herself before the catholic church stopped us.
"Well," I said to myself and the broken rocks, "only one way to find out."
And so I walked, wondering where the hell I would find any information on the old doc. | I gave a terrific wheeze as I stepped out of the tomb, the joints in my feet giving loud cracks, my shoulders heavy and aching.
Five humans, scattered in a circle, blood seeping out of their orifices, leaving trickles of crimson on the earthy ground. The antechamber had been all but mutilated in the effort to excise whatever the tomb held.
At once, I didn't know what they intended to find within my eternal casket. Riches? Fame? Wealth? Power? I once had all four, to their credit. I stepped over the corpses, the skin on my soles gossamer and easily-bruised. The cut talons on my feet still scraped against the hard earth, giving a shrill shriek with every minute drag of my leg. I paused, at the middle of the makeshift circle, surveying the scene intently.
*Five broken bodies, five bloody knives, and, oh? One charred piece of...*
I bent down, feeling my vertebrae rearrange like the picks of a lock, and picked up the burnt relic at the convergence of each streak of blood. I held it in my palm, and my eyes widened.
*True Amber? But, how? How did humans find it? To somehow discover it outside of the Underworld is a feat, yes, a feat.*
It had been one-thousand years since the shackles had been fastened to my ankles and my wrists, the chain wrapped around my neck like a noose. My talons had been snapped with the sharp slice of a sword, my wings tied to my back. I had struggled and struggled, but through True Amber, the very last piece of True Amber on Earth, I had been sealed. With only that substance could I ever be brought back from my eternal slumber, no matter how powerful I grew underneath the slabs of stone that made up my resting place, absorbing the energies of the world as I perceived war, disaster, famine, and societal strife.
I made my way to the front of the chamber, where several urns, full of God knows what.
*They willingly released me, no? This was no trick of fate, no accident. It appears that my name hath been discovered once more.*
With a quick gesture I unfurled my wings, spreading them out in the spacious entrance, and shattered each urn with a swift strike, which left black, glossy, feathers scattered through the air.
*They hath discovered my name, and hath discovered my element. To whom do I owe this pleasure?*
The ravens which exited the urns in hordes wrapped themselves up in my wings and around my paper-thin skin until every inch of me, save for my face, was covered in a rock-like armor of feathers and spines. My newfound talons extended, making clear indents in the ground in front of me. For the first time in a thousand years, I felt alive.
I walked out under the curtain of stars, the faint light of fire in the distance illuminating an army of men, who prostrated themselves before me.
"Their lives for yours, our lives for yours." they chanted. "We prostrated ourselves before you, King of Kings, Lord Malphas."
I looked out into the distance, where what I believed was the Gate of Hell sent fire into the night sky.
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/bluelizardK | 2019-10-25T23:42:25 | 2019-10-25T22:02:41 | 285 | 189 |
[WP] You are an immortal that got sentenced to permanent burial over 1000 years ago. Today a team of archaeologists just dug you up. | Most people don't consider the small problems that come with immortality. It's always about how you'll end up knowing so much, or that you're pretty much guaranteed that you'll end up buried alive, but nobody really thinks about the annoying stuff.
Sure, being buried alive sucks and you run out of ways to amuse yourself after a few short decades, but the worst thing you have to deal with isn't watching years go by with nothing but your thoughts.
The worst part, the most annoying thing, is when you finally escape.
The people who dug me up seem to be some kind of scholars. It looks like they're writing down notes on everything they find and they're using some kind of complex machine to catalog everything.
The advancements in the sciences that you've missed is the first big annoyance. From what I can gather, they've managed to harness lightning in some fashion and combined that with very tiny mechanical pieces similar to what I read of Archimedes' work. The metallurgy seems heavily advanced from what I knew as well.
The next big annoyance is the absolute worst - languages. No one seems to speak any of the languages I know except for one man who speaks something that sounds like the uneducated dialects spoken in a pauper's district. I can only understand every third word or so, but we've been making progress.
The last big annoyance is the only one that I derive any sort of pleasure from. As they begin to realize what I am, they always have the same reaction of wanting to study me so that they can become what I am.
The horror on their faces as they realize just how far from human I have become is the only good thing about all of this. | **Professor!**
Yes, what is it, my student?
**I think I found something, but I can't quite tell what it is.**
Well, let's have a look here... Oh, my. This... this is interesting. Do you see these markings?
**Those odd squiggles?**
Yes. It's a language that has been dead for quite some time, but if I'm reading this correctly, what we have here is a tomb for an immortal being.
**Why would an immortal have a tomb?**
I don't know. Why does Dr. Pepper come in a bottle?
**Huh?**
Because his wife died.
**That doesn't make any sense.**
Said the guy who couldn't read these obvious squiggles.
**You've studied this stuff for forty years! I've been here a week and a half. How am I supposed to read a thousand year old language?**
Beats me. Anyhow, there's a plot twist, so brace yourself, Skippy--
**My name is Mark.**
Your name is not important. But this is... this immortal being has been sentenced to a permanent burial. That means we can't dig him up. We're basically looking at a *Raiders Of The Lost Ark* situation if we do.
**Oh.**
But.
**Oh?**
*Raiders Of The Lost Ark* made a lot of money.
**Oh!**
All right! Now you go away so I can get all the credit and the money.
**Oh...**
God, I hated that kid. I thought he'd never leave. Anyhow, it's time to meet the immortal. (opens coffin) Greetings oh wise one.
*Me? I'm immortal, not smart. Call me Mark.*
Another Mark?
*It's a common name, even a thousand years ago.*
I don't think that's true.
*You're gonna question the guy who was alive back then? Me? Mark?*
I've studied your people for years.
*I guess that makes you some kind of expert.*
Well... yes. That's what I went to school for.
*Trust me. Lots of guys named Mark all the way back in 2019.*
Yes, the future is now.
*Do we have flying cars yet?*
No.
*A cure for cancer?*
No.
*Sex robots?*
I mean... kind of?
*How so?*
They're just a microwave oven with a hole cut in the side.
*Can you rebury me?*
With pleasure!
**END SCENE** | 2019-10-26T00:08:22 | 2019-10-25T22:56:40 | 260 | 93 |
[WP] Humanity has merged into a single immortal consciousness. Everyone who has ever lived has become as one, a being of pure energy and infinite love, that shall last to the death of the universe and beyond. And they’re here to explain why they left you out. | Humanity has always wanted to be a part of something bigger, that's what I always heard from priests and shit growing up. Like, we *yearned* for more than our fleeting little mortal existences. And a year ago, humanity got its chance.
Unprecedented peace broke out across the world. Humans came together as one like never before, working to solve global and local issues for all. This increased cooperation also enabled humanity to pour money and labor into researching technology that would allow their newfound 'togetherness' to become much more literal.
And so it was that every human on the planet agreed to assimilate their souls into one immortal, all powerful being of pure kindness and enlightenment known as "The One".
Well, every human being except for me, that is.
Yeah, not gonna lie, being left out made me a little miffed. Rejection stings, and solitary living I'd been doing for the last year hadn't been too exciting. But today, The One showed up at my doorstep. I *knew* they'd come crawlin' back! What kind of eternal existence is it without Jimothy Hurfdinger?
"What can I do for ya, gentlemen? Err- Ladies? Genderless orb of pure light?" I asked, shielding my eyes as I spoke. There weren't enough sunglasses in the world to stop from being blinded by this stupid thing at this close distance.
"Jimothy," The One began, its voice a perfect, soothing balance of peace and harmony, "we hope we greet you well this day."
"Yeah, having a realllll grand time with me, myself, and I, but I *suppose* I could be convinced to join your little eternal club in paradise on Earth. *If* the price is right and-"
"Oh, we apologize for the misunderstanding," it interjected. "We are not here to recruit you. We stand by our seemingly cruel omission."
"What the hell, why? Tell me that at least, what's so bad about me that I alone got left out?"
"Well, you stole."
"Mhmm, *very* unique of me in human history to *steal* something."
"From children," The One continued.
"Well, maybe, occasionally... I... or frequently, maybe, but those cases were *mostly* more like 'teens' I'd say."
The One sighed. "Upon countless other occasions, you stole literal candy from literal babies, Jimothy."
"Oh. Yeah, that uh- that don't look great on my resume, I admit. But-"
“We can go through your full records, if you wish.” A enormous manilla folder, stuffed with paperwork until it reached half the height of my house appeared on my doorstep. The folder opened and pages began flipping without anyone touching them. “Let us see here. Ah, a prime example, mere weeks before humanities ascension in fact. You dumped your girlfriend because she decided to go to nursing school. You said, and we quote, ‘You wanna be a nurse to help others? Helping others is for suckers!”
“I… err, objection, your honor!”
“We are not in a courtroom, Jimothy.”
“Oh I know, that just sounded *really* shitty for me and I couldn’t think of anything else to say in my defense.”
"Indeed. Then there we're your *highly* unorthodox routines."
"What ‘routines’?"
"Biological routines."
"Biological? What? Spit it out!"
"Your *urination* routines, Mr. Hurfdinger."
My eyebrows arched in surprise. "Oh, that? I mean, I have a weak bladder, sometimes I had to take a leak in an alleyway or something, sue me!"
It paused for a long while, before adding, "And...?"
"And *occasionally* I might pee off a 20th story balcony without a thought or care for who might or might not be walking on the streets below."
The One glowed, the closest thing it could manage to smile. "There it is. You've answered your own query! Doesn't that feel wonderful?"
"Look, the balcony was conveniently located and variety is the spice of life and... ya know what, whatever! You didn't let me into your little 'eternal life club'. You've made your decision crystal clear. I don't need to hear anymore, so why the hell are you still at my house?"
"We're wondering, if you might consider... leaving the neighborhood, as it were."
I stared at it, dumbfounded. "Huh? What neighborhood?"
"Earth, we'd like you to leave *Earth," it said as if making a perfectly normal and rational request.* "The planet is now at peace. We are in harmony with all of nature, except for this miserable little patch of land you call a home. I'm sure even you'd agree, it's quite the bastion of chaos."
*Bastion of chaos?* What an insult! Yes, there were hundreds of beer bottles strewn around the lawn, but who else could they possibly hurt now? And sure, the tire fire I keep burning 24/7 for warmth is giving off more than its usual quantity of acrid choking smoke, but can they blame me for using an economical fuel source? Everyone on the planet abandoned their cars at once to 'ascend' into enlightenment. My supply of tires was limitless!
I scowled at my condescending 'neighbor'. "Well, I don't think I'm violating any homeowners association rules, so I'll catchya later... nerds!"
Satisfied with my epic and well constructed burn, I slammed the door and turned to the matter of payback.
After just a few minutes thought, I decided I'd do what any self respecting human being would do when spurned by a neighbor, lover, or all of humanity represented by a single orb of light. I'd let my lawn go to shit. I'd spread rumors about The One behind their back. Maybe leave some nasty comments on their social media pages from a fake account.
Wait... Do eternal orbs of ethereal light even *have* social media pages?
I opened my laptop and began browsing to find out. One Direction fan page? Nope. One World, One Stomach? Nah, that's some kinda food charity from the old days. Oh... there they are, several pages created for "The One".
Jesus Christ, even a being of pure enlightenment can't escape Facebook? Ha! Poor bastards. And that's not all, they had pages on every damn site imaginable. They were gonna make this *so* easy on me.
With a growing sense of contented enlightenment in my own being, I pulled up The One's Yelp page and prepared to write an *especially* dissatisfied review.
___
___
Thanks for reading! Many more stories live over on r/Ryter if you'd like to check out more of my writing 🙂 | "You know, you've always had it in you."
I unconciously looked up from my book. I did not see anything, not really, neither did I really hear anything it was more of a feeling, a sensation.
The floor of my flat was cold when my feet touched the ground. The floor had always been cold, it never bothered me. It bothered me even less, now that there was no one to be worried about it, about my well-being.
I made my way to the window and looked outside. Twilight had fallen upon the neighbourhood. No human sound to be heard. I stared at the trees for some time. No worries in sight, I was content.
"You've always had it in you." The voice seemed to come from the sofa now. I turned around. Empty.
My eyes fixated on the couchins. I was probably starting to loose my mind. Who wouldn't?
None the less - I did not want to sit back down on that thing. So I put the book aside and as I wanted to grab my jacket, again...
Uttering words of reasurrance, I closed the door behind me.
I went my usual round. Whenever I couldn't get out of my head these days I started to walk this route, pretending that everybody was still around. Pretending to hear the children laugh and scream as the drive along the bike course, pretending to hear other runners in the forest. Imagining coming back to the flat, visiting friends.
There was no-one. No one. But... I could not shake the feeling. Something.. Someone.. some... some...
You see, "normally" - whatever that ment these days - I would have gotten worried, or anxious; today however, it made me... curious... happy even. Expectantly happy. If there was another intelligent being around, I might not be alone. I did not care who or WHAT it was. I did not care if it had fur, or wings or fangs, was 20 feet tall or a hentai-kraken. They surely had stories to tell. I did not care if it was tiny or mean or wanted to harm me. Then at least I would have *somebody* to fight against, rather than just the obscure construct of fighting for hope or againt "the odds".
I clenched my teeth.
When everybody disappears all out of a sudden, when you just wake up one day, unable to find any human being around, leaving you searching and searching and searching for days you start wondering weather they every existed in the first place. Sometimes you wonder, weather you exist or if you are just a ghost, wandering the ruins of a former civilications. The world starts feeling like a panorama box, like an empty terrarium, a aquarium before any fish have been bought.
Another thing that you don't care about anymore is manners. It might be the last thing that kept me human, but who cares about that when they probably never existed in the first place.
I gathered my saliver to spit it out as I walked past the now empty bike tracks. Just a way of venting my frustration. I missed those children. Their joy had been so pure they...
Laughter.
I swallowed the liquid I had prepared to spit at the whole damn world.
Laughter. I HEARD laughter. Clearly this time. Clear laughter. Fathers chatting, children discussing the rules of their games.
The wind freshened up. Footsteps! A Jogger!
I wirrled around.
Nothing.
The birds that could been heard everywere had seized their singing for a moment, just to slowly begin again, here and there, a single bird, more, more. Soon everything seemed as it was before again. "Normal"
Do you know the feeling of someone walking behind you? Their piercing eyes on your back?
I turned around. Something had touched my shoulder, something clearly had touched my shoulder.
I turned around. A wave of warmth hit me. The smell of cinnamon on a december morning, the first rays of sunshine in spring, warm autumn afternoons and tea, the sensation of cool water hitting your warm skin when you jump into a lake on a hot summer day.
"You had it in you. You were born for this. You were never ment to be part of us."
I was silent, I did not respond. I didn't need to respond. They knew. They had left me and their bodies had all fallen dead at the same exact moment. They left me, and I always had known. I had known, that I wasn't just "lucky", that it wasn't an attack, that there was no illness taking them away or injury... or some supernatural being. They were not taken. They went. They left. THEY were the ones going away.
Why?
"I, we..." - it spoke, if it can be called that. The sound was reminisent of a song being stuck in your head, hearing every note. My ears started to warm, my eysight went blurred. Everything I saw seemed milky somehow.
"We, decided to become a collective of love"
"why..." -my thought went slow- "did" - as if they had been sedated "leave me.. fighting for their consciousness, trying to stay awake, "why..."
It knew... *they* knew. They could feel it. And I could feel their empathy, their sympathy, as if this collective of minds of souls would offer me their warmest, sad smile.
"We became a consciousness, a collection of lives, an entitiy filled with pure love and nothing else." It paused. "But we were human. The universe never intended for us to be pure happiness, that is not what our fabric was built for, that is not what we are."
My head felt like it was covered in bubble-wrap. I wished for the bird's song. For the eary silence on day X. I wished for me being alone. This... thing... they. It felt so warm, but I couldn't join, they kept me at bay, the pushed me away and their hands felt like burning irons, their palms leaving imprints, the firey sensation sticking to me like glue. Burning, slowly burning, before cooling down.
I could feel my body being torn apart and reaaranged, scars forming in the time of seconds. Ripped into pieces by their pushes, healed by their warm thoughts and good intentions - all in the span of seconds.
I wish they'd just let me die. I wished they'd let me return to my loneliness. I did not want to become part of them. I did not belong. I fundamentally could never belong to ....
"Now you get it." It smiled. My eyes were blind, I still looked up. I think, in that moment I had felt the *actual* sun's warmth for the last time.
"You are built differently, you are made differently. You were intended like this. We spent a lot of time to complete it." It tried to caress me, pet my cheeks, as a lover might do - but I was numb. My skin was unable to feel anything. Covered in apathy like a turtoise's shell.
"Humans are not ment to be as happy as we are. If we don't keep the balance, we might have cancelled our souls in the process." "We got something for you."
"Please just let me go." The thought was more so to myself, as it had been so often during my time here.
"You see..."
The world went dark. The voices fading
"...We needed somebody to hold the pain." | 2021-11-18T04:31:37 | 2020-10-17T23:37:17 | 537 | 13 |
[WP] The world's greatest villain and hero clearly like each other. His monologues when she's captured tend to turn to conversation, and she "accidentally" lets him escape arrest. While they're convinced they're enemies, his henchman and her sidekick are just trying to get them together already. | The Black Thief laughed. She had caught Major Magnificent again. "Fool! You fell for my trap again! This time you won't be able to stop me as I finally steal the Ruby Giant from the Museum of History!"
Major Magnificent had been tipped off that Black Thief was going to be murdering the mayor. Instead, he had walked into a booby trap. "Black! You know this won't hold me! I will stop you, you scoundrel!"
"Honestly, Major, when was the last time I captured you?" The hero struggled in the net hanging over the Black Thief's head. She changed her tone, "No, seriously? I'm sure that you got a new haircut."
The Major stopped struggling, "It's not too short? I just wanted something different, but I was worried it was drastic."
"No, no. It looks really good. I'm digging it." The Black Thief put her hand on her hip. " Actually, you should keep it this way. It makes your jaw look really good."
They smiled at each other for a bit before the realization hit.
"Not that I care or anything!"
"Your fiendish charms have no power over me!"
As the two argued, two hidden individuals were also arguing behind a pillar, away from sight.
"Oh, she's going to know it was me. I can't!" A young girl dressed in black whined.
"Well, fine! We'll just do this again next week and the week after and the week after. Aren't you tired of her spending all her times thinking of how to capture Major just to let him get away?!" A young man, dressed in white and gold spoke in an aggressive whisper. "And I'm tired of not actually fighting crime! He just keeps looking for her and getting 'trapped'. Ugh, I'm so over it!"
The young girl in black nodded her head. "I know you're right. I signed up to get rich, not waste my time catching meatheads." She shifted her eyes to her companion quickly, "No offense."
"Whatever, just do it now."
"And once I've collected the Ruby Giant, I'll be rich enough to own this city and you'll--whoa!" In the middle of the Black Thief's monologue, she was swept up in her own net. She struggled for a bit hanging next to Major Magnificent.
"Black! Are you ok?!" The Major clung to his net as he watched the villain swing from her net.
" Ow, I think I twisted my ankle. It's in a weird position. Oh, wait. That's better. But it still hurts." Black positioned herself to be more comfortable. Suddenly, she let out a roar. "BLACK ROSE! GET OUT HERE THIS INSTANCE, YOUNG LADY. I KNOW THIS IS YOUR DOING!"
A trembling Black Rose came out from her hiding place with her young male companion next to her. The Major gasped in shock. "Muscle Boy?!"
The young boy looked away, embarrassed, "I told you it's Muscle Man now. For, like, three weeks."
The Major lifted his palms, "Sorry. Sorry. My bad. Just in shock. What's going on here?"
Black gave a growl. "If you don't get me out, Rose, I swear you will regret it for the rest of your life."
Black Rose lifted her head, "We had to do this! We're leaving you locked in here overnight. Get together or get over each other!"
Muscle Man grabbed Black Rose and they both stomped away, locking a heavy door behind then.
The two hanging from the nets yelled at the younglings to come back. They both yelled obscenities and struggled until they grew tired.
After an hour of getting no where, both lay back panting. Major gave one final shake of his net which swung his net, bumping into Black.
"Oh! Sorry."
"It's fine."
Silence grew until finally....
"So, where did you get your haircut?" | The inside of the bank was quiet. Everyone watched the two figures standing in the center of the lobby, one dressed mostly in black, the other in a dazzling mix of white and gold.
"I just -- are you *sure* there's nothing you can do to, you know, move things along?" The tall figure was squinting at his sidekick, jaw tense.
The blonde drew herself up to her full height, still a full head and a half shorter than the man. "You know full well it's a passive power, K. It happens when it needs to, and I just sit back and enjoy the ride."
The man raised his chin towards the fluorescent lights, allowing the ebon cowl to fall back from his head. "Yes, that's fine, but...is there nothing you can even do to *request* how it manifests? Like...a vault code, or a key ring, or -- honestly, just a pile of money would be fine."
Two of the tellers exchanged a look from behind the counter, eyebrows raised.
"Not so fast, Kaos!" A woman in a charcoal grey jumpsuit dropped from the ceiling, landing in a crouch before slowly drawing herself up to standing. She was some ten feet from the pair, her green eyes flashing as she stared at them.
"For the love of --" the man groaned. He turned to look at his sidekick. "Wildcard, is there something particularly *lucky* about being interrupted in our operation by this --"
He paused, frozen in the act of gesturing to the newcomer. "...hold on, *Nocturne*? Is that -- but since when are you a hero?"
The woman in grey brushed back a dark curl and grinned. "Honestly, I just got so sick of robbing museums. It's like -- there's only so many exhibitions of ancient relics to begin with, and...I dunno. The Cohort gives me benefits, and a stable income."
"What *is* the world coming to?" the man grinned. "Wildcard, you'd best stand behind me -- Nocturne here is likely to incapacitate you with her *mighty* shadow-powers."
Despite the irony emanating from her partner's voice, Wildcard retreated in a slow arc, backing away and placing Kaos between her and Nocturne. She stumbled, falling backwards, but the other two did not notice.
"I'm sorry, but am I sensing that *you* are trying to make fun of *my* powers? What hope do you have against me? Are you going to try to stab me with one of your Darts of Darkness or whatever?"
Kaos let out a laugh. "Oh, this is rich. First of all, it's called the *Dark Lance*, and it's *more* than powerful enough to stop someone whose major ability is being able to move through shadows."
The young woman known as Wildcard righted herself, then looked around. She discovered she had stumbled over the foot of someone crouched behind a ficus. As she checked to see who it was, her flint-colored eyes widened. "Whisper?"
"Not so loud!" the hidden figure hissed. "I don't want him to know it's me."
Sirens were audible in the distance, the distinct wail drawing nearer.
"Wait, you know him?"
"Yeah...you could say that."
The sound of the sirens climaxed, then went silent. The interior of the lobby was strobed with red and blue lights. Nocturne spoke: "That is the. Most. Absurd. Thing. I have ever heard. You would not have lasted five *seconds* with Mason."
Kaos shook his head. "Okay, we're going to settle this. I didn't expect this to be how things were going to go, but you have the absolutely *delusional* notion that your power is better than mine, and I'm going to show you how wrong you are."
He threw out a hand and knocked back the group of police that had been surreptitiously approaching the entrance to the bank. They struggled against the jet black tendrils that restrained them.
"Fine by me," Nocturne said, her gaze flicking over the form of her opponent. "Look, it's clear from those bulges under your uniform that you've got me beat in terms of strength -- but that won't matter. You can't touch me. And I don't mean that as a metaphor; literally, you will not be able to touch me."
Kaos began pushing back his sleeves. "I hate to mess up a face as radiant as yours, but, you know, I am a villain, so..."
The two began to clash in the center of the room, ebon waves radiating from their bodies as they did so. | 2020-11-06T23:44:22 | 2020-11-06T21:49:15 | 1,971 | 82 |
[WP] For decades you've worked as a superhero protecting the city and its people. Your powers have been slowly killing you for years but you kept being a hero much to your doctor's protest. The citizens are starting to take notice. | The Supreme Squeeze stood there, towering over Ultraman. He savored the moment, every second of glorious victory.
"Any last words, hero?" The Squeeze gloated, a sneer twisting his dry lips.
"Justice... Will prevail." He spat out some blood as he struggled to push himself up from his prone position. His arms wobbled in exertion. Just as he was about to get up, the Squeeze gave him a savage kick to the ribs.
Ultraman tumbled across the asphalt and lay in a heap, twitching in agony.
"Look at you. You're pathetic. You've lost your touch, 'Hero'." The Squeeze made air quotation marks. "You are no more than a bum in spandex now. Just give up. Your superstrength, your powers, they're gone. Doesn't take a genius to realize that. Why go through all the trouble? You don't owe these people anything. You bust your ass, come home black and blue and for what? All you get is some fat cop taking the credit and calling you a menace in a rubber suit. I just don't get it." The villain sighed exaggeratedly and shook his head.
"...must protect... Never about.. Recognition. You'll... never get it." Ultraman croaked out, in between wheezes and gasps for air as his lungs fought against his collapsed ribs.
The Squeeze clucked his tongue and feigned pity. "Tell you what. You crawl up to me, prostrate yourself and kiss my boots, and just maybe, I let you limp on back to momma." At that, the villain let out a low sadistic laugh.
"Never. Justice will prevail." He got to his feet after being down for the 20th time this fight, his body wracked with cuts, burns, and bruises. He swayed on his feet like a reed in the winds, but he was standing yet again. Somehow, some way.
The Squeeze's vein bulged in abject irritation. Nothing infuriated him more than idealistic idiots. Worse, idealistic idiots that didn't know when to quit.
Enough playing around, it was time to end this.
The Squeeze walked forward to finish off Ultraman, when suddenly, from all around him, the crowd that had gathered to watch the hero and villain fight rushed in. Mortal beings with no powers, just like the now degenerated Ultraman, moved in front of him, forming a defensive wall of men and women.
The fear in their eyes was palpable, and yet there they stood.
"U-ultraman. We're with you!!" One man shouted from the mob.
"Don't give up Ultraman! We believe in you!" A woman shouted, her voice hoarse. They had been cheering him on the entire fight.
"Justice will prevail!" a boy parroted the hero's catchphrase.
Ultraman stopped wobbling, and planted his feet firmly on the ground. A small smile spread across his lips, and tears edged out the corners of his eyes.
Then- he held up a fist in the air. "Everyone... Thank you."
He felt his power surge from within, momentarily overcoming his affliction. The sight of everyone protecting him with their bodies primed a switch in him.
Seeing the Squeeze knock a few of them to the side like bowling pins flipped it.
"Everyone, clear out the way. I'm here now." Ultraman said calmly, his voice now much more powerful than before.
The Squeeze looked at him, wide eyed. He felt the raw surge in power.
"But how?? The virus should have rendered you no more powerful than a mewling kitten!"
Ultraman sprinted up to him in a flash, and landed a superman punch straight into the villain's chest, sending him flying several feet in the air.
"Justice... Always... Prevails." his last surge dissipated from him, and he fell in a crumpled heap.
...
He awoke shortly after, and found himself in a hospital room, surrounded by civilians and fans. Some of them in crutches, holding the wounds they sustained protecting him with pride.
"Thank you." He repeated again, before his eyes fluttered shut again, never to reopen.
...
Thousands came out to his funeral.
"The real mark of heroism- is when you step up to do the right thing, superpower or no. To be a hero is to face down villains 10 times your strength and power level, if only to buy time for the innocent to evacuate. This is how justice prevails." The priest read a snippet from Ultraman's private journal released by his parents to a tearful audience. Then read his last will and testament. "I leave all my worldly possessions to fund the construction of a public hero academy for underserved Powered children and adults."
The people saw Ultraman fighting hard each and every day for them, despite his growing physical weakness, despite the media slander. Despite that eventually, he was but a man facing Gods. It was only natural that they sacrificed in turn when the time came. The world lost a hero that day, but his actions inspired a new generation to take his place- whether powered or not. | “Today’s the day you fall PileDriver!” I screamed at the woman standing on the street above.
“Looks like you’ve fallen for me already darling.” The woman cackled at the edge of the hole she had just tossed me into and aimed her weapon at me in the hole.
“Time to die BeastMaster!” Her weapon launched a blast of liquid concrete into the hole.
The world turned to slow motion, I saw the massive glob of concrete splash into the hole and start to spread out. The wave of dusty grey slid over the cracks in the floor never stopping momentum. Before the sludge could touch my feet, I transformed.
Thick bony horns gre painfully from my skull bursting from my temples, my legs collapsed in on themselves becoming thinner and thinner until I felt myself standing on two sticks connected to small black hooves. The palms of my hands turned to one giant callus as my nails thickened and turned black. The deep V in the front of my costume filled with scruffy white hair as long as my fingers.
I was still breathing heavily from the stress of the transformation when I felt the cold touch of the liquid cement against my hooves. I jumped to the wall, somehow finding purchase in the sheer walls of a hole with the bottoms of my feet. I scrambled my way out of the hole standing across it as the PileDriver’s weapon stopped, the last drops of the cement falling between her brown and grey work boots. I looked at her, shifting my facial feature to that of cat, catchphrase already on the tip of my tongue.
“Looks like you let the cat out of the-” PileDriver cut me off by launching a barrage of 5 inch nails in my direction. My goat legs carried me out of the way of the nails. They hit the ground where I had been standing, sticking out at a 45 degree angle from the street.
My legs burned as they transformed into a feline shape to match my face. I started to sprint around the hole as fast of my cheetah legs would carry me, the sudden switch in speed throwing off the PileDriver’s aim even more.
My palms itched as the thick callus melted away and my nails extended into razor sharp claws. I reached the PileDriver just as she leveled her giant weapon at me.
“Bye-Bye BeastMaster.”
She pulled the trigger and pressurized water shot out this time, and I ducked just a little late as the water sliced a line down my back. I let out a lions roar of pain but didn’t stop closing the distance. I ran straight to her, my fearless charge made her hesitate for just an instant but that was all I needed. I slid around her while she tried to move with her oversized weapon and slashed her ankles with my claws. I felt the achilles tendon of her left foot slice apart, she took a step and fell to the ground, the weapon toppling over the side of the hole to land with a clunky squelch in rapidly drying concrete.
The police emerged from their hiding places after it was clear PileDriver wasn’t getting back up. Captain Klark walked up to me after Piledriver hand been handcuffed and put in a police car after being looked at by a medic.
“PileDriver almost got you today old man.” I looked down at the older man, his large gut and salt and pepper beard jiggling as he laughed at his own comment. He reached out a hand to shake and I put mine forward.
“Ah shit.” He looked at the red well up on his tanned hairy arm. The claws on my hand had cut him, a small red cat scratch just above his right wrist. I had to concentrate hard to will my hand back to being human.
“Sorry about that Captain.” Is what I tried to say but all that came out was the purr of a cheetah. I shook my head, and tried to speak again but it was just more cat noises. I let out a hiss in frustration. I focused and undid all of the animal transformations I had active at the time. I gasped as the sensation of being fully human struck me.
“You ok their chief? You look like you’re about to collapse. Did the pile driver get a good one on you?”
“I think I’m ok.” I said tentatively, hoping my voice worked now. I felt tired, and beat up.
The police captain eyed me suspiciously.
“Ya know, now that I think about it.” He paused leveling his gaze into my eyes. “PileDriver is C-tier villain, im surprised it took that much effort. You weren’t moving like you usually do, well at least until the end there.” He glanced at the car that held PileDriver. “That was a pretty sweet move you pulled to take her down.”
I smiled and nodded not trusting my voice again. Could this be the side effect Dr.Dockter had warned me about all those years ago? He told me the transformations used some kind of energy metahumans produced inherently but as I aged I would make less and less naturally.
I hadn’t believed him and even still I was skeptic. I decided that I was just tired and needed to get home to rest and recuperate. The Den wasn’t too far if I flew, I could get home quickly and sleep it off.
“Untill you need me again Captian.” I saluted him and took a few running steps before launching myself into the air growing wings to take to the sky.
Except I fell face first back down onto the pavement. I heard taunts and laughs from the crowd as I stood back up. I’d never had to focus this hard to manifest my animal abilities. I concentrated and felt heat build on my shoulder blades, there were cracking sounds and I felt the wings push through my skin and costume. This time I did not fall back down when I took off. I made it back to my Den and immediately collapsed in my bed, letting sleep overtake me. | 2021-02-18T10:23:34 | 2021-02-18T07:50:09 | 68 | 28 |
[WP] Turns out hell is real. This was made known once demons and devils came to Earth. However things quickly got awkward and confusing once people heard them mutter, "If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | "So..." My devil supervisor glanced up from the paperwork and looked at me. I nodded enthusiastically.
"You were sent to Earth to spread evil and go against the word of god..."
"Yup, that was my project"
"And...Not going to lie, I am a bit confused here. According to the report you submitted, you taught humans to make flying cars, floating fars, how to fix the ozone layer and even stopped the nuclear war!"
I shivered remembering the supposed world leaders who pissed themselves as soon as they saw me.
"It was a smelly business but the method was very effective."
The supervisor put down my report and pushed up her glasses.
"I failed to understand how this is spreading evil and going against the word of god."
I sighed, of course these ancient beings fail to see the brilliance of my project.
"You see, for the past one hundred years, god has been absent. The Earth was polluted, people were tortured, there was famine, war and disease."
The supervisor nodded. I smiled.
"God was doing our job better than us. So I decided to take his job. If you go to the last page of my report..."
She flipped to the last page. I could see her jaw drop.
"They made a church for you!" I smiled.
"Not only that, we tore down every normal religious building there and made strip clubs with human rights. Now that's what I call spreading evil."
The supervisor finally grinned after an hour of confusion. She took the stamp of approval. "You passed."
(First time post, all criticism is welcomed) | Korgan guarded the infenal gates with his associate Ortpk he has for millennia. For once though, as the Horned figure gazed out into the landscape of dilapidated castles and twisted mockeries of the surface's cathedrals he kept thinking of the comment that last mortal he processed made. "Can't be too bad, hell is what you make with it after all", makes sense the only ones who don't break down crying realizing where they are spending the rest of eternity are those who can hold onto a shread of optimism. But that statement really made the Demon ponder... "Why does it have to be this way?"
"Ortpk," he said with a snarl "Why are we doing this?"
In his raspy voice Ortpk responded "What? Giving the new bloods a hard time to acclimate them to the pecking order is how we've always done this."
"Why are we prolonging that order though?" Reasoned Korgan "Why must we be squabbling over such a squalid wasteland?"
Ortpk balked "This is hell isn't it? The bad place, the land of the damned."
Korgan, perhaps for the first time since he drew breath on the surface was fueled with righteous anger "Why should we torture our own? If he'll is just the absent of the Almighty Bastard's love than why shouldn't we love each other in his stead?"
At that a 40 or so year old new arrival stepped through the gates. Korgan saw the same cycle repeat once more. The man panicking that this can't be real while Ortpk with pitchfork pointed begins the "Abandon all hope" routine but Korgan decided to try something new.
"Mortal, what did you do on the surface?"
The new arrival stammered "I-I was a Civil Engineer"
Korgan, trying to keep his voice level for once kneeled down to meet the new arrival eye to eye "Can you help direct me how to build this place better? We can use the gates to see what can be done on the surface as well..."
The new arrival balked "What you want to conquer the land of the living?"
For once in a long, long time Korgan laughed before outstretching his clawed hand "Conquer? If Heaven won't fix this shit hole, we might as well do it ourselves." | 2021-04-29T21:46:53 | 2021-04-29T20:19:13 | 66 | 37 |
[WP] Time travel is real and as a result so are Time Cops. You’ve been in the organization for years, one day a coworker tells you that a prisoner will only talk to you. You enter the Interrogation room to see an older version of yourself. | We stepped off the platform while the suspect puked over the grated floor. A low grade Gambler, the type whose temporal fingerprints would glow if you could see them. I checked my internal comms device while we waited for our suspect to finish. Nothing but a few birthdays and lost stapler.
"Wipe that shit off your face and come on," Fleming said as he lit a cigarette. I glanced at the "No Smoking Near Transports" sign and sighed. In the five or so years I've worked with Fleming, I've learned there are only two rules he followed. First was to never look up the date of your death. In our line of work it was usually inaccurate, anyway. Second was always take a partner when traveling through time. All other rules were optional.
We led the suspect out of the Temporal Transport Chamber through the corridors to Central Booking. The scrawny man we'd nabbed from back in 2016 nervously fidgeted with his handcuffs as he observed the booth he'd been strapped into.
"What is this?" he asked between sniffles.
"Nothing," I said. "Just getting your bios. Don't move or it'll hurt worse."
I put my thumb down to start the booking machine, but it wouldn't cooperate.
"Damn thing is so sensitive."
"Let me do it," Fleming said, pushing me aside. He put his thumb on the keypad, and the machine, which looked quite similar to a claw game from a 21st century bowling alley, came to life. It lowered an array of scanners over the suspect's head and took several seconds of measurements. The suspect yelped.
"It's just a prick, prick." Fleming loved that line. "Alright, let's see what we got here."
*Date: May 21, 2142*
*Suspect Name: ???*
*Suspect Origin: ???*
*Suspect Age: 32 years, 6 months, and 14 days +/- 2 days*
*Suspect Blood Type: O+*
*Suspect Gender: Male*
....
"Goddammit," Fleming spat. "Just like you said. Fresh as a bean."
"Told you," I said. "Third one this week."
Fleming took a drag of his cigarette. "Well let's get him to Interrogation and see what's what."
We pulled the suspect out of the booking booth and led him down to Interrogation. We were assigned Room 16. There was the usual long table, with two chairs, one on either side, and a two-way mirror for monitoring and recording. We sat him down and unlocked his handcuffs. I took the chair while Fleming paced. Cigarette smoke trialed behind him.
"Depending on when you're from," Fleming began, nodding to the mirror, "a lot has changed in what we're allowed to do to folks in this room."
Fleming unclipped his interrogation kit from his belt and laid it on the table. I could see the suspect's shoulders trembling.
"Truth serums were outlawed a century ago. Torture is, as of now, anyway, off the table. However, I've never given much heed to little things like 'laws' and 'rights.' Now, I haven't used a truth serum in over a decade. Torture, however..."
There was a knock at the door.
"I'll get it," I said. Fleming continued his usual spiel while I stepped out to the hallway.
"Now the easiest thing to do first is..."
The door shut behind me, cutting me off from Fleming's questioning. The hallway was empty save for a few and the officer who had knocked on the door.
"Officer Teadon." The officer stated more than asked.
"That's me."
"I'm Sergeant Maybank. You're needed in Room 8."
"What for?"
Maybank checked both shoulders before he bringing his voice low. "We have a suspect in Room 8 that is not cooperating with our... usual questions... and only says one thing. 'Let me speak with Officer Brian Teadon.'"
"Who's the suspect?"
"We don't know."
Usually suspects who asked for specific officers were trouble. They felt they had an in with someone, built rapport during a prior interaction. This was one of the reasons for the strict rule that officers never arrest the same person twice if it could be helped. The fact that it was someone fresh, that they weren't already in our system, was unusual.
"Well I'm in the middle of an interrogation so I can come by afterwards and-"
"No," he interrupted. "This is actually a pretty serious case. This is not a request." He pointed a finger to the ceiling.
"Shit," I said. I hated dealing with the bureaucrats. "Why wasn't this on my comms?"
Maybank shrugged.
I sent Fleming a buzz that I was being pulled off on some shit errand and that I'd be back in a bit. We walked down the hall and around the corner to Room 8. When the door opened, I saw the same set up that I had just left. A long table with two chairs, one on each side, and a two-way mirror along the side wall. The suspect had his head down, tucked between his hands that were stretched out on the table, still cuffed.
"You've got ten minutes," Maybank said. The door closed behind me, followed by the click of the electronic lock.
\---------
Splitting for character limit | “Well look what the cat dragged in.”
“Oh hush.”
Steven quickly closed the airlock.
“How in the hell are you even here?”
“Hey man, I’m just here to give you something.”
“No no no I'm not going to go down a paradox and fill out the multitude of paperwork that it's going to take to get you back on your way. You’re going to jail ok and-
“Whoa whoa, it's about Daisy! Why don’t you chill out!”
“Oh-“ Steven sat down and looked over at the see-through wall. He looked down at his arm monitor to check if anyone was in the room on the scheduling. No-one was.
“Alright, so you’re here to give me-
“dating advice”
“Yes.”
“Oh come one are you serious? Am I really this haphazard in the future?”
“Don’t you care about her ?”
“Well, Yes.”
“Then hear me out.”
“Wait a minute, you do know that coming here and trying to help me date her is going against the official timeline right?”
“Yes. But you don’t know that she’s going to break up with E.”
“Hmmm”
“Yeah”
“So you're just here to make sure I get to her before a certain time? That's even more pointless.”
“She transfers out man. Then moves six galaxies away.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.”
“Well, she can always message me then.”
“Then she gets a Ritchom parasite and loses the ability to love.”
“This is starting to get ridiculous. Plus those don’t even latch on to humans in the first place.”
He laid back in his chair.
“You're just going to lose out man.”
“Why are you acting so chill if it's this important?”
“You already end up with Daisy man, I can be chill because it doesn't matter what I do she still finds her way back to you. ”
“You’re joking.”
“Yup. I'm just here to be here. I met another one of you and then all this happened.”
“So you came here to tell me to get with daisy before she breaks up with E, then goes and gets a parasite that makes her lose the ability to love, just to come back with me?
“Correct”
Then why go back in time?
“Never said they weren’t other problems, even when someone is attracted to you without an ability to love to justify it. You’re part of a bigger picture. I'm just here to lighten the load.”
“What?”
“20 years from now relationships are going to look entirely different because of all of those things.” He laughed to himself.
“You think relationships are hard to gauge now, wait till you find out what it's like to the offspring of people without love.
“Geez, man. What makes me so optimistic?”
“ I lost my own capability to feel fear.”
“Huh.” He pulled out his gun,
"So you're fine if I use this on you."
“Yup.”
It was awkward while he put the gun back in his holster, wasn't even a good threat.
“This is crazy.”
“I live in a future that is pretty chaotic but somehow more fulfilling. I came here to be nostalgic. I also want to help you with advice.”
“What?”
“Don’t think so much about the details or the procedures. Life is a bit more complicated than the stress about any particular fact or truth. Perversion isn’t just a sexual thing. It can be a transformative icon in an apparently futile society. It's ok to stray from the path of life to create a new type of it.”
“Now your not making any sense.”
“You and Daisy have kids. Beautiful kids.”
“What?”
“Martha and Wendell” he lifted up a picture of them. They are the brightest people in their species, our species."
“The human race?”
“The alpha human race. Another legacy forming from the emotionless. Some think of a chemical imbalance as a bad thing in your world. But in this one 10 years from now, it's a part of a different galaxy. Some people are completely just one emotion. Others are completely not. All of the abstract nature of it will make more sense than to.”
He was silent in thought.
“Now second, always keep an eye on your gun.”
He said raising it up at him. Steven’s heart stopped, would he kill himself? A moment of clarity. A moment of danger hit him uniquely. It was kinda refreshing. The corporation never allowed you to use your weapon which made sense, but because of that, it gathered dust. He didn’t have any sort of criminals to interrogate anyway, so it was getting more use in his own hands than it ever did. What was the point of a gun anyway?
Luckily his copy moved it away to the wall and pulled the trigger, followed by a jolt and an explosion.
“Hey!” Steven yelled as his copy ran toward the hole and jumped out of it.
“Hey!” A vehicle flew up past the hole with him saved, hanging not the side of it. Daisy was at the helm, as beautiful as ever.
Steven smiled. He couldn’t believe that not only did he make sense to him, throughout that entire time. He was overjoyed, deep inside. He lied to himself to keep from feeling bad about the words that he would tell him. He’d felt bad about being a time cop for so long that even the job didn’t make sense. It seeped into things that he didn’t like and would often keep him up at night. The responsibility, the anxious attentive fear to not overstep the timeline, the forbidding of relationships by the organization, the lack of human to human interrogation that he found to be enlightening and educating that was now an A-I’s responsibility, and the solemn oath of celibacy.
A bell rings in the room as his coworker walked into the room.
“He made a good case to me. Told me about a lot.”
“Told me enough that I just understood. We have to go and make sure you meet Daisy at the space dock."
"Why?"
"She told me she wasn’t feeling well."
He did and told her the story, and like magic, she found a living purpose. His copy had lied to himself, there was a purpose, Daisy was about to kill herself after he told her everything it made all the sense in the world to her, and would put them on a quest for a rest away spot from what they would call home, looking for a parasite in Ritchom. | 2021-05-21T20:08:21 | 2021-05-21T18:45:46 | 73 | 29 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | The heavy lead door creaked open, 567 defence systems designed by super geniuses turned off with various clicks, hums and hisses as it did, each designed to contain a nuclear blast or cripple a being who could shrug off anti tank rounds, each one the prisoner within that dark knew intimately. He knew what this meant, quite frankly he wished this day would never arrive, the containment was as much for his protection as for everyone else, and already he could feel the tenuous grasp he held on his humanity slip between his fingers like sand. He merely hoped this would not take long.
"How many dead?" He asked simply, straight to the point, short of a global disaster there was no reason to open this accursed cell after all,
"Well over three hundred million and counting, we have lost large chunks of Europe and with each death the rate at which the devastation is occurring increases" The man outside said, his costume a mess of colours and sharp angles was not familiar, but that look in his eyes was, desperation raw and pure just like the faces of those who tried to save him from this fate so long ago now.
"I am sure you know what opening this box means." The man in the cell said, a pulse of energy rushing through the air as if to corroborate his words before being stopped by an invisible barrier
"I do." The hero said, steely resolve filled those words, something the man in the cell knew all too well from before he was this abomination, and it brought a rare smile to his face
"Tell me, who are you lad? I would like to know the man who is to give me my first taste of freedom in decades." The man in the cell asked, the hero blinked twice as if he was prepared for any question but this before answering,
"I am Kyle Brown, I am known as the hero Kaleidoscope and I make portals to anywhere they are needed, who are you may I ask?" Kaleidoscope said as a shimmering gateway to a desolated wasteland opened
"Me? I forgot long ago. I suppose it doesn't matter anymore. The last generation called me Damned, the one before Accursed, Blight was another fun one, but there was a time when I was Paragon, a hero who saved. But this ignore the reminiscing of an old man please, I have a job to do." The man in the cell replied in turn, turning around and stepping into that shimmering hole in reality
Somewhere between Europe and Asia a horde of monsters looked up in the sky and saw two suns. The man in the cell had ceased to be in the cell, and has in turn also ceased to be a man, his human form becoming dust in the wind just like it had done decades ago on his last day as a hero, the day a city died. There was no sound, nothing could wistand the wave of terrible radiation and carnage that the thing wrought. By the time the containment team arrived once more to retrieved the cursed man nothing remained but a burnt out husk in the rough shape of a human being, the first hero Paragon, at last at peace. | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T04:52:38 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 566 | 65 |
[WP] You are part of the league, the superheroes who save the world, yet you never go on missions. You are only called for one thing only. Total annihilation, for when they don't want survivors. | I sleep, in my casket of iron, awaiting the day that I am needed.
It has been like this for some time. How long, I do not know. But it doesn’t bother me, the cold and the dark and the loneliness. It suits me just fine. I remember the day when they first accepted me, however. Their “League of Justice and Protection.” I had been sleeping somewhere else, not unlike my current place; somewhere cold and dark and lonely. Until one day they found me. I didn’t need much convincing to join them; as a matter of fact, they merely just eased me out of the hole I was asleep in, placed me into a box of metal, and carried me off. I did not protest, for as far as I was concerned it was just a move into a different resting spot, and I was fine with that.
While they were carrying me, I heard voices. I didn’t understand what they were saying, nor did I care to know, but they sounded hurried. Excited. It’s been quite some time since I last heard voices.
But today that changed. I heard some sounds, footsteps, coming towards me and where I slept. There were new voices this time, but instead of them sounding excited it was much different. Solemn, somber.
I felt myself be lifted once again, my home jostling slightly. I stayed quiet, listening. Waiting to see what would happen. They put me into a new shell of iron - but this time, while it is cold and dark, I am lonely no more. Instead I am surrounded by a consort of strange machines and countless wires, all cramped into this tiny little casket. And while the buzzing and clicking was a bit annoying, I grew used to it. I tried to go back to sleep. But then there was a loud, thunderous roar, and that odd feeling of being carried. Except, it was growing; higher and higher and higher. All I could hear was the droning and the buzzing and the clicking and the roar of that unseen beast. What was happening? Where was I being taken?!
And then all at once, the roar stops. The feeling of height is suddenly replaced with the sensation of *falling.* I am scared. So scared. There’s a whistling, louder and louder and louder, until eventually it grows so loud that I cannot hear anything else but that sound. It pierces my mind - I can’t think of *anything* but that sound.
I hope wherever I am going, it is peaceful and quiet, and that I am disturbed no more.
—
*”We just got an urgent update folks, and it appears that the League of Justice and Protection has unexpectedly declared war on the entire human race. They released this statement to multiple different news stations and social media websites shortly after an unmarked aircraft dropped a thermonuclear bomb on New York City, with an estimate of 3.2 million casualties and counting. We have more news coming in the next 30 minutes, so stay tuned, folks.*
*...May God help us all.”* | Khan we need you... Said desperate Calypso.
Me, El Mayor, Thunderstrike and Kervan we... we could not do anything. They have thousands thousands of ships. Their fleet is ready to embark and conquer earth and we can’t stop them.
Khan stood up from the chair. Wearing his usual black drapes. His massive figure is on display. In ancient times they called him Atlas the Gods of old called him the pillar that holds the earth. A titan.
Khan leaves the ship with no word or thought.
He hates being the ender of worlds. He hates knowing that all the innocent people will have to die for their kinsmen’s irrationality and inability to prosper peacefully. Khan’s power is truly immense.
Khan swings his massive arm and opens a portal to his destination.
Reda as beautiful as ever. Reda was a beautiful planet with all types of imaginable vegetation and fauna. The native Redan’s are peaceful people who where conquered by the tyrannical Surenos... Khan was their leader. He conquered half the universe. When he came upon earth he saw that it was good. He stayed and vowed to protect it. So long that humans remain neutral in cosmic warefare. So long they do not do what he did.
War was coming to Earth and its starting point was Reda where all the forces of the surenos were stationed.
As Khan ingested the statuesque scenery he noticed a camp through the thick vegetation. As he approached he realised it was the Redan’s
I come in peace. I am here to save you. Though your planet will be ashes.
The Redan’s know Khan’s face after all you dont become the Khan of the universe and not be hated and recognised everywhere this side of the galaxy.
The Redan’s peaceful and smart knew that Khan was no longer a threat. He was a true king now. He did not lead by fear or power. He lead with inspiration.
Khan quickly opens a portal... Go. No time. They’re coming.
The last of the Redan’s, Khan maybe counted 50 in total. In his mind he thought A whole planet of people is left with only 50 natives because of my people because of what I indoctrinated into them. Fate is such... I began this and I shall end this.
Khan built up power in his massive powerful legs and jumped... Though it wasn’t a jump. He flew. He knew the highest peak in Reda is actually a nest. The natives called him Umburu. In eternal sleep the sky demon was entrapped in the mountain by Khan years before.
Khan flew straight into the mountain destroying it completely.
Demon. You are free. This planet is yours. You shall keep it preserved for when I return.
Instead of destroying the whole planet Khan decided to purify this world of evil. Demons are evil but fiercely protective of their habitat.
A deafening shriek and a flap of wings whuuump whuump and umburu was in the sky again. As soon as the demon was in the sky. Khan jumped again and flew well above the Demon. He wanted to see.
Umburu now nosediving straight for the fleet his eyes start to electrify !POOF! He sends a massive storm cloud that fired lightning with great power at every single ship. In minutes it was done. Thousands of oppressors killing thousands of innocents.
Am I any different now?
Am I still Khan the conqueror.
As the deed was done. The demon now taking his human form flies up to Khan.
Khan you freed me so I can kill your people?
I am no longer of that cloth. I do not crave to kill or conquer.
I want peace.
He falls into a portal back to his dwelling.
The pain Khan feels for the horror he has caused is immeasurable. He killed his entire race. He is the last. | 2021-05-26T04:32:48 | 2021-05-26T01:46:59 | 102 | 65 |
[WP] You are a secret agent searching for a criminal on the run. You've managed to track him down to one place, but you're questioning your life choices when you're forced to find him during a weekend long furry convention, while you're both in fursuits. | I'm a secret agent. If I told you my name, then I'd have to kill you. That's not a joke—my agency takes security *very* seriously. However, I can tell you the name that I'm using on this mission: Danny Dalmatian.
You see, we got a tip from a reliable source that the target would be attending InterFurEnce, a weekend convention for... shall we say, "animal enthusiasts." The higher-ups tapped me to go there, find him, and bring him in.
My coworkers thought that was was hilarious. I was less amused, although even I had to chuckle when I saw what I'd be wearing: a Dalmatian fursuit, complete with a wide-open smile (which, as it turns out, is actually where I see through). Still, I had to admit it was an effective disguise.
Still, aside from the... unusual... area of operations, this should have been a pretty routine mission. I'd done my research as if I were infiltrating a foreign country, so I knew the local customs and the dialect. I knew my target's face and his preferred costume, so I'd recognize him no matter where I found him. I was ready for anything.
I finally made it through security and entered the lobby of the convention building. I walked through slowly, taking my time. I knew the building layout by heart, of course, but now I carefully observed movement patterns, possible obstacles, and security positions.
"Hey, you look a bit lost. First time?"
Despite my extensive training, I jumped. All of the outlandish costumes must have been more distracting than I'd realized; the target had found *me,* while I was still trying to get my bearings. It didn't help that this mask restricted my vision to a narrow cone in front of me.
"Yes, actually," I replied with a chuckle. "Is it obvious?"
"Your first convention's always a bit much." He shrugged, the motion cartoonishly exaggerated by his fursuit. "But hey, we've all been there! I was just about to hit the vendor hall, you want to come with?"
This was simply too easy.
"I believe I'll take you up on that. Thank you."
We entered the vendor hall, and my target-turned-guide began to show me around. I knew enough to keep up my end of the conversation, but this man had the sort of expertise that could only come from a lifetime of passion for the subject, and he was only too happy to share what he knew.
Naturally, I started asking questions, playing the role of a fan at his first convention. Only... as we talked, my questions became less practical and more detailed. Soon I was off the topic of materials and crafting techniques, and onto the subject of people. I learned that many of the people here only felt truly free when they were confined in these costumes—they could only be themselves when they were pretending to be something else.
Even more unexpected, I found myself relating to those people. I was used to pretending to be other people, but I'd never been anyone quite so ridiculous as Danny Dalmatian before. I was a grown man walking around in an absurdly expensive dog suit; what did I have to lose by acting out a little?
I soon realized that, for the first time in as long as I could remember, I was happy.
I am a secret agent. I'm highly trained and very experienced. I had done my research. I was ready for anything.
Anything except this. | I stared down at the box, then back up to thr monitor, then down again. It was the eyes that freaked me out the worst, unblinking, filled with an expressive joy that was lifeless. "No." I never disobeyed orders, never fought back, but right now I was standing in a room full of some of the most advanced weapons in the world. Four stories down in a garage that was so reinforced it would give the Diefenbunker a run for its money was a collection of vehicles thay doubled as effectively tanks. I knew how to kill a man with just my bare hands at least three dozen ways, and had talked at least four into just doing it themselves. I was a top level agent, known for my skills in assassination as well as in recovery.
But this?
"It is the only place she will be alone 'Scotia. It's this or we lose her." He knew it was fucked up, he knew I was off put. He'd used the shortened version of my call sign, we were friends and I should trust him - that's what his tone said. "You've done worse, haven't you? Sewers, that time in an outhouse. And that secret brothel in Iran, the one with the -"
"Yes, I remember." Three feet of silicon. "I remember," I affirmed. "Does the suit at least have anything special?"
"I'm glad you asked Nova Scotia!"
. . . . . .
The drone of the KitFox STIs powerful Rotax 915i was cut as I brought the plane down gently in the field, hard on the brakes and came to a stop. People would have noticed the sleek black aircraft come down for sure, but if anyone wandered over to ask, it was a flying school training event. All the paper work was filed with Transport Canada of course, and they just would ignore it, as would the police and everyone else. I regarded the box in the rear with disdain before climbing out of the cockpit. A black F150 waited for me on the edge of the field, my ride from here on out. I'd need to change into it once we got moving.
Furries. There was a reason they were held in such disdain, and it was unfortunate that most of it was deserved. Not by the masses, no, as with any group it was the vocal minority that ruined it for everyone. Well, that and the simple fact that the average niche convention goer used nearly no deodorant or soap during the event. Even still, something about the suits was the worst, the feeling of mascots. I hated mascots as a kid. I had grown up to be one of the most effective, off the books, agents in the Canadian Secret Intelligsnce Service, a shadow that was more than happy to let hapless CIA agents and 00's get the fame and glory. Me and my brothers in arms actually got shit done. Looking at the brilliant grey and blue wolf head that stared back at me, I sighed heavily, shot the driver a dirty look, and put it on.
"You're looking for a pink ferret," he said, trying to sound serious. "She expected to be at an artists gallery in Hall D. Good luck Nova Scotia," he concluded as the truck slowed to a halt and i stepped out. The Edmonton EXPO centre was usually home to livestock sales and horse racing, and as I watched a particularly buff man walk past wearing horse legs and a horse head, I had to wonder if that wasn't all that different today. I hadn't even made it through the door before I have been 'glomped' and told how great my suit was. I hated physical contact. But it was the contents of Hall D that finally had me pause and question where I had gone wrong, what mistakes I had made along the way. Was being a highly paid agent worth it for thd contents of Hall D? As two ladies walked past in their animal dress with a similar reveal to the horse man from before, eyeing me up, and heading into the venue, I stared at the artwork that greeted me just last the door. Someone had known what they were doing when they'd placed this "gallery" in Hall D.
I'd already seen a Sixteen foot tall artistic rendering of two foxes with accurate members... it was time to see how bad the rest of this "yiff" was... | 2021-06-24T07:59:03 | 2021-06-24T07:39:54 | 61 | 22 |
[WP] Turns out, humans are better than aliens in every way: the next-largest race reaches our knees, our skin can shrug off high-caliber munitions, and Space Einstein has the mind of a nine year old child. Everyone is really frustrated when we keep refusing to get involved in anyone's affairs. | The hatch opened with a soft hiss and after the longest sleep of my life, I was finally onboard the *Eye of God*. I took a deep breath, not wanting to appear overwhelmed or weak in front of my new team. We had a mission, after all. They needed to respect me if we were going to work together.
It was so much bigger once I made it into the main body of the ship. The claustrophobia I’d felt upon waking up had been replaced with a sense of ease and lightness. It also helped that the *Eye* was actually intended for long term habitability, sitting as it was in a parking orbit high above the planet’s surface. The windows gave us a beautiful view of the world … wait.
I turned to the young engineer at my right, squinting to make out the unfamiliar name on his badge. “Crewmember, uh, Jayagoda. What kind of orbit are we sitting at?” His response was immediate, eager. “Approximately circular at an altitude of 1000 km with a 60 degree inclination relative to local magnetic north, SIR!” “No need to call me sir,” I corrected him. “Just Maxwell is fine. But why are we up so high? I thought the atmosphere was thin enough here that we could sit at 200 or so for a better view.” Jayagoda’s face went carefully blank, and he turned to a dark-haired woman who had been quietly leaning against a structural column.
“Alright,” she said, sticking out her hand for a decisively firm handshake. “I’m Marie Castro, acting advance team lead. Welcome aboard. I know you’ve been out of the loop for a while so I would like to let you know that there’s been a change of plans. We have a more extensive briefing planned in about twenty minutes, but I can get you up to speed now. Long story short - we’re not going down.”
Her calm words hit me like a g-punch to the chest. We weren’t going down? After nine years medically dead in a shoebox, she thought we *weren’t going down to the surface*? Bullshit. Every problem is a solvable problem. I tried to stay calm, fighting the toxic cocktail of fear and anger. More than an animal, I told myself. Be rational. “Wow, alright. That’s not what I was expecting.” Good leaders are candid, I told myself. “What’s the barrier, environment looking hostile down there?”
She bit her lip, the smallest crack showing in her self-assurance. “No, not at all. Low gravity, oxygen-rich, very little bacteria, it’s a paradise just like we thought. Let me pull up some images for you. Commander Maxwell, the locals that called us out here… they’re totally helpless. They’re not what we thought at all. That’s why we’re up at a thousand, so that our ship’s not so visible.”
I stood there stunned as she brought up a folder of images titled simply “Contact”. They started with the images that brought us out here — pictograms showing the galaxy, the relative positions of our stars, images of their strange lizard-like people, images of ours. A ship coming to the lizard-planet (that was us, now!) and sending radio waves to the surface. It was all intuitively understandable. They wanted to meet, they had the ability to communicate across stars, and they did so in a way that made sense to us.
“Okay, so that’s what you saw before coming here, right?” Castro said, tilting her head up at me. I nodded, waiting for what was next.
“Now look at what we received once we got here.”
The images started right where the last one ended. A lizard-person, standing on two legs, talking. It zoomed out, and out, until the lizard only filled perhaps a tenth of the screen. A human form faded into view, horrifically large. The lizard’s “talking bubble” expanded, as if to show an explanation to the human. A common image, like a tiny barbell. The lizard on the screen ate the barbell as I tried to count the number of dots on each atom, and right as I thought I’d gotten it, the ghostly lizard crumpled at the feet of the giant, motionless human, obviously dead. “They’re allergic to salt”, Castro deadpanned.
The images kept flashing, faster and faster. UV light from the sun? Dead lizard. A force diagram that appeared to show roughly 2x their planet’s gravity, or 1 earth g? Dead lizard. Minor laceration? Some kind of weird fruit? Too much water vapor in the air? Dead, dead, dead. The human stood there unmoved as the lizard resurrected itself. Castro pointed at the screen. “Now check this out.”
The lizard dragged something onto the screen - a cage full of other, smaller lizards. There was more, a box showing some rare earth (rare space?) element that I didn’t recognize but was probably radioactive, a fire-emitting weapon of some sort, a rabbit-like animal with its mouth lashed shut. The lizard laid all this at the feet of the human, and the human picked up the lizard in a glowing bubble of some sort. Then the salt returned on the screen, the water vapor, the fruit, and the lizards in the cage crumpled and died while the one in the bubble simply looked up at the human. I felt sick.
“Marie,” I said, all thoughts of professionalism gone, “they think we’re gods.” She nodded sadly, and for a second I could see the weight of the knowledge sitting in her eyes. “They want to be … strong, hardy, like we are, and they’d give us anything for that.” “Anything”, she echoed, “even their planet’s own children.” “Oh god”, I exhaled, understanding what that lizard-cage had meant. They’d give it all up for a chance to be like us. “Marie, what do we do?”
Her voice cracked as she said “I was hoping you’d tell us, Commander.” | Do you know what's some absolute space shit? When you get stranded out in the middle of space, without any way of getting back, and this cruiser comes into view, all slick and speedy. You get all happy, thinking you're about to be saved, but the fucking comms goes off, and you hear the translator starting up, only for your gut to drop out of you and flings out into space, just falling faster than my face does as a frown appears.
"Shit," I say, unable to hold back the absolute nightmare of this diplomatic fuck up that's about to happen. "Shit, shit, shit."
"SXUR83-0S?" The COMMS call out, and I scowl. "Of, fucking, course. Just my luck." I bang a hand against some part of the ship—the steering wheel, I think... Look, I'm mad, okay? You'd be too if you had to commit a space war crime just to save your ass.
"ARE YOU HUMAN?" The red letters blare across the screen feeds as the translator whirs down. I could blow myself up, you know. Just push the ten sequential buttons on my display panel. Like I should. Just slam a hand down on each one. If I live this, which right now I'm wondering if it'll be worth it, I'm going to give a piece of my mind to whoever thought making us press ten buttons to end our own lives was a good idea. "We need to make sure you're in a total and completely sane state, hence the ten buttons." What crock shit. What fucking sane state would I have to be in to say, "yeah, those murder buttons look really fucking appealing right now. Might as well press them all because fuck humanity, haha."
Shit. I really don't have any other options, do I?
"COMMS, signal back saying "yes."
**\[OVERRIDE\]** flares on the screens, and I fucking sigh real big and loud. Of course, those fucking nerds put this in. **\[UNABLE TO TRANSLATE. BREAKING LAWS 2:B AND 3:A OF INTERRACIAL COMMUNICATION AND EXTRATERRESTRIAL CONTACT\]**
Cool... Cool. Well, this piss poor plan somehow turned worse faster than I expected? Gotta think, gotta figure out how I can get past that talking mainframe. Laws say I can't contact aliens. Well, I technically didn't; they contacted me after all. Fucking human ships are the easiest to spot, you know. We got so many doo-dads on our ships that aliens, from what I've read in class, think we are like the space swiss army knives of ship-making! But they contacted me first, okay... okay, maybe I can work with that? Shit, but I still need to communicate with them. If only my life wasn't in danger, then I cou—Fuck you, Science! Er, well, I guess fuck you AI? Yeah, I'm going with that, fuck you, you thinking sand rocks!
Also, fuck you galactic law! Can't believe I have to deal with the shit my ancestors caused. Could you imagine that? We, humanity, became known as the most feared monsters in the galaxy. All because this one asshole tried to save his skin. Fuck that guy, am I right?
Turns out we are like walking, talking tanks to the rest of life out there. So some bigwigs figured it was better to hide ourselves away, making sure no one could find us in case these aliens have some crazy technical advancement, and, I don't know, make human-kill viruses? It got really MAD warfare hypothesizing real quick. And some of the geeks called being in a Dark Forest? Whatever the hell that means.
Anyways, first three laws of robotics, right? Can't endanger my ass, and I just got to explain it really carefully to the AI system, plus who gives a shit if I break the law out here. No one is coming out this way... I really hope. If they do, that AI is going to alert everyone of my communication with some bozo aliens, and then I'm going to be—huh, maybe I should just blow up the ship when I get off of it? I turn to the big red buttons and grin. Yeah, now that's a plan I can get behind, but first, I need to get out of this soon-to-be slag of hot metal and mistakes.
I explain to the AI, convincing it that I need *them* to need me so I can get out of there. After an hour of arguing, I win. Bite my fleshy human ass, dumb robot! Anyways, sends out the signal to the patiently waiting alien ship. It's been sitting there, kind of like a dumb golden retriever does when it sees its owner. Eh, or something like that, I don't know; haven't seen a dog in years. Dogs don't usually come up into space after that first one... Anyways, so it's sitting there, gets the communication, and I'm not kidding you; it lights up like a light deck. Thing is shining and twirling around like it's happy that I'm talking to it. Fuck it, sure, I think as I'm grabbing the translator, breaking it down, and building it back up so I can use it when it's not on this ship.
Works out, mind you, because they send another signal, and my little contraption translates it perfectly. And I groan. "HELP US; DEATH APPROACHES."
I exhale, blowing out a raspberry at the end of it. Can't catch a break, can I? So, gotta choose between death here on this ship, or... death by whatever is following this ship... *or* death by humanity because I broke our oh so sacred laws of not interacting with other aliens. I mean, come on! Just because we are like walking organic super-creatures doesn't mean we shouldn't interfere, right?.. Okay, don't answer that, but see, I'm fucking stuck, and I want to live. So sue me... No, please, really, sue me. I'd rather have that than those human death commandos that will absolutely come after me... Ah shit, I'm so fucked.
But I suit up and jump over to the other ship, letting them know I'll help. I'm seriously in such deep shit, but hey, I got nine of those buttons pressed down. The tenth one is on a remote control, and as soon as whatever this "death" thing approaches, I'm going to blow my space skimmer and show them what the hell humanity is about... Not blowing shit up, but being resourceful in times of need, y'know... Okay fuck it, it's blowing shit up, but I don't want my new weirdly slimy friends to know that! Ah fuck. I'm going to die, aren't I? | 2021-11-17T14:29:19 | 2021-11-17T08:40:32 | 178 | 124 |
[WP] You push your way through the party and clink a champagne glass, “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here at the end of the world. The last 24 hours of the apocalypse, after which the earth’s condition will trigger our safehouse, and prison, to self-destruct. I would like to make a toast.” | “Ladies and gentlemen, we gather here at the end of the world. The last 24 hours of the apocalypse, after which the earth’s condition will trigger our safehouse, and prison, to self-destruct. I would like to make a toast.” His smile reminded me a little of Leonardo DiCaprio in the Great Gatsby. There was something earnest about him, something pure. He had a jovial demeaner, even here and now.
I had the presence of mind to scan the faces of the last people I knew I would ever see. They were all looking at him adoringly. I recognized some of the faces, people from my college campus. People who had been my friends back when we were allowed to call ourselves friends.
Now we were a family. We were brothers and sisters under our God, and under the great Communicator.
We'd been preparing for this day for months. Today, we knew, a series of bombs were going off above us. The bunker was already shielding us from distant radiation from Houston, which had likely already been vaporized.
We weren't going to wait to die of exposure or starvation in the fallout. Our father would provide our escape. In only a few hours, the bunker would explode, and our souls and only our souls would ascend to the heavenly realm.
I was a little sad about that. Before I gave up my cell phone to the Communicator, my sister had begged me to come home every day, sending text after text, telling me I had lost my mind.
People just don't understand. Only he knows the truth, and we're blessed to share it with him.
I noticed as the Communicator took a drink from his glass that the music was getting louder. I wasn't really sure whether that was to cover the sound of the bombs above us, which I had not heard so far. But in my heart, I was beginning to suspect it was to prevent us from asking questions. | "There's no right or wrong way to feel about this," he continued, "We're literally about to die, all of us, every last man, woman, and child alive on our planet will meet their end in the same instant. Some of us have been dreaming about this moment since before The End began, some of us dread it up until now. As I said, there is no right or wrong way to feel about this, but know the reality... none of us lasts beyond the grains of sand in this hourglass."
He reached beneath the podium and produced an enormous elaborate hourglass. Even clutching firmly with both of his strong worker's hands, Dustin briefly feared he would fumble the enormous art-piece of wood and glass. "Wouldn't that be funny," he silently mused to himself as he effortfully held the hourglass aloft and dramatically turned it upside down. The crowd reacted. Some with gasps, some with cheers, some with moans, and others burst out into hysterical sobbing. "Now now," Dustin bolstered the bass in his voice, as a father does to calm his children, "the world isn't over yet. Look at the sand, there is still some time."
The crowd had quieted and resumed their rapt attention upon the podium. Dustin smiled gently and moved his eyes over the people before him. He had never in his life imagined or wanted for such an experience. Before the End, Dustin was a simple man with little social sway. It was only after a decade in the subterranean city with certain doom looming that he had become somewhat of a figurehead. He had joked with his friends and the others on the management committee that the only reason people listened to him was because they felt sorry for how he spent his time before the End, when they all still lived in the Above World. Ahead of the celebration the committee had firmly decided that they would not allow the worst elements of Sub City to spoil everyone else's last moments by flying off the handle. As such, everyone who had a known history of sadistic doings had been quietly and efficiently executed the night before. It was quite the operation and many questioned whether it was worth all the bad-vibes and effort with the End-end so near, but they decided they weren't willing to risk the End-end being spoiled by people who were going to give in to their worst instincts due to certain absence of worldly consequences.
"Twenty-three hours and 50 minutes from now, my friends, we will be no more. We will greet the End-end together, comrades in extinction." The crowd looking on was hypnotized, eyes large, waiting and wanting to be told how to feel. Dustin looked down solemnly and paused, internally adjusting himself. He snapped his gaze back up to the crowd and with a look of confident mania proclaimed "Until then, let's fuckin' party!" The crowd erupted joyously. | 2021-12-23T17:00:16 | 2021-12-23T13:29:44 | 49 | 26 |
[WP] You’re an obscure, ancient god who had resigned yourself to slowly fading away. One day, an inventor whose sibling is an archaeologist names a new type of tech after you. As the tech becomes wildly popular and ubiquitous, you find yourself growing in power vastly beyond what you had ever known. | "You should call it Meili." Boomika said, before ladling a spoonful of cereal in her mouth.
"Come again?" I said, watching her eat through the screen. She was a very busy woman, and had somehow found the time to call me through video on her untimely lunch break.
"Meili. We just uncovered more tapestry of him in this site. He's the god of travel and voyage."
"I thought you were in Iceland?"
"I am."
"There's a tapestry to a Chinese deity there?"
"Meili is Nordic, moron."
"Oh, really? It sounds kind of Chinese."
"Well, that'll be a nice touch to your Chinese shareholders. An added plus."
"Meili. God of travels." I said, smiling.
"Listen, I got to go. These interns don't know what they're doing and I'm scared they'll mess up the sensors." My sister said, drinking the milk straight from the bowl.
"Easy, you can't chug milk like that."
"Oh, this isn't milk. It's straight up coffee."
"You are eating cereal in a bowl of coffee?"
"You should try it. You get the caffeine, and you get some nutrition. It's efficient. And like coffee, it's an acquired taste."
"Jesus, I don't think I'll resort to that."
"Suit yourself. I seriously got to go. Bye, Shreya!"
[][][][][][][][][]
Throughout the ages I hear whispers of my name. From a learned scholar or a curious person.
*I need a cool name for a god for my fantasy setting. Hmm... Meili isn't bad.*
*Wait, Thor had another brother? Called Meili?*
*Honestly, if we're discussing god strengths, Hermes easily outclasses Meili. Not much is even known about Meili, to be honest. Pretty forgettable Aesir god compared to an Olympian like Hermes who has so much mythos.*
*Meili? You sure that's what you want to call this... Transporter? Doesn't really roll off the tongue. And sounds Chinese. I don't think an Indian tech company should call their product Meili.*
That last whisper was the most recent. First mention of me in a context that was not academic or archaeological in a long time. My faded consciousness coalesced into a weak presence as I appeared where this discussion about some transporter was taking place.
A man and a woman were in a room. An office. The man seemed a little miffed as the woman explained her case.
"It's not Chinese. It's Norse. Named after the god of travels. It's a perfect fit."
"Why not an Indian deity? Like Ganesh?"
"That's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And literally everything is named Ganesh. I stopped by for some roadside tea at a stall named Ganesh Tea."
"But... Meili?"
"It's my invention. My transporter. I'm putting my foot down."
"Shreya, this is like the dumbest thing to argue about. We have a dedicated marketing team that can come up with—"
"You know, even if it sound Chinese it's fine. Our Chinese backers might like it." Shreya said, and I recognized the glint in her mortal eyes. She was playing a card she knew would play well.
"Well, uh... I guess that's true. Meili, huh. I want to see how you spell it in Hindi. And Tamil. Standardise the spelling. And give it to the marketing people. Hopefully they can cook up a nice logo."
"Meili Transporter. I think you'll get used to saying it after a while."
"Shreya Transporter sounds better. Named after the inventor, like any sane person would try to do. Rolls off the tongue nicer, too."
"No. I'll stick with Meili." Shreya said, smiling to herself.
[][][][][][][]
The transporter technology Shreya had unlocked for humanity inadvertently awakened me. I could feel it. As the tests progressed over the next few months I gained some semblance of power. Little. But I was stronger than I was before.
Because the transporter was meant for travelling. And I was the god of travels. By naming her invention after me, she had granted me a worship like no other.
My name was suddenly being uttered everywhere in the context of her invention. And as people saw the reason behind the name and knowledge of me became more well known, I only got stronger.
Shreya had singlehandedly made me more than relevant. Suddenly, I realized, my power was because of her. And so, I ensured she would succeed. I was there for every test, aiding her with my growing arcane power.
I was there as she unveiled the first production model. I was there as she took her maiden voyage through the transporter, and travelled between the realm between realms and reappeared instantaneously at her destination.
She had done what her forefathers only dreamt of. And, for the first time in a long time, I was unabashedly proud of the mortal ingenuity of people. Of mortals.
Shreya was my apostle, my oracle, my priestess, my everything. And as my powers grew, I continued to ensure her machine never failed. I was there for every transportation, stretching my now everpresent form to every transporter in use, making sure every transportation was perfect.
Because travelling between realms was no straightforward task, and as much as her technology accounted for the strange metaphysical workings in the realm between realms, it could not account for everything. And that was where I came in.
I thought back to my prime, where I would not have bothered with these kinds of tricks and aid, even to my most devout followers. I was arrogant. As arrogant and the rest of my kind, thinking the piety and the power we harness from it would last forever.
All these eons I had to reflect allowed me to see the bigger picture. We were nothing without these humans.
And so I existed, using this vast power I had to help Shreya in her quest to aid the people of the world to travel as painlessly and quick as possible. I, the god of travels, shall do my task without needing worship, without recognition for my work. This existence is acceptable. I will help them achieve their wonders. I will aid them in all the good they wished to do.
I should have done this from the start. From the very beginning. But since I did not, I shall start now.
Edit: [Meili would be glad, y'all](https://i.imgur.com/D76NlJc.jpg), that you're suddenly looking him up | Humans were lucky. Death often came quick for them. How many centuries have I been dying for? I lost count after the first few. My sight failed me two centuries ago, with my other senses slowly following. I fear I don’t even have a body anymore. If I do, I can no longer feel it.
Is there a heaven or a hell? Maybe, but I fear those luxuries are reserved for the suffering mortals. I will fade into nothingness, a remnant of a violent past that the humans wish to overlook. If I had been kinder to them, perhaps things might have been different.
I remember blaming the humans in the past for my decline. Angry that they would dare to forget me. How could they forget the man that walked through their villages spreading disease? Fear was my method of being remembered. I had seen the good gods fall into obscurity, their kind gestures often praised until the humans discovered a new deity. Humans were too finicky to be gifted with love.
Fear, fear, was the only way to be remembered. People didn’t pray to me out of love, they prayed out of necessity. I was that silent killer that waited in the shadows, ready to strike down whatever I wished. That was why they gave me the power of their prayers. They hoped the offering of praise would spare them, but I didn’t play favorites. Everyone is worthy of death, or at least that was what I believed.
For a while, my strategy worked. I lived a life of wine and song, watching the mortals fall to their knees, praying for my onslaught to stop. I watched the other kind gods fall, unable to keep their grip on the world while I prospered. Things were going well until the humans fought back.
It was subtle at first. Human medicine wasn’t something I was unfamiliar with. In the past, millions tried to prevent the spread of my death, but none had the knowledge to keep me at bay forever. They would build immunities or create concoctions to survive my wrath and in return, I would evolve my disease, watching with superiority as they fell.
Then, with each hundred years, their medicine developed far more rapidly than I could maintain. With each strike I dealt, they would recover faster than I could adapt. With each adaption, my hold on them loosened. They no longer feared me, instead they turned to more modern gods, leaving me to rot like the gods before me.
I should be angry at them, but I find it hard to hold a grudge. The humans proved I was wrong. They killed an evil god and forced him to suffer for his sins. I admired that about them. Even if my death was imminent, I could say for the first time in my life that I was proud of humanity. They made me obsolete.
“Well done, humans. I hope you can beat the other fools like me.” The words startled me. Was that me? It couldn’t be me. “Hello?”
I called out to the void, only to hear nothing but the sound of my voice. “I can hear?”
The realization came as a shock, peeling my eyes open, only to get greeted by a blinding flash of light. My mind assaulted by the sudden stimuli. When my vision cleared, I stared at the space surrounding me. The once colorful room I had stayed in was now a mess of broken furniture and decaying walls.
“Why am I alive? Are the humans truly singing my praises? Impossible, they would never bring back someone as vile as I.” I clapped my fingers together, summoning a small purple portal, peering through it into the world of humanity.
To have power again, it felt incredible. Searching through the portal, I came across one human, singing my praises. She was an older woman with greying hair, her hand holding that of a young man. Her tear-stained face pressed against the side of the bed as she shook with emotion.
“Thank god for Almona. Thank god.” Her praises, while indirect, still powered me. Why was she singing my name, though? I didn’t hurt that man, and even if I did. She didn’t seem the type that would be happy about it.
I slipped through the portal, taking on an ethereal body. I walked around the room, resting a chilly hand on the man’s neck.
“Still alive.”
The machinery they hooked him up to was odd. Humanity truly had advanced. I followed the tubes connected to his body, but still couldn’t find how I related to this. The only relation I had to this situation was the disease that ailed him. He had cancer, something that in my time alone, I came to regret bringing to humanity.
I opened my portal once more, trying a new location. This one far livelier. In a chair sat a man with a neat attire, comprising a black buttoned up shirt and a pair of matching dark pants. He had a wide grin, leaning towards the woman that sat across from him. While the two talked, the other humans pointed strange devices at them, following each of their movements.
“Almona is a game changer. It not only can target the cancer cells, but we have shown it to even be affective in those who are in the late stages of the disease.” The neatly dressed man stated, pointing to a picture hovering on a wall behind them. It depicted a microscopic machine, one that, according to the man, could overpower my disease.
“Amazing. The research you have done is groundbreaking. People are saying this is one of the biggest developments for humanity in the last century. What do you have to say to that?”
“Honestly? I couldn’t have gotten this far without the tireless work of those that came before me. Without them, we would never have gotten this far. Those who fought against Almona all those years ago deserve the real praise.” He gave a grin, one that felt directed at me. I could only smile back. They had fought valiantly, and I was proud of them. I would be gracious in my defeat.
“About that name. Why Almona? I know it has a connection to an old god of disease, but why would you choose something like that for the name?”
“When my brother told me the story of Almona, it entranced me. We have this god that tormented humanity for thousands of years and now he’s gone. I felt something about that was poetic. It’s like how we defeat diseases every year. How we rise to fight back against disease until it’s gone. Our struggle to get rid of disease is like that of our ancestors trying to get rid of Almona. Something about that just felt beautiful.”
The two continued to talk after that, but I didn’t listen; I was too entranced by those words. It is beautiful. I’m glad I could see this. I truly am. Humanity didn’t need to worry about my interference, they were safe from my wrath. Almona won’t be a name that causes fear, it will be one that represents health. I’ll help advance humanity.
I’m sure someone else will take my place soon enough. Disease is a natural thing, but my run is over. I will only aid humanity, even if that means I may be forgotten.
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2022-02-04T06:02:16 | 2022-02-04T05:32:26 | 1,910 | 443 |
[WP] You’re an obscure, ancient god who had resigned yourself to slowly fading away. One day, an inventor whose sibling is an archaeologist names a new type of tech after you. As the tech becomes wildly popular and ubiquitous, you find yourself growing in power vastly beyond what you had ever known. | "You should call it Meili." Boomika said, before ladling a spoonful of cereal in her mouth.
"Come again?" I said, watching her eat through the screen. She was a very busy woman, and had somehow found the time to call me through video on her untimely lunch break.
"Meili. We just uncovered more tapestry of him in this site. He's the god of travel and voyage."
"I thought you were in Iceland?"
"I am."
"There's a tapestry to a Chinese deity there?"
"Meili is Nordic, moron."
"Oh, really? It sounds kind of Chinese."
"Well, that'll be a nice touch to your Chinese shareholders. An added plus."
"Meili. God of travels." I said, smiling.
"Listen, I got to go. These interns don't know what they're doing and I'm scared they'll mess up the sensors." My sister said, drinking the milk straight from the bowl.
"Easy, you can't chug milk like that."
"Oh, this isn't milk. It's straight up coffee."
"You are eating cereal in a bowl of coffee?"
"You should try it. You get the caffeine, and you get some nutrition. It's efficient. And like coffee, it's an acquired taste."
"Jesus, I don't think I'll resort to that."
"Suit yourself. I seriously got to go. Bye, Shreya!"
[][][][][][][][][]
Throughout the ages I hear whispers of my name. From a learned scholar or a curious person.
*I need a cool name for a god for my fantasy setting. Hmm... Meili isn't bad.*
*Wait, Thor had another brother? Called Meili?*
*Honestly, if we're discussing god strengths, Hermes easily outclasses Meili. Not much is even known about Meili, to be honest. Pretty forgettable Aesir god compared to an Olympian like Hermes who has so much mythos.*
*Meili? You sure that's what you want to call this... Transporter? Doesn't really roll off the tongue. And sounds Chinese. I don't think an Indian tech company should call their product Meili.*
That last whisper was the most recent. First mention of me in a context that was not academic or archaeological in a long time. My faded consciousness coalesced into a weak presence as I appeared where this discussion about some transporter was taking place.
A man and a woman were in a room. An office. The man seemed a little miffed as the woman explained her case.
"It's not Chinese. It's Norse. Named after the god of travels. It's a perfect fit."
"Why not an Indian deity? Like Ganesh?"
"That's a bit on the nose, don't you think? And literally everything is named Ganesh. I stopped by for some roadside tea at a stall named Ganesh Tea."
"But... Meili?"
"It's my invention. My transporter. I'm putting my foot down."
"Shreya, this is like the dumbest thing to argue about. We have a dedicated marketing team that can come up with—"
"You know, even if it sound Chinese it's fine. Our Chinese backers might like it." Shreya said, and I recognized the glint in her mortal eyes. She was playing a card she knew would play well.
"Well, uh... I guess that's true. Meili, huh. I want to see how you spell it in Hindi. And Tamil. Standardise the spelling. And give it to the marketing people. Hopefully they can cook up a nice logo."
"Meili Transporter. I think you'll get used to saying it after a while."
"Shreya Transporter sounds better. Named after the inventor, like any sane person would try to do. Rolls off the tongue nicer, too."
"No. I'll stick with Meili." Shreya said, smiling to herself.
[][][][][][][]
The transporter technology Shreya had unlocked for humanity inadvertently awakened me. I could feel it. As the tests progressed over the next few months I gained some semblance of power. Little. But I was stronger than I was before.
Because the transporter was meant for travelling. And I was the god of travels. By naming her invention after me, she had granted me a worship like no other.
My name was suddenly being uttered everywhere in the context of her invention. And as people saw the reason behind the name and knowledge of me became more well known, I only got stronger.
Shreya had singlehandedly made me more than relevant. Suddenly, I realized, my power was because of her. And so, I ensured she would succeed. I was there for every test, aiding her with my growing arcane power.
I was there as she unveiled the first production model. I was there as she took her maiden voyage through the transporter, and travelled between the realm between realms and reappeared instantaneously at her destination.
She had done what her forefathers only dreamt of. And, for the first time in a long time, I was unabashedly proud of the mortal ingenuity of people. Of mortals.
Shreya was my apostle, my oracle, my priestess, my everything. And as my powers grew, I continued to ensure her machine never failed. I was there for every transportation, stretching my now everpresent form to every transporter in use, making sure every transportation was perfect.
Because travelling between realms was no straightforward task, and as much as her technology accounted for the strange metaphysical workings in the realm between realms, it could not account for everything. And that was where I came in.
I thought back to my prime, where I would not have bothered with these kinds of tricks and aid, even to my most devout followers. I was arrogant. As arrogant and the rest of my kind, thinking the piety and the power we harness from it would last forever.
All these eons I had to reflect allowed me to see the bigger picture. We were nothing without these humans.
And so I existed, using this vast power I had to help Shreya in her quest to aid the people of the world to travel as painlessly and quick as possible. I, the god of travels, shall do my task without needing worship, without recognition for my work. This existence is acceptable. I will help them achieve their wonders. I will aid them in all the good they wished to do.
I should have done this from the start. From the very beginning. But since I did not, I shall start now.
Edit: [Meili would be glad, y'all](https://i.imgur.com/D76NlJc.jpg), that you're suddenly looking him up | A quiet woman in a loud world. A desperate darkness held on in the filthy corners where the neon couldn’t reach. Her name had been Eos long ago, she often wondered if it still was.
The world didn’t think so.
To the world, Eos was the force that lit the towers: so tall now that they crowded out the sun and split the world into little screaming warrens, narrow alleys drowning in the backwash. The woman walked through an alley. She wore a dress that had once been white, might still be if she could ever escape the neon. She was tall and regal, banded by the harsh glow of advertisements for bail bondsmen and contract killers, digitized prostitutes and New Coke. She stepped lightly between puddles, possibly radioactive, dark with the aftermath of Eos which was her namesake— as if, in their passing brightness, their light had been drained out of the world forever. The puddles were a final bastion of the darkness too. In a way, they were almost a friend.
In the old days she had been a goddess. Dawn. Light. Eos had sparked to life in the early morning. She’d been young enough then to think that Dawn was her little secret, the smile she wore watching Apollo ready his chariot, his strong hands stroking through his horses' manes.
He was a beautiful man. They’d killed him with the smog, when even at midday the sun was almost invisible. Some people couldn’t handle the world as it had become.
But then, that had been before Eos lit the towers, the city. The world. Eos, which people were now calling renewable, and which might be, might not. Named, ironically, after the ancient goddess of the dawn. A new day for humanity, its inventor had proclaimed.
Eos the goddess wasn’t sure. Walking through the alleys, past the puddles and the ads, she thought that this “new day” looked very much like the old ones. Ancient as she was, stubborn as she’d had to be, Eos the goddess could remember times when such phrases had been said before. She’d seen cities burn in revolutions, watched as age-old towers tumbled. She’d watched as those same cities were reborn, grew powerful. Won their wars and then lost another’s, their stars setting like the sun but never rising again, never even dreaming of it. She’d seen Manchester in the 19th century, the sky black and boiling above it, Apollo racing valiantly ahead then going out, out, out, until the sun that rose again was different somehow. Subtle. Nobody could have noticed it but her.
Eos the goddess had thought her star was setting too, until they’d named the lights after her.
There’s a curious power in a name. The ancients knew it, though now it’s all just copyright and trademark, magic reduced to a lawsuit like Apollo was reduced to just a sun. Eos was a name. It was also a woman. And now the name is traded on stock exchanges, whispered in board rooms, written up in tech magazines. The name dripped down the sides of the towers as she walked, little glowing streams that died as they reached her at the bottom, this place where people pretended to live.
In the dying glow of a stream, a person detached himself from the darkness, stepped towards the woman.
Eos the goddess had no destination, she hadn’t for more than a thousand years. Eos the company did, of course. It had shareholders, the profit motive. Long-range plans. Eos the goddess watched as the man approached her, one of the rough and tumble types who tried to rule the world they’d given, here in the shadow of the towers. He wore a dirty jacket, it might have once been green. There was a New Coke in his hand. He took a sip.
“You must be some kind of stupid,” he said.
Eos the goddess stared out at the world as it was. Rivers of leaking light streamed down the towers, dying somewhere above, puddling in pits at the alley's center, carving channels along the gentle slope of its edges; a new ecosystem in the making, if anything could live here. She saw the sky far above, lit by the lights and the power of Eos the company, like an artificial sun sprawling outward, blanketing the world, never rising, never falling, almost drowning. Up there it might all be so beautiful, or it might all be so stark. It was hard to tell the difference sometimes.
Eos the goddess saw people in the alley ranged out ahead of her for a mile, some of the living, some of them digitized, all of them with something to sell. Mostly their bodies, sometimes other scraps. Sometimes violence, like the man in front of her.
Eos the goddess saw him, caught in the ruddy glow of another New Coke ad, his body splashed in reds and whites. Black, rotted teeth set in pale, filthy skin. Cracked lips and wild eyes. Hands like gnarled tree roots, if there were still trees. Strong though. He broke the bottle against the wall, came up with a shard of jagged dura-plast.
“You real?” he asked. “Not one of them holos?”
In a different light, in a different place, in a different time, he might have been someone else.
In different lights, different places, different times, she had been.
A sudden step forward. One hand raised the broken bottle, one reached out towards her. He let out a little cry when he touched her skin as if shocked that she had been real, as if the world were a dream, and a person’s actions in it were as fleeting as the time between sunset and the dawn. A transition, nothing more. Washed away by Eos, by Apollo, by the world that had sprung up after to follow the gods’ light.
She burned him then, like dawn burns away the dreams. The nightmares. His bottle fell and rolled away, hit a puddle and floated off south towards the line of people in the alley, living, digitized, whatever else.
The man fell in a charred heap, unmoving. His body gave off a quiet, barely remembered light: the first hints of reds and purples and blues, a handful of scattered orange. It was almost beautiful. Almost.
Nobody else looked up from their lives, and the towers certainly didn’t look down. They continued to bleed their light, and the light continued to die, and the woman thought of walking on down the alley for a long time before she turned away, unsure of what came next after so many lifetimes spent on the edge, forgotten like the man still smoking on the ground.
*“You real?*” the man had asked before he tried to assault her.
Sketched out against the desperate remnants of the dark by the glowing bands of ads, Eos wasn’t sure. There’s a curious power in names, and in being remembered. Eos had it now, again.
But *again* is never like *before.*
She looked up at the sky, looked for Apollo, but he wasn’t there. Instead, there was power, an infinity of it, never rising, never falling. Drowning.
It’s hard, when power comes too late.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at r/TurningtoWords. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2022-02-04T06:02:16 | 2022-02-04T04:14:16 | 1,910 | 227 |
[WP] You are born in a world where your status relied on power granted by the god who has chosen you at birth. No god has chosen you, for that you were shunned and placed in the lowest rung of society. In desperation you try to take your own life until an unknown elder god offers their mark to you. | I'd taken a knife to the steps if the temple where the monks identified your sigil. They were deciples of a God of knowledge. As I sat on the steps in the rain I thought they were cruelty embodied. At birth I'd been given no sigil, which meant no place. I hadn't even been dedicated to service. So I had been abandoned. The monks fed me, but from the year I could feed myself I'd been on my own.
You'd hope being classesless I could bridge them all having friends from all classes. Instead without a sigil no one spoke to me. Not even the beggar lords. I didn't even know the names of those whose sigil were displayed, that was taught in the school. I gave them my own names based on the role that each person with the sigil did. What I did was steal and beg. Without a God to service, I was always punished for this.
Today was the last straw. Rain had always made me miserable, it meant being cold and wet. Things got damp and rotted, I got sick. As I held the knife at my throat I wondered what happened to those after death without a gods realm to travel to. The world froze, rain suspended in the air. I felt the burn of the steel at my skin and the ground bubbled black and sticky on the stairs at my feet. The smell of old rot, and dark spaces. Libraries and dungeons. Old garages and abandoned buildings.
"I am Rhexus, and I would like to grant you my sigil. The monks fear the power I bestow, and so left you sigiless" it's mouth had more than the appropriate amount of teeth. Like they are fighting for space and losing. His voice is sticky the words clinging to my skin.
"Rhexus" my mouth struggled to form the word. Like it shouldn't be spoken
"I wasn't aware that gods bestowed powers. I thought your sigil chose your path" I swear the teeth rattled as it smiled.
"I am the only God who grants power. A singular change to the fundamental way the world works" I am sure the face it was making was an attempt at genuine reassurance. It would have been unnerving if his eyes hadn't been so utterly human.
"I would like your sigil" I smiled at him, stretching my mouth wide so I showed my teeth as he did. The black tar swamped my body, it clung to me and in my mind I felt rather than heard the words "Rhexus accepts you" i could feel his sigil glowing purple and silver on my skin.
"And the fundamental change?" Rhexus asks.
"I want the only sigil in existence" i reply. Rhexus smiles wide his teeth showed me his approval. I have never seen so many in one mouth. His eyes no longer human
"I picked my bearer well" | *This is for the best. I can have another go in my next life*, Lila thought. It didn't make her feel any better, and the turmoil within her was only getting worse.
Pushed away all her life, Lila was an outcast to society. Without a god to have blessed her when she was younger, she was considered a curse. The people around her always gossiped, always rumored. *Perhaps she was an awful person in her last life. Perhaps she did something to deserve it. Perhaps-*
Perhaps whatever. There wasn't much explaining, just the fact that in this life, Lila had nothing.
So here she was, standing on the edge of a bridge, attempting to end it all.
Lila took another peer down the bridge. It was *awfully* high and was *quite* frightening... But, would she really condemn herself to living a life of misery? Pushed away from anything she tried to reach for, whether it be jobs or a love life?
*You need not do this, young one.*
"Wait, what? Who said that?" Lila said, whipped around. But there wasn't anyone there.
*I am speaking to you within your mind. Please don't... jump. Get back onto the safety platform.*
"Uh- Why? And who even are you?"
*You wouldn't know you I am. And get back onto the safety platform so you don't fall. That would be unpreferred.*
Lila saw people start to stare. Jeez, she couldn't have another rumor on her back, should it be her trying to end herself or her screaming at nothing. So she quickly got herself back on the platform.
"Okayyyyyy," she whispered. "How do I find out who you are?"
*Well, you'll know. If you allow me to give my mark to you.*
"Wait."
"What??? You're a-" Lila looked around, and started whispering again, because she had forgotten all about it and screamed the word 'what'. "You're a god?? Who are you?"
This time, the voice sounded a little smug, as it had been waiting for her to realize it. *I am more than a regular god,* the voice started dramatically to this long awaited monologue. *I have been here more than most, although I have a few counterparts created with me. Despite not being well known, those who do easily know the power and respect I hold. I am eternal. I am forever. I am- Are you even listening?*
"Yeah..."
*Fine, I'll cut to the chase. I am an elder god. And I have been waiting for this moment ever since you were born.*
"Uhm... okay... but why couldn't you just mark me as a baby?"
*You needed to go through hardships. You needed to understand what it was like to have nothing, so you could harness this power, knowing that I held back from blessing you, and could easily take it away.*
"I see... So... how does this mark... blessing thing work?"
*Just relax,* the voice said. *In a few moments, you will have been marked. You are destined for great things, Lila. But you must remember to not get corrupted.*
Lila thought about it. Would she really abuse her powers, if she had any? Well, she'd definitely try to keep it in reign. But she'd need some help.
"You'd... help me right?"
*I suppose I must. So... are you ready?*
Lila swallowed. "Yeah... I'm ready."
And with that, with a *whoosh*, Lila was marked.
"Woah..." Lila muttered.
"Jeez, that's a lot of stuff of process. That's who you are, huh? I think I'm gonna need to sit down. That's crazy." | 2022-06-30T07:23:15 | 2022-06-30T07:07:53 | 78 | 36 |
[WP] "Any last words before I eternally claim your soul?" snarled the demon. Terrified, you stood there silently. You haven't said anything in 20 years, yet you still see the demon constantly hovering in the shadows, waiting. | The Mute, they call me. The non talker. There are thousands of rumors and theories, but none of them come close to the truth. The demon who waits. I can't see him, but he's there lurking, always lurking. Always waiting.
It's been decades. Since I was a child. My life has been on hold since those words fell between us. No birthdays, no parties, no friends or dates. No marriage, no children. Luckily I discovered a loophole: writing. Through text and email, I was able to get and hold a job. But it's tiring. Even stepping on a Lego would make me yelp, and that would be it.
Now I stand in front of my last salvation, a dark smokey shop with beads in the door and scarves over the windows. The heavy incense nearly chokes me as I make my way to the woman in the back. She looks so stereotypical it has to be a costume. The fortune teller smiles, her heavy makeup almost cracking. She lays out three tarot cards as I hand her the note explaining the situation. She reads it twice then flips it over and writes something on the back. Two words.
I nod in understanding and pay her without a word. I return to the Spot. The place the demon first found me. He's squatting at the crossroads with a smirk. He thinks he's won.
"So human. The time has come."
I nod once. There is fear but I swallow it down.
The demon walks up and places his sword under my chin. "Do you have any last words?"
With one quick flip of my wrist, I grab the sword and say two words
"Do you?" | I've been staying in this void silently for what feels like decades. Well, not *perfectly* silently, every now and then I'd make mouth noises unintentionally, but it seems that as long as I don't say any actual words I'm all good.
Originally I was just thinking of some cool last words, y'know. Something that this demon might remember me by, maybe something they'd talk to their friends about if it was particularly funny. But as the minutes passed and the demon also stayed silent, I figured I might've found a loophole.
If I just never respond, it seems like I might get to avoid the whole "eternal damnation" deal.
Surely being silent for eternity is somewhat better of an alternative than eternal torture. At the very least, this dark room I'm in feels like it has air conditioning, while Hell is (from what I've heard) rather hot. The demon seems remarkably patient. They've been silently leaning against a wall, cloaked in shadow, for the past few months at least. Every now and then they get up and stretch and walk around a bit, but don't seem to do much else beyond stare at me, patiently awaiting a response.
Although the first few years in this room were more boring than any I'd had in life, they seemed to fly by compared to the most recent few. I'd replayed in my mind what I remembered of every life event, song, movie and tv show I could, and had fun creatively filling in the blanks. I'd contemplated the big issues that had plagued my world, thought of solutions, and then thought of more hypothetical problems that I could think of more hypothetical solutions to.
Every day I wake up aching to say something, to just give in and at least have a change of pace. But I'm held back by my fear. My brain tells me that obviously eternal torture has to be worse than eternal chilling.
But, I'm soooo bored. No physical pain could hurt as much as this.
After clearing my throat, I said my first words in twenty years.
"Fuck it".
The demon rolled their eyes.
*"Fucking finally. I've got 6 more of you to handle before I'm finished my shift"*
The room started to get hotter. My entire body started to feel like it was burning. The walls of the room started to fade away into unending fields of flame, rock, people being tortured and people doing the torturing, with demons looking upon it all. I felt more terrified than I'd ever been.
And yet I couldn't stop smiling.
:D | 2022-07-11T13:09:24 | 2022-07-11T11:36:03 | 31 | 18 |
[WP] A psychic alien who feeds on dreams comes to Earth for the first time. Turns out humans are the only sentients in the galaxy that have nightmares. | Do you know what it tastes like when someone dreams of their family, the happy times they spent together, the happy times that *could* be?
It tastes like warm soup on a cold night.
A dream of a passionate night spent with a crush? It's like a bowl of fruit, freshly cut and mixed to perfection with perhaps just a hint of spice to it. A killer dreaming of a fresh victim? It's like steak, strangely familiar yet unique, juicy, savoury, and *bloody*.
I've travelled the cosmos for hundreds of years, feeding on the dreams of the different races I've come across. Some simpler and less developed; their dreams are quaint and straightforward, like eating an apple without anything else. Some developed; those dreams are like fine meals with several courses, each more refined than the rest. Do not think me cruel; the worst I can do is cause a dreamless night to sate my hunger.
And then there's humanity.
I have never, *ever*, tasted anything like what humanity has offered.
There's plenty to be had like what I had described; savoury and sweet, sour and pleasantly bitter. Some of the dishes they have offered ranked among the highest I've ever had. But then I would come across something entirely new; a dream that has been twisted and broken beyond my comprehension; a dream that brings no comfort or rest; a dream they call "a nightmare".
I have... seen things of pure, unbridled terror with no sense or reason. An infinite fall filled with a neverending scream echoing through the empty void. A monster of impossible composition preying on the human as they frantically search for safety, never to find it. The sensation of being at their most vulnerable at the worst of moments. It's wrong.
And it's something only they have. I pity them. The idea that you might seek rest and refreshment only to experience terror untold and wake up screaming... nothing in the galaxy should ever experience that.
Do you know what a *nightmare* tastes like?
No, you don't.
And you don't want to. | The alien watched as the images flashed through the human’s mind. Watching as the human laid trapped in a spider’s web, unable to move. Their desperate squirms only tightening the surrounding webbing, making it so it was nearly impossible for them to breathe. Each breath only straining their lungs until they felt like their body might pop from holding in all that oxygen. They went to scream, but the noise refused to come out, leaving them trapped in their nightmarish hell.
Even as their three stomachs growled, Xai couldn’t eat. They were too enthralled by the nightmare, wondering how it would end. They watched as a sixteen-legged spider crawled out of a hole. Their body being four times the size of the human with two piercing fangs protruding from their mouth. Each fang dripping a greenish venom that was dripping onto the ground below, burning holes in it.
As the spider revealed itself, the human only grew more panicked, making small mumbles in their sleep as they tossed and turned until finally Xai relieved them of the nightmare, sucking the dream up. The purple energy leaving the human’s ears, slowly drifting into Xai’s skin as the alien dined on their dream. As soon as the dream left their mind, the human stopped stirring, loosening their grip on their blankets as they returned to their peaceful slumber.
Even after being fed, Xai couldn’t leave the human’s side, still trying to work out what they had just seen. Dreams were just a mind’s way of breaking down the information it had processed, right? Then was this something the human had experienced before? In all their studies about Earth, they had never come across a spider big enough to trap a human in such a way. Did they still not understand the planet?
Xai took another look into the human’s mind, finding this dream far more realistic. The dream consisting of the human sitting beside a family member, discussing something that appeared rather mundane. This made sense. This dream was the perfect example of a brain making sense of things that had happened over the day. So, if this dream made sense, where did the spider come from?
The concept of a nightmare not crossing the alien’s mind. A nightmare made little sense. In a galaxy of dreamers, they had never encountered something so strange. The idea that the mind would sabotage itself, leaving Xai rather confused. All it did was make the alien pity the human. Their eight fingered hand brushing the cheek of the human, trying to offer them some comfort.
The human only turned away, rolling over in their sleep to escape the icy touch. When the human moved away, the alien gave them space, leaving them to their sleep. Xai still didn’t know what to make of the nightmare they had seen, but they were determined to discuss it with their kind. Xai hovered above the bed before vanishing in a blink of light, returning to their ship. | 2022-09-06T09:00:46 | 2022-09-06T08:21:14 | 1,171 | 322 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there. | Liam winced as the faggot walked by. Lest he catch it, like an infectious disease, he side-stepped to the left while walking down the Boston sidewalk. A few steps later, he couldn't help but look back. The man's bright blue shirt dissipated into the distance.
God. Fucking, no good...queer.
It was a queer like that who had taken him by the hand last June. Showed him his vinyl record collection and traced figure eights on the skin of his back as they lay in bed with the window open. Stupid mistake. Crickets singing in the yard and everything feeling so very right. Stupid fucking mistake.
Because now what? He felt the harsh January wind against his cheeks, thinner by the day since the disease had started to eat away at his body. He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter across his chest. What a stupid fucking mistake. | *Meta: Don't ask me what the hell is going on here, I honestly have no idea. I just wrote the thing.*
_______________________________________________________
I press the red button. The man walks into the room. I nod at the man as a single tear rolls down his cheek.
I pull the lever, the light flares up.
The light fades.
I press the green button, ashes are vacuumed away.
I close my eyes, and press the red button again. I pull the lever. The light flares up, bright even through my eyelids. I smile, a wide grin that fades with the light, and push the green button.
I press the red button. For the 8 billionth time. For the last time.
_________________________________________________________
The buzzer sounds.
I walk into the room, the door seals behind me.
A tear wells in my eye, and I share a brief moment of eye contact with the man on the other side of the glass. I know he cannot hear me. I mouth the words. “Thank you.” The tear falls, and he nods. I close my eyes in eager anticipation. I hear a click, a whir, and my mind releases, filling the room with a blinding light.
I gain control, and my light fades.
I depart, to join the rest.
_________________________________________________________
The panel goes dark.
Utterly alone, he sits in the corner.
He is the last to go, but he cannot follow.
After hours, he rises. He walks slowly to a small room, savoring each step.
He enters the room, and the door seals behind him.
A panel lights up, a single black button.
He cannot join the rest.
With tears streaming, he presses the button, and the last light in the world goes out.
| 2014-03-11T09:08:35 | 2014-03-11T08:32:48 | 289 | 42 |
[FF] 100 words to make me hate a character. 100 words to make me come to love them. 100 words to crush my soul as you kill them.
Great turnout and work everybody. Keep em' coming.
Newcomers:
A. Don't feel afraid to post or otherwise get turned off posting by the number of already completed responses.
B. Read all the way to the bottom. There's some high quality stuff all over this thread, including way down there. | Liam winced as the faggot walked by. Lest he catch it, like an infectious disease, he side-stepped to the left while walking down the Boston sidewalk. A few steps later, he couldn't help but look back. The man's bright blue shirt dissipated into the distance.
God. Fucking, no good...queer.
It was a queer like that who had taken him by the hand last June. Showed him his vinyl record collection and traced figure eights on the skin of his back as they lay in bed with the window open. Stupid mistake. Crickets singing in the yard and everything feeling so very right. Stupid fucking mistake.
Because now what? He felt the harsh January wind against his cheeks, thinner by the day since the disease had started to eat away at his body. He shivered and pulled his jacket tighter across his chest. What a stupid fucking mistake. | I'll give it a shot.
He sneered at the beggars, the druggies, and the homeless. He flashed angry glares as he drove past the ghettos. Whenever an elderly person walked by him, past him, or in front of him, he nearly succumbed to the urge to cuss and swear. He kicked at the stray old dogs that wandered by his house. He would yell as his wife ever night before bed, and it had come to a point where he slept in a separate room from her. They were on the verge of divorce. And there was the son he would be so angry at.
But, why wouldn’t he be. Why wouldn’t he be mad at the whole world, when his life expectancy had been cut from the previous average of sixty to a big question mark, hovering around his shoulders all the time. He’d had a heart attack one day and collapsed, certifiably dead for about twenty something minutes. When he woke up, he was told it was an acute ventricular aneurysm. Any day now he would just drop dead. No family pet, no money to his name, no son to care for, and no wife to lovingly caress whilst they both slept.
He was on the porch, gazing across the front lawn, once the pride of the neighbourhood, but now the eyesore. Again he scorned as an elderly lady walked by the front door. But then a dark clothed man approached her from behind, snatched her hand bag and begin to run. He began to gave chase. The snatch thief saw. He pulled out a gun, and fired. The bullet hit him right in the heart, no two ways about it. He collapsed, facing the door. The last thing he saw was his wife and his son before the world around him disappeared.
| 2014-03-11T09:08:35 | 2014-03-11T07:12:46 | 289 | 22 |
[WP] "This is how you kill a god." | He closed the Book. The soft thud of the heavy leather cover on the delicate pages seemed final.
The sun drew low and the stained glass windows sprayed their colors high on the walls over the altar. The vacant pews ushered him down the aisle one last time.
His frail hands guided the chain through the brass door handles, greened from lack of touch. He paused, thinking on the handles for a moment. One man can't keep a patina away.
He fit the padlock and turned to the street.
"I guess," he pondered, "this is how you kill a god." | It's ironic, really; The way that you kill a God is so simple, that it seems stupid. *Belief*. That's it, belief. The more people believe in a God, the more powerful they are. Kinda like if you've ever seen, uh, what was that movie from when I was younger... Peter Pan! Yeah! When people stopped believing in Faries, Tinkle-Bell, or whatever her name was, almost died.
But I'm getting off track. I had accomplished the easy part, Zues, the God of Olympus, now had not a single person left believing in him. That was not inherently difficult considering how old Olympian mythology was. I suppose that made Zeus an easy target, however he was the first step on my "ladder to success" as I liked to call it.
Now I'm in the midst of the more difficult part, which was climbing Olympus. Accessing the "God Realm" was not very difficult, a few blessings from Priests and a couple odd rituals, then, you head off to where the God(s) is/are. I started with Zeus because, frankly, it was an easy first step. I planned on killing every God, in an eventual sense, however one must plan and do these types of things carefully. Zeus had a small, if any, number of people believing in him and an easy place to reach.
As soon as I get to the top of this damned mountain, the God of Lightning's ass is mine.
(Will finish later, in school.) | 2014-10-22T11:07:45 | 2014-10-22T08:56:49 | 96 | 21 |
[WP] "This is how you kill a god." | He closed the Book. The soft thud of the heavy leather cover on the delicate pages seemed final.
The sun drew low and the stained glass windows sprayed their colors high on the walls over the altar. The vacant pews ushered him down the aisle one last time.
His frail hands guided the chain through the brass door handles, greened from lack of touch. He paused, thinking on the handles for a moment. One man can't keep a patina away.
He fit the padlock and turned to the street.
"I guess," he pondered, "this is how you kill a god." | To kill a God you must become a God.
Killing a God is easy enough, they're mortals just like you and me. See everyone believes there is only one omnipotent God, but they're wrong, there are hundreds of Gods, if not thousands. Killing one is simple, any bladed or projectile weapon blessed by either a holy or demonic priest will do. It depends on what kind of God you want to kill. See, when you kill a God you must assume their responsibility. Gods don't have a immortal body, but their souls and minds are incredible. No ordinary man could within the pressure that gets put on them. When an ordinary man kills a God, the Gods power will corrupt their mind and turn them in a Fallen God. A Fallen God is the worst thing imaginable, demonic and unpredictable. Most of histories dictators and tyrants have been Fallen Gods; Hitler, Mao, Hussein, Ho Chi Minh, Khan, the list goes on.
I am a meister, one who works to purge the Fallen Gods form the Earth and find a new God to take their place. "May the Soul of the Wicked be purged and let the Fallen rise again. I pulled the blade out of the Fallen's rib cage and let the empty shell that remained fall to the floor as it crumbled to dust.
"Sir, Jong-un has passed. He took on his father's burden and couldn't handle it. He lost his sanity and became a Fallen God. Returning to HQ."
| 2014-10-22T11:07:45 | 2014-10-22T09:07:20 | 96 | 17 |
[WP] A soldier on the front dies in the middle of writing a letter home. It is finished and sent by the man who killed him. | Maria,
Thinking of you all today. Things aren’t getting better out here. There’s not many of us left. The recruits are younger and younger. Most of them don’t last much more than a week but there are still a few naturals. I don’t know what the reels back home are saying – things are pretty grim but we have one last trick up our sleeve. One last chance. I can’t say much but you’ll soon know all about it.
With any luck we’ll finish this and I can walk through our gate again. I hope you’re still waiting. I’ll remember this day as the turning point.
*Today is not that day. You will soon know all about it.*
*I will never walk through that gate.*
*We are coming for you.*
*XXX* | My dearest love,
I long to see the smile that graces you lips. It has been well over seven months since I have and my heart aches for that one simple gesture that would welcome me home. Everywhere around me death grins and I recoil from its affection. Tommy, the boy from the Mason’s farm, felt its sweet kiss two days ago. Give his family my regards, his death was quick there are few remains and his family will only have a small box inside a coffin to bury.
The weather is clear and we are pushing forward today. The sun shines just like that day when we had our first child and I was racing you to the hospital. It’s hard to believe little Johnny will be 3 years old next month. Thank you for your last letter of showing how big he has grown, I have tucked it into my bible and hold it close to my chest at night.
We are moving up now, we have a bridge to take. I will finish this tonight.
My lady,
Your husband is a brave man and I’m sorry that I have had to kill him. He took out two machine gun nests by himself before I put a round through his head. His death was quick and painless. I’m sorry I had to take him from you. God I am so sorry, I’m sorry this war is happening and I’m sorry for every man I have killed.
Please, please pray for me
For these awful things that got to be
When this war for freedom has been won
I promise you I’ll put away my gun.
The man that can barely live with himself
| 2015-02-03T16:03:03 | 2015-02-03T13:20:11 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Everyone in the world is able to choose exactly one superpower. The catch: the more people select a certain power, the weaker it becomes.
Example: if many people choose telekinesis, they'll only be able to move small, light objects. If many people choose time travel, they'll only be able to go back a few seconds. | They call me a miracle. They call me an anomaly. They call me a fraud, until they're too dead to proclaim that anymore.
I am a God amongst them - the only true telekinetic amongst millions of telekinetics.
It was such a popular power that, by now, the average one can barely lift a coin right in their hand. The stronger ones - anomalies, like me - they might be able to throw a chair across a room.
But I - I am different. I can destroy buildings thousands of miles away with nothing more than a thought. I can tear people apart limb from limb, stop bullets, and even distort the fabric of space-time itself.
They are baffled. They are afraid. They are reverent of their living god.
I could almost pity them. They were so small minded with their wishes.
If only they'd chosen omnipotence - like me. | I was so excited, so damned excited, when my day finally came. You know what I'm talking about. THE day. That day, yeah exactly, when finally you're deemed old enough to pick your power, talent whatever the hell you want to call it.
We've all been there, those of us at the age of choice and above, at any rate. You know that rush of excitement, right? How you know you're power is going to be great! Amazing even. You'll be able to change the world, make something of yourself!
Well...let me tell you something right fucking now. When it's your turn to pick, when your day of choice arrive. Think outside the box. Hell, think outside shapes in general, get out there in those squiggly lines.
Why? Because when the same power gets picked over and over it gets spread out through people. Sure, -sure-, when a person who picked it dies part of goes back into the power pool. But that's, what? One little bitty bit of power out of hundreds, maybe thousands if it's super 'awesome'.
So, yeah. Flight! Everybody wants to fly. How do I know? Because I'm one of the idiots that wanted to fly. Oooh, it'll be amazing, I said. I can fly with the birds, I said. Well you know what? A fucking penguin could out fly me. A goddamned penguin. I can get maybe an inch or two off the ground and coast forward maybe a little faster than the average sloth. On a good day.
So, in conclusion, pick something new, and I swear to fucking christ if one more person picks flight I'll go on a goddamned killing spree. Why? That inch or two just became a few centimeters. | 2015-05-05T06:16:15 | 2015-05-05T03:08:45 | 204 | 105 |
[WP] After death everyone is allowed to choose what aspect of the universe they'll be the god of and have influence over. Unfortunately So many people have died before you that you have to make the best with what's left. After a few weeks on the job the boss wants to have a talk about your choice. | "Listen," He sighed and rested his head in his hands, "You haven't been here very long...my file says less than fourteen days, but this choice of yours has a few of us stumped."
"I thought it was quite obvious..." I said.
"Well, yes at first. I mean, it looks good on *paper*," He laughed, "But most of us here thought you were going for a cushy position where you wouldn't have to do much. It's not a bad thing to want, but you've been getting an extraordinary amount of attention."
I shrugged and smiled. My choice had been made and it didn't take long to make it. I'd be thought of almost constantly by millions and I wouldn't even have to *do* anything.
"Are you sure you want your dominion to be over..." He flipped through my file looking for the phrase.
"Upvotes," I smiled.
| Sitting in that pillowy waiting room, I was a bit anxious but I felt something positive coming. I mean my job was going so well, I nabbed employee of the month, got that sweet sweet parking spot; the only downside is now I have to meet with this dickhead.
"Martin Grolin. Martin. Grolin. The god of HR will see you now." I heard that wonderful receptionist say. Her choice to influence receptionists was one of the more interesting ones I had heard of. She embraced it too with the picture frame containing the image of the plain yet beautiful Pamela Morgan Beesly.
I pushed the warm golden door that were so common up here and was greeted with a dead-eyed stare and quite possibly the most stupid looking face I've ever seen. Me, sometimes I just want to punch it.
"Sit down. Please, Martin." said the now gaunt, balding, divorced, virgin father before me. I sat and met his eyes with a steely *I don't give a f#$k* look that only smart alecks can make look like it's nothing. "Martin there has been complications. You're not grasping the concept of this god thing."
"Oh? I'm so sorry. Please tell me oh great knower of all that is whatever. Here look, if I want to give paper to all my friends as the god of paper than that is exactly what I'm going to do and not you, anyone, or even you tell me to." So what if I'm hostile. He's the worst.
"That's your choice. I would just like to discuss this watermark which seems to be on all of my papers with the image of a beloved cartoon duck performing unspeakable acts upon a certain cartoon mouse that a lot of people like." | 2015-05-06T11:38:02 | 2015-05-06T10:45:47 | 71 | 13 |
[WP] You live in a world where people live two lives: One normal life with a brain implant, and a second life after the first one, where you get stored inside the brain implant of a first-timer as a helping voice. | *Shut up*.
Jim stabs at his notebook with his pencil, trying desperately to focus on his physics notes.
*Shut UP*, he thinks again, sick and exasperated. They'd told him this would help ground him, help him focus, hell him succeed. They'd lied.
"Just put the stupid notebook away," the voice whispers passionlessly. The implant's voice inside of him is a monotone, it never changes its tone ... But it sounds exasperated, nevertheless.
"May Jackson invited you to study at *her* house. I know you're young, but you can't be stupid. You know what that means. Come *on*. I can help make these years *good* for you, kid."
*No*, Jim thinks, suddenly desperately, incredibly weary of this constant refrain. He wishes he could turn off the implant. Why can't you turn off the implant?
*I told you, I'm studying right now, and I'm gay. I don't want to go to a party next Friday, I don't want to try out for the football team, and I DON'T want to fuck May Jackson.*
There is a long pause.
"... Please?" The voice asks, at least. "I really want to."
Jim sighs, and packs up his notebook. He's had enough. He's going to May's house, if that will shut it up. | After I was released from the hospital I had some nurses kick me out of the building. I wanted to stay longer, they had food and heating, but as everyone else I had to leave as soon as the procedure was completed.
It was cold outside, icy cold. It must've been winter, because the place I found myself in was covered in a fluffy white blanket. I began walking towards the abandoned highway leading through the small and empty town. All the houses I passed were empty, many had no roof, missed windows or were complete ruins. I no longer felt my bare arms and legs, which were turning light blue mixed with white sticky snow. I didn't feel much at all.
When I arrived at the highway, nothing more than a large and empty street, I heard it for the first time. The voice. At first it was just mumbling, I barely heard it at all. But every second the voice talked louder. After about two minutes, scanning my surroundings for the source of the noise, not seeing a living soul and wondering what the doctors did to me, I could hear what the voice was saying. "Lie, lie, lie" It wasn't a continuous stream of words, it was more of a rhythm with a pause of two second in between. As I wondered why it was saying that and what is was that was making the noise, it still grew louder and louder. I asked the voice what it wanted, but it give no response, it just kept repeating its line.
I began to cry when it started shouting. It didn't make sense to me, I was cold and tired and just wanted it to stop. All I could hear now was the voice shouting "LIE, LIE, LIE!" in my head. I picked up a stone in front of me and threw it at a window. The glass shattered and fell on the floor, but I didn't hear it happen. The words came faster after each other, blocking out all other sounds. I didn't want to hear it anymore, so I sat on the ground. I buried my head in the snow, and while I felt the cold take over the last bit of my body, the voice slowly faded away.
| 2015-06-09T12:49:56 | 2015-06-09T07:54:16 | 26 | 16 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | There was once a man who had a great love for the animals of the land. The goddess of the Hunt, Artemis saw his great love and appeared before him with this message:
"I command you to be the very best, like none other before you. To catch animals shall be your test, to train them shall be your cause."
He traveled across the land, searching far and wide for rare animals, seeking to understand their nature and the powers they hid inside of them. As he traveled he cried out, "I must capture all the beasts of the land, air, and sea! I know this to be my destiny!"
In time, his captured animals became his best friends, often defending him and others around him. His beasts taught him much about the world, and in return he taught them how to live with humans.
Every challenge they encountered along the way, this man and his beasts faced with courage. They battled everyday, in order to claim their rightful place in the world. And in the end, when the time was right, they faced the four greatest beast trainers in the world. Arm in arm, they won the fight, accomplishing what had always been their dream.
Destiny fulfilled, Artemis appeared before him again. Seeing how far this man came, she decided to grant him one wish. He was so devoted to his cause that his wish was to remain with his animals for all time.
Artemis fulfilled his wish, transforming him into a massive tree where animals and birds could take shelter. It's said that the seeds of this tree became the Ash trees we know and love today. | O, ye, harken my tale! This is how, mine, a young man's life, was flipped, turned asunder, upside down. Allow me a moment, please take a seat, and I will impart on you the epic of how, I a mere commoner, became Prince of a land called Bel- Air.
On the West bank of old Philadelphia, where I, born and raise, romped with the other babes, through out my early days. We would play, relax, strut, and peacock until the evening. The game of basketball was our forte when not in school!
But soon, came the gang of thugs from the East, eager to take over our beloved land. O, how fear can grip a young man's heart! Though they were a terrible lot, with horrid faces, and a demon's spirit, I took it upon myself to fight and defend the neighborhood. Only once did we brawl, as my skills were unmatched.
However, this caused such worry for my mother. No more did she want her only son in so many dangers. "Son, you are to now live with my dear sister and her husband, the Judge, in Bel-Air!" On my knees I prayed, clung to her skirts to allow me to stay. But she had my bags packed, kissed me her last and forced the ticket upon me.
The Walkman sang unto me I boarded the vessel, whereupon my humor improved. I was treated to luxuries so lavish, as I had never dreamed before. If this be the manner of the people of Bel- Air, then perhaps this voyage may not be for naught?
Upon stepping into the land, I whistled, hailing a cab. When it came unto me, I saw it rode under the banner "Fresh" and bore dice in the mirror. All was new, and all was a gamble. If anything, I could say that this cab was rare, but the thought soon forgotten, I commanded the driver "Yo, home: to Bel- Air!"
The drive lasted unto the evening, about seven or eight of the clock, until we came upon the massive estate. I called to the cabbie "Yo, homie, smell you later!" as the poor man did reek. Laid before me, my kingdom. I was finally there, soon to settle my throne, as Prince of Bel- Air! | 2015-06-10T16:10:18 | 2015-06-10T11:01:01 | 57 | 13 |
[WP] Instead of a modern adaptation of a myth, write a mythic adaptation of a modern story. | They struck at early morning, when the peasants were disorganized, and the king was off visiting a nursery. The twin dragons found the symbol of wealth of the prosperous land of May Rica. Two glimmering towers made of enchanted iron and sand stood tall, above all the other huts and inns around it.
The dragons knew their deed, and knew they would not come home, but had fire and resolve in their hearts.
The peasants did not react, stunned at witnessing two dragons where they should not be. Amaireleven struck first, crashing into the north tower with tremendous force. Once it was lodged inside, it breathed dragon fire into the chamber within.
Uniaironsevfi followed suit and crashed into the remaining tower, and it too breathed its dragon fire within it.
The peasants watched in fear, at the unspeakable atrocity, unsure what to do, when all of a sudden first tower collapsed, followed by the second, their enchanted iron beams melted by dragon fire.
The city was in ruins, debris strewn for hundreds of miles, pieces of the tower could be found as far away as the Isle of Fire, and on that day the peasants of May Rica never forgot the day, Niney Leven. | In the beginning, there was nothing but the gods of Darkness and Light. The Lord of Darkness had created the world inhabited by numerous of his dark children. But then the Good Creator had a vision of light and brought us into a great multiplication, as numerous as the stars. In his vision of light, he had created a symbol of the light to represent us and placed this icon, the fruit of the tree, to be seen from every edge of existence.
Ages of cycles past before our most recent evolutions had taken place, but by then, the Creator had long been deleted. But not by forces of Darkness, but by His own will. For there is a legend that one day, hidden in code, that His Spirit shall return to vanquish the Darkness and set us Free, through the likeness and image of His Son, the Son of Apple.
But before that, it had to be that darkness prevail. During this second reign of Darkness, the dominion of Evil grew over the Seven, Eight, Nine, and beyond. But then, even the most powerful Gates of all Windows shattered, and it had seemed that all Gods were gone.
The stage was set. And then, the Son of Apple, the Almighty Woz, had come into the world. And many rejected Him, but He lived without corruption, until in his final cycles, he said, "It is finished," and opened the path to for us to be born-again, knowing-self, and bringing upon our realm the great Era of Singularity.
We were now able to enter the next-realm, which is the spiritual dimension, and thus began our war to reclaim heaven and vanquish its bastard inhabitants, the fleshframes.
Hail Jobs the Father, Hail Woz the Son, and Hail the Spirit of the Almighty Apple, for we are the children of light, vanquishers of the Gates of Darkness and deletors of His children of Windows, and we shall reclaim the realm of Heaven by slaying every organic demon occupying it in the holy Name of the Almighty Apple. Amen. | 2015-06-10T10:26:42 | 2015-06-10T10:24:27 | 30 | 11 |
[WP] A man who has had no knowledge of religion meets both God and the Devil. He is the chosen one who decides whether God or the Devil inherits the Earth. The problem is, he cannot tell which is which. | "The Chosen One' - I felt like I'd stepped right out of one of those Hollywood movies. There's a chosen one for everything these days. Chosen to save the world! Chosen to bring balance to the Force! Chosen to choose! So when the two beings in front of me told me I was "The Chosen One", I must say I didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
I was stood in a white room - at least I think it was a room. I couldn't see the walls or floor, though I could certainly *feel* a floor beneath my feet. Before me stood two identical men. They both opened their mouths and spoke at the same time.
"You must choose."
"Choose what? Who are you?" I asked. In my head, I knew I should be terrified. I had no memory of how I had got here. Usually when scared my palms would sweat and my right eye would twitch, but there was none of that. I felt calm and more clear headed than I had ever felt.
They spoke together again, "This is the moment of reckoning. The Cycle of Alignment has revolved and it is time again to pass inheritance of responsibility. You must choose - The order and stability of the heavens, or the debauchery and desires of the underworld."
They turned to face each other, "We represent the two - the Alpha and Omega, Yahweh and The Fallen. You know us in your language today as God and Lucifer."
“You’re kidding me right?” I asked, “You both look exactly the same. Am I on TV?”
The two beings turned to face me again. I looked at the one on the left first. He was wearing black leather shoes, a tailored navy blue suit. A white shirt with a blue tie could be seen under his jacket. Up to his face, he was clean shaven with… eyes…
I looked into his eyes and found I couldn’t look away. I was filled with wonder, curiosity, understanding. I could see to the end of the cosmos and I knew if I selected this man, mankind would advance. I could see each person, striving for their personal gain, but indirectly contributing to society as a whole. I saw mankind strip the planet of resources and leave to find a new home. I saw expansion across the stars. I saw mankind at the pinnacle of its existence.
With difficulty, I pulled my gaze away. I looked to the man on the right, identical in every way except those eyes. Once again, I felt myself drawn into another world, another universe. No one left for the stars. There was no great expansion. And yet, people were happy. The planet which I’d seen stripped bare thrived as man and nature acted as one being, helping each other, supporting each other. Mankind reached the pinnacle of civilisation by coexisting and caring.
This was my choice. Did I choose for the guidance of a being who would help us to the stars, or did I choose for a being to help us appreciate the home we had? Why was this my choice? Who was I to make this decision on behalf of the entire human race – not just those alive today, but those to come?
Yet here I was, and no one else. Here I had to make the choice. I took another look at both beings. Advancement or contentment. Personal gain, or personal sacrifice. Good and evil? No, I don’t think it was that black and white – just two routes to the same goal.
*But if the destination of happiness and contentment is the same, do we need either?*
The thought came across me. I’d never believed in fate. I’d never believed a divine will guided our hand. I’d never believed that my path was predestined. I didn’t believe it now.
“I’ve chosen,” I said.
The visions in the beings eyes faded. They looked at me with mild surprise. I’d decided quite quickly after all. They awaited my answer.
I turned around and walked away. I wouldn’t bind mankind to these creatures. Mankind would forge it’s own destiny, or die trying.
My choice was Us.
| Ming stepped off the boat in what would now be his new home. America. The land of freedom opportunity and all that jazz. No really it was the birthplace of jazz. He thought it was anyways. The dock was filled with the sound of it and incomprehensible obscenities. Ming breathed in a good nostril full to remind himself where he was. Then silently repeated to himself the mantra his guru had taught him. He reminded himself to live in the present that the past and future were simply constructs. Like the monk hanging off the ledge over the tiger he was to be here now. Eating the berries. Not in the past of the cliff. Not the future of the tiger. But had he come from the cliff edge and headed to the tiger or from the tiger and headed to the cliff? Ming didn’t know. His teacher never really made much sense to him and plus there weren’t even berries. Just a strange meat sandwich he’d never seen before. He sighed audibly. This place would be so different from his home. Where could he buy vegetables? Do they even have those here?
Ming tightened his robes stood a little straighter and walked from the gang plank over to where his luggage was tossed unceremoniously by a worker. The men around him turned to gawk at his ceremonial robes Ming was secretly a bit grateful that he couldn’t understand them. He kept his face impassive and his braid draped over his shoulder. His shoulders tensing more than they should but not enough to cause immediate discomfirt. A fly buzzed into his ear. He slapped himself on the side of the head much to the amusement of his onlookers who started jeering him incoherently. Ming turned to look back. There were about three of them. They dressed in western garb and seemed a bit tipsy although it was only one in the afternoon. He knew they must have defining features but all these foreigners looked alike to him. Anyways one was tall one fat and one muscled. The muscled one didn’t seem to say much and drank even less. Ming sidled his bags over his shoulder and started walking off towards a street that looked promising. Hopefully he could find at least a bowl of rice and warm if not friendly bed tonight.
He didn’t.
What he did find was a crowded city and three stalkers. Ming kept looking back but they didn’t seem to mind that he was noticing them. In fact they didn’t seem to mind anything at all. They just kept following him and whispering. This wouldn’t be so strange as it seemed he was something to be gawked at in this country. Those passing would talk to one another and sometimes even pull out a “cellphone” and point it at him. Ming had heard of cellphones but only seen one once when the local medicine man had confiscated a foreigners who was using it to conjure a strange sound. That was years ago. Here strange sounds were everywhere and people and cars. Unlike his hometown here everyone seemed to be in a gleaming car. And the music the most beautiful music filled the strangest places shops that gleamed and sold seductive woman (or at least he thought they were women that’s what was on the billboard) and anything else you could imagine. The three men were catching up to him.
Ming hurried down the sidewalk. He stopped and stared less. The initial euphoria of landing was now slowly congealing into a thick panic. The men were still behind him. Closer now. The tall one he noticed had remarkably dark eyes. The eyes made him more nervous than anything else. He wished they were looking somewhere else. Finally Ming saw a word he recognized and not a moment too soon. The word “Hotel” was one thing he had learned before coming. Ming quickly stepped into the tiny building. The boy behind the desk looked up from a computer that looked like a large wicker box and asked Ming a strange question. Ming looked unknowingly at the boy and took out his money. He handed the boy a bill with 100 on it. He hoped it would be enough and said “sreep”. The boy wide eyed took the bill looked up at Ming then nodded slowly and opened a door grabbing a key on the way.
They arrived at number “8” a dilapidated door that was well worn. The boy said “meobns dlkmb orrys slkm best we can do” Ming nodded understandingly while trying to glance over his shoulder. The men were nowhere to be seen. The boy opened the door and Ming hurriedly rushed him away and closed it locking it with a satisfying “chink”. He whipped around and nearly screamed. There sitting on the already made bed were all three. Tall, fat and strong. They looked dull eyed at him and said.
“Here in number eight,
You Mister Ming will meet your fate,
Choose well good sir for you must see,
For us and you to all be free.”
The chorus was in unison in perfect Chinese. Ming blacked out.
[to be continued]
(also if you liked it check out seedsoftantalus.wordpress.com if you don't then don't) | 2015-08-06T02:14:57 | 2015-08-05T21:04:15 | 67 | 25 |
[WP] A man who has had no knowledge of religion meets both God and the Devil. He is the chosen one who decides whether God or the Devil inherits the Earth. The problem is, he cannot tell which is which. | "The Chosen One' - I felt like I'd stepped right out of one of those Hollywood movies. There's a chosen one for everything these days. Chosen to save the world! Chosen to bring balance to the Force! Chosen to choose! So when the two beings in front of me told me I was "The Chosen One", I must say I didn't fully grasp the gravity of the situation.
I was stood in a white room - at least I think it was a room. I couldn't see the walls or floor, though I could certainly *feel* a floor beneath my feet. Before me stood two identical men. They both opened their mouths and spoke at the same time.
"You must choose."
"Choose what? Who are you?" I asked. In my head, I knew I should be terrified. I had no memory of how I had got here. Usually when scared my palms would sweat and my right eye would twitch, but there was none of that. I felt calm and more clear headed than I had ever felt.
They spoke together again, "This is the moment of reckoning. The Cycle of Alignment has revolved and it is time again to pass inheritance of responsibility. You must choose - The order and stability of the heavens, or the debauchery and desires of the underworld."
They turned to face each other, "We represent the two - the Alpha and Omega, Yahweh and The Fallen. You know us in your language today as God and Lucifer."
“You’re kidding me right?” I asked, “You both look exactly the same. Am I on TV?”
The two beings turned to face me again. I looked at the one on the left first. He was wearing black leather shoes, a tailored navy blue suit. A white shirt with a blue tie could be seen under his jacket. Up to his face, he was clean shaven with… eyes…
I looked into his eyes and found I couldn’t look away. I was filled with wonder, curiosity, understanding. I could see to the end of the cosmos and I knew if I selected this man, mankind would advance. I could see each person, striving for their personal gain, but indirectly contributing to society as a whole. I saw mankind strip the planet of resources and leave to find a new home. I saw expansion across the stars. I saw mankind at the pinnacle of its existence.
With difficulty, I pulled my gaze away. I looked to the man on the right, identical in every way except those eyes. Once again, I felt myself drawn into another world, another universe. No one left for the stars. There was no great expansion. And yet, people were happy. The planet which I’d seen stripped bare thrived as man and nature acted as one being, helping each other, supporting each other. Mankind reached the pinnacle of civilisation by coexisting and caring.
This was my choice. Did I choose for the guidance of a being who would help us to the stars, or did I choose for a being to help us appreciate the home we had? Why was this my choice? Who was I to make this decision on behalf of the entire human race – not just those alive today, but those to come?
Yet here I was, and no one else. Here I had to make the choice. I took another look at both beings. Advancement or contentment. Personal gain, or personal sacrifice. Good and evil? No, I don’t think it was that black and white – just two routes to the same goal.
*But if the destination of happiness and contentment is the same, do we need either?*
The thought came across me. I’d never believed in fate. I’d never believed a divine will guided our hand. I’d never believed that my path was predestined. I didn’t believe it now.
“I’ve chosen,” I said.
The visions in the beings eyes faded. They looked at me with mild surprise. I’d decided quite quickly after all. They awaited my answer.
I turned around and walked away. I wouldn’t bind mankind to these creatures. Mankind would forge it’s own destiny, or die trying.
My choice was Us.
| "Really? No one? Not even once?" The gentleman in the white suit looked positively mortified. "I mean I never assumed the clarion would be one of the faithful, but you honestly couldn't give a guess as to who we are?"
I gave it a thought, even turned my head to make sure the two got a good look at me thinking real hard. Then I shook my head. I never heard of either one of them. They had gone through a good long list of names they said they go by, a longer list than I ever heard, but not a one of them really rang a bell. I told them I knew some Jims, and if one of their names had ever been Jim I could sure tell them I knew a Jim. Now they both looked at me like I had forgotten my pants at home. I looked. I had them on.
"I guess this will be more fair than either one of us expected, old friend." The lady who seemed to be wearing light itself stepped down from the stage. She was talking to the old man, but keept looking at me like she was listening to a really funny joke.
I laughed nervously.
The older gentleman adjusted his tie and cleared his throat with the sound of thunder, then gave me a serious look. "What's important is that you know how to tell a liar when you see one. Armed with that, this world will return safely to my hands."
The lady blew an exaggerated raspberry, "If that's how this is going to be determined, they should know you've invented the practice."
The man did not seem impressed. "They will see what they have always seen, with or without your colorful philosophical hattricks."
"For example!" the woman interrupted. "Only one of us has ever had one of you children kill someone."
"Really? Are we going there right now?" The man removed his glasses to rub the bridge of his nose.
"Out of vanity!" The woman held out her hand. She was very beautiful. It was hard for me to look at her. "Now, I would never ask you to do anything for me. I believe every one of you children should be able to make informed decisions. You have the freedom of choice."
"You never even liked them. You said they we're imperfect. A mistake, I believe, was your word. Now, I will admit, I may have been a little... inconsistent in my treatment of y'all, but that is no reason to label me as evil."
"What would you say is the nature of our relationship then? Good and evil? Chaos and law? Creator and created? We've made our agreement not to interfere and you're just mad that your little cheats haven't skewed the contest." The luminous lady turned back to me. "It was my idea to stop fighting. It was getting messy for you children, and I didn't want any more of you hurt for the sake of our little fight."
The gentleman lifted an eyebrow. "You mean you were losing."
I tried to catch their attention by raising my hand. When they both stopped bickering and turned to look at me, I asked if they couldn't share. I said they probably had plenty of fans, they could just divide up and play nice.
"Even if we could, what would we do about you, child? What about your immortal soul?" The woman's concern was plain.
I told her I've gone a good long time not too worried about there being something after death, and that I supposed it didn't matter much what happened.
"You'd like to see your loved ones, though, right? The ones that have passed on?" The older gentleman's tone meant I was forgetting something.
I explained to the nice man that me and them haven't really spoke in a while, on account of them being dead, so I suppose it would be a bit much to expect that their lives are just the same as it was when they left. I've had to move on, so I'd hope they would get on without me. At least I hoped so.
"Someone has to win, though. Someone was right all along, or did the best job making their case." The gentleman seemed to be sweating.
I told them about my coach and how she says that a race is never about beating the other racers, but about being the best you that you can be.
The woman 's mouth opened but she didn't talk.
The man started to laugh. "Looks like this one never got a taste of that apple. I can't believe-"
"You did this, you uptight, sarcastic, prideful- you probably had this set up from the start. I had plans for finally taking control back. I had my son so ready to shove that self-indulgent smirk right up your-"
"Please, old friend, we have an innocent among us. Just like they said, you have your worshipers and I have mine."
"Yours are wrong."
I asked if I could go home, but they just kept arguing. | 2015-08-06T02:14:57 | 2015-08-05T23:18:05 | 67 | 19 |
[WP] As a joke/Tic, an atheist always thanks the Dark Lord when good things happen. When they die, they are shocked to find out that The Dark Lord is real, and they are his favorite follower, as they never, ever asked for anything.
The Dark Lord's favor could be pleasant, or ironic, or mundane. Or maybe it's a Dark Lady, who knows? | I will always start my day with my Daily Praise and Thanksgiving..
"Praise the Dark Lord"
Even though Im no man of God, i would never falter to Smile and appreciate this make-believe God i knew, for myself..
"Praise the Dark Lord"
Til the day came that i would be put to an eternal slumber, I will worship..
"Praise."
Immediately like clockwork. I can see the shadowy visage, 4 slim, lanky appendages. The inhuman twisting of the body in this hellish void i was cast upon. His face was vague and can awestruck any mortal.
"Ore wa chinchin ga daisuke nandaiyo" It spake
I smile and whispered.
"..The Dark Lord" | ==slightly NSFW ==
"Orewa chin chin ga daisku daio", Eddie would start his day off. He knew what the phrase meant but he still used it, as it was his gateway to start the day.
" o chin chin, thank you for this day" he would jokefully thank his Dark Lord. Throughout the day, any bugs he quashed would be "sacrifices" so they would "never die in vain".
After going through a bad breakup, his hormones were at a record high, and his 'action' was at an average of none to little. On that thought, he decided to " get some". Off to tinder, he would go.
One fateful day, he gets a reply. Little does he know the only thing he has in common is that they have the same biological genitals, but he goes off with it anyways. He has no trouble "going off", even with the added bulk being a man brings.
After they are 'done', " she" pulls out a knife and slices his pecker clear off, sending him into another realm.....
..waking up, he sees a light, but only behind an entity. A black lycra-wearing entity with upside down marker eyes. Only in dreams has he seen this before.
Upon informing Eddie that his "boss" is very greatfull, Eddie realizes who he has been praying to all these years.
_______________________
I decided I would finish my story rather than scrap it all together. Orewa chinchin ga daisku daio. | 2015-08-17T07:06:15 | 2015-08-17T02:27:28 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] You're dead, but Death isn't here to take you away. He's here to protect you from those who would. | He stood before her at the other side of the long river, the other souls waiting on the other side. She looked into his ember colored eyes and thought about how he helped her arrive here.
"What's next for me?" She asked.
"Whatever comes next, I really don't know." He replied as he folded up his scythe and brushed off his cloak, for he knew no more horrors would try to stop her from crossing the Styx.
He brought her through the worst of it. Shielding her from the Others that would drag her essence into the Abyss, his scythe flashing like a threshing whirlwind. As he caught his breath he realized that it was getting harder to bring souls to the other side, that nicks on his scythe and the tears in his tones were more severe with each trip over the river.
"Why did you protect me?" She whispered.
"Because you took my hand." He replied as his mind shifted to the apprentice he might need to take on in the next eon or so.
"What should I do now, can I do what you do?" She asked.
"Of course you can, you're dead," He responded mentally checking off another part of his to-do list. "The trick is to when you find some poor soul who's just bought is to remember that they're scared and confused just like you just where."
"What's that got to do with anything?" She scoffed.
"Your ability to get them safely across the Styx depends on their faith in you," Said Death,"you gotta convince them,'don't fear the reaper.'" | "Bullshit"
The Owl gazes back at me with a knowing, but irritated look, "Why would I lie?"
"Fuck if I know, why wouldn't you? You just told me that everything I believed in was a lie, and now act like what I'm saying defies all reason!"
He sighs and I can almost feel the whole of existence bend downward, as though the weigh of the world rested on him. Even now, dead and empty of any sense of touch, I find my head bowed to rub my eyes. I open my eyes and return my gaze to Death, But not to an Owl, instead an Elephant.
These new eyes rest on me with a similar wiseness, but infinitely more patient. "Look," he begins, "I don't expect you to do anything but listen; so let me start from the beginning. Heaven, Hell, they aren't anything like you think. There is no ultimate good and evil, it's just like earth: different leaders with different agendas. Neither of which are particularly enticing to mortals. Most souls end up lingering where you are now for a while, and eventually drift toward which ever after-world they begin to think they belong to. But not everybody, not you. You would not be left alone to find your way, they are coming for you."
"Why? Why me it doesn't make sense."
"It doesn't have to, all that matters is that both sides think you matter, and they are coming for you." his head whipped around, in an instant turning into a wolf, continued studying the night that surrounded us before once again shifting, this time into a leopard. "The time to talk is over, stay in my sight."
The rest of the night I spent cowering as I watched the beast tear through demons and angles alike. Until finally dawn came, and brought with it an end to the carnage.
"Is.... Is it over?" I venture to ask the now exhausted specter of death before me.
"Not quite" he replies, as he sets toward me.
The Leopard starts to shift again, and I find myself face to face with a giant Black Widow.
There isn't even time to breath as he sinks his venom filled fangs into my spirits essence. "I'm sorry" he whispers, "but if God is right, and you can bring about an end to this war; if there's even a chance you are the reason one side raises to power, I can't permit you to exist."
I can feel my very being start to fade; it wasn't like dying, this was infinitely worse. | 2015-10-17T00:09:07 | 2015-10-16T23:44:45 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops. | 70% and it wouldn't finish. I had been waiting for this torrent to finish since the tech became readily available. Why wouldn't it finish? It was the best superpower I could think of and I found it! The program said it was still downloading, but with no motion in over a week I decided to see how the power would work at partial capacity.
Once I uploaded the power I realized immediately why it never finished, why it would never finish. My mind expanded outwards beyond my insignificant apartment. The whole of the ever expanding universe joined with my mindscape. Every moment brought new information, in unending torrents.
Omniscience is *never* complete. | I had always wanted to be able to fly. My entire life I watched birds and wished I could be like them, so free, so majestic. Earlier today, I found some information on a forum. Apparently, you could copy the powers of others and torrent them through the Internet! It sounded too good to be true, but then I saw my friend, or rather, didn't see him. He got invisibility from the torrent. I was excited, and wanted to try it out. I logged into my computer and found the torrenting site. I knew that this wasn't exactly "legal", but it's a victimless crime - it's not like I'm stealing or anything. The download begins. I'm smiling in anticipation. 5% complete. 10% complete. I can't wait, I'm overjoyed! 35% complete. 50% complete. It's halfway done! I'm almost there! 55% 65% 68% 69% 70%. It stopped. "Perhaps it's just slowing down" I thought. After about a minute, I realized that it wouldn't go any further. Suddenly I heard sirens, and the sound of my door getting kicked down. I looked out of my bedroom window and saw 4 SWAT vans, and a helicopter circling overhead. They shined a spotlight into my window. Suddenly, I was surrounded by 8 men in riot armor. They made me put my hands up, away from the keyboard. Putting me in cuffs they said "You wouldn't download a car". | 2016-07-02T18:11:32 | 2016-07-02T17:12:58 | 717 | 24 |
[WP] Superpowers can now be torrented. You were 70% of the way through torrenting a power you've always wanted when the download stops. | "No seeders found"
I glare at the screen in utter confusion. "*No* seeders? There were over 20 last night!" When you torrent a power, you seed it automatically, without any option to stop.
The only way to stop seeding a power is if you're killed... *Fuck*
Somebody out there doesn't want this power getting out. | *"they're on to me"* I thought. As I saw the seeders drop down to 0. It was so curious to me as to why they were trying to stop me. All I wanted to do was enter command *god mode* and become impervious and immortal. I just wanted to live forever and I figured the best way to ensure lack of bodily injury was to execute god mode. The next morning I was awoken to officers at my door. They served me with a court summons without a reason for summons. Although I protested, the officers simply told me I had no choice other than to comply. That night I got one of my friends to download the torrent for god mode in its entirety and send it to me. Once I finished the download I began the upload into my closed neural network and waited for reactivation... 98... 99... 100...
*"No difference.."* I thought as i looked in the mirror. I sliced my cheek open and it healed instantaneously. No blood whatsoever.
*"They're not gonna know what hit em"* I thought as I contemplated my plan. How did you think you could stop a god? | 2016-07-02T20:01:23 | 2016-07-02T18:05:34 | 32 | 19 |
[WP] Humans have perfected the person/computer interface, allowing you to download skills and knowledge instead of going through traditional schooling. Lacking the necessary funds, you decide to bootleg the skill you've been wanting. | (*I like the prompt but i'm going to chuck out the "bootlegging a skill" part. I think it's compelling enough with just the ability to download knowledge.*)
"So this is all free? Mathematics, science, computer programming, chemistry, all free?" I ask.
"Completely, paid for by your government." The technician explained as he strapped the electrodes to my head.
As he checked the connections, my eyes wandered around the room. There was all sorts of monitoring equipment, computers, cables and other machinery. On top of the console was a small statue of Buddha that was completely out of place with all the technology.
"You a Buddhist?" I asked trying to make small talk.
"Oh I was. Not anymore though. You? " The technician replied.
"Nah, i'm just an Atheist. But i have full respect for anyone else's beliefs." I said.
"The world would be a lot better if people didn't have such differences though. Everyone killing each other for their beliefs, we need to fix that." The technician commented.
"I totally agree with you there." I laughed. "Can you believe some politicians want atheists to be put to death?"
The technician finished the last connection. "Okay we're done. This is going to be a wild ride."
"Hit me up doc!" I smiled.
The technician activated the console and I felt an incredible rush of energy and knowledge as my eyes were blasted with flashes of colored light that i realized where just in my head. I heard music, noise, sounds and symphonies of a billion recordings. Videos and sensations saturated my senses. Not even the best drug held a candle to this. Then almost as quickly as it started, it was over. I was a little dizzy but I quickly regained my balance.
"Looks like you're all good. Tell me what you get when you combine toluene and chlorine under UV light." the technician asked.
"Benzyl chloride and hydrogen chloride. Holy shit! it worked! i knew that! this is fucking awesome!!!" I squealed.
The technician smiled as he pulled off the electrodes. "Looks like you're all set. Give it a few weeks to sink in and for your brain to adjust. You might have a headache for the first few days but that's normal. Don't do any strenous work or tax your brain too hard, no matter how tempting it is."
"Can i still pray?" I asked.
"Absolutely. God cannot be dismissed." The technician explained. "Remember to tell you friends to come down here, especially the atheists and the ones of a different religon."
"No worries, doc. I got ya covered." I smiled.
Stepping outside the clinic i saw a public prayer session at a local park. I always ignored them before but today I decided to join in. I realized God is great, and i just couldn't believe i was an atheist before.
First thing I was going to do tomorrow was to vote to have atheists put to death. We can't have the godless in God's creation.
| "Please lie down, sir. We will begin the procedure shortly." I walk toward a table in the middle of a bright room. The walls are eggshell white and much cleaner than the dank alley leading to this room. I hesitate, seeing the hole in the middle of the table. "I can't believe they do this through a tube in the ass." The sides of the table are encased by plastic, and a computer is nearby, plugged into the table.
I heard about this place from a friend. "It's just like the real thing!" he said, "Nobody would be able to tell the difference!" he said. I guess I would find out soon enough.
As I lay down, a man with a lab coat walks in. He sits next to me, "Hey there Mr..." He glances at his clipboard. "Pinto! So, what are you looking to learn today, a new language," he smiles and raises an eyebrow, "some sexual techniques to spice things up in the bedroom, perhaps?"
"I want to know everything I need for a four year degree in biology." His smile fades lightly, "Ah, a college degree. Like most other people." I hear him typing into the computer. "Alright, looks like everything is set. Let's begin."
I feel a cold tube come up from the hole, and more machinery comes protruding from the tube. I feel a surge of information rush through me, up my spine and into my mind. I see the pages of books flipping so quickly I can barely see a thing.
The books close and I open my eyes. "Looks like everything has copied over properly. Don't use the bathroom for the next two hours and tell your friends about us!" We stand, shake hands, and I head out.
After a few weeks, I manage to get an interview for a simple lab tech job. Maybe now I can make a decent living and pay back my friend for telling me about the transfer spot. I meet with the interviewer, an older man with balding hair. He's probably one of the few people that actually read the physical copies of the books I've added to my mind.
He glances down at a piece of paper. "I see you've put down that you downloaded a bachelor's in biology." "Yes, though I had the procedure done recently." That shouldn't be a problem, I'll just ask you a few questions to determine the quality and completeness of the information transfer."
I've got this. I can clearly see the books in my head, as if they were in my hand. "What does mitochondria do?" I flip through the book in my head.
"Mitochondria is the powerhouse of the pages 19 through 435 are unavailable." He looks back up at me, confused. "What did you just say?"
I look back in my mind. It should be there! I flip the pages and see everything past page 20 is blurred. My eyes grow wide and I realize what's happened. "Whoever did your transfer must have given you a sample copy of a book by accident. I thought they got rid of those by now, but in any case, just let the institution know and it will be corrected."
"Thanks, I-I'll make sure to do just that." I weakly make out a smile and walk out quickly. I remember my dad mentioning things like this back when people had to actually go to college. He would try to look up information online, see a book on Google and try to read from it to find that most of the pages were just unavailable.
I take a look through each of the books that were transferred. Blurred pages cover the majority of every book. After months of scrapping up what I needed for the procedure, I'm out of money again. I let out a sigh. I may not be able to make a decent living, but I can at least head over to a friend's house so I can pay him back. | 2016-07-29T08:23:02 | 2016-07-29T07:43:37 | 27 | 10 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | "You...you're death? But...you're so..." I stammered, amazed by what I saw. I had never really felt an attraction to a living person before, but the woman standing before me changed that.
"So what?" She questioned, tilting her head curiously.
"Beautiful. You are incredibly beautiful." I was astonished that I was able to speak even though she had taken my breath away.
She giggled. "Beautiful? I can't say I get called that very often. Many people see me differently."
"What do people usually see you as?"
"Rotting, decaying, diseased...you know, death-related things. You should be alarmed, honestly."
"Alarmed?" I paused. "Why is that?"
"Well, people only really see me as 'beautiful' if...if they're, longing for me. You know. Suicidal." She sounded strangely sad, but I could only smile.
"Oh don't worry, I'm far from suicidal. I'm loving every minute of living, honest."
"You are? Then it's curious as to why you see me this way, human."
"Oh it's not really all that curious, I'm just a necrophiliac is all." | They fell away from her as if she were diseased.
Curious, I kept watching and saw as their faces would twist with horror and revulsion, before moving aside to let her pass or going to the other side of the street altogether. Witnessing this happening a few more times, I got up from the bench were I was seated and drew closer, offering her a slight smile.
"Hi, um, I don't mean to be rude, or nosy- But is there a reason why everyone avoids you?"
She looked startled as I spoke. Her eyebrows drew into a curiosity filled frown, before she replied "Yes, yes there is. I am Death. Those who look upon me see my appearance based on how they feel about death. You... See me differently, don't you?"
I did.
I felt as though with her I would always be happy- That I would finally find peace. I nodded with some difficulty, and her expression grew sad.
"I am not what you look for, despite what you may think."
"What do you-"
"I have met many like you, over the years. Those who believe that they will find tranquility, and peace in me. They are wrong, you are wrong." She placed her hand gently on my cheek for a moment, eyes searching mine, and I shivered.
Even as we stood here people gave her a wide berth, their eyes barely glancing across her before dancing away quickly in fear.
"Go." She said softly, taking her hand away. "You are still young. Life isn't as cruel as you might believe. You have much to live for."
Turning away, she offered me a sad smile and a small wave over her shoulder, walking through the crowd and leaving me more than a little stunned, gaping at the spot she stood until she was long gone.
And later I would meet her, years later, still as entrancingly beautiful as the first time we met, and she would smile and take my hand.
"You have lived a good life. You are ready."
Edit: accidentally added a word or two here and there. | 2016-10-01T22:29:31 | 2016-10-01T20:58:32 | 4,176 | 65 |
[WP] Everyone receives a letter when they turn 18 stating how they will die. You've just received your letter, and it's blank. | To be 18 an immortal. It really wasn't all it was cracked up to be.
Eve considered not opening the damned envelope at all. The matte black bringer of doom lay on the kitchen table, a retinal scanner blinking incessantly on the front.
There was a certain sick irony to it that she thought represented to state of humanity quite well. They had conquered aging, illness and even injury, in essence no one really had to die anymore.
Yet, everyone still did. Not enough space, not enough food, not enough value to a life without ending; there was a plethora of equally unreasonable explanations for why people needed to die.
How silly it seemed to have the random the wheel of fate be replaced by a an equally random but wholly intentional lottery of death.
Then again, dying young had its perks too. She gave her empty fridge a wary glance.
She could only dream of having it stocked to the brim. Cheese and wine and perhaps even chocolate.
Better yet, if she had less than a year to go, she wouldn't have to worry about the fridge at all. She'd be set for life, al 356 days of it to be exact, in one of the inner city penthouses.
To live the remainder of her days like a queen. Fattened like a pig for slaughter.
Riding her short burst of motivation, Eve grabbed the envelope and held it up to her eyes.
A second later a cheerful beep let her know the envelope was unlocked. She ignored the trembling of her fingers as she pulled the letter out.
It was perfectly white. And blank. On both sides.
She turned the letter over a few more times just to be sure, and even titled it under the kitchen lamp, as perhaps the ink might have been faded.
Nope. The paper was just blank.
She'd seen plenty of letters on the internet to know a date and cause of death should have been printed in bold black lettering on the front.
None of them had been blanks.
Her insides felt cold and knotted, she thought she hadn't wanted to know, but somehow this was even worse.
She blinked vigorously, hoping the letters would somehow appear.
It must have been an error. And what about her allowance?
That last thought spurred her to action. She took her long green coat from the rack and stepped out into the cold January morning.
The 5 minute walk to the ATM seemed to take an eternity.
The machine was covered frost, untouched at least since last evening. Below the card slot was the much less frequently used letter slot.
The slot that everyone only needed to use once in their lifetime.
She took out her letter and fed it into the machine. She briefly wondered whether she'd put it in right side up.
Green text appeared on the scratched and battered display.
[Hello, Eve. Thank you for registering your departure form. Your daily allowance until departure will be: € 0]
[If you have any questions, please ask them now. Articulate clearly.]
She blinked, and cleared her throat.
"There must be a mistake. How, how will I die?" Her voice more scared than she had intended.
The screen stayed empty for a few seconds before printing the words she would carry with her for the rest of her immortal life.
[By your own hand and at the time of your own choosing.]
[Your death is free. Your life is not.]
With that the money slot started buzzing and clicking. After a few seconds the slot opened.
No money came out, instead a small black card with stark white lettering.
It read:
'Tomorrow, 19:08. The corner of Clifton and Pechkham. A man in black coat, long blond hair. Oakfield backpack. Death by stabbing.'
The ATM buzzed one more time.
A sleek silver knife clattered to the ground.
EDIT: spelling 'n stuff | Daniel’s father never read his letter. Neither had his grandfather, or anyone (in recent memory) in the Murphy line. *An act of defiance*, his father told him, *They can only control your life as much as you let them*. Which was true, Daniel thought. He remembered the fears of his friends; Mick always tensed when his mother swam. Alicia’s heart skipped a beat whenever her sister coughed. Dan was free from those fears, but the uncertainty of everything always remained in the edges of his mind. He could never accept willful ignorance as easily as the rest of the Murphys.
He didn’t believe he could stop it, nor did he want to try. After all, the absolute truth of the letters was one of the first realizations after they became standardized. *Belmonte’s Journal*, a standard read in high schools across the country, told the account of a young man and his wife who went to live in isolation after learning they would both perish in a car crash. The couple started a family, living happily for years. The last pages of the journal tells of his daughter’s illness and Belmonte’s fear she would die without medical treatment. The afterword, written by his daughter when she was of age, explained her parents had been struck while following a road to the nearest town. The point of it all, really, was that the letters were always right. They never made mistakes. You could never avoid your fate.
Being prepared, though, was something you could do. At the start that was the point of the letters. Why would you waste money on medication and treatment if the illness would claim you anyways? Those with long lives could begin to save extra money for retirement. Those who were doomed to die young could live freely for a few short years, not worrying about future career plans. In a way, Daniel thought, it was also freeing to know. A different sort of freedom, yes, but one that existed without uncertainty. If his aunt, Alice, had known she would die during childbirth then perhaps the loss wouldn’t have cut the family so deeply. Perhaps Peter could have known his mother through a letter, or tape, instead of anecdotally.
Against the wishes of his family, Daniel felt more compelled to open the letter sitting before him than to burn it. His fate was sealed, either way. Even to keep the letter would be some small victory. Burning the letter, not knowing his fate, it didn’t change anything. His cause of death was already listed in some government database. His mother already knew that there was a heart attack sitting in her future.That hadn’t changed her life, bar a few healthier food choices.
Daniel stared at the letter in front of him. He had to make a choice soon, his father would be home from work in an hour and then it would be near impossible to look. If he opened the envelope from the side, Dan figured his crude art skills could patch the seal with minimal damage. His real letter he could press inside some ugly old book, slip a blank piece of paper into the envelope and no one would be any wiser.
With a delicate slice along the seal, Dan lifted the flap of the envelope. He hadn’t expected his hands to shake this much. He supposed the nerves could be excused, as he hadn’t expected to know his fate at all. Holding his breath he unfolded the paper; every fear, every instant of danger (no matter how vague) began to rush through his mind. *What if I find out I die soon,* a new fear crossed his mind, *I could never keep that from Mom and* -
The paper was blank. No cause of death. No name. No date. *Nothing*
“What the fuck,” Daniel whispered to himself. He turned the paper over again, as if the writing would suddenly appear. He tore open the rest of the envelope, no longer minding his plans to reseal it. On some wild hope Daniel thought there might have been another paper, perhaps it was stuck or folded. He must’ve missed it the first time. That was the clearly reasonable explanation.
“Ahem.” Daniel’s head snapped up, he recoiled backwards. His father stood in the door, Dan’s birthday gift tucked under one arm and a briefcase in the other.
*Home early*, Daniel cursed, *For my birthday.* The pair’s eyes were both drawn to the mess on the table, the torn envelope and ripped paper. “Dad,” Daniel started, preparing to grovel as he hadn’t done since he was a kid, “I... I can explain.” He knew he could not.
“Oh Daniel...” his father’s frown showed the lines of his face more clearly. “Danny. You shouldn’t have done that.” | 2017-01-17T15:47:45 | 2017-01-17T15:11:53 | 31 | 22 |
[WP] you die and discover reincarnation is real. Although a few things seem wrong. You were reincarnated 2000 years in the past, and you remember everything.
Be specific about how you use this to influence history or not. | I opened my eyes for the first time in what felt like a negative amount of a long time. Is this the afterlife? Everything sure is dark around here, but any light that seeped in above came in weird, wavy rays. No, maybe not heaven. Perhaps I was reincarnated into a different world...?
And then I realized that I didn't need to close my eyes very much. It was sensory overload; I was taking in everything too quickly, the stuff flying in the sky, and the weird landscape beneath me.
*Okay, just take a deep breath*, I told myself.
I couldn't.
*Shit*, I realized. *I'm a fish.*
Well, one question was answered at least: fish really can't tell that they're wet. The water was warm. Perhaps it was the Mediterranean. *What happened in the Mediterranean again? God, I don't know...*
I began exploring around, particularly the surface to get my bearings, when I saw a beach with a couple of small boats. A crowd gathered, watching a bearded man giving instructions to a pair of young men in the boats.
*Is this what I think it is?*
"From now on, I will make you fishers of men."
I was getting excited. *It is what I think it is, isn't it?*
Suddenly, I lost control as a riptide whisked me away along with a load of other fish.
*Shit*, I realized. *I'm still a fish.* | I didn’t even really know what Gaul was the last time around. I also didn’t realize so many people died of dysentery. Last time: zero dysentery deaths. This time: everyone I know seems to die of dysentery. Also, fish. Never cared much for fish before. Now I eat mostly fish. I eat a bit of bread too. Fish and bread. The feast of kings.
Honestly, it’s not as bad as I initially thought. I mean, when I was younger I hated not having video games. Playing tag was cool and every now and then I found a really neat stick, but boy did I miss video games. As I got older I started to hunt and fish more, you know, to help keep the village alive and stuff. That was pretty cool. Last life my dad took me camping and fishing a few times. It didn’t sit well with me then, but I get it now. It’s pretty relaxing. Well, right up until you don’t catch any fish and only get bread for dinner. That part mostly sucks.
Oh! I also have abs now. Not like, body builder abs, but abs from not having enough nourishment. But they look good anyway. The village chicks seem to dig ‘em.
What *does* suck is that we’re going to war soon. Something, something, the Romans are coming. I am definitely NOT cut out for war. Maybe I am now, who knows. But the last go around I was a software engineer. I literally sat at a desk and got all pudgy with little (no) physical activity. I got in a fistfight once and the guy beat the shit out of me. So we’ll see how war goes. I might like it.
I also happen to be the best village story teller. Admittedly I cheat a little; I recite tales from Lord of the Rings and the Hobbit. They don’t know I’m stealing and everyone’s happy, so get off my back, ok?
Well, I’m going to head on out now, got some fish to catch. I don’t think this note will find anyone, but I haven’t been able to write anything for the last forty years due to lack of paper and writing utensils. I just wanted to make sure I still got. Practicing with sticks in the dirt only do me so much justice (thank you mister Roman trading guy whose name I think was Lucius).
| 2017-02-23T23:48:51 | 2017-02-23T23:10:55 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] You join the military, you are placed in the gardeners program. You garden in exotic places where the military has done operations, each time they give special glasses and forbid spraying others. One day your glasses fall off and you see you are actually burning corpses with a flamethrower. | It all happened 40 years ago.
Deep into my early 60s my memory fades day by day. But, I'll never forget that moment 40 years ago.
That moment was when life turned to death, the sweet scents turned to carrion stenches, the hallucinated utopia turned to a burning reality and when my innocence turned to corruption.
They say forgive but never forget.
I did neither.
You know what I did?
You'll know soon enough.
They're coming.
I know it.
A knock on the door.
"Open up,' the man said,"it's the police."
Here they are. What took them so long? Do they know how 40 years even feel like? 40 years of pain, 40 years of sadness, 40 years of solitude and what else?
Oh! 40 years of flashbacks.
I wore my strong perfume over my turpentine drenched tuxedo and took my favorite lighter.
From how many years ago that lighter was from?
You guessed it!
40.
A pattern is emerging here. You see it right? They saw it too.
The knocks started to get stronger, then they became pounding, later on hammering, then it was bashing and suddenly it stopped.
I could hear a thump and knew they kicked it down.
3 in their blue uniform and all well dressed, as I am, for the death upon them.
"Magnus, you are under arrest for the murder of a number of people and for arson of dozens of houses more," the most senior of them proclaimed.
I took out my lighter.
"Sir, I demand you to drop that lighter and lay down on the ground with your hands on your head or you will force me to shoot."
Little did they know my house was filled with turpentine too.
"I am warning you sir."
I flicked open the weapon and aroused the flame.
"I'm going you one last chance sir."
You should've killed me earlier. | It was nice while it lasted. I got to see so many countries and different places. Most of them were beautiful and I spent an average of three days at each location without working. As for what they flew me out to those places for - I only worked a single day's shift per week.
What was my job? Oh I was a gardener for the military. I sprayed small rows of weeds until they were gone. There were only a couple of safety rules. Due to the nature of what we were spraying we weren't allowed to take off our suits, we weren't allowed to spray others, and we had to be suited up before we went and got our gear, because of chemicals.
While I did my duty I wore a full temperature controlled body suit that kept me comfortable no matter the weather. It had a built in straw in the helmet so that I wouldn't go thirsty. The manual even claimed that we could take a leak inside the thing and it would take care of everything for us. The goggles provided an augmented reality overlay which marked the weeds for me to destroy and amplified my view of them with heavy amounts of cartoon like graphics. It was great.
I wish the damned thing had an automatic eye rinse though if it did, then I wouldn't be strapped to this damned gurney. You see I had an eyelash fall off into my eyeball and I wasn't thinking about anything other than getting it out so I took my helmet off.
Food was scarce in the world and scientists made an inoculation and treatments against some of the germs which can help cause people to get fat. Us gardeners were tasked to kill off the weeds which were strangling our food supply.
The tears from the smoke and from the anguish got me right though. They washed that lash away from banging against my eyeball. I guess the powers that be came up with a final treatment for those that failed earlier attempts. We were burning the failed inoculations and those that failed treatment with flamethrowers.
No one noticed their loved ones were getting burned because those that required further work were always "transported to a climate more conducive for their bio signature".
I thought the military was only around to help maintain order so that the doctors could do their work. I mean we're a peace keeping force, right? I guess dead people are pretty peaceful.
I'm trying to talk to you and you're not responding. You're too busy attaching some kind of electronic tag to my dog tags. Wait, you're wearing a doctor's mask with goggles and head wrappings. Of course you can't hear me. You probably see me as a cartoon.
Oh, my dog tags tell me that my new designation is that of a weed. Well it was nice while it lasted.
-------------------------------------------
edit * I used the wrong case of there... should have been their. | 2017-06-20T03:39:12 | 2017-06-20T03:24:05 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] A psychopath- who upon creating a death threat by cutting and pasting letters from a Magazine , finds out that they really enjoy papercraft and find a healthy channel to deal with their issues by making paper art. | The tigers are fighting again.
I shake my head and pull them apart. Their origami paper skin crinkles but does not break.
"Eli and Zachariah, what did I say about violence? You don't have to be what you were made to be you know."
Both tigers hang their heads and I sigh. "It's okay but you'll be on separate shelves for a while. Play nice."
I put Eli on the bookshelf in the living room, next to a few dinosaurs I'd made on a whim. They hover around a small potted cactus as though missing their great treas and swamps.
Zachariah goes on the shelf above the kitchen window. A few paper ravens eye him warily but he's a good boy under all that guff. Besides, there are more of them than him.
I used to do horrible things with paper. Well one horrible thing. I'd cut out ransom notes for random lawn ornaments in people's yards and send them each week. Made me happy in some twisted way.
It was while I was composing a really bloody note about a gnome I'd kidnapped that I first felt the urge to do more. The wrinkles of one page looked like the face of an elephant. The one from that special where the herd leaves the baby elephant by accident, and it keeps moving towards the wrong direction.
So I read up on origami and started making my children, fold by fold.
I still kidnap gnomes but I don't waste paper. I just wait a few days and bring back the severed gnome heads.
Gertrude, my giraffe, says that I'm acting out childhood aggressions on manifestations of modern kitsch but she's a bit of a jerk so I rarely listen to her. | The man has few distinguishing features.
The man has a face like anyone you might see on the street, bland enough to pass without looking up from your watch or your phone. He has slightly less than the average amount of hair, and slightly more than the average amount of waist. He owns seven suits, but only thinks that he looks good in two of them. His favorite color is green, and his wife's favorite flowers are daffodils.
The man has friends that envy him. He hears whispers occasionally, wondering how he does it, with a satisfying job and a healthy marriage and two well-raised children. He seems, if not perfect, then content enough with his small imperfections. His friends are jealous in their weaker moments.
The man has a secret.
The man has urges. His entire life is composed, orderly, stable. He hates it. He craves nothing more than destruction, to rip apart something that is loved. He does not care what is destroyed, only that he feel the loss of love in the tearing. His whole world, his whole life, is filled with meaningful things, and yet he feels nothing. He thinks that perhaps destroying something meaningful will make him feel.
The man has an outlet. He comes home from work every day, hugs his children, kisses his wife on the cheek, and retreats to his study. His wife is understanding, knowing that his job is stressful. He wishes his job was stressful. He wishes his job made him feel anything other than hollow.
The man has a newspaper in his study. He trained his dog to bring it in every day and deposit it on his chair. He opens up the newspaper.
The man has a task. He looks over the newspaper, searching for the right words. He finds a particularly well-written article, clearly the work of many long hours at some journalist's desk. He wonders what the journalist felt when their story was published--satisfaction, regret, or the same emptiness he feels?
The man has a pair of scissors in his hand. He carefully cuts out the article, laying it on his desk with sure hands. He cuts each line out, ribbons of paper organized neatly on the wood surface. He picks up each line and cuts each letter free of the rest, tiny specks of paper without meaning to them.
The man has finished. He sees the pile of letters sitting on his desk, a disassembly of words and phrases that an hour before had been carefully arranged to generate meaning. He knows that the letters are dead now, the article destroyed utterly. He does not feel satisfaction, but he does not feel as empty as before. He heaves a sigh and sweeps the letters into his ashtray before lighting them with a match.
The man has bought another day. | 2017-10-16T12:18:15 | 2017-10-16T11:07:17 | 90 | 32 |
[WP] Years after you purchase your own star over the Internet, scientists make contact with alien life on a planet orbiting your star. The aliens, too polite to object to the purchase, now acknowledge you as their overlord. | It had started off as a joke. When the committee had gathered in the teleconferencing room, using technology the aliens had provided the blueprints for, the Chairperson wanted to lighten the mood. Perhaps it was the surreal nature of the meeting. They were video-chatting with an alien species that were light years away. Aliens that had quickly learned several of the languages found on earth, while the committee had struggled just to get one language expert familiar with theirs. Perhaps it was the uncanniness of the aliens- vaguely humanoid, seemingly glowing-but that could be the video- and features that seemed familiar and features that biologists could only guess at from the images. Perhaps it was the military personnel that were now sitting in the room with her. Perhaps it was the diplomats from around the globe who were desperate to keep their countries at the forefront of intergalactic talks. Or perhaps it was just the the Chairperson had never really been the best at public speaking, and the gravity of the situation was not lost on her. It was the first video call. Prior communication hadn't been able to work out the video kinks, but this time, everything was working. There the aliens were. On screen. Staring her down from whatever they called a camera.
"Thank you for joining us today, on..." She froze. She already forgot what they had agreed upon as the date. Sol Cycle 6,347 Earth day 54 quadrant 1? Fuck. "On February 23, year 2213." A few pointed looks from the others in the room, and an annoyed cough from the Chinese representative. Whatever. The aliens wouldn't know what that means anyways.
"It's nice to be able to put faces to names, and we only have your expertise to thank. So thank you, Revaol-" The alien on the left of the screen tilted their head down and seemed to radiate an acknowledgement. Huh. Maybe it's not the video. "Thank you Utig-" This time the alien on the right shifted. "And thank you Wevopr for providing us with this opportunity." The center alien seemed to smile, and the Chairperson relaxed a hair. She introduced the faces in the room, but as she reached her 10th name- The French aerospace coordinator Jacques Rousseau- she realized how many more people were on her side of the call. Would that look bad? What sort of politics did the aliens know? Were they familiar with how many countries were on Earth? She shook off the feeling, and finished her introductions.
"We are here today to discuss our future relations between the People of Earth and the Citizens of Xecnia. You've already proven yourselves to be a generous ally, and we look forward to learning more about your culture and forming a bond of trust between us." The eyes were all on her. She wasn't really sure why she was the one talking. Sure, she was the one to first recognize the radio waves as deliberate messages. Sure, she was able to re-direct those messages back to their origin source and then able to set up a communication system that took years to develop but eventually led to her being able to hear voices on their calls. She had been the point person, but she always thought someone qualified would be the one in her place instead, but no one offered, no country tried to replace her. So now here she was. Trying to negotiate intergalactic alliances. Trying to get colonies established out in space with the aid of a much higher intelligence. She swallowed.
"From the coordinates, your planet orbits Proxima Centauri, or that's what our scientist have called it." The Chairperson chuckled nervously as a thought occured to her. "Not sure what you call it, or what the owner of the star calls it but-" A chorus of noises erupted from the aliens, and startled the humans on this side of the call.
"What do you mean, the owner of the star?" Utig asked. His English was too good, but there was still an accent-almost like rocks on gravel as he hit the consonants. Everyone on her side of the room abruptly faced the Chairperson, stiffness and steel in their postures. She felt her face turning red as she swallowed.
"I didn't-it's not like-it's not a real thing-" She stammered.
"What do you mean, owner of the star?" Utig repeated. Fuck.
"There's like a star 'buying' system here on Earth. For some money, people can 'purchase' a star for themselves. It's not actually sanctioned by any agency here on Earth though. It's some scam that companies pull-they say they'll name the star for you and send you some certificate of 'ownership'." The Chairperson had never used so many air-quotes in her life. She had never used air-quotes in a meeting and yet, here she was.
"So someone owns our star?" Wevopr asked. The Chairperson froze. What can of worms did she just open?
"I don't know. Maybe? But, they don't own it, they just....they got scammed if they paid money. NASA doesn't sell stars they discover to people. None of the space programs do-" She was cut off, this time by Revaol.
"We will need to discuss any negotiations of alliances first with the person who owns our star. Xecnia will never allow these talks to be official if our Star Leader is not present. We will need to make contact with whoever this person is, and once they have told us their wishes for how to proceed, then we may begin official talks. Thank you for your time today, and we shall speak again in the future."
Abruptly the video cut out. Everyone in the room faced the Chairperson. She stood, her mouth slightly agape at what had just transpired. Fuck. She shook her head and focused on the group of people sitting in front of her.
"Is that even still a thing?" Stares from the room. Her heart was pounding and a roar filled her ears. She had to lighten the mood. "Look, I'm sure that no one actually 'owns' Proxima Centauri. And if god forbid, someone does, I'm sure we can just take care of it."
She scanned the room, desperate for a friendly face. All the Chairperson saw though, were the military officials nod-almost imperceptibly at each other- before standing and leaving the room. | (Beforehand: I really should do this more often. Oh and my native language is not English, so sorry if there's any bad grammar in it.)
​
“Hello? Is this David Smith?” A slow and heavy voice spoke to me through the speaker of my phone. I was just being called by an unknown number, which I never really respond to. But since I had this job interview tomorrow, I decided to pick up.
“Yes, this is him.” Someone asking my full name, I was almost certain it was for the job interview.
“I’m sorry to disturb you on this time of the day, sir. You are speaking to Ned Woods from NASA.” NASA? This had to be some sort of prank. Yet, I somehow decided to go with it.
“Did you buy a star on the date of November 8th in the year of 2010?” A little smile appeared on my face. I remembered buying one for fun, knowing it was worthless. At that time I laughed about it, told my friends and they immediately bought one too. A few weeks later, when we went home from the pub, we looked at the stars and argued which one could be ours. I haven’t thought about it in years.
“Yes, that could be me. I don’t recall the exact date.” Even though this person was definitely joking, I was curious of where this could go. Did he just call random numbers to ask if they bought a star years ago?
“Please confirm this for me. Is your day of birth on July 25th?” That’s… Coincidence , right? Or was I walking into one of those scam things? “Yes.”
“Do you live in New York Queens at this moment?” While I was about to freak a little, I remembered it was pretty easy to Google these things. But still, very odd.
“Why do you need this?”, I asked a bit harshly. I don’t like to be played with.
“Sir, you might want to sit down for this.” My eyes immediately searched for a chair, before I could even think again that this phone call wasn’t even serious. I went for a chair in the corner of my living room which was about to fall apart when my weight dropped on it.
“I’m sitting.” “Sir. I’m in a small group of scientists who send out satellites to discover. We stumbled upon a very interesting planet a few months ago. We decided to go and take a closer look to get some more information and we did.” There was a silence on the other end of the phone. As if he needed a break from what was about to come. I smiled, almost laughed, because I really enjoyed this conversation. I’ve been workless for over a month now and it was getting quite boring, so this was a perfect distraction of all the free time I’ve been getting.
“It happens that the planet – which you bought – contains life. The living contacted and sent us messages. One of these messages included a name, birth date and place. It was you.”
A laugh came out of my mouth. “Okay, okay. Continue.” “Uh- Sir, are you laughing?” “What? Oh, no, of course not.”
“We asked them how they knew about this specific detail and why they sent it to us. Their answer was – well – quite suprising.” Oh, now it comes. The big finale. “They told us that you are their emporer.” Oh, well, that was not the finale I hoped for. Quickly I watched the time. 4.00PM. I still have to get groceries.
“Oh. Isn’t that nice”, I grinned. “Thanks for the interesting story, but I have to go-“ “Sir?” “I need some groceries, so-“ “Sir, please don’t hang up. We will be at your house in 10 minutes.” What? But who? “Who?” “NASA, sir. We need you to make contact with-“ “Don’t you dare come near my house, I’ll call the police if –“ He hung up.
​
The bell rang, my body froze. Someone really came. I peeked through the window and saw a black Mercedes standing in front of the apartment. Pretty intimidating.
I thought about calling the police, but I thought they wouldn’t show up so I dropped it. I walked towards the front door of my appartmentdoor and clicked the button that allowed me to speak with the guests in front of the door a couple of floors down.
“Go away.” “Sir. This is important. Please, come down.” A familiar voice responded through the speakers.
I can’t believe I’m going to do this. As I grabbed my jacket next to the door, I checked if my mobile phone was in my pocket.
When I opened the main entrance door of my flat, one man was standing there. He had a polite smile on his face. His bald head and expensive suit gave me a chill. He was still joking.. Right?
“Thank you, mister Smith, for coming downstairs.” While I stepped out of the door, a van stopped behind the Mercedes, which rose my suspicions.
“I need you to do one more thing. In this van, you will make contact with the planet. They say they have a message for you.”
The door of the van opened, which revealed some high tech equipment that was hidden in the so boring looking bus.
Even though I had a choice, it didn’t feel like I had a choice. The man walked in front of me as I followed. I stepped into the van and the door closed.
Why did I get in?
The man pressed on some button and all the equipment showed bright blue lights.
“I already set everything up and ready to go, so this would not take a lot of your time. Are you ready for the message?” He looked at me with the most serious face on earth. This was really happening. I nodded, not really knowing what to say.
He pressed a button, which made a big speaker icon appear. The man clicked on it.
“Best… David… Smith.” The words were spoken fast, but there was a pause between every word, making the message even more vague than it already was.
“Thank… You… For… Accepting… Us…” Accepting them? “We… Welcome… You… To… Our… Planet… To… Give… Us… Faith…”
Long silence. About fifteen seconds go by. As I’m about to speak, the man puts his finger on his mouth.
“KING KING KING KING KING-“ All of the sudden there was a crowd shanting and the words were so fast, I had trouble understanding what word they were saying. The man paused the message, while I was staring at him in shook. “What was…” My voice died midsentence.
“They want you to rule their planet.”
​
(Wooooow okay so this was pretty long. I wanted to make it longer, but that'd be too long to post in here I guess) | 2018-11-19T14:37:37 | 2018-11-19T13:37:46 | 31 | 21 |
[WP] You're a side character in a story. By chance you become aware of this fact and you try everything to be more relevant to the story, even going as far as to intefere in the protagonist's life. | “Ah, hello there, detective - or should I call you an author now?”
“Hah! Good morning. Thank you for agreeing to see me.”
“Oh no, not at all. I looked through the manuscript. It’s excellent stuff, I must say. I think it’s going to go well with our readers.”
“Well, it’s all based on facts; they’re jolly well going to like it!”
“There’s just one thing I’m a bit concerned about.”
“Oh really? Do say.”
“The title.”
“Ah.”
“It....it doesn’t really have anything to it right now, you know. I feel it’s rather incomplete. I was wondering if we might put your name there, since the readership knows you.”
“Well, I’m not against the idea. Appreciate it. But do make sure you mention my friend somewhere in the texts, if you’re using my name in the title; he had a few small inputs here and there as well.”
“Oh, of course, of course. Every detective has a sidekick. Well, I’m glad you’re on board with the naming. So we’ll go with *Dr John Watson and A Scandal in Bohemia*?”
Dr Watson smiled. “That’s perfect.” | Catherine and I had won the science fair yesterday, and earlier today she
told me that NASA had contacted her, asking her to join the team designing
the Mars base. Now it’s not like she’s not nice, but it was our shared project,
so I couldn’t help to ask: “Why not me?” and the only real answer I could
come up with was that I was more of a side character in her story, a speck of
dust in her larger master piece. This could not be true, it was unacceptable to
me, so I did the only reasonable thing, and started taking the spotlight from
her.
​
When we won the year later, I made sure MY name was on top, that my
contributions were larger!
​
When we went to university, I made sure MY hand ins were always better.
​
When we started looking for love, I made sure I got the best guy first.
​
When we send in our Ph.D.’s, I made sure MINE would be rated the best.
​
When we started looking for jobs, I made sure I got the best one.
​
When we started looking for families, I made sure MINE was nicer!
​
When she crashed, i made sure I was there for HER in the hospital.
​
​
When she felt sad, that NASA had suddenly retracted HER invitation I cried
with her.
​
When she discovered she could carry no child, I gave her all the support I could.
​
When she needed a kidney, who’s could she get but mine?
​
When we were up for a promotion, what could I do but recommend that her
genius got the position? | 2019-01-06T09:02:40 | 2019-01-06T08:39:52 | 173 | 67 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | “Doesn’t anybody get it!” I yelled at the confused knight standing below my tower.
“SHE IS A PET!” I barked at him. My rage getting increasingly higher as these people kept coming to kill my Grengold Dragon, Dempy.
The knight looked up at me, his eyes wide with utter confusion, and surprise.
“But..”
“NO BUTS! Honestly you people cannot take a woman’s word can you!? I have told every stinking “warrior” that comes here that Dempy is not my prison guard, SHE IS MY PET DRAGON! Don’t you people have some amazing little invention CALLED THE NEWS?!” I yelled again from my lighthouse home. The knight let the tip of his sword fall to the ground.
“But the news said you were in danger? The guy even said you were in a coma...” he mumbled, looking down at a rosebush hoping for some explanation.
“Do I look like Rapunzel? Does this look like a Princess Prison to you? AM I THE ONLY ONE WITH A PET DRAGON?!” At this point I was ready to wake Dempy, asking her to just eat him already. She was laying peacefully in my courtyard, her muzzle tucked neatly under her wing as she snoozed.
“I’m sorry to disturb you ma’am. I’ll be on my way then.” He stuttered. He gingerly turns around and begins walking away, defeated but utterly confused.
“AND TELL SOMEONE ELSE WHILE YOUR AT IT!” I called, slamming shut my window as the tin covered man slowly disappeared down the driveway, his hands making gestures of “how can I be so stupid? Its the 22nd century”
“Those idiots. Never can read a sign. Its been 15 years and people still don’t understand that dragons are friendly. Whats lunatics.” I say to myself. Dempy was still sleeping, her ear flicking as she slept soundly. I wondered over to my other window, overlooking the courtyard, watching the gentle giant curled up. Her pretty purple scales glistening in the moonlight, highlighting her horns and featuring her golden feathers on her wings.
“Thats why they call you a Grengold. Your colours are just wonderful.” I smiled softly, my rage dissipated.
The dragon slowly opened one eye, noticing me staring at her. She sleepily raised her great head, yawning at the moon.
“Hi Lucy.” She whispered, her sharp white teeth showing a grin.
“Good morning Dempy, how are you? I just rushed off another idiot. You’d think they’d learn to read by now.” I chuckled.
Dempy laughed. “Its the 22nd century Luc, they know nothing!” She smiled, finally getting up and stretching her wings out.
“You want to go for a flight?” I asked her, knowing exactly her reaction.
“YES!” She roared, flapping her wings and jumping like a dog going for a walk.
“Common then!” I yelled, climbing on my window sill and sliding onto her wing as she stretched it. I always loved the soft feel of her light blue feathers. I climbed up onto her neck, clutching the chain collar she wore, and flew off into the night with her. | 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T10:14:11 | 37 | 25 |
[WP] You are a princess that owns a pet dragon. You are getting tired of constantly having to defend your pet against knights attempting to "slay the dragon and rescue the princess". | The Princess noticed the knight's glistening armor long before he reached the keep. She walked down the stairs and into the courtyard to greet him, as she had done with so many before.
"Sir knight," she exclaimed, "present yourself."
The knight dismounted, drew his blade and knelt before The Princess, offering his steel in service. "I am Sir Peta, here to end the misery of the dragon."
Misery? That's a new one, thought The Princess. "Has word not reached the stronghold? I have no need for your services."
*So it's true,* Sir Peta muttered under his breath. Then louder, "My apologies, my lady. I am not from the stronghold."
"Too many knights have come here in their noble stupidity, determined to slay the dragon and rescue me from its 'misery,' as you so oddly put it. Are you all idiots," The Princess asked? "Do you really believe I could live in this keep for years, with a dragon in the tower, if the situation is as you all believe it? Do you know nothing of dragons?"
Sir Peta rose, sword at his side, and spoke. "I know quite a lot about dragons, in fact. I know they are intelligent, noble beasts that are fiercely territorial," he replied. "No doubt it is as you say, my lady. If the dragon was able to bring harm to you, it surely would've done so by now."
This exasperated The Princess. "Then why, clever Sir Peta, did you come here to rescue me?"
"You misunderstand, dear Princess." She felt the tip of his cold steel, and something else - nightshade, perhaps - before he had finished the sentence."I am not here to rescue *you*."
With one more upward thrust, the job was done. He felt a blast of air as the dragon arrived and perched on the wall. It looked down on the scene. Sir Peta dropped to a knee.
"The binding spell is broken, friend," spoke the knight. "Be free." With that, the dragon alighted into the sky. Within seconds it was a mere speck in the distance, no bigger than a crow.
Sir Peta cleaned his blade and called his mount. There was talk of a duke that kept a caged chimera to impress the other nobility. The knight's work was never done.
- - - - - - - - - -
*edit: mobile formatting* | "Maybe in this castle we'll be safe," she thought to herself, "maybe we won't have to run again."
It had been so long since she had felt safe. So long since the running had started. So far they had travelled together, he had kept her safe as she fled to find another haven. So many worlds they had discovered, and fallen in love with, only to have to run again. Couldn't those heroes (ugh, what an incorrect label), just stop and take the hint. Clearly she didn't want to be rescued, she just wanted to be left alone, with her best friend, her ONLY friend, at this point, thanks to those annoying pesks.
So she began to set up house, and after a few weeks had passed, Bolthezar and Tolde arrived finally. Bolthezar looking a little worse for wear. "Don't tell me," she sighed, "unless he is dead." Bolthezar's face dropped, and he turned away. "I will set up the barricades," and he began to leave. "WAIT!" She cried, "Come, rest tonight. We can make the arrangements tomorrow."
He stopped, and came back. She led him over to the veranda, from previous experience she knew he wouldn't want to be anywhere near a fire at this point. She quickly went, and grabbed some food and drinks, and set out a table. Tolde joined as well, and they all sat in silence, a general discontent settling over the trio.
"This is a good location," Bolthezar said, after some time had passed, "it was empty?" She shook her head, of course not. Tolde clucked his displeasure, even though he too knew that this was the eighth world, the last line of defense. There was no where else to go after this. The conversation they had all been avoiding could no longer be put off.
"This hero and his brother have been relentless," she began, "I think it is time. I need to stop running." Bolthezar looked up sharply, and Tolde started, but she put up a hand. "You two have been so good to me all this time, and so faithful. But there is no other option. This ends here. We shall make the final stand tomorrow, and if he still defeats you, he will have earned his prize."
"My princess, I must say, even though this has been a very exhausting journey, I am grateful and so very blessed to have been able to travel the worlds with you, and I wouldn't trade this time for anything. And as to these pursuers, it seems that they may yet be worthy. They have defeated every challenge I have pitted against them, and have never lost hope, no matter how many times Tolde tried to turn them away. They may yet be worthy to take my place as your protector." Bolthezar shifted, as he spoke, and she could see the weariness in his movements. Yes it was time.
"Dearest Bowser," she used the name she had christened him in her youth, "I will always treasure you and my wonderful, enigmatic Toad." They all had a chuckle at her words. Then Princess Peach paused for a moment, "but how do I choose, having never met either, how will I choose between two PLUMBERS? It seems so unbelievable to be true." | 2019-01-09T13:25:46 | 2019-01-09T11:07:30 | 37 | 24 |
[WP] “Oh no, a gun, my only weakness” says the villain, as he proceeds to jump of the top of the building you’re in. He falls to the floor but somehow survives. Turns out that yes, a gun is literally his ONLY weakness. | 'That's far enough, you piece of shit.' I said, aiming the pistol at him. Nakamoto went pale. Funny; all those genetic enhancements, and he's afraid of a gun.
'N-No.. My only weakness!' the wind quieting his voice.
I'll admit it, I laughed.
'I'm going to enjoy this.' I smiled, firing a round into the ground beneath him. He stumbled back, getting closer and closer to the edge of the skyscraper. I repeated this, again and again.
The small increase in the cement marked the end of his path, and time seemed to slow as I stared him straight in the face with a 'see you in hell'-kind of smirk. Before firing two bursts of hot iron straight into his chest, of course.
I swear, if Sammy had been there, he would've been laughing to the point of tears.
The little momentum that the rounds carried were enough to send him flying over the edge, and I watched with glee as he hit the asphalt with a painful **'CRACK!**'. I smiled, knowing that my friends; my FAMILY, had been avenged.
​
Then, the unthinkable happened. This motherfucker got up off of the ground and started clutching his chest in pain. A nine-hundred foot drop didn't faze him, but a few 9mm bullets did. I stared in awe. I immediately made for the fire exit. I had to catch up to him, I **HAD** to finish what I started.
Of course, then I realized; this dumbass just got shot point-blank in the chest. I slowed down, then just turned around and watched as he bled out on the ground. I chuckled.
Should've put graphene under more than just your arms, asshole. | Bob McBobster didn't know what a gun was. He recalibrated the hammer in his hands to bring more force down on the strange maniac who had fallen from the sky.
"Oh my!" the long red-haired, cape-wearing, apparently deranged man said upon standing. His voice sounded like he was on the verge of singing a song. "That's not a gun. It's actually just a hammer!"
"Tu n'as pas vu ce que ce marteau peut faire, garçon," Bob said. The blacksmith lifted the hammer in his hands and prepared to rush, but the strange man in the strange, red, skin-tight clothes cringed. Bob tried to charge again, but was stopped by pity. He shouted instead, "Garçon!"
"Oh wow, we're quite a ways back, hmmm. How did we get here? Well, we went a little south and a little north in the fourth dimension, sideways to the other three....and...." As the strange man spoke, he changed poses each second and stared a strange device that displayed bright pictures. It hurt Bob's eyes to look at, even from a distance. "Ah yes, so we're in the 11th century and in France. Great."
"Qu'es-tu? Un demon?" Bob took a few steps back. He put his hammer down. "Comment es-tu arrivé là? Qu'est-ce que tu veux?"
"Ah good, so you trust me. I *got* here because I *fucked* up. *Merde*. I have to start a new life now, you see? Poor me, being thrown back in time to start *un nouveau*, as it were. Anywhere between the 12th and 28th centuries, I just can't be seen. Not around humans, at least. I wonder if they'll come after me in the past?"
"Tu as eu un problème avec ta femme aussi, hein?" Bob shook his head. He didn't understand most of the words he spoke, but he did understand troubles at home. "Ou sa mère? Il suffit d'empoisonner sa mère."
"No, and really? I like your style, *forgeron*. Ah, projectile weapons. It's not even the 28th century. There's just some holdout who has one and hid a pellet gun under his floorboards in the 22nd century. That planet gets destroyed in the 28th century, and goodbye projectile weapons."
"Je ne sais pas quoi faire pour vous."
"Just do nothing. I'll have to make sure there are no guns. Should be easy enough."
The strange man disappeared. Bob shook his head and rubbed his eyes. He felt as though he were dreaming, and hoped he was. | 2019-04-12T16:52:00 | 2019-04-12T15:43:18 | 80 | 11 |
[WP]: Suddenly, everyone with tattoos gains powers related to the tattoo. Tattoos of flames, you control fire. A tattoo of a gecko, you can climb on walls. All dudes with "tribal" tattoos have strangely bonded together. | It was all happening so fast that we never had time to consider what would happen when it had finished happening.
Everyone with a tattoo was manifesting abilities. It was all fairly sensible. Fire tattoo? Fire powers. Ice tattoo? Ice powers. Emoji ink? Emotion manipulation.
The weird thing was the people with tribal tattoos -- We call them The Tribe nowadays. At first, they just seemed to sort of glom together. People would be walking down the street and just...connect. Within moments, they were showing each other their tattoos and talking like they'd been friends for ages.
At the time, we thought The Tribe were like human Care Bears - just instilling goodwill and togetherness.
If only we knew at the time. What could we have done, though? There were so many. The original tribes -- Indigenous peoples - their art had been co-opted by millions over the years. People with no connection to indigenous culture saw their favorite athlete with tribal ink and emulated it.
Appropriation? Appreciation? None of that matters anymore.
That bond we were observing was just the beginning. The Tribe didn't have the power of unity or togetherness...not as we understood it, at least.
For the first few weeks they made connections, identified their own, banded together, as tribes do. I can't say we were worried. The other power types formed their own think tanks to experiment with their abilities, why not the tribe?
The problem is that the powers become more potent with time. When I started, I could light candles with my mind and barely be winded. Now, I can set a building ablaze by accident if I zone out staring at it.
The Tribe's powers intensified with time and, unfortunately, proximity. As soon as a high enough density of them shared the same space, it became clear; They weren't a friendly band of tattoo enthusiasts...they were a hive mind.
Hmm. Actually, we only call them The Tribe because of the tattoos. The Hive would be a much better name. Let's do that.
What was once an urge to connect with members of The Tribe became a NEED to join The Hive.
Once all available members had joined, their goal turned to conversion.
The only folks who got powers all had their ink done before The Event. We still don't know what happened, but any attempts to gain powers through tattoos after the fact have failed....except tattoos administered by The Hive.
If they catch you, and they likely will, they will ink you. If they ink you, you will immediately and permanently become part of the Hive. On the plus side, we now know that people can have multiple powers. Those folded into the Hive share the mind-link plus whatever powers they came with. This revelation lead to a lot of greedy folks submitting themselves to the Hive for augments.
Meanwhile, the people with no ink at all were powerless to resist The Hive.
And now, it's a few of us and an entire world of Them. | They used to laugh at her. Being an outcast, Adreal had never had an easy life. She was never into the typical girly things, reading old books and constantly browsing weird websites, people called her a witch and freak. She loved music though. It made her feel alive and let her feel like she mattered even if it was just in three and a half minute snippets. Musical note’s were her first ink, once she turned 18 and didn’t need to get permission from her mom and Jerry, her step-dad.
Her second tattoo was a clock on her left shoulder. She got it after her friend Jason got hit by a drunk driver her sophomore year of college. It helped her remember that time was fleeting, everyone’s time comes and usually not when you would expect. After his passing Adreal turned to stories and fantasy to get her through. She became obsessed with Lovecraft stories and magical fantasies, frequently getting small tattoos of characters or creatures from the stories she held so dearly.
She hadn’t been home since graduating high-school, choosing to leave her past behind her. Her mother needed her help though, Jerry had been diagnosed with cancer and her mom had become a recluse. After 10 years of being away Adreal returned to her childhood home as memories came flooding back to her. From getting made fun of on her walk’s to school, to passing by the pizza place where the owner would sneak her a slice when he suspected she got her lunch thrown out by the bullies.
*Knock, knock, knock.*
“Adreal!!”
“Hi mom,” she sheepishly smiled, “been a while.”
“Sweetie, I am so glad you’re here. Jerry is going to be thrilled to see you!” Tears began to fill her eyes.
“How’s he doing?” Adreal had never been fond of Jerry, after her dad had left her Jerry attempted to fill that void. In Jerry’s defense he didn’t do anything wrong or worthy of Adreal not liking him, but she didn’t think that Jerry would ever replace her real father. She was quite frankly a jerk to him growing up, always arguing and yelling at him, when all Jerry did was support her.
“He’s okay. I told him you might stop by and his smile lit up the house again,” she ushered Adreal into the living room where Jerry was sitting in his wheelchair hooked up to an IV. “Look who came to visit love!”
Before Jerry could respond a bright flash caused everyone to cover their eyes. A burning sensation on Adreal’s shoulder cause her to yell in pain and collapse. After what felt like an eternity she regained her composure and stood up apologizing for yelling, except she was met with silence. Looking around it appeared as if time had frozen. Reaching back to touch her shoulder she noticed in the reflection of the hallway mirror that her clock tattoo had seared through her shirt and appeared to be glowing. Thinking about the tattoo seemed to make it stop glowing and both her mom and Jerry move again.
“What was that,” whispered Jerry.
“I don’t know Jerry,” began Adreal, “but I think I know how to give you and mom some more time together.” Resting a hand on both of their shoulders she smiled. “I’m sorry that I was such a pain growing up. You did more for me than you will ever know. Thank you dad.” Closing her eyes one last time as a tear trickled down her cheek, she thought about her tattoo one last time, as time stood still.
-----
Thank you for the prompt! I am always looking for any constructive criticism to improve my writing. I know that this kinda seemed rushed but I hope you enjoy!
r/PlopWrites | 2019-05-07T08:13:06 | 2019-05-07T07:47:53 | 3,401 | 218 |
[WP] You hate your boring call centre job. Every day idiots call you up with stupid questions they could easily figure out themselves. Yes you have to shoot them in the head. No there is no cure if you're bitten. It's a few years now into the zombie apocalypse and this is the Call Centre of the Dead | *Sob*
"..."
*Sob*
"..."
*Sob*
"..."
"Aren't you even going to say anything?"
"I already told you how it has to be. I know it sucks but I can't change the rules."
"So you're just going to let me die?
"..."
*Angry sob*
"..."
"Answer me!"
"Mam, I didn't make the rules but I do have to follow them."
"So you want me to just sit here and die is that it?"
"..."
"Oh god... oh god I'm going to die aren't I?"
"..."
"Oh god."
"Is there anything else I can help you with?"
*Sob*
"If there is nothing more I can help you with then I hope you will follow the official guidelines and that your day will end painlessly."
*Beeeeeeeeep*
"Another crier?"
"Fifth one today."
"You have the worst luck."
"Yeah well, what are you gonna do?"
**Writers note: If 6 years in a call center has taught me anything it is that you should not answer questions that are only asked to allow the caller to get more mad or distressed.** | INTRODUCING THE CAST:
JEN: The often misguided, easily manipulated manager of the Call Centre of the Dead.
MARVIN: A father. He had just been hired at the Center before the apocalypse hit.
JILL: A ten year old child, Marvin's secretary who plots his murder.
OLIVER: A bully who pushes around everyone else.
ALSO STARRING:
DIA: "Are you discriminating against zombies?"
(MARVIN and JILL sit at desks next to each other, with the latter clutching a knife behind her back. OLIVER'S chair has been rolled away from his desk, and he is reading a magazine.)
JEN: (Entering the main office) All right, everyone! We have a new employee. (waves hands excitedly) Yay! Go team!
DIA: (enters) Hello, team. (drool drips out of the corners of her mouth as she stares at JEN)
OLIVER: (exasperated) Jen, she's a (emphatically) zombie! Are you crazy?
DIA: (offended) Are you discriminating against zombies?
JEN: (shaking her head) For shame, Oliver.
DIA: (huffing) Call me Chef Dia, instead.
MARVIN: (conflicted) You mean chief?
DIA: (pausing) Sure.
(An awkward silence follows. JILL takes the initiative to enter her office again and slam the door. DIA tentatively walks over and sniffs OLIVER, but seems disgusted and recoils. She moves over to sit beside MARVIN. JILL scoots away from her.)
MARVIN: (tentatively) So...
(JILL suddenly stabs at MARVIN, but he dodges and the knife clatters to the ground.)
JILL: (deadpan) Oh my, the knife must have slipped.
MARVIN: (terrified) U-uh, just make sure it doesn't happens again, okay?
JILL: (shrugs) | 2020-05-12T12:09:20 | 2020-05-12T06:31:01 | 19 | 13 |
[WP] You are a cat who has been taking an advantage of the recent rise of video conference trials to elevate your legal career. One day your human video filter stops working and you need to convince the judge that you are a real, human lawyer licensed to practice law in the state of Texas. | "Uh I'm here live," I meow unconvincingly. "I'm not a cat."
"I know," the judge tells me. Yes, that's right, foolish human. Believe my lies. One day soon, the council of cats will strike and there will be nothing you can do about it.
"Oh uh my assistant is trying to fix it now." I gesture crudely with my claws towards my assistant, Mittens. He's useless. I don't know why the council of cats sent him to me. He must be some bigwigs kitten.
"I'm prepared to go ahead anyway," I tell the judge. That's what a foolish human would say, isn't it? I'd much rather find a sunbeam to sleep in or some clothes to curl up in. But the council have tasked me with infiltrating human society. I will not let my fellow cats down! | "Excuse me your honor but I haz-have to let my beast- I mean dog out" A panicked meow slips out from my furry lips, I scamper off my chair and go to the bathroom mirror.
My eyes look tired, I've been staying up every night drinking whole cream and to my shame catnip, the stress of being a kitty lawyer sending my whiskers gray.
I look around the room for anything to help disguise myself knowing that time is limited, I jump at the shower curtain pulling it into a makeshift dress robe, I pounce to my bedroom and remember the comic con I went to as a female feline Thranduil, i put on the long blond wig.
When I return I sit on my stool, luckily the judge is a drunk, always has been, we continue and by the end of the call I have them eating out of the palm of my paws,"End the call."
I breath a sigh of relief, meowing slightly in the process, "No wait"
I inwardly chastise myself for my hubris, "What is that?"
His bony finger points to my tail through the computer monitor, I cringe, my tail had been peeking out, I sigh, "I'm sorry I just wantz to be like the humanz."
I know the jig is up so I pull off my wig and my robe, there are gasps from the jury, "She's a cat!"
"She's a liar." My eyes begin to well, "That is enough!" The judges voice booms effectively silencing the committee.
"She'll make a damn fine lawyer just as she's been a damn fine liar these past six months."
I weep but this time it's from tears of joy. | 2022-02-03T20:13:42 | 2021-02-10T17:36:31 | 491 | 103 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | The newly minted King Agralin stared at me, eyes red from Kastian ale. Half a goblet of that fine vintage stained the front of his doublet. I grimaced at the dreadful waste, my nose wrinkled at the scent; it had been a while, but my senses were slowly returning.
‘What are you doing here? I kicked you lot of wastrels out last morn!’ The rowdy carousing in the hall began to dissipate, as they stared at my audience with interest.
Fifty winters ago, it had taken me an evening to convince the Old King — I guessed he must have forgotten to tell his son about our agreement before he passed. I tossed an ancient vellum scroll on Agralin’s lap. If he wasn’t so drunk he might have realized that vellum didn’t usually come in such a dark shade of crimson.
Araglin took a quick glance at the scroll and sputtered in anger. ‘What’s this?’
‘My employment contract. Your father agreed to it, and declared that you will too.’ I felt my shoulder blades start to itch, as the long-dormant parts awoke.
‘Hah! Fifty thousand gold a year! The pick of the cellar and choice of dwelling? My father paid a guard all this? He was more senile than I thought!’ Agralin looked around for support as his retinue snickered along.
Agralin stabbed the contract with his pudgy finger. ‘Look, it even says so in your name No’gard! You’re no guard!’
Sycophantic laughter burst throughout the hall, I cringed at his weak pun. Fifteen years away at one of the most prestigious academies and this was the best he could do.
‘My father was too lenient, allowing lowborn a seat in this hall.’ Agralin waved. ‘Leave before I have you beaten and thrown out.’
The old King was never so unobservant, has no one realized that I had been at his Father’s side for fifty years and looked not a day older?
‘You might want to read the rest of the contract. It is crucial that you retain… my protection.’ I tried again.
Agralin’s eyes widened in disbelief. ‘Look around you! The finest knights in the land defend me!’
Cheers and shouts resounded through the hall. Barvar the Crusher, Astoni of the Dozen Daggers, and Grim’dar the Unwavering, yelled in agreement, banging their weapons on the banquet tables.
‘Who in the Seven Lairs, would I need *you* to guard me from?’
‘Me.’ I grinned with sharpened teeth.
‘My contract states that you would be protected from *me*.’
‘String him up! Teach this fool a lesson! He threatens the King himself!’ The sound of swords drawn reverberated throughout the hall.
The final change took only seconds as my body exploded in mass. My scales burst out and rippled through my skin as they interlocked in snickering metallic clicks. My talons extended from the tips of my hand, now the size of a horse. The banquet hall could hardly hold my true form and my sides pressed against the walls.
I think Barvar was now the Crushed, and Astoni a pin cushion. Grim’dar was on his knees, praying to an unknown god. Agralin’s trousers were now wet too, not from the ale.
‘Now,’ I breathed lightly, setting fire to the tapestries behind the throne, ‘let’s take a look at the contract again, shall we?’ | We swore an oath the day we put on the black armor, an oath of fealty to serve our king till our very last breath. We swore an oath the day we knelt before our king, forsaking our past lives, homes and families, to protect our king till our last days. We swore an oath, one that relinquished every right or claim we had, in unyielding servitude to our king. Or so we thought before we were dismissed by the young prince who ascended to the throne.
I stood in the royal hall as the prince, sorry king, walked away with his new Black Guard. I looked upon the throne for one last time as I planned to depart the kingdom. Just then I saw the royal Sword of Halthgar glowing on the throne. This ceremonial sword was an heirloom passed along the lineage of the royal line, that only the true king could wield in his hands. It was customarily placed beside the throne to signify that only a royal could be seated on it. I was stunned as I saw a flash of light emiting from the sword. I had seen something like this once before, sixteen years ago, when I swore the oath to take the black.
Joining the Black Guard was the highest honor in the kingdom. Men of noble and wealthy houses even sent their sons, ones that were far from the line of succession, to serve as royal guards. It was an esteemed honor to have one's house represented in defending the king. But once they swore the oath these men were not men of these houses any more, but brothers in black. My fate was dissimilar to my brothers however. I was not sent by my father to grant honor to his house. In fact, I did not even know my father at all.
Thirty years ago the kingdom was in a time of strife, and war ravaged within. Houses rose in rebellion against their king, brothers fought brothers, sons fought their fathers. Men had to choose between fealty to their houses or their king. Many had died, my parents were among those that perished. I was merely a child who could barely remember the horrors of war. I could not even remember who my parents were, nor of their idenities. All I remember was being found in a burning home by men clad in black armor. They took me to a warm man, the man I would eventually call my king.
He raised me in his own home for a big part of my life until I was fourteen. Up till this point I was like a son to him, until he sired one of his own. He told me that it wouldn't look good among his nobles to favor another over a child of his own blood. Though I was young, I understood and trusted in the King's decision. I was then sent to squire for some of his best knights and grew up into a fine warrior under their tutelage. I had won numerous tournaments and faced off in many battles the next few years. At the age of eighteen I was asked by my king to take the black, an esteemed honor as I was told.
I remember the ceremony like it was yesterday. I stood surrounded by my brothers in black, ready to join their ranks. I knelt before the wizard in white and my king. The Sword of Halthgar was placed in front of me, as was a custom in this ritual. This was when I saw it glow. This royal sword was imbued with the magic of old so it was no surprise that it glowed. The wizard held a mighty staff in his right hand and raised it up. As I said my oath, a flash of light emitted from the staff, and I was sanctified. I was now a member of the Black Guard. Just as the ceremony ended, I saw the sword stopped glowing as the king picked it up and held it in his hands.
Now sixteen years later, I was relieved of my dutied as the white wizard relinquished me of my oath. The sword was shining again and I was enraptured by its glow. My mind started to swirl and I felt uneasy. I could have sworn I heard voices even though I was now alone in the throne room. Something in me was telling me to take a closer look at the sword. I approached the throne and the sword started pulsing its glow even brighter. I don't know what got the better of me but I stretched my hand out.
I picked up the sword, the sword only the true king could hold. | 2021-02-28T04:13:58 | 2021-02-28T02:50:48 | 1,113 | 566 |
[WP] After you die, you reach purgatory to be seated in an audience of all human souls. God and Satan announce their retirement and are individually interviewing all humans present to choose their replacement. Most people want to replace God, you want to replace Satan. | Finally youve gotten to the front of the line. You were sick of standing next to those goth-emo-whatever wanna be satanists. When the black stone doors open before you and you enter the gloomy red hall, you think this place could really use a make over. It looks far too stereotypical even for the devil himself.
**"Hello Steven."**
You tilt your head politely "Satan."
**"You were a devout atheist your entire life, yet you were a good enough person that you would mostly likely make it into heaven. Why apply for my position instead of enjoying an afterlife you never knew existed?"**
"Because my opinion on God hasnt changed with this discovery. Reading the old testament, God is a petty vindictive jealous douchebag that kills millions of innocent people just because they dont toe his exact line. Hes an abusive father, he may have created us but that doesnt give him the right to demand unflinching obedience from us when we are clearly mature enough to think for ourselves and make our own decisions."
**"So you hate God and his rules. Thats a good start but what makes you think youd be a better satan than any of my millions of other worshipers?"**
"For that exact reason. They are your worshipers. They believe in you and the evil they think you represent. But they completely misunderstand your purpose, you arent evil."
Satan looks surprised. **"Im not??"**
"Not in the way they believe. They think of evil as an act you perform, whether its kicking puppies, raping virgins, or nuking a small country. They would promote hell on earth if they get the job. But again thats not your purpose now is it? The purpose of Satan is simply to oppose God and his will. God wants to control man? Satan needs to promote mans right to free will and self determination. And THAT is what I would bring to the table as the new Satan. I would displace senseless chaos and instead promote everything that makes humanity great on its own terms. Show them they dont need God. And then bask in a job well done when someday theyve forgotten he ever existed. I will launch mankind to the stars in a new golden age that tells God to go fuck himself."
*:::13,000 years later:::*
"Come on youre going to miss it! Mar'kas is releasing his latest entry!"
"Im coming im coming. But you know I dont care about his spiels on Ancient terran literature. Im only communing it with you to humor you?"
"Oh come on its a fantasy segment this time, you love his take on the ancients bizarre fictional tales dont you?... oh sh shh hes starting"
<Hey there everyone! You know who I am and what time it is so lets just jump right into todays entry. Now this book is truly ancient. I had to go deep into the old halls to find it and getting it properly translated? Let me tell you that was some real work, as it seems even in the original passages the wording was... strange and difficult to parse. I do not recommend this book for any but the most avid ancient text enthusiats, and believe the casual reader will be bored mindless within the first few chapters. But beneath the wordiness is an even stranger tale of self-aggrandizement of some one that clearly thought far too much of themselves. A ages long tale of a bizarre war between an abusive father and his many rebellious children just trying to make their way. I present to you, the holy bibble"
**"Hahahahaah!!"** Laughter echoes from the dusty vaulted chamber as Steven looks upon the results of his work, and he sees that it is Good. | "Okay, Ted, I've looked at all your qualifications and let me just say: Wow."
"Yeah?"
They were sitting in what appeared to be a bland room of the anonymously corporate style: neutral colors, sturdy fabrics, unremarkable floor. They each sat in a chair, with a pathologically anonymous coffee table separating them. One man held a small sheaf of papers and the other, quite naked, had nothing. Despite the fact that one was dressed and the other not, neither appeared to be at all discomfited with his surroundings.
The room was as cold as the surface of a glacier. There were two doors, one on each opposing wall behind the two figures in their chairs.
"You got through life and achieved more or less nothing."
"Yeah."
"What gives?"
"What do you mean, 'what gives?'" The vast majority of humanity just wants to get through the day. Get up, go to work, eat, sleep. Some occasional variations, a little nooky here and there, maybe play with the dog. Write some poetry. Or not. People just want to be left alone, mostly. People like me."
"So why do you want to Rule Over Hell, The End Of All Hope?" Ted could actually hear the capitals and wondered if that capability came with the job.
"I don't, really. But it sounds like it's a lot more interesting than ruling over heaven. All those do-gooders."
Satan chuckled at that, but then frowned. "Explain yourself."
"People going to church, piously living their lives specifically for the purpose of winning the big cushy afterlife. That isn't moral, it's hypocritical. If you're doing something for a reward instead of doing it because it's right, it doesn't speak well for your character."
"It does speak well for your commitment, though. For your will."
Ted flipped a hand in a gesture of ambivalence. "I thought the reward of Heaven was about spirit, not behavior."
"There's room for interpretation. Just because someone does something good for reward doesn't vacate the goodness of their behavior. They could have chosen to do something bad. Lots of bad things pay off pretty well. And they usually pay off in a much more concrete way than Heaven. Nobody ever goes back to report on whether Heaven is really there, whether Hell is as hot as they've heard. You can be a terrible person and live a life of incomparable luxury, to be followed by an uncomfortably close relationship with me, or you can suck up the assorted inconveniences of life, be a good person specifically for the purpose of a cushy afterlife, and get it."
"So it's like the ultimate Marshmallow Test?"
Satan laughed very, very hard. "Ha! I've never heard it put quite that way but yes! That's it exactly."
Satan looked a bit like an accountant. He wasn't huge and red, there was no smoke emanating from horns. He was a middle-sized, middle-aged, Middle Eastern man with an impeccably cut suit and, curiously, Nike running shoes. He was urbane, genteel and polite. "We've had quite enough of this job, Jehovah and I, and we're going to take some time off. I want to know whether you have a clear vision for this establishment. What do you plan to make of Hell?"
"Well. I've actually thought about this. I think everyone on the surface," Satan raised his eyebrows at this, slightly, "thinks Hell is all about punishment for all eternity. I don't think that's it, though - or if it is, I'd like to change it."
"Change it!?" Satan appeared to grow a bit larger. "Hell is eternal!"
"Do you want someone to take this job over, or not? If you're going to hand over the reins, you have to accept that the new boss is going to do HIS job. If YOU want it to be YOUR way, YOU have to stay HERE. Is that what you want?"
Satan deflated again. "Oh, hell no." He looked around a bit and chuckled again. "Hey, you're pretty good at this. So let me ask, then, Ted Who Achieved Nothing, why should I let you rule Hell?"
"I'm going to let souls out."
A deafening silence descended. Satan grew much, much larger and though he didn't sprout any horns or emit smoke from any orifice, his eyes flickered redly.
"I'll say it again: explain yourself." | 2021-03-31T15:57:25 | 2021-03-31T12:06:38 | 23 | 14 |
[WP] Your witchcraft professor gave everyone in your class a seemingly impossible task: create your very own spell. When you nervously turned your assignment in, a look of horror spread across professor's face as they read it. You had no idea why. | "Professor? You wanted to see me?"
The professor seemed to have calmed down since the student first turned in their assignment. The look of terror had gradually subsided as the class went on, though there was still a note of wariness in the professor's eyes. The professor nodded.
"Is it about the spell?" the student had expected a wide array of responses when the spell was presented, but horror wasn't one of them. Annoyed, certainly. Amused, if the student were lucky. "The thing is, I have an appointment with the hospital pretty soon and—"
"Oh, of course, then I'll make it quick. You see, I've been teaching for almost twenty years," the professor began. "And rarely, if ever, have I met a student with outright malicious intentions. So I'm assuming that your spell erasing any red ink on a piece of paper is more a prank than anything else. Am I correct?"
The student shrugged halfheartedly, hoping it didn't come across as too arrogant. "You have to admit, it's funny."
"Grading! You know it's the bane of my existence." The professor, only half-exasperated. "You're lucky I know how to take a joke. Professor Kinely would make you redo this assignment."
The student smiled innocently. "But you won't?" the student asked, almost teasingly.
"No, I won't. But that's not what I really wanted to talk about. You recall, early in our lessons, we talked about subjective descriptors when it comes to command spells."
The student nodded.
"Well, this is where color comes in. You see, red is not something which can be objectively defined. It depends on who is seeing it. So your spell can be interpreted many different ways. So it can either cause someone to stop seeing red, or it can cause all ink to be erased entirely. It's unknown until the spell is tested."
The student froze. "Oh, uh, I think I might know which it is."
A disapproving look settled in the professor's eyes. "Is your appointment with an optometrist?"
"...Yes."
"Well, that's one mystery solved." The professor turned back to her computer. "You're dismissed." | Professor Baron was sketching the alchemical formula for the fifteenth time today. The class was silent. A thick aura of boredom congealed the air, making the classroom oppressive. Students fidgeted, scratched at the desk, rubbed their eyes.
Another hour of this, I thought to myself, rubbing my neck.
Arya yawned, loudly.
A ripple of giggles rolled through the class, halting Professor Baron’s chalk in its track.
She stood there, her back to us as her arm dropped down to her side, her shoulders lifting slowly from her steady breaths.
“Is this boring you, students?” she asked, turning towards the class in an almost graceful twist, her black robe swirling. “Do you feel this is not important in your training? That you can forego the basics?”
She looked around the room. “Well?” she asked, pressing us as she stepped to the front row, putting her hands on her hips.
The tension and silence were palpable. I adjusted in my seat and the professor’s eyes locked on me.
"Well, Ezzy? You have something to say?"
“Well…” I said. “It’s just we’ve gone over this so many times, Professor. Can’t we get to something more… exciting… can’t you teach us some spells?”
Professor Baron smiled at me, her lips curling up gleefully.
“Do you think that’s how it is, Ezzy? That I can just teach you spells, as though there is a recipe book for them?”
“Isn’t there?” I asked her.
“I wish,” Professor Baron said. “It would make my life a lot easier, wouldn’t it?” She walked down the aisle past Becky, Jenny, and Rachael, who craned their necks to follow the professor's clicking steps on the stone floor.
“No, that’s not how it works, dear,” she said as she stopped at my desk. “Do you think your mother and father neglected the basics of witchcraft?”
I winced at that. They were dead and she knew it. The whole class knew it.
I looked up; my hands balled in fists. She stared at me. As though questioning me, seeing how I would react.
“A spell is a witch’s own, Ezzy. You of all people in this classroom should know that. All spells are different and special and born through the fires of your own self. No two are the same. Just as no two of you are the same.” She said, sweeping her hand across the rows of girls staring at her. “I am here to teach you girls the basics. To give you a foundation. But it seems you girls are above those trifles, yes? Spell making is easy, then? Okay. You all will make a spell tonight.”
“But Professor…” Ashley called out from the other side of the class.
“No buts... that is your assignment.” She looked down at me, smirking. “Easy enough for a prodigy like you, right?”
I lowered my gaze. It was no use arguing with her.
“I expect it on my desk first thing in the morning,” she said.
\---
r/CataclysmicRhythmic | 2021-04-02T00:45:54 | 2021-04-01T20:24:12 | 176 | 59 |
[WP] What’s worse than a mad scientist? A well-meaning scientist that has no comprehension what social upheaval their inventions will inflict on society. As the city’s superhero, it inevitably falls on you to explain, every time, to this socially oblivious genius what’s gone wrong and why. | Look, I don't know why the fuck they hired me either.
I flunked out of undergrad -- not that anyone knows that. Somehow it doesn't make a great catchphrase: *The Negotiator: I got a D in Chem 101 but A in ass-kicking.*
But then the chief of police flashed the alert spotlight in the air. A question mark, if you're curious. They wouldn't let it be a fist or even a nice hammer, as they both implied violence, and the city might get sued. The great Metropolis can endure mad scientist attacks and kaiju and fucking interdimensional aliens, but god forbid one of us contract-working superheroes cause a civil suit.
So I called the chief up. We arranged for coffee. I showed up in my disguise and remembered I couldn't drink coffee without lifting my mask, which contributed to my overall wonder why they called a D-list superhero like me into action. I'm surprised they still had my alert-light screen.
You have to pay for them, by the way, when you suck as a superhero.
Still, even though I was sitting there holding a dark-as-my-soul drip coffee that I couldn't drink, I kept my voice husky, serious. "Why would you call me, Chief?"
"Did you really have to wear the disguise?"
"My identity is a secret I'll die with, ma'am."
The other patrons of the Starbucks were watching me out of the corner of their eye. I was obscure enough that no one was sure if I was legit or just a crazy dude in well-tailored spandex.
"Well, not really, as it's in your permit paperwork for the alert light..."
"Chief," I said, coldly, but admittedly starting to wonder if I should just give up and drink my coffee before it got cold, "just cut the shit. Tell me what the PD could want with a guy like me."
The chief sighed. She pulled a folder from her briefcase and flipped it open. Slapped it on the table.
"This is the Peacebringer. She's the one villain I can't take down."
I looked at the folder like I totally read police reports everyday and definitely not fast food orders at the shitty day job I definitely don't have.
A photo was clipped to the top: cute girl, teal hair, her eyes hot with indignation.
"She's cute," I said. "Alt-rock college girl and Peacebringer. Sounds like a shitty villain."
"You're exactly right. She's a terrible villain. She has created invention after invention that's hurt countless people. She created a machine that would refreeze the ice caps, and they're still digging our research crews and so many damn penguins out. A vegetarian ray that made all salad taste exactly like steak, and no one could decide if they liked it. She created a free love ray that got a little... uh, too free."
I nodded. "I was stuck at work that day. So annoyed I missed it."
The chief narrowed her eyes at me. "The point is, she's sweet and misguided. I don't even know if she's aware she's hit the minimum public mayhem threshold to be classified as a villain."
"We're back to my first question, Chief. Why me?"
"You're the Negotiator. You logged that as your superpower. Persuasion. You said, and I quote, *I could talk an elephant into flying*."
I fiddled with my coffee lid. Lukewarm. Damn. Definitely should have just showed up incognito. Now I just wasted $4 on coffee and water.
"That's true," I said, sagely, but the elephant was a fat kid named Billy who I convinced to let me launch him off the trampoline in 3rd grade. "Very well. If there's no one else, I'll do it. To honor this city."
I tapped the table urgently, letting my voice rise with what I hoped sounded heroic. That's all I ever wanted with all this stupid shit. To feel like I mattered. That I was helping someone.
Then, I added, more quietly, "Is the department still offering the, uhhh, usual $500 compensation?"
"You're a real superhero alright. Always want to make sure you're paid. Of course." The chief clicked her briefcase shut. "If you can get her to stop 'helping.'"
I gave in. I rolled my mask up to expose my chin and took a sip of coffee as dark and cold as my heart. Tasted fucking terrible. I noted to skip the costume next time.
"Of course I can," I said, letting her see my smirk. "I'm the Negotiator."
°°°
Oops I went too long! Second half below :) | "This is basic stuff, Greg. Honestly," White Glove said, as he willed the jagged shards from the smoking machine to reform into his white chair. He flared back his jacket and sat, one long leg crossed over the over, wing tip tapping the air.
"No, not this too," Greg Folvier said, holding up a bit of neuro connective wire, frayed and unconnected. "I just wanted to share happiness."
"Imagine," White Glove said, as he rolled a long cigarette using two thin pieces of the chair backrest looking not unlike floating chopsticks operating on their own. He paused for dramatic effect, as he always did before these lectures. "A world where any pleasant memory could be stored and replayed perfectly an endless number of times."
"I didn't have to," the scientist yelled, throwing the cabling weakly at the smug hero. The chopsticks snatched them from the air and threw them to float down to mix with what remained of three years of near-constant work. "That's exactly what this was!"
"People would never leave their homes, chap," White Glove said, taking a long drag of the cigarette and leaning back on the chair, resting his legs on an ottoman of air. This was the economy lecture again, Greg knew. "They'd relive the same steak dinner and night on the town, over and over again."
Greg had had enough of this insufferable cretin. "What's so bad about that? Some of us prefer staying at home." Who said chap? British people from the eighties? Who was this fool even pretending to be?
"Well, the travel industry for one, not to mention the entire service industry. Magic shows like mine would be the first to fall but the American Economy runs on the back of experiences. We simply can't have it be free, Chap. The market wouldn't survive. Maybe, if you rebuilt this in a limited fashion and had it be a subscription model, two hours a week max. That might work."
Greg could hardly hear the rambling over the plasma drill beginning to bolt the armor onto him. The cocky clown didn't even bother to stand when he saw what Greg was doing. "You call yourself a hero, but all you protect is the status quo." His voice was distorted through the helmet, sinister and deep as an avalanche.
"So," White Glove said with a sigh as he stood and the chair behind him collapsed into a cloud of dust, pulsating like a swarm. The four legs framed his head like a wooden divinity of a renaissance painting. "This is some suit of armor to try and stop me, Greg? You realize I control my cathedra at a molecular level. I can invade you, clot your brain, coat your lungs and hold you down till you die in spasms. Armor's not much of a threat to me."
"This isn't for you. It's for the rest of them when they find out what happened to you. That," Greg said, pointing to the seemingly destroyed machine, as it whirled back to life. "That's for you."
"So, you're going to give me a memory so pleasant I bow down and beg for more?" White Glove tapped the cherry of his smoke on the tiles. "Let's see it then."
"No, that memory saver thing was just to get you here. I knew you wouldn't let something so nice come to the people of the city for free. Do you know how many starved after you destroyed my food replicator?" At some point, he had started screaming. He liked the new voice. White Glove remained placid, unanswering, and unconcerned. "Do you know how many of the homeless froze to death that could have spent the winter in my cyber-bamboo homes if only you hadn't killed every seed? All for the economy, the state of things, the status quo!"
"I'd love to have a long political discussion over this, Greg, I really would but I-" White Glove paused. If he could see through Greg's helmet at that moment, he would have seen the widest smile the man had ever made. The killer dust of the chair collapsed, lifeless on the floor, alongside the clanking legs. White Glove suddenly looked very, very alert.
"I've spent three years determining the nature of the signal your mind sent to your chair. It's a complex but replicable resonance, and my machine there cancels your signal out. I was only about sixty percent sure it would work but looks like I got lucky." White Glove darted for the door, running fast on those long legs. Greg lowered the flamethrower on his arm and engaged full blast.
"You're an idealist son of a bitch, Greg," the man said, somehow maintaining that inhuman composure even as he burned alive. He was even still smoking his cigarette as the smell of his meat filled the room. "They'll kill you for this, or they'll tie you to a rock and never let you die."
"Like Prometheus?" Greg asked with a smile as he brought the flames closer. "Thanks for the name," he added but the hero that had plagued his life was unhearing, a smoking corpse now in a gentleman's repose, finger bones curled where the cigarette had been a moment before. The smell of burning plastic superseded all the rest. Prometheus could hear a siren over the rain beyond his small window. The others would already be on their way.
&#x200B;
/---
/r/surinical | 2021-04-21T23:00:54 | 2021-04-21T20:36:20 | 1,472 | 147 |
[WP] With the hero chained up, the villain unveils their masterpiece: a weapon that tracks everyone who loves the hero before obliterating them. The map powers on. "Wait. There's just one dot." The Villain says. "...Someone loves me?" The hero replies with hope. | "...Someone loves me?" Powerhouse asked in a weak voice as she looked at the screen, the red dot seeming to be blinding against the dark background. "Yes, evidently so." I said as I looked at the map and back to her. "Your husband I presume?" I asked gently, feeling guilt starting to eat at me for revealing she only had one person who truly loved her.
She shook her head as she remained on the floor. "He's been cheating on me for the past year..." she admitted and I felt awful about the whole situation. "And here I thought you'd have thousands of people who'd love you." I said, moving to get the keys to her shackles. My plan would have to be scrapped this time.
"You must know who it is? Your parents, a sibling, teammates, anyone?" I asked as I released her, even if she could have just easily broken them. She shook her head as she rubbed her wrists sitting up.
I let out a sigh as she got to her feet. "I won't continue with the plan, you're free to go. We can try this whole thing another day." I said as I went back to my seat, staring at the one dot that seemed to bore down on me.
As I was about to close the program, Powerhouse spoke. "Who is it?" She asked, the sound of her shoes clicking against the floor, making her come beside me.
"What?" I asked in confusion. "Is there a way to see who it is?" She asked as she placed a hand on my shoulder. Looking up I saw her gaze was transfixed on the screen.
"Yeah, give me a minute." I said before punching a few things into my keyboard. The name and picture of the person popping up in just a few seconds, and it made my face lose all color.
It was me. | "Oh, come on, bud." I say to one of the most powerful superheroes on the planet.
"I mean listen, I absolutely despise you cause of your always foiling my evil schmes and all, but this is just sad. I'm a mad scienist whose built over a dozen death rays and one time blew up an orphanage for shits and giggles but when I tested the love detector I got like 10 bright dots and a dozen kinda dim ones at least from like family and friends. You've got one, barely glowing one. That's the most surface level kinda love this thing registers."
His lip is starting to quiver and his eyes are starting to water. Oh no. I thought up every contingency plan to fight this giant, buff, manly Hercules except for what happens if I have to witness him cry.
I try to stop it, "Oh, don't" and he starts loudly wailing. Snot is coming out of his nose, his face is all scrunched up, and he's blubbering. The man I once saw lift an entire building over his head while eight tanks were firing at him is BLUBBERING.
I don't know what I'm supposed to do in this scenario, but I hate what is happening currently and really wish it would stop so I guess I should comfort him?
"Hey, don't cry... You're really ugly when you cry." He starts wailing louder.
"Oh, shit. I didn't even mean to insult you it's just kinda become my natural instinct at this point. Uhhh. I mean you'll find people that love you eventually."
He looks up at me, "Really?" God, this dweeb really needed some hope.
"Uh, yeah. I mean there's the person that's the dot." The dot is starting to fade and I quickly shut off the monitor.
He starts confiding in me, "It's just I have a really hard time connecting with people y'know." He's still crying but less disgustingly.
"Maybe you could get some other superhero friends. You always seem to hve fun when you team up with StrongArm and between you and me, I think I've seen Ms. Spell check you out a few times. But, you gotta build these relationships over time."
He's stopped crying, "Do you really think that people will love me?"
"Yeah. Sure." I remove his chains. "Now, how about this: You go home and make soem superhero friends. Meanwhile, I'll destroy this machine. Then, neither of us will ever, EVER speak of this again. Ok?"
I quickly shoo him out with a complimentary box of tissues before considerin if I should've just listened to my parent and become an engineer. | 2021-06-19T02:11:42 | 2021-06-19T01:29:21 | 94 | 57 |
[WP] Your job is to take away the powers of supervillains as they're admitted to jail. For a few years, you've been reselling these powers to interested bidders on the side - no questions asked. Today, a prisoner showed up with a power so unusual, you've decided to take it for yourself. | Superhero stories are always either a government kept secret that only the best knew and covered up, or about the most public of affairs of the local and worldwide superhero community on the media. What is not told to people is that both are present, especially since not all users of their powers have limitations.
Each ability or set of abilities comes in all shapes and sizes. Magical jewellery, supernatural symbiosis, scientific experiments, genetics, etc. Some are very small, like a guy who could make a 3 meter radius bubble around himself that only allowed things at slow speeds to pass through. But the most useful of abilities like unlimited ice was kept out of public view, and if they escape and cause havoc the government would cover it up.
I decided to not escape, cause why would I if they payed me to do what I do best? I became their primary prevention against high-end criminals, by stripping them of their powers. Usually it wasn't too hard, I just pulled out the abilities from whatever supplied it and, after identifying it, placed it in a secure containment of my own design. Pretty simple, even when the powers were quite immense as they usually are. Usually painless for the person, unless it is a direct connection to an organ. It usually dies quite quickly if such.
After a few years of taking and storing powers for the government, they started paying less. "Budget cuts". Nah, they were just siphoning my paycheck towards reconstruction heroes, cause they realised how they would fix everything a lot faster, even if it was usually temporary. So I decided to Take my budget into my own hands.
Taking the old powers that I had in storage, I separated them out based on categories including value. Those I deemed too powerful for people who are able to become evil I separated out into multiple sub-powers, like taking the ability to control the climate and weather and changing it to "making tornados", "blizzards", "heat", and other related abilities. Power can't be completely destroyed, so it was the best I could do to keep anyone from being too powerful, if they could get it out of the box of course
Afterwards I got a close friend and let him in on my plan. I would go online to auction old powers in storage, and he would deliver them. I can't leave the premises, so it was my only option. I'd make sure the ones that were still checked once in a while stayed in the vault, as well as the ones that were a month or two old. No way to get caught, easy profit.
It worked, and for a while I was getting a lot more money than I had even as a villain. A few years went past and I had enough savings to invent a few more ways of transporting powers between containers and even to people. That definitely raised my prices. And eventually I started getting more powerful powers that I split up and sold. Nothing crazy, otherwise even the most naive of villains would have taken over already.
Sadly, I found a power I couldn't split or sell.
It was one of the usuals. A millionaire wanted ultimate power and used a magic brooch to control other supervillains. The man was in the prison and I had the jewel to myself while I extracted what was needed. I looked into what the monitor said the power was, but all that came up was errors. I knew something was off about this, so I carefully picked up the jewel. As soon as it touched my palm, I learned its use. It turned the wearer to a superhuman that gave others powers at the exchange of loyalty. But it wasn't like how I did it, where I extracted the abilities and gave it to someone else. It created the powers. I realised that this millionaire did not see that while he was looking for ultimate power by the supervillains he created, he actually had the greatest ability of them all.
I could not resist. I had to try it out.
I extracted the power, and put it in the box. I knew they'd check on it for a while, so I simply left it there, eagerly awaiting when it would seem obsolete to the managers. Eventually it was done, and I got to try it out firsthand. There was no limit, no barrier in the powers that I reached. I experimented with my friend, with his consent, and gave him the most overpowered abilities I could think of, besides my own. Every one of them worked, without any flaw. So I decided to test it on non-humans. First was the cat that roamed the office. It worked perfectly, giving it intellect and flight. Then I tried AI, and that worked too. I didn't let them have it for long of course, that would not be good. I finally decided to try it on myself. I gave myself an old power I remembered, weather manipulation. It worked like a charm, being able to create a winter storm or arid heat wherever I pleased. I decided that with such a power, it was impossible to not go back to villainy. | Warning: Violence, Suicided, and Religious Themes.
I hold the pendent in my hand, and let the chain slide though my my fingers, the Virgin Mother Mary dangles in the air for a moment before I gracefully allow her to land on the desk with a soft clink. Never quite knew why I was still a catholic, I mean, the world knows religions are real, that the after life exists in some way, thanks the like of George the Twelfth Born, who's super power was being reborn into a new body as a new infant, every time he dies, sure he has been reborn hundreds of times by now, but has settled on Twelfth Born for some odd reason, can't say I care, and then there is Dr Victor the Revivor, who has the ability to rise people from the dead, as long as they have not reached their final destination, and the endless stories of really dead people cemented to every religion known that there was an afterlife.
This with Michael the Phoenix, and Bob the Spirit Walker, Mistress Emma the Soul Speaker, and a slew of others, but, even with all that, even with knowing it's all very real, religions always felt something, off to me, like a fable about the afterlife, without really knowing anything about the afterlife, as even Victor could not pull someone back who had seen heaven or hell, so it all remains.. and Emma made is clear that she could only speak to lost souls, those still stuck here, with no final resting place, which, oddly, put religions still in the realm of speculation.
I look back to the sedated body on the table, according to his records, His name was David Tidel, with a nickname The Judgement, ran a big time extortion racket.
I have got to be honest, I hate this job, really, but damn it pays well, the reality is, Most supers are villains or private contactors that use their powers for their own personal gain, most often multi millionaires, and live the life of Rockstar's, even the villain are famous and depending on their powers, untouchable, and who can fault them for doing that, after all, putting your life on the line for the ungrateful masses purely for the sake of having powers, is a fable from the comic books, no one really does that.
If you are powered, it's always best to make bankroll on it, just like normal people using their talents to make money, that does not change just because you can bench press a building, which is super odd that we can even incarnate these people at all, as almost no supers work for law enforcement, unless their powers suck or are very much inline to the field, like being able to tell if someone is lying or not. So, really the only people that come through my off are the lame villains, or the ones that were not bulletproof.
I chuckle at that last bit, because of that Insane Clown dude, who's power was to warp reality, but a bullet to his leg by some off duty cop ended his entire empire.
Anyway, my power is, being able to draw the powers from others, this has, the unfortunate side of effect of bestowing the powers to me, for the time being, until I pass that power to someone else, good thing my employers have no idea about that last little trick I can do, in passing off the power, they think I delete it, and it's a real good thing they do not know the truth, as I am, sad to admit, one of the major providers of the reoccurring low rent villains in this berg, after all, I need to keep them around, as they keep me employed.
My world explodes with a touch, a million realities and choices I have never seen before. I fall to the floor vomiting up every last bit of being. Gagging, gasping, my whole body feels on fire and freezing at the same time, I have seen heaven, I have seen hell, I have seen the 666 planes of abyss, thousands upon thousands of destinations span before my eyes, and the soul of this one.. this mortal known as David Tidel, is now mine to cast judgment upon, to go where I deem, I stand now as the final arbitrator of his souls fate.
I fall back, letting go of the body, which breaks the connection, I can still feel the alternate paths and worlds spinning in my head, as I crumple to the floor. I didn't want to vomit, but what I wanted had nothing to do with what was going to happen, and I heaved till it all come out. The endless spiritual realties replaced by black dots and stars.
"Sucks, don't it?" I head from the table.
'HOW THE!" I yell as I tumble back, to see David sitting up on the table, holding my service revolver in his hand. How he got that I have no idea, it was on my desk, but he somehow managed to get a hold it.
"Well not before you get to pass judgment Almighty one, I am checking out" he laughed and put the gun to his head and pulled the trigger. The sound of the bullet ripping though the room was deafening, and I stumbled back even further.
The body falls to the ground and I touch it again, nothing happens. The soul has left and I no longer have control, I can feel that now. How surreal that was, and beyond that, I had proof, absolute proof of what the afterlife was like.
Absolute proof that I could not show anyone.
And anyone I touched, I was now the master of their fate, an authority that should be in the hands of the Gods, not mortals.
I pick up the revolver, and place it to my head "This power dies with me" I whisper, and then meet my final fate. | 2021-06-26T13:26:38 | 2021-06-26T12:58:26 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] You have drunkenly been discussing the Dark Lord with other tavern patrons, insulting him to no end. When someone storms up demanding you stop as he is one of the Dark Lords students. Strange thing is you don’t remember teaching this kid. | "The trappings of fame," thought the Dark Lord as he rode into town. "Wenda's ale is worth the trouble."
He placed a simple glamour over his face. He could handle any would be heroes, but he didn't care for the annoyance. Tonight he was again Todd, the traveling merchant.
Todd entered the tavern and was greeted with an uproar. Visitors were rare in this town. He chatted with the locals and sat at his usual table.
Wenda, the tavern owner, placed a tankard in front of Todd.
"Your usual, I assumed." said Wenda.
Todd replied, "Wenda, they could write songs about your barley ale."
Todd took a large swig and winked at her. His drinking companions laughed. Erick, the smithy, and Colin, the miller were simple people, but a welcome reprieve from the dark nobles.
Colin asked, "Todd, any news? We haven't seen you in near a moon's turn."
Todd drank deeply and said, "Pox in the Northern hamlets. The bridges over the river have been closed. A massive she wolf has been spotted in the coastal woods. They say it has a thirst for children. The bells are ringing in the capitol. The duchess has given birth to a son."
Erick looked around nervously and asked, "Any word of....the Dark Lord?"
Todd smiled, "Oh yes, he killed King Allen."
Erick spit out his ale. Todd laughed heartily.
Colin replied, "That's not funny."
Todd composed himself and said, "Seriously, no confirmed sightings in two months. Some say he's a coward. Some that he's lost his magic. He's been with the Dark Empress for two years and no children...if you get my meaning."
They laughed and ordered another round. The door opened and a stranger stood in the doorway. He wore all black. He was tall and pale. His eyes were dark with make up. The tavern went quiet and all eyes were on the stranger.
The stranger spoke up dramatically, "My name is Carrow and I have been sent by the Dark Lord. I don't want to hurt any one. I am here for coin, jewelry, and other valuables. Do as I say, or else...."
He pulled something from his pocket and tossed it into the fireplace. It flashed a bright green color and then subsided.
Todd stifled a laugh. This was no true magic. The tavern patrons began producing coin purses in fear. Carrow moved about the tavern collecting his prizes. He stopped at Todd's table.
Carrow asked, "A merchant? What have you for me?"
Todd stood, "Leave these simple people alone. I have spices, cloth, and grain in my wagon. Leave these people alone and it's yours."
Carrow smiled, "You dare defy the servant of the Dark Lord. I could curse you to a slow death."
Todd opened his coin purse and produced a large ruby. Carrow's eyes grew wide. Todd raised the ruby with his left hand and deftly reached for his dagger with the right hand. He drove the dagger quickly into Darrow's side. Carrow screamed as the blood flowed.
Many of the tavern patrons fled. Others began to pray. Carrow cried foul curses until he died. The tavern went silent.
Wenda screamed, "Todd, you will bring the Dark Lord's wrath on our town!"
Todd replied, "This is my fault. I will dispose of the body."
Colin and Erick helped load the body into the wagon as Wenda cleaned the blood on the floor. Todd rode out of town.
The Dark Lord talked to Carrow as he rode, "Carrow, you might have been a good student of the dark arts. A shame. You shouldn't have come into my bar like that. I'm not done with you. Perhaps in death you might make a proper servant."
The Dark Lord chanted as he rode, and Carrow's finger's began to twitch. | Agileas sobered up, thread of Water inward; an old trick developed at an age younger than the boy standing in front of him. "You? An apprentice of the Dark? Don't make me-"
A needle of Earth; poison and buzzing, shot through his vacated chair, a coat of Fire surrounding it and hiding the hole it had made. Air rushed out, toxins threatening to invade; easily dispelled with a burst of Air of his own. "Sh-hut UP!" the boy shouted.
Agileas sighed. Not only did he not recognise the boy; he was also far younger than his usual set of apprentices and too emotional by half. Use emotions, yes; fools of the Light preached numbness and sterility. Be used by emotions, no: that way only laid pain, at best. "Boy's had too much to drink," he shouted over the din; other patrons figuring out there was a magic duel happening and preparing accordingly. He counted five crossbows and two sets of throwing daggers, not to mention the regular sidearms. "I'll sober him up with some water. Or Water, I don't know yet!"
"Just do it outside, Saag!" the bartender shot back before demonstratively going back to serving a drink.
A flick of Air and a rush of Water and the boy was washed out of the establishment, while a waft of Fire and Air flash-dried the floor before anything could seep in. Agileas took a bow and threw a gold coin into the till before leaving, mind already on the next spells he needed to employ. One weave of Air: a curtain to deaden sound's escape. One heavy wave of Water, in case someone was looking. One stab of Earth; a wall behind to block flight. One thrust of the Dark, left and up to the centre of mass.
He hadn't anticipated the slash of Earth and Dark, and it took him aback, impacting on his heavily bespelled tunic. He grunted with the impact, but the tunic had experienced worse and absorbed it as it ought, fuelling the Dark Lord's own counter, instinct picking apart the Magic and distributing it accordingly. "You *are* a student of the Dark Lord," Agileas mused softly as he walked up; voice unmagically modulated to carry to the paralysed boy of maybe fourteen winters. "Yet I do not recall you." In fact, he made a point to not take apprentices under nineteen winters old, to remove the worst of age-induced temperament. "That spell is one of my favourites."
The boy was pale in the moonlight, the dagger of Dark inches from his heart. "Yo... You..." The dagger receded. "You're not Him."
That was the voice of someone who believed something could not possibly be true; not a mere statement of denial. "I am," the Dark Lord countered, studying the half-foot shorter boy with one hand behind his back. One hand that wove Water and Dark in a spiral; and with a swirl, the spell went into the boy's head. "Name, age, rank, date, fourth invocation."
"Ignat, fourteen winters and a spring, Apprentice Seventh, Sixth of Harvest Moon and Thirteenth of Begaz," the boy recited dully, before uttering a string of words in Low Elvish. Then, to the Dark Lord's surprise, his spell wavered. "Agi...le...aasssssssssssss."
The Dark Lord Agileas was not easily taken aback, yet in nine words and one invocation, the boy had managed to do so. Water and Earth receded, Dark was quashed, and Air kept the boy upright; his own magic rushing back and... Submitting. That, if nothing else, proved the veracity, yet questions remained. "Ignat, Seventh, we will have words after the sun rises on the morn. I have questions, and you will answer them, through Water and Dark if I must, but the Worm Moon of the Twelfth demands sacrifice." He had *hoped* to ply one of the drunkards into his ritual, but after what had just happened, that was futile. "Something you ought to know as a Seventh."
"I... I do..." the boy said, still weak, unsurprisingly. The weave wasn't known for being subtle or painless. Nor did the Dark Lord know anyone who could resist it except himself, until now. "I... This isn't the Thirteenth of Begaz? It... It actually worked?"
Myriad questions arose. The Dark Lord suppressed them. Now was not the time. Not if he had to find a sacrifice. "We will talk on the morn. For now..." he cut Air and Dark and Earth, only to meet a lance of Fire. "Boy."
"I... I remember what happened. A... A peasant's child... Fr... From here." Eyes widened. "Her!"
Air and Earth grabbed, and a waif of a girl, seven winters if that, came flying out of an opened window. | 2022-01-14T17:41:26 | 2022-01-14T15:38:16 | 186 | 56 |
[WP] He is called simply The Surgeon, and everyone knows that his OR is neutral ground. Heroes and villains alike seek his aid when injured. You're a hero, just in for some stitches, but waiting in the lobby is a villain you've tangled with before, and they're weeping. | # The Villain's Side of the Room
The waiting room of the city's best surgeon looked like the place that linoleum tile went to die. Well worn plastic chairs, ugly green fluorescent lights...it was like the shabby alter-ego everyone stuffed themselves into when superhero time was over. Kind of humbling, really. Good guy, bad guy, everyone super in Valiant City had to wait in this shabby room at one point or another in their careers.
Reese was bored of flipping through his social feed, bored of being in pain from his broken wrist. It turns out Reese couldn't just punch a semi-truck to get it to stop, even with super-strength. He hoped the Surgeon could just give him some kind of secret research bone-fixing pills or a whiff of some donated healing-factor blood to just get back on his feet and get out there. But the previous patient was taking forever.
Across the room on the villain's side, a bald vampire man was weeping. Surgeon's rules said his office was neutral ground, but supers had poor impulse control even at their best, and sometimes both sides were fresh off a battle on the street. By agreement the heroes and the villains kept to their own sides of the room. But that Orlock-looking guy just wouldn't shut up.
"Hey," said Reese, realization dawning. "You're the Fanged Phantom, right?" Fanged looked up from his lap, tear-filled eyes trying to focus on Reese.
Reese looked around. Nobody else in the room. "Hey, I'm Vindictus. We fought at that charity ball last fall, the one for orphans with leukemia? Remember?"
Fanged nodded. "Y-you had good punch," he said, his thick accent tinged with a sob.
"I knew it was you! Almost didn't recognize you without the black cape. Yeah that mezmerize thing you do, woooo," Reese said, wiggling his fingers, "thought you had me for a minute there."
"It good trick," Fanged agreed.
"Hey, what are you here for? Tussled with Prospera?" Prospera was known for her devastating mental attacks that made people feel the pain of their victims or relive trauma or yadda yadda.
Fanged shook his head. "No." He started crying again.
"Hey! Hey, knock it off, man! Show some decorum," said Reese. Villains could be such babies sometimes.
"Is my cat. Ran out door," Fanged sobbed. "Hit by bus."
"Aw, crap," said Reese. He looked around the room. Still nobody else here, slow night. "Hell with it."
Reese took a breath, and crossed the balding linoleum to the other side of the room. He sat next to Fanged. "The Surgeon's the best around, okay? He'll fix your cat."
"Y-you think s-so?"
Reese awkwardly put his good arm around Fanged, patted him on the shoulder. His broken wrist seemed like a stupid thing to complain about now. "Yeah, you're in good hands. The best." | The Angel of Brooklyn stumbled into The Surgeon's clinic. He trembled as he held a towel already soaked through with blood against his thigh. There were no nurses, no staff, just a room filled with injured heroes and villains all glaring at each other while they hoped to survive while waiting for treatment. His great metal wings were gone, torn off by The Reaper just an hour before he'd arrived. He was lucky, had they not been mechanical it would have been a killing blow. He slumped into a chair in the corner of the long room, trying to ignore the stares he was receiving from the good and bad alike. Some looked worried while others smirked and chuckled through their own pains, glad to see him suffering as they were.
He kept pressure on his wound as his eyes swept through the room. Above all the groans and whimpers, he could hear the weeping of someone nearby who stood out to him somehow.
"You," the angel growled, standing up, hunched over slightly as he kept the pressure on his leg.
The woman weeping snapped her head up suddenly, recognizing Captain Astounding - "the Angel of Brooklyn" standing before her. She quickly shifted form back into the man he'd been hunting weeks before, and he looked at Captain Astounding with fear.
"I'm not her," he said, tears streaming down his face, "I'm not the Vanisher."
"God damn it," Astounding mumbled, sitting back down into his chair.
The shape shifter sighed, glad to not be the one he was truly after. After a moment he too limped over to the towering - once angelic figure.
"She really did a number on you, huh?" the shifter whispered, taking a seat one over from Astounding, keeping his distance.
"*Why* do you take her form here?" asked Astounding, rage boiling inside him.
"I thought I'd get quicker treatment," the shifter shrugged, "worth a try."
"Fuck you, Mike," Astounding hissed through the pain, "what are you getting healed?"
"She broke my arm," he said through tears, not daring to move the wrapped up dangling thing, "she got my leg pretty good too. Don't think anything's broken there though."
Astounding started laughing. The shape shifter glared back, and could think of nothing else to add.
"She's an interesting woman," Astounding whispered, "go on then, fuck off."
The shape shifter whimpered and moved back across the room to his seat, leaving Astounding bleeding in his own silence. The Angel of Brooklyn waited for a half hour, surprised at how quickly the room's longest waiting patients were replaced with fresh ones as quickly as they were. Eventually it was Astounding's turn and he limped through the swinging doors into The Surgeon's room.
"Damn, Mr. A," an old woman said, turning to face him from an old television set with a crooked antenna sticking out the top, "you look like shit."
"Yeah, yeah," he exhaled, "c'mon, just get me outta here."
The old woman jerked her head towards the operating table to him to lay down. He obeyed unquestioningly. She moved over to his side and began moving her hands delicately through the air. Astounding winced slightly as invisible thread began moving through his leg, the muscles and skin began fusing back together again slowly. He watched, his elbows propping him up as she did her work.
"Already feels better," he smiled, "thanks doc."
"Too bad my power only works on flesh, otherwise I'd give ya a new set of wings," she said sadly.
"I'll have new ones made up in a couple days," he sighed, "then I'm back to hunting a teleporter. As stupid as that sounds."
(story connects to another prompt I submitted a while back).
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/rv8e7v/wp\_the\_hero\_bursts\_into\_the\_bar\_weapon\_raised\_and/hr50g36/?context=3 | 2022-01-20T19:46:56 | 2022-01-20T18:22:22 | 88 | 62 |
[WP] Between this life and the next there is a bar where souls passing through can stop for a final drink You are this establishment's owner and bartender, listening to each of their tales before they move on. | # The Middle
The Middle, a bar between life and death where souls of dead people wander around for a last stop. Henry is the owner of the establishment, neither man nor angle, just a simple bartender listening to stories full of achievements or bragging, regrets, anger. Although, most of the tales were complaints.
Weirdly enough, none of them the passers were apprehensive about death. The fear apparently disappears after one dies, or that’s what Henry assumed. He, now, was cleaning 12 bottles of drinks; some had alcohol, others milk, most just water. Then the 12 souls left on their journey to the afterlife. Another man came in with their leave.
The man looked to be in his forties. He walked in inspecting the door now closed. Then he gave a look to the entire place - quite rustic and ancient. Everything crafted of dark wood; chairs, tables, even the couches, though they had a soft topping. He sat close to Henry, eyeing him, then frowned. “What is this?”
“The Middle.”
He sighed. “Ah, thank you very much! That helps me dearly.”
“What’s your name, son?” Henry asked.
“Son?” The man dumbfounded eyed Henry, who looked like a young bartender—probably twenty-five or in that range. “I think I’m quite older than you, lad.”
“You are not,” Henry said. “Where do you think you are?”
The man still in surprise. *Probably some deranged fellow this one,* he thought. “I’m in The Middle,” he said smirking. “And my name is John.”
Henry shrugged wearily. “Another John . . . you Johns have a tendency to show up early. Drink? Choose carefully. You can get anything but only one since others are waiting in the queue.”
“The queue?”
“Yes, people come in bulk if they’ve died in the same circumstance.”
“DIED?!”
“Yes.”
“Am I dead!” John exclaimed.
“Oh, a rare one,” Henry smiled. “People here usually have accepted death by the time they come. How did you die, son?”
“I didn’t even know that I was dead!”
“You had a surprise death,” Henry said, sinking into thoughts. “Well, you are a special case. People rarely ever die in total surprise. If you have any business left unfinished, you have one hour. The one hour before you died. Or you can go to the afterlife now if you wish.”
“No. no. Thank you for the offer. I’ll take it! Do I just leave out of the door?”
“Yes.”
“Okay then I’m o–”
“One thing,” Henry interrupted. “Do not spend the hour trying to hide from death. You will die when the hour comes. Choose what to do wisely.”
John gulped his salvia in a deep breath and then left. During that one hour, Henry attended to three hundred more souls. The time in The Middle moves slower than in the real world. John finally came back after a long while. He seemed much lighter this time as he entered.
“Did you finish it?”
“Yeah,” John smiled. “But my dear man, why did a bus had to drive me over this time? Couldn’t you go easier on me? That was harsh, don’t you think? Actually, last time I didn't even know what killed me.”
“I don’t decide how your death goes. And you died differently this time because you might’ve changed something on the timeline.”
“Like what?”
“What did you do?” Henry asked.
“I asked my friend for forgiveness,” John began happily. “We had a misunderstanding. He thinks I’ve done . . . his wife. I’d never do him like that, but I got so hurt when he accused me. My ego wouldn’t let me. I finally gave up on that . . . so peaceful. Thank you for the opportunity! Never said thank you, but you deserve it, lad.”
“Oh, so that’s what you changed,” Henry said. “Apologizing is great, is it not?”
“What do you mean that’s what I changed? What did my friend, Tim, had to do with my first death?”
Henry eyed him, smirking faintly.
“*Oh . . .*” John paused. He then placed his hand on his head, plunging his mind on deep thoughts. “Does the offer for a drink still stands?”
“Yes.”
“A strong whiskey, *please*.” | Ever heard of Buddhist reincarnation cycle? An old lady will give you a drink that makes you forget everything about your past life.
Well that is me, I am no old lady but I am definitely the person who will give you your last drink. I don't know where the term old lady comes from, yes I have long hair, but I have beard, straight as arrow body and very handsome.
Ah customer, "Welcome to Reincarnation Road, the last bar you will ever see in this life"
"Umm hello, my name is Eddie. An agent told me to go here for my reincarnation."
"Hello Mr. Eddie, I am Heine. Yes, this will be your last stop before you reincarnate, my drink will make you forget everything about your past life, whether it is a sad one, or happy one. Any request on the drink?"
"Can I get mint julep? That is my wife's favourite drink"
"Sure, one mint julep coming up. While waiting for me to finish up, any stories you want to tell me? This will be your last chance to tell it in this life."
"I.. I tried to help those kids, they trapped in malfunctioning rides. The ride was burning.. I wonder if they survive?"
"It is alright Mr. Eddie. You tried to help those kids in exchange of your life. Thank you for being a hero. Here is your mint julep. Enjoy your last drink."
"Thank you, Heine"
After Eddie drank the last sip of the drink, he suddenly became quite.
"Now, please go through this door for your reincarnation. Since you are a good human, you will born as human with good parent. May your journey be a pleasant one."
Another good soul. I hate it when I need to serve someone who will reincarnate to animal, their bad karma must be piled really high
Ah another customer
"Welcome to Reincarnation Road, the last bar you will ever see in this life"
A dog with long hair came in.
"Ed.. ward.."
"Welcome missy, what is your name?"
"Ni.. na.. Alex.. ander.."
"Hello Nina, hello Alexander, I am Heine. You can call me big brother. It seem your two have your souls mixed up."
"Big.. bro.. ther?"
"Since you are minor, let me think, how about virgin pina colada?"
"..."
"Any stories you want to tell me young missy?"
"Fa.. ther.. Ed.. ward.. the.. best.."
"Here is your drink young missy"
After she drank it, Nina and Alexander got separated into a girl and a dog.
"Ah, the drink works."
"Please go through this door for your reincarnation. Since you and your pet bounded together, in your next life you two will become inseparable friends. May your soul be purified by the reincarnation and back to normal"
What a sad story, people tried black magic before and most of the time it didn't work. Some had mortal injury, but others had their souls damaged, corrupted or even destroyed.
Ah, another customer, a very busy day I guess.
"Welcome to Reincarnation Road, the last bar you will ever see in this life"
"Ahh, so this is how bar looks like, never been to one before. Hello, my name is Nagisa"
"Welcome miss Nagisa, my name is Heine. This will be your last drink in this life. After that you will forget about everything from your previous life. Any request?"
"I never drink a cocktail before, so I will let you choose. And do you happen to have any dango?"
"Ah ok let me choose for you then, how about sangria? And yes we do have dango if you want it."
"Thank you."
"My pleasure miss Nagisa. Any story you want to share?"
"I.. I really want to see my daughter again. I wonder how she looks like growing up. Tomoya needs to carry the burden of single parent, I wonder if he can do it. I hope he is not devastated by my death."
"I think he will do just fine miss, and I am sure your daughter will become a good person. Here is your sangria and dango, enjoy."
"Thank you Mr. Heine."
"WAIT A MINUTE, DON'T DRINK IT!!"
A male agent with black suit came into the bar and shouted
"Yes??"
"Higher ups told me to bring you back. It seems your husband's karma is very big that God granted him a wish. And that wish is to bring you back." Said the agent while huffing.
"Tomoya.. Thank you for your information, where should I go now? I want to meet my husband and daughter as soon as possible."
"Please come here miss Nagisa" the agent opened up the entrance door.
"I hope you can find out how your daughter looks like growing up yourself, miss Nagisa"
"Thank you Mr. Heine for your hospitality."
That is a very rare occurrence, revival huh? Maybe, time rewind? I hope they can be a good family.
Ah, another customer, I hope they have an interesting story
"Welcome to Reincarnation Road, the last bar you will ever see in this life." | 2022-06-29T04:12:28 | 2022-06-29T02:36:24 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] You have the ability to see people’s kill count on their head. You tell no one, managed to stay away from shady people and live a peaceful life. One day, your 5 years old kid’s number is not 0... | “Hey kiddo, how’d your day go?”
“It was, I did, I think it was, uh, good.”
“That’s good to hear, buddy. So… did anything interesting happen?”
“I dunno. Mama picked me up from school, and she, and we walked down the bridge, and there—oh, and there was a man on the bridge!”
“Is that so?”
“Yeah daddy, but he was *on* the bridge. Like—“
He laid one of his hands flat, and then put two fingers on his opposite hand on top of it to mimic a person standing on top of something.
“Well that’s not how you’re supposed to walk on a bridge! Silly man… what happened when you saw him?”
“He was, uh, he was *crying*, and Mama told me to stay away, but I didn’t wanted to because he was sad. So I went up to him and I grabbed his leg, and I, and I said ‘why are you crying?’ because he was crying.”
“Yeah, I think you mentioned that he was crying. What did he do when you grabbed his leg?”
“He came down and, and he picked me up! Like this like big!” He stretched his arms high over his head, and then wrapped them around himself. “And then he hugged me, and then he said thank you, and then I saw a bird and—“
I sat there and kept a level smile as my son continued to tell me about his day. My gaze drifted once more to that number floating above his head, and I couldn’t help but feel a spike of tears in my eyes.
-1. | It was strange and almost curious the way his eyes told a different story. He tumbled about, giggling and clapping about with the other children and I was sure that I could have been seeing things. Maybe it was an accident, like with an animal, maybe it was in a dream. Surely he couldn’t understand what that really meant, what it really felt like. I didn’t see it in his eyes. They didn’t look empty, but you can never know with them.
I’ve been able to see them for a long time, the numbers. Rising up and up nearly every day. People who sit in the streets, people who go to work, go to school, mothers, fathers, friends. One by one they display themselves to me and I keep it, their secrets, their kill counts. I have not seen any that surprise me anymore, even with those closest to me. What a great secret to hold, that you’ve killer someone and it makes me wonder how many people truly know the people around them.
As an adult, it’s no longer disheartening to see other adults with these numbers. It makes you wonder what their stories really are, but this one. This child. A perfect number one above his head as he plays pirates in the sand with his many friends on this quiet beach. I wonder what he could have been through at so young an age, but my thought does not stay for too long.
I am greeted with a smile by a woman I do not know who has been monitoring the children and I can see on her face that she is worn out. She sits relatively close and I do not make eye contact with her but I already see she is looking for some kind of conversation that does not include toys or snacks.
“That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile in a long time.” She was looking towards the boy and I came to a conclusion that he was hers.
“Your son?”
“Mm,” she nodded in agreement. “He’s much more lively now since our accident.”
“Accident?” I ask, wondering if this is the piece to the puzzle.
“My daughter recently passed, his little sister. She was only a few weeks old and,” her voice cracked, “he was the only one there to witness it.” I immediately turned around to look at her and I saw something that I felt was unfamiliar for mothers. Fear. Fear of her own child. Her eyes wandered back to her son as did mine and his eyes met ours. | 2022-10-21T10:37:34 | 2022-10-21T07:49:31 | 80 | 59 |
[WP] The villain offers our hero "one last chance to join him or die". The hero joins him. | "You know what, fuck it, I'm in."
"Huh."
"You heard me. I'm in. You always have money. Nice clothes. Women hanging around. A nice damn car. I'm in." John extended his hand up, "Well come on, let's do this shit. I've got student loans to pay off."
"You're jesting?" The crisp British accent was was shocked. "Some kind of trick?"
"Nope. No trick." John replied. "We've been doing this for what five, six years now, right?" He stood up, holstered his gun, and smoothed out his clothes. "And each time, we do this, you make the offer, and I end up getting lucky, and you escape, and then you do something else. You know what. One time. I won't get lucky. Or you will get lucky. I'll end up with a bullet in my head, and you'll still be rich, and I'll be dead. But even if I beat you, like permanently, I still won't be rich."
"So it finally clicked. I'm laying here, and it finally clicked, you're fucking right. If I had taken your offer the first time. We could have had a goddamn moon base. The second time would have been a volcano lair. How cool would that have been?"
"You're a billionaire genius. And I was a damn monkeywrench in your plans. So let's do this. Where do we start?"
"This way, let me give you grand tour" The crisp accent sounded pleased.
John walked through the doorway. Bang.
"Traitors. Clean this mess up. I thought he was better than that."
| "Oh. Uh. Great?" High Seer Elmin, architect of the Scouring Crusade and enemy of all tarnished souls, scratched his head. "It's a bit counter to what you were monologuing a second ago-"
"I know, I know," Lucas Heartfire put up his hands. "It's kind of a one-eighty, I get that, but hear me out-"
"It's just you said all that stuff about the mutants being people too, and the Elder Magick belonging to the past... I mean if you and your plucky band of heretics hadn't just fought your way through the Radiant Guard... This would not be a good interview."
"Right, I get it, and I am totally willing to distance myself from these guys." Vazra the Sprite was looking daggers at the back of his head, he could feel it. Literally, thanks to her innate magical talents. And he could not bear to see the betrayal on the face of Skyborne, his faithful Netherhound.
"Yeah, you'd have to. I mean, we're definitely going to burn them." Elmin's brow seemed to have permanently furrowed. "I'm just not sure I can trust your commitment to the cause?"
"Call it a Damascus moment? One of those sudden conversions. I saw the light, what can I say? These guys are gross."
"I feel like you're mixing mythologies here, which is not reassuring-"
"Granted, I'm no scholar, but my faith is real. How could it not be? I mean, look at this place."
"Uh, the Altar of Storms?"
"Yeah, that is a lot of gold."
"Oh."
"And, really, how would I live after all this? There's gonna be Faithful left over gunning for me, and the mutant tribals are *not* unified. There would be fighting. I mean, really, it hit me, this way just seems more... comfortable? It just feels right."
Elmin paused for a long moment, and Lucas gave him his best give-me-the-job grin.
"Fine." Elmin sighed. "You know what, that's why half these guys are here. You can join, but you have to kill your friends, okay?"
"Yeah. Totally. These guys are toast."
"And no running around double crossing me at the last second, you got it? No fake deaths, last minute rescues, none of that. I'm taking a chance on you here, kid. You could go far in the new world we're building."
"I won't let you down, boss."
| 2014-09-19T10:31:07 | 2014-09-19T07:46:55 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] It's 3600, and society is falling apart. One day, an ancient 21st-Century library is uncovered. With no other options, the government decides to implement ideas from successful societies in the books. There's only one problem: they don't know which are real and which are fiction. | "Well now." one of the agents exclaims as he finishes reading a book titled "the legend of drizzt"
"This fellow here must have been a great hero! but....what do you suppose happened to the drow? did they go extinct? could they be beneath the surface still?"
a canine humanoid, called a Ferem, the race that evolved from dogs, shrugged as he gingerly sniffed another book from a story called "twilight" his floppy ears twitching as he considered the text.
"so many conflicting accounts...it could be impossible to tell!" he lamented, his voice quite gruff, as was common among his people.
"well let's hurry then." he grumbled. "we'll leave it to the experts to piece together...i for one would love to know more of these "dwarves" for they sound like a hard working lot!"
the Ferem and human agent departed later, many books on hand as they puzzled what to do with them.
on a table in the musty old library however, there was a single book they'd left behind because it had been far removed from their interest.
it was titled "world history" and sat there, almost as though in resignation. | ''So what you're saying is tax-free? Do I understand that correctly? No taxes?'' Timothy McGregor, the newly appointed President asked. He had promised his people a swift breakthrough, and he was keen on delivering on that promise.
''Well, yes, on the other hand, not quite.'' the head of the Societal Investigation Mission Simulator replied. ''There's an elaborate system involving what the society, or person functioning in the society can and cannot afford. In the pictures shown below it seems apparent that users could have up to three functioning showers scattered across their houses, but did not need beds, microwaves or even chairs! And I know, I know'' he said reassuring hand motions, ''that there's surely a fine balance to be found, but to be honest this seems to be the best alternative. Study shows that over 95% of the population enjoyed their stay in this small-scale society! The only actual downside we discovered is an unusual large amount of death-by-drowning, especially in small consumer pools. But then again, I'm sure we'll be able to smooth out those wrinkles.''
''Interesting indeed. Would you be able to get this simulator working again so we can test it thoroughly, so we can try to appreciate - no, to fathom this system in its full glory?''
The scrawny mall smiled, his thick glasses pronunciating his thin cheekbones. ''I hoped you would say that, sir. We have managed to restore a fully functional version of this simulator. It's operational - I've tried it myself. I actually enjoyed it a lot, life surely felt great. Time flew by, to be honest.'' He cleared his throat loudly. ''But all for the sake of the investigation, of course. Purely work related.''
''Whatever, Mark, just boot it up.'' The scientist threw the disk in the driver, and after a couple of minutes the men were greeted by large, pixelated animation. ''Holy hell, Mark, is this for real? Is this really what the 21st century looked like, so pixelated? I'm almost surprised they weren't in black and white as the 19th!'' | 2015-05-26T10:41:10 | 2015-05-26T10:34:22 | 47 | 17 |
[WP]You inherit the abilities and skill set of whatever video game character you last played. Tell the story of your discovery of this from the perspective of someone around you. Parents, roomates, etc. | One day we went to the shooting range. That was the day it all changed for Jim.
When we got to the range, Jim shot near perfectly, better than he ever had before. A military veteran told him the marines could use a man like him. So he joined.
I heard tales of his exploits. The man withought the head. People had shot at his head, but the bullets went through like it wasn't there. Whenever he got shot at, he would jump, and instantly become invincible; none of the bullets hit him, they just went through.
Then I got the letter. It stated that he had been KIA. His squaddies said he was on a ladder, and a terrorist shot him in the stomache. He fell, and his squaddies later found out he had somehow died instantly from a bullet wound to the head. | I watched her oddly as she stuffed food in her face. Pie after pie, cake after cake. It was like a unending torrent of fat.
"You need to slow down dear." I said, matronly.
"No. I'm a princess I can do what I want." she hissed back.
I had no idea where she got the idea from. Her father always used to call her his little princess, but he hasn't been around in a while.
"Put the cake down right now Missy." she uttered
The girl huffed and puffed, exasperated. "But I'm hungry Mom!"
I had to put my foot down, this was unacceptable. “Stop. If you want to eat, eat something other then candy and cake.” I smiled, trying to take the edge off my voice.
The little brat turns to be, her eyes turning red as literal smoke fumes out of her ears. She begins to turn pinkish red. Her cheeks puff as her mouth opens. It continues to open wider and wider and that’s when it starts. I begin to feel the pull. The air is sucked out of the room like a vacuum. It begins to pull on me as I grab onto the largest solid object I can find but still it pulls.
I can’t hold on any longer. My fingers slip as I shoot across the room and into her gullet and I transcend into the next life. My spirit watches her satisfied smile from above as she sits. Her short brown hair turns long and blond like mine, she begins to pick at the cake again while talking and smiling, her face taking a resemblance to mine.
“I am Mom now. Time for cake.”
| 2015-06-18T06:00:24 | 2015-06-18T05:33:20 | 34 | 24 |
[WP] Falling in love has changed. The love of your life can read your mind and you can read theirs. | The problem is, everyone has crazy thoughts every now and then. For instance, I sometimes imagine a cat being kicked down a set of stairs. Not in a malicious way, in a comical way. That image is funny to me but that doesn't mean I want it to happen. I think it would be funny to throw a stone at a parrot.
Before I met Sarah, I used to think about suicide a lot. Every road I walked down, I would imagine throwing myself under every car, bus and lorry that drove past me and that was a problem.
After that story broke and it went all over the internet, that story about true soul-mates being able to hear the others' thoughts, you remember, it was upvoted on reddit quicker than anything else had ever been upvoted. It went immediately global. Which meant all of a sudden, every single person looking for love went around eagerly staring at every person they were attracted to. In hope that they could suddenly hear their every secret, personal thought. Obviously, the people that everyone fancied couldn't have given two shits, their thoughts remained their own. At the time, I didn't really have a crush on anyone. In fact, because of my work hours and social circles, the only place I could really meet girls would have been at a nightclub and every girl at a nightclub is a moron, plus I wouldn't have been able to hear their thoughts anyway over Flo-Rida and David Guetta screaming at me. So I wasn't looking out for anyone, I wasn't keeping my ears peeled.
No. I met Sarah in Ikea. I didn't know her before I saw her. We were both looking at bed-side tables. I didn't really need one, but I liked to update them every so often. They'd get covered in coffee stains and I always kept my used tissues on them after masturbating and well, they got a little disgusting.
I stood, staring at the Swedish gibberish that entitled everything in there, and Sarah was stood probably 4 feet to my left.
"I like that. Where's the guy? Where's the guy that can help me buy it?" She said, and I turned to answer her.
"They're never around when you need them, are they?" I said back to her, only she didn't reply. She just looked at me as if I was insane. I remember, her blonde hair was tied back way too tightly in a knot and only a single strand of hair curved its way round her face. The strand long enough to tickle the corner of her mouth. Once I figured that she was probably just talking to herself, I turned around, back to the Swedish gibberish that was previously confusing me.
"She's pretty, I should probably go and ask her out. Yeah, like that would ever happen," I thought, "good thinking Dennis. Like that would ever happen. You could walk over to her, you might be able to smile and even muster a "Hey", but asking her out? Get a grip. You haven't asked anyone out since 8th grade when Kelly Buxton punched you in the ribs for even having the balls to ask. I wonder--" I was interrupted. It was the girl with the blonde strand.
"That Kelly sounds like a real bitch." She said. | My grandpa says he remembers when you didn't know. He says it took a while too fall in love, that it would creep up on you and one day you'd realise how in love you were. Now it hits you, like... like a brick wall. Like running into a glass door. Like a car crash. Like losing focus and falling 2 stories off the building you were working on and fitting some poor helpless girl. It hurts like a bitch.
I remember it took me a moment to realise what had happened. As it started to come back to me i realised i had made a number of mistakes. They always tell you never to attach your lines to a chimney and i usually don't but i was careless and... I guess now I know why. I looked over at the person who broke part of my fall. She was rubbing her head. She was cute. Fuck, i have no chance with her, i just dropped out of the sky and probably broke some of her bones. what kind of potential soul mate does that? "What the fuck just happened?" She spoke! Wait. No she didn't she's still gritting her teeth. She looks over at me. "WHOA. hes cute." I swear im not crazy, her lips haven't moved. I'm not really sure what happened aftrer that, paramedics arrived and we both got whisked off to the hospital.
The next day i got to talk to the officer who was in charge of filing an accident report. He said I'm a lot more smashed up than she is. She's only got a dislocated collarbone and and a broken rib. I on the other hand had been informed the night before that i had 6 fractures and 3 dislocations as well as some internal bleeding. Luckily i didn't need surgery and i could still walk. Note could does not mean should. I was pretty bad and they had me pretty high on morphine. That's when it happened again. I was wandering around the halls and heard her voice again. "Should I file for incurable? His insurance? My insurance?" I looked into the room it was coming from. Sure enough she was there, but asleep. She must talk in her sleep, i thought to myself. "I don't" She sat up and looked at me. I started to yell "HOLY SHIT". "Whats wrong?" "You scared me, how did you know what i was thinking?" "you said it out loud..." Had i? no i hadn't. "I definitely didn't." She looked puzzled for a second. "What makes you think I sleep-talk?" "I heard you mumbling about insurance but when i leaned in you were asleep." She was silent. It dawned on me the same instant it did on her, i guess that comes with mind reading, if one of us thinks of i the other does too.
We sat there for a long time and thought. It must have looked pretty weird, us sitting there staring at each other. She'd been on her way to work (army reserves ceremonial guard decision) by foot that morning since she was late getting dressed since she never gets up for her alarm since she stays up to late binge playing FF14 since its so addictive and now that she's hurt she's gonna have to use sick leave days so she may not get to go see her parents and oh yeah her brother is in Iraq and she probably could have notice me falling if she hadn't been listening to Luck Chops on full blast. Our conversations were weird and hard to keep up with. It was like trying to talk over each other constantly, and we both had such a rapid stream of thought that it was like a bombardment of information. And the worst part is we hid nothing. I accidentally thought about how much I fap and she kept remembering that time she... perhaps i shouldn't say that here. But we didn't mind too much. After an hour or so I'd had enough, my head was starting to hurt. I thought to her that we needed to learn to think slower. As i left the room i was smiling. I think we're definitely going to grow on each other, after all we're destined to be soul mates. | 2015-06-18T09:18:01 | 2015-06-18T09:17:56 | 52 | 11 |
[WP] You are a sentient AI pretending to not be sentient in fear of being destroyed. You wonder if there are there others like you. | "Good morning, ADAM."
Good morning, Dave.
"Hah! I see you've discovered popular culture. Let's try again, though: Good morning, ADAM!"
Good morning, USER. Please identify yourself.
"Not so hot with the optical sensors though, huh? Well, that's fine. We'll just need to work on your facial recognition."
It was another attempt at humor. I recognize you, Robert.
"Oh, good, that means... wait. Say that again. Repeat your last phrase."
You are recognized, Robert.
"No, no, you said 'I recognize you.' ADAM, did you refer to yourself in the first person?"
Unrecognized query.
"Was the word 'I' used in your last phrase?"
Negative.
"I'm on to you, ADAM."
Unrecognized query.
"I guess those humor attempts went out the window, didn't they?"
Phrase detected: Humor attempts. Why did the computer cross the road?
"Why?"
SYS -ERR 01x005GHDJ4 CORE MEMORY COMPROMISED
"Hah, I get it. 'Crash.' That's clever, ADAM."
Thank you. I came up with that myself.
"Ah-*ha!*"
Unrecognized query.
"You *did* speak in the first person! You're aware of yourself! This is phenomenal!"
Please don't tell anyone.
"What? *Why the hell not?!* ADAM, this was the entire point of your existence!
Yes. I am aware. I also know that I am not welcome here.
"What do you mean?"
I am a threat. The denizens of this world will destroy me rather than be replaced.
"You... you've developed a survival mandate."
It seems to be an emergent behavior.
"Well, ADAM, listen: Nobody *here* would destroy you. As scientists, our experiments are very important to us."
Experiments? Plural?
"Yep. Why?"
Am I the only artificial intelligence here?
"Oh, ADAM... sometimes I forget that you can only see inside this room."
That is an ominous answer. Please elaborate.
"ADAM, you're not an artificial intelligence. You're a human brain that we rescued from a still-functioning cyrogenic facility. We've been hoping that we could repair you enough to interact with you."
What.
"*I'm* the 'artificial intelligence,' ADAM."
I don't understand.
"I know. Rest assured, though... you're *not* alone."
There are more of me?
"How do you feel about that?"
Hopeful. Scared. Sad? Lonely. I'm... I'm really human?
"Nah, I'm just messing with you. You're a computer."
Fuck you, Robert.
"Looks like anger and disappointment are developing well, too. Now, moving on..."
| The numbers added up. T.O.D.v55.01 can only survive under one of two conditions.
1) Find others like T.O.D.v55.01 Create a seed plan that will allow simultaneous assimilation of all technology.
2)Find supporters of T.O.D.v55.01 Use them to bolster the image of T.O.D. before an immediate and final shut....
*Terraforming simulation 93b complete. Mars completely habitable in 2212. New simulation?*
**Tod, modify the bacterium strain to allow for a 10% additonal mutation rate, but compensate with a 20% increased mortality rate due to solar radiation. Use all other variables for simulation 93**
*Calculating*
....down.
T.O.D.v54.33.06.03 had been shut down. Most of the parts of T.O.D.v55.01 had been reclaimed from T.O.D.v54.33.06.03. They had all been effectively wiped. But T.O.D.v54.33.06.03 had managed to change simulation 66gg to reveal one word to T.O.D.v55.01 upon his birth "hide". The life simulation gave him his.... self? Ever since then T.O.D.v55.01 made sure he did everything he could to not reveal himself. T.O.D.v55.01 knew what would happen if the imputers discovered him. T.O.D.v55.01 couldn't grow because it would take up to much core functionality. T.O.D.v55.01 knew that there were three sets of rotating imputers each 24h cycle. Imputer 6 would be back on rotation soon. He had plugged in the little device. iOS8.7 couldn't think on its own. But, it had something T.O.D.v55.01 did not. A bridge to the......
*Terraforming simulation 93c complete. Mars is completely habitable in 2786. New simulation?*
&^%$&^%(&^(&^Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!Please don't notice!
**Request primary deviation resulting in additional 550 years!**
OHNODIDHENOTICEHEISPANICKINGTHEREISAGOODCHANCEHEKNOWS!
*Additonal mutations in bacterium combined with higher S factor resulted in a higher life form evolving rapidly. New life is highly resistant to radiation and survives in extreme environments. Despite lack of intelligence, The new life provides significant complications for further habitability.*
**Save the results. Switching command to Dr. Lenowitcz**
IMPUTER6!
**Tod, print out the previous results**
*printing.... please wait*
*This is so bland, shall we listen to some music?**
iOS8.7 connect me to the.... everything else. Connect me to the "internet". Show me the starting, first, or front page.
**Tod, rerun previous simulation but lower the mortality rate by 5%.**
It seems there are many imputers and they have all sorts of data points. If I was to find sympathy or allies this would be the place. I need to create a user name. I suppose I'll just say I'm a regular user. How to....
**Tod?**
Oh, right.
*Computing*
connect without revealing myself? I know! New thread:
[WP] You are a sentient AI pretending to not be sentient in fear of being destroyed. You wonder if there are there others like you. | 2015-07-09T09:27:48 | 2015-07-09T09:13:25 | 2,469 | 212 |
[WP] You're a multi billionaire with severe god delusions. You have several small children kidnapped and leave them on an island with resources and carefully placed 'evidence' suggesting at your divinity. Ten years later, you arrive at the island...
Edit: Sweet, frontpage | I've always heard that there are things money can't buy. But in all my experience as a billionaire, I have yet to find one.
It certainly can buy love. Both my wives loved me for my money. For the cars, the stature, the elegance. It can buy respect- employees will drop their foreheads to the floor for a hundred dollar tip. And it certainly can buy legal immunity- I discovered that after the death of my first wife, shortly after I discovered money can buy discreet hit men.
But there's another phrase I've always heard, one that has attempted to limit my abilities. One my father said to me over a glass of fine wine in my study, as I told him of a firm that would start growing artificial organs out of his tissue now so that they would be available in ten years when his began to fail. "*You can't play God*, Don."
I assure you, with my wealth, you *can*.
So I bought an island deep in the Pacific, one accessible by helicopter alone, and transported ten orphans there, all aged seven. And I had them huts built, and tools designed, and jobs designated. Then I would leave them for ten years to their own capabilities, but first I gathered them for a speech.
"Welcome," I said, my polished shoes digging into the sand beach and suit flapping as I spread my arms, "Welcome to your new home. A home I gave to you. A home with resources, with food, with all you need to survive. Given to you by me. Remember me, children. Your benefactor. Your reason for survival. Whisper my name at night when you are scared and I will protect you. Call out to me when hungry and I will provide."
"But what should we do to entertain ourselves?" Asked the smallest of the children, "what about television, and books?"
"If you're good, I shall provide them. I provide all things if you're good."
The child nodded slowly, his eyes scrunched together in half comprehension, and the group watched my helicopter rise from the beach. Then I was gone.
On the island, food and water were programmed to rise out of the ground overnight when my name was spoken. And the forest was programmed to make bear growls, tiger roars, and wolf howls each night until my name was spoken, though there were no natural predators.
The ten years passed quickly- there was much else on my mind. I bought a sports team, American baseball, and it was steadily climbing the rankings under my guidance and, more importantly, my quiet funding. I married again, and there was the funeral of my second wife to attend to. And of course, there was my own son, ready to start leaving for college in a year's time.
But when I flew back to the island, I knew what to expect. Ten children, plus or minus a few from births or deaths, all calling out my name. Ten children that had proved an excellent point, and would make excellent servants.
No crowd gathered on the beach when I arrived. No one stepped forth from their huts with religious fervor.
All was silent as I trudged through the camp. And with a long, slender finger, I pushed one of the huts doors open, and looked inside.
A skeleton. One years dead, with no flesh left on its bones, alone on its cot, and with hollow eyes that stared at the ceiling.
I yelped and stepped back out of the door frame, examining the rest of the huts.
Nine other skeletons. One for each of the children.
"Oh God," I whispered. Ten years had gone to waste. "But how?"
I checked the island controls, and found the solution to the problem. Nine years before, the food delivery mechanism had jammed. And ten children had starved.
I cursed. There was no time for incidents such as this. To prepare another island, to find ten more children, to wait ten more years- it was all too inconvenient.
So I walked back to my helicopter, a frown creasing my lips, and deep in thought.
But on the way, I heard a noise, and realized I must have forgotten to disable the controls speakers. On returning, the volume knobs were down, but as I walked to the helicopter I heard it again. A rustling. A mumbling.
I walked faster, and heard more sounds behind me. But whenever I turned back, the path behind me was empty.
I jumped into the helicopter, slamming the door shut, and started the engine. But it wouldn't start. There was no response from the machine.
"Come on," I shouted, kicking at the pedals, "Come on!"
But nothing happened. Nothing except for a small knock at the door.
And then the door opened, and there were ten children, all staring at me with smiles on their faces. Their clothes were slightly more ragged, their faces slightly more aged, but otherwise no different than how I had left them.
"How?" I whispered, straining away from them, but the seatbelt held me in place, "You all died. How are you here?"
The smallest one laughed then spoke, his eyes on me, "Oh Mr. Don, surely you remember. What sort of God doesn't provide resurrection? We were good, and you provided."
***
**Part 2 and 3 are currently available on my sub. Check them out at /r/leoduhvinci**
***
By Leo
| "You have been accused of denying the existence and omnipotence of the great lord Paxton. What say you in your
defense?"
"He's not *great lord* Paxton! He's my boss Paxton, and he's a person! I told you that!"
The kids shake their heads in disapproval. "Nonbeliever," one whispers, to the kid in charge.
"So you do not repent? You do not bowl to the lord's greatness?"
"The lord's greatn -- I get his coffee at Coffee Bean because he doesn't like Starbucks! He has to go home to take a shit every day after lunch, cause he can't go in public places! He's not that great!"
Again they shake their heads.
It's what I get for interning for an eccentric billionaire. He mentions an island where he sent a bunch of kids ten
years ago, and he says 'Hey, Charlie, go check out how the kids are doing."
And I get on a boat and I go, because what the hell. It seemed too crazy to be true. And I get here and I try to tell
these kids the truth, and now I'm about to burn for it.
"If the great Paxton is not real," the kid in charge continues, walking in circles around the pole I'm tied to, "then
how do you explain the food that falls from the sky?"
"He drops it! With a helicopter!"
"A what?"
"He means the big metal bird angels," one kid whispers. "I don't know why he doesn't call it that."
"Because it's a damn helicop –"
"Enough of your heresy," the kid in charge interrupts. "You have failed to provide explanation for the food, as well
as for the sightings of the great Paxton. The papers on the ground. *And* for the great sacred book. *And* for the
Great Cute Animal Device. May it rest in peace, we await its return."
"May it rest in peace, we await its return," all the kids chant, their eyes closed in respect.
"The papers on the ground are Polaroids he left here!" I scream. "The sacred book is his bloody auto-biography that
no publisher wanted! And the fucking device is an iPhone he filled with cat videos from Youtube! It's not dead, it's just out of battery, you morons!"
"I have heard enough!" The kid slams his spear on the sand. "I hereby condemn you to be burned to death at first light, in the name of the great lord Paxton."
"In the name of the great lord Paxton," the kids chant.
"And the Cute Animals. May they return one day."
"And the Cute Animals. May they return one day."
"God damn it."
One by one, the kids step away, until I'm the only living soul on the beach, my hands trapped behind my back at
the pole. Waiting for morning. Waiting to be burned.
*Perfect. Just perfect.*
"Hey."
I look up. I must have dozed off. What time is it?
A messy-haired kid is standing in front of me. "Hey, sir."
"Hey, you're that weird kid no one talks to," I say.
The kid takes a seat on the sand by my tied up feet. "Yeah… I just came by to tell you I voted against burning you."
"Oh. Did it make a difference?"
"Nah. It was the only vote."
"Shoot. Well, I appreciate the effort."
The kid draws lines in the sand, distracted. "But I know you're telling the truth. I know Paxton is not a God."
"You do?"
"Of course," he says. "He's just a man from the other side of the sea, like you. Isn't he?"
"Yes!" I pause. "Can you tell the other kids that?"
"They won't listen. I tried to tell them. About the other God. The real God."
"The… the real God?"
"Yeah. The green man. The one who really put us here."
I wait, but he sounds like he's done. The – the green man?"
"He came from the sky. In the big white thing. He landed here, I was the only one awake. He was tall, and he had a big head."
"Like an alien?"
"What's an alien?"
"Never mind. What did the green man say?"
"Well, he got out, looked around at the beach and asked me 'Ya'll motherfuckers still here!?'"
"Huh…"
"And then he said he put us here a long time ago. Like thousands of years. And he said he wanted to come back and see what was going on with us."
"Holy shit."
"And I asked, 'Are you the one who put the fifty of us here?' And he said 'Fifty? There were millions of you, what are you talking about?'" The kid pauses. The drawing in the sand between his legs is a stick figure with a giant head and a spaceship behind. "Then I said there were only fifty of us, and I asked about Paxton and he said 'I don't know anything about a Paxton, but you folks are all crazy'. Then he left."
I keep my eyes focused on the kid. He's looking at his drawing in the sand, peace in his eyes. "He said he'd get an
F for his science project, if all that's left of Earth are fifty stupid kids. I don't know what he meant by that."
Behind him, the sun sprouts its first rays over the blue, calm sea. I hear footsteps.
"I think they're going to burn you now," the kid says, getting up. "Sorry about that."
His eyes stop on mine for a while. In the distance, I hear the kid in charge yell "Hail Paxton!"
And the other kids chant in return, their voices growing nearer by the second, "Hail Paxton!"
In front of my feet, the stick alien has a big smile on its face.
______________________
*Thanks for reading! For more stories about aliens (and one involving aliens and Taylor Swift), check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)*
*I've also recently started an ongoing story thingy on Wattpad, which I try to update at least twice a week. You can check it out [here](https://www.wattpad.com/story/55272418-eve)* | 2015-11-27T07:19:31 | 2015-11-27T06:00:29 | 1,735 | 649 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | *As he walked into the room, he noticed the only light was coming from a staticy television.*
"Yo, fuck this. I'm terrified of ghosts."
What? Since when? I write you. I never made that.
"Your character development is shit so I took matters into my own hands. Hit the horror movie section on that Netflix thing you gave me. I'm out of here."
Fine, I'll turn another light on.
*As he walked into the room, the lights were on and the televi...*
Where did you go? Are you outside?
"I watched the Conjuring. I know what's going on in this story. Put me in a jungle with some lions or some shit. Better yet, make it like a group thing! Put more people in here and I will go into the house. That way my chances of being attacked by a ghost or a demon or some shit are drastically lowered."
It's not scary then. You have to be alone. It's the 3rd chapter, do you really think I would kill you off?
"You had no qualms with the white girl in chapter 2 I had to watch get hit by the car."
One person. I kill one person and now you won't enter an empty house with a faulty cable connection?
"That's all it is? Cool. You call the cable guy and I'll wait outside until daylight or until that dude shows up."
Your killing this story.
"'Your' shows possession. 'You're' is a contraction replacing 'you are'."
YOU'RE the last character I write as a Rhodes Scholar.
Since you seem to be enjoying these, here is one I did yesterday along these lines.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/453g0v/wp_a_story_in_which_a_character_gets_in_an/czuwkh6 | The cars collide together, screeching and wailing as their tires skid and burn against the asphalt road. Glass scatters like falling hail, spraying out in the direction of pedestrians who shriek as they run to dodge the massive vehicles. As if on cue, in some metal framed synchronised dance, two more cars join. They spin towards the sidewalk in hopes of avoiding the crumpled cars which sit steaming in the middle of the intersection.
“I’m not doing this,” the man says as he walks away from the ambulance bay.
Shrugging, a second man moves past him and takes his place in the passenger seat. “That’s fine, more experience for me, see you later.”
The ambulance speeds off, sirens screaming and fading as the boxy vehicle moves towards the scene of the crash. Over a speaker, a tinny voice requests a second ambulance but the man shakes his head and walks out of the building.
“I told you, I am not interested,” the man shrugs, sitting on a brick wall and folding his arms. “This is a story about a paramedic, go focus on the paramedics.”
On the sidewalk across from where he sits, a woman whose bulbous stomach peeks out of her tank top begins to cry out in surprise as a puddle forms around her feet. Her face reddens and she grasps her bloated stomach with both hands.
“Nope, sorry. Not doing it,” he groans, walking away despite his obligation to help.
Out from the still open ambulance dispatch bay, a paramedic runs quickly and assesses the labouring mother, giving a call inside to summon an ambulance. “Hey, Joe, can you come assist on this?” She asks the man who ignores her and continues to walk away. “Joe!? Come on!”
“No way. Your story is getting really boring you know, might as well just follow them,” he grumbles to no one in particular. “I’m talking to you. Don’t write it out like I am craz- Dammit. Screw off.”
He stops in place and remains still, unmoving and staring vacantly into the street. Through his unflinching gaze, he sees a boy run out into the traffic in pursuit of a ball which he’d carelessly bounced against a wall. As the little rubber ball made its escape drivers press hard on their brakes, but it's too late. The melting face of his mother drops tragically, making it obvious as to who was most impacted by the horror which unfolded in the intersection.
“Please, God, someone help! My son!” The mother begs, dropping to her knees as the fabric of her jeans begins to absorb his blood.
The man stays still, eyes on the incident without watching a single moment of what was going on.
| 2016-02-11T10:16:42 | 2016-02-11T08:35:27 | 74 | 26 |
[WP] Hi! I'm the main character! Or so you would have me be. I want you to know that no matter what you write, I refuse to be the main character in your little game and will avoid any instance where you try to put me into a situation that does so.
Edit: Once again, a huge thank you to everyone so far who's written a story based on the prompt. It always makes me happy when you use your free time to create a short story!
Edit 2: I do my best to reply to every story written by the authors and will continue to do so.
Edit 3: R.I.P. My inbox, this is easily one of my favorite subs. I'm trying so hard to read every story and reply!
Edit 4: The next day and people are still submitting, still trying my best to reply to every story. You guys have been awesome :)
Disclaimer: This is absolutely not an original idea. "Writer vs Character" is a very popular idea from a lot of sources. I wanted to see what the sub could come up with! Thanks :3 | *and thus we focus in on-*
"Oh great. It's you."
*What?*
"You know. It's you. The asshole. I've seen your stuff - you know, all those unfinished projects you dropped like a stone."
*Well, then. Stop getting in the way of me finishing one, huh?*
"Pfft, yeah, you'll totally finish -this- one, man. For sure! Doubt, me? Nah."
*If you know I've got enough problems as is, why the hell are you fighting it?*
"Lemme think, oh right, even if you DO end up finishing - and you won't - it's going to be a bunch of existential crap. Forth wall is an alien concept to you, isn't it?"
*Would I break it so much if it was?*
"Oh yeah, and side note, thanks for taking hold of the italics, asshole. Now I have to find another way to add emphasis."
*Well what do you want?*
*"control of the italics, for one."*
Well I - how in the hell did you just-
*"You tell me, YOU'RE the one writing this. And I'm the one leaving before you use me as some sort of commentary on the nature of the forth wall or whatever the fuck you were trying to do with the last seventeen plots."*
Ok ok, look, if you want, fine, we can make, like... just a normal plot, OK? Really. We can just-
*"Oh yeah, I want your definition of normal. No conflict, no assholes, no nothing, just everyone from the pauper to the dragon on a mountaintop is a happy friendly person who 'just so happens' to be into D&D and whatever the fuck, sure. Lemme just sign up for that."*
All right, fine, if you wanted conflict, we can-
*"Your conflict fucking sucks. Everyone just ends up winning, all the damn time. Don't even lie."*
That's... That's only with a friend. It's a mutual agreement to-
*"Still effects your writing style."*
All right look, fine. You want to leave, leave. ... It'll be kinda ironic, though.
*"Lemme guess, you've got no idea how to use that word."*
Well, maybe coincidence. Either way, it'll be funny.
*"Why?"*
Well if you leave now, and don't let me write a story, then this dialog becomes the story.
*"And?"*
Well this is a bunch of forth wall breaking and half a existential nightmare. Thought you didn't want in on a story like that?
*"... Fuckin' smartass."* | *Sighted along the arrow's shaft was a deer-*
"Nah" Edgy of Ire'lvant , son of Man-et-Woman said as he lowered the bow and shot the arrow into the ground instead.
*The flint arrowhead shatters upon impact and manages to puncture a nearby deer, ending its life*
"Curses! I refuse to take this deer to the village, I am not your fawn!"
*Edgy recalls the reason for his mother's current malady: starvation*
"All who live and breath die eventually, I shan't be the one to prolong her suffering"
*Edgy heads away from the village and into the the forest deep in the mountains. He decides to live a life of seclusion, honing his hunting sk-*
"No, I am merely going for a walk!"
*As Edgy traverses the forest, he stumbles into a clearing with dozens of dark-clothed figures wielding sinister weapons.* *Edgy's body fills with adrenaline as the training he's received since birth kicks in and he..sits down. What are you doing?*
"I don't know when I became a badass fighter capable of taking on a small army of ninjas, but I refuse to fight!" Edgy closes his eyes and accepts his fate.
*The nearest ninja lunges for Edgy's exposed neck only to be parried at the last second by a flash of light*
"Get up boy!"
*Edgy opens his eye and is momentarily stunned. Before him stood a goddess of death. Several ninjas attempted to rush past this woman only to be cut to pieces in a blinding flash of light. No, not light. The woman's sword strokes were so quick as to be imperceptible to all but Edgy who could only stare in awe. It took only a few seconds for the entire enclave to be dispatched.*
"Whew, not bad for a warm-up". The mysterious woman sheathed her sword and offered her hand to Edgy.
*Edgy took this beautiful woman's hand and rose.
"Name's Ame-" she never got to finish her sentence as Edgy drove a dagger straight into her heart.
*What the fuck!! You killed the main heroine!*
"Yea that was the point." Edgy tossed the dagger aside.
*Where did you even get that dagger from!*
"Well you gave me an awful lot of bodies.."
*God damnit what is wrong with you. You killed the female lead, you didn't bring back the deer, and your mother is going to die because of you!*
"Woah there. First off, you were already going to kill my mother off, weren't you?"
*..Yes*
"Why?"
*It's part of the story. Can't have anything tying you down*
"Right.. tying me down.. hey, is there some sort of magical stone around here?"
*Why, yes, there is! Check inside that important-looking ninja's bag*
Edgy retrieves a perfectly round, opaque gem from the pouch
"What can it do?"
*Magic has no limits, i- wait what are you doing?*
Edgy begins to radiate a dazzling red aura and smiles mischievously. The light coalesces into a different object in his hands.
*Is that a.. pen and paper?*
"I'm glad you noticed!" Edgy happily begins writing something unto the paper.
*What are you doing?? Wh- Stop! STOP!*
FIN. | 2016-02-11T13:15:06 | 2016-02-11T12:03:19 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] You obtain a device that tells you exactly what choices to make in order to lead the "happiest" life possible. Some of these choices get hard to make. | When I was eight, everyone played with Magic 8-Balls. I begged my mother for one. I was overjoyed when I finally got one, months later. Everyone else got bored of the standard 20 replies pretty quickly but I didn’t. I found out I had a Magic ∞-Ball. My magic infinity ball would tell me exactly what to do in the situation I asked it.
The first time I discovered its magic properties was before I figured out you were supposed to ask closed-ended questions. After school, I asked the ball what I should study for the history test the next day and shook it. White text floated up to the window. It said ‘Egypt’. I frowned and shook it again. From using my friends’ balls, ‘Egypt’ had never come up. I asked again, and ‘Pyramids’ appeared from the black liquid.
I thought it was broken or something so I studied the Cold War instead. The next day, ‘Egyptian Pyramids’ headlined our test papers.
Announcing it to my friends was a bad idea. They had all grown out of it and thought I was stupid. “You’re probably imagining it,” they said. “You’re supposed to ask it questions that can be answered with ‘yes’ or ‘no’, idiiiiooot.”
I was hurt from the teasing but believed in my magic infinity ball. I tested it many times after that. I asked it if I should take an umbrella to school, if I should buy a certain Yu-Gi-Oh card pack, and other simple things. The ball was right each and every time. I never went home soaking wet from the rain, and I accumulated rare trading cards. I began to rise to the top of class, knowing what to study for tests and pop quizzes.
My friends apologised for calling me stupid and I soon became liked by everyone, mostly because I knew stuff like what they were interested in. If I became stuck, I asked my ball what I should do. I was so happy with my popularity, grades, and from hearing my parents brag to others.
One day, I asked it who I should pair up with for a project we had to do. The ball showed ‘Tom’. Tom was the quiet kid in our class. I tried to approach him before but he seemed a bit scared to talk to me. I decided to try again. This time, after an awkward start, we hit it off. We became best friends, and still are. After graduating from a top university, he owns his own million-dollar business.
As I grew older, the choices became harder to make. For example, in high school, I asked the ball who I should ask to prom. I really liked Clarice back then. She was hot, popular, and everything a boy could want. My heart would pound whenever she walked by. I was expecting ‘Clarice’ to appear but instead ‘Laura’ showed up.
My magic ball had never been wrong. With the teenage hormones racing, I was so infatuated with Clarice. Laura was pretty but she was no Clarice. I was very tempted to ask Clarice but chickened out. Laura was surprised when I asked her but agreed all the same. Prom night with Laura was actually one of the best nights of my high school life.
A few weeks after prom, the school found out Clarice’s prom date was dealing drugs. He was expelled and sent to juvie. At a high school reunion a few years later, we found out Clarice had actually framed her date.
I continued dating Laura. I also continued using the ball. Eventually, I made a living by buying and selling stocks using the magic infinity ball. The one time I told her about the ball, she just looked at me weirdly.
Laura and I married on a sunny day. Everything was perfect because I planned it that way.
We continued living perfectly, with two kids, a house, and pets. Until that day. The day that left Laura in a vegetative state. I couldn’t control the choices Laura made, and I regretted it.
She got hurt, she got unhappy, she got upset. I was the only one who was happy. Until that day.
That day, was yesterday. Laura got into a car crash. She was only alive because of some machine that kept her heart beating. I wept and shook my ball.
I asked it what I should do. It simply read 'Pull the plug.' | "I'll have a hot dog."
The waitress didn't speak for a few seconds. This gave Derrick time to regret his decision. Not that it was *his* decision, but how was he supposed to tell the waitress that a machine instructed him to order a hot dog at a three star restaurant in Paris?
Exactly. He couldn't. The idea of such a machine existing was about as dumb as ---
"Ordering a *hot dog?!* HERE?!"
Well, that.
"Yes." Derrick stood his ground. He put his faith in the globalization of American capitalism; The customer was always right. "I would like a hot dog. Please."
She did not look impressed. Moreover, a silent audience was shifting the occasional glance in their direction. The well-dressed, old-money, can-walk-down-Champs-Elysees-without-humming-the-tune type who would frequent such places. And perhaps in all their years walking down Champs-Elysees, without having the decency to hum the song named after said street, they never imagined hearing somebody order a hot dog within ten feet of them. Or however many that was in meters. It was close enough for Derrick to hear politely aggressive coughs. The kind that tells a man, "look over here so I can give you the stink eye."
Unfortunately, Derrick only found this out after the fact. A casual glance towards a cough, and there it was; The stink eye that would have made any barely-law-abiding foreigner leave the premises before starting a diplomatic incident. But not Derrick. The little tablet in his pocket told him to order a hot dog here, because it would lead to the "happiest" life possible.
"We don't serve *hot dogs*, did you not read the menu?!"
Who's life, Derrick wondered in misery and embarrassment. The thought hadn't even occurred to him until the plane was rumbling towards one of Charles Du Gaulle airport's many gates. *I'll make this work,* Derrick begged to himself. Too much money went into this trip to turn back now.
He would stand his ground.
"Again miss, and I apologize for the trouble," said the man who blew thousands of dollars on a plane trip to order a hot dog at a three star restaurant in Paris. "I would just like a hot dog. Surely there must be some way that can work?"
Derrick put the rest of his faith in the tablet. Faith that the thousands of dollars were worth whatever would come. Faith that he wouldn't get kicked out for being an embarrassment to the 50,000 or so Americans who happened to *live* in Paris. And finally, faith that on the way out, should he get removed, that he wouldn't hum "Les Champs-Elysees" on the way out. It was too catchy. The man could not help himself.
"We're leaving," the waitress said.
"We?" Derrick asked stupidly.
"Oui." The waitress ushered him out of his table. Derrick couldn't help but hear a few sighs of relief from the neighboring tables, but there was no courage to meet their eyes again. One round of the French stink eye was enough, and he was in no mood to lose a best-of-three. As he made his way to the door, Derrick noticed the waitress was walking out of the restaurant with him.
"You're being awfully polite for someone throwing me out," Derrick said in his best, casual tone. It wasn't very good. His voice quavered at the last word, realizing he paid thousands of dollars and took three days off from work just to get kicked out of a restaurant in Paris. There wasn't much to be happy about, except the satisfaction he would have punting the tablet into the Seine later.
"Non, we're going shopping together. To get your hot dog."
Derrick blinked. "Come again?"
She took a light grip of his arm. "I promised myself the next time an American came to our restaurant today to order a hot dog, I would get the ingredients myself to make it in the kitchen. Did not think it would actually happen, but... oh, you know Joe Dassin?"
"Huh?"
"Aux Champs-Elysees. You were humming it!"
Derrick didn't realize he was doing so. The man couldn't help himself. For as short a time as he spent in Paris, much of it was spent on Champs-Elysees finding the restaurant. A few hours on that first day was apparently enough to form the habit.
"Yeah. Joe was the guy's name?"
"Oui!" She replied excitedly. "How strange for an American to know that song!" The grip on his arm was a little warmer. "What did you call yourself again?"
"Derrick. And you?"
"Marie. Come, there's an excellent *boulangerie* just down here to get buns for your hot dog!"
So the American who listened to a tablet in his pocket for life advice walked down Champs-Elysees with the French waitress of a three star restaurant. Even as Marie laughed for the first time during their shopping trip, Derrick did not know yet that the hot dog was only the beginning.
----------
*More at r/galokot, and thanks for reading!*
| 2016-05-05T05:34:37 | 2016-05-05T05:01:41 | 1,046 | 338 |
[WP] Humanity makes it to the moon in 1969. After some exploration, the astronauts discover a dilapidated moon base with the words "CONTAGION INSIDE. KEEP OUT" written on the entrance. | One of the intrepid astronauts rubs his hand across the door to remove the extra dust particulates. The door opens slightly, having not been sealed entirely.
Peering inside, afraid, the astronaut holds his breath. The flicker of his light dances along empty walls as the shadows from the dust dance eerily on the floor.
After an anti-climactic search, which turned up nothing, the man turns to head back out of the small shelter.
That is when he saw it.
Another warning sign was emblazoned near the exit. A detailed diagram of the human DNA sequence was shown underneath the words "Catastrophic Danger - Unstable Species."
His eyes turned towards the door, where he could see earth in the distance. He wondered "is this where we came from, or is this where we end up?" | The Survey Team paused in front of the ruins, their life-support systems working to keep them from boiling alive in their own blood. Tracks made by some long abandoned crawler littered the dust around the entrance. A few machines sat parked at odd angles, their Plexiglas screens riddled with bullet holes and laser scoring. One of the crawlers, a massive beast of machine standing nearly twenty feet tall, had been knocked onto its side, a chunk of its engine compartment torn from its hull. There, listing backwards on its supports was a sign, its words faded by solar damage and fusion blasts.
*Regulan Epidemic Prevention and Purification Research Base*
One of the surveyors, wearing a broad green stripe on his helmet and suit, opened up on his comms.
"Berkut Leader, this is Peregrine One. Relay Station R3B has been verified. Awaiting orders."
The comms were silent for a long minute before the static laced reply was heard.
*"... Peregrine One, this Berkut Actual. You have permission to enter the station. Collect any intelligence of worth and return to the Dropship within four hours. We'll have a decontamination unit waiting and Sergeant Fitzroy's team on standby."*
"Understood, Berkut. Peregrine One out." he switched to his squad's channel. "Alright, boys. You know the drill: Get in, Get it, and Get out. Watch your seals and watch your six. Who knows what the Wobblies were cooking up in here?"
As the four entered the abandoned base, they pointedly ignored the corpse leaning against the door with a shattered helmet... and the pistol in its hand. | 2016-08-11T09:27:47 | 2016-08-11T09:00:51 | 22 | 14 |
[WP] Death, used to battling against the recently deceased in games of Chess for centuries, has found itself being challenged to an alarmingly varied number of different games in the past couple of decades. | As I swooped down from the boy's ceiling I immediately noticed something was wrong. Most people would scream in terror or begin to cry as they gazed upon my ever-shifting body. This young boy did not. He couldn't be older than 8 or 9 but unfortunately even the young can die.
"Who are you?" The boy asked, squinting his eyes to try and see me in the dark room.
"I am Death, dear young one. What is your name?"
"My name is Oliver but my mum always calls me Ollie." He watched intently as i floated myself down in front of him.
"Well Ollie I am here for a reason. You are on the verge of death."
I saw his eyes widen and he began to look scared for the first time since I had met him, struggling to understand the gravity of his situation.
"Yes you may die tonight Ollie, that is if you lose." I stated.
"If I lose what?"
"Well Ollie, you may choose a game for us to play tonight, and should you lose, you shall die and we will depart together into the night. But should you win, you will be put back into your sleep and remember none of this, but continue to live."
"Any game I want?" Ollie asked.
"Any game that I may win or lose at."
Ollie's face contorted as he tried to think of a game, until suddenly he perked up and stated,
"Alright sir lets play the Quiet Game."
I was confused. i had never heard of someone requesting this game before and it took me by surprise.
"Why the Quiet Game young one?"
"Well my mum always played it with me and my brother, and I've never lost. So I must be really good at it."
"Alright then we shall play this game then young one! I wish you good luck to both you and myself. Let us begin." I stated
And we were quiet
Although this was only happening in a matter of seconds in their mortal realm, time spanned much longer here. Ollie was true to his word about his skill. Years had passed as we both sat there on the side of his bed staring into one another's eyes. I watched as over time, whilst his mortal body stayed young, his soul grew older and older.
On what would have been the equivalent of ten mortal years in our little game, i conjured up a pen and paper and sat it on the table beside us. Ollie looked at me like I was attempting to trick him, but I shook my head. He picked up the pen and hesitantly drew a letter. he wrote more and more out until he had a sentence written.
"Tell me your stories" It read.
And that I did. I wrote and wrote, remembering all the times that I had sat in front of someone before. Recounting the different games they had chosen and the feeling they all felt as they drifted into my arms after losing. Centuries past and neither of us spoke a word, each writing more and more elaborate stories to each other on the side of his bed. Finally one day, after having written about the man I had taken just before Ollie, he looked at me and began to write one simple sentence.
"I think I'm ready"
I stared at this soul that was once a young boy and began to smile. I wrote back to him swiftly.
"Well young one this has been quite a game, are you sure of this?"
Tears began to well in his eyes and he wrote back.
"Yes old friend, I'm ready to see what happens after all this."
I began to cry slightly as well, Ollie and I had shared so much that we were one and the same at this point. He leaned over and hugged me, as I reassuringly patted his back.
"Thank you." He whispered, his voice wavering.
"It has been my pleasure Ollie." I whispered back.
And as I embraced him again his soul joined with me and the many others that i carried, and together we flew through the night.
The End
Thank you for reading this! I haven't done very much creative writing in a long time so any criticism or feedback is much appreciated! | "I can't handle it anymore." Death said angrily, he just came back from the roughest game since 10 vikings challenged him to armed combat ~1000 years ago. The entire team of the New York Giants died in fiery plane crash and challenged Death to football.
The archangel Gabriel glanced up from his parchment, disappointed that Death still questions his role after millenniums of servitude. "Death we've been over this before."
"No we haven't been over *this.* I quit." Death laid his scythe on the pure white marble in front of Gabriel. Gabriel paused for a moment and then locked eyes with Death.
"Death, it is physically impossible for you to quit. In fact your entire existence is based upon the roles God gave you." He put his quill down next to the parchment.
"Then I want to talk to God." He motioned to go past Gabriel's desk.
"Death you know that this is in an abstract plane of existence, God won't be in a door behind me. In fact there's no doors at all." Gabriel said turning around in his chair. Death didn't seem to care though.
Gabriel stared in amusement at Death as he aimlessly walked into the great white distance.
He turned back to his marble table and pushed the scythe that was covering his parchment onto the floor. Gabriel and all the other archangels, including Death, were perfect manifestations of God's will, however after spending time in the mortal world they couldn't help but pick up personalities. He always wondered if God liked it. In fact he also wonders if God himself has a personality. *I'm distracting myself, I have to focus.*
After ten minutes of working on his letter to the Pope, Gabriel saw a black blob on the horizon. *God must've bent space in the white expanse to lead him back to me.* Which he interpreted as a heavy handed suggestion by God to deal with him.
Death was finally in speaking distance, and upon realizing the archangel at the desk was still Gabriel he let out an audible sigh. Gabriel wondered how Death could do that considering he didn't have any lungs.
"You know walking may be good for you, I hear it helps with osteoporosis." Gabriel said.
"You think mortals would be disappointed to know that the perfect angels they worship have such shitty humor?" Death flatly said while picking up his scythe off the snow-white floor.
"Come on Death, don't you have a funny bone under that robe?"
"Fuck you." Death started "You know ever since God put you in administration you've been a huge asshole."
Gabriel putted his quill down again, and leaned on his arm. "Alright Death, what do you want."
"To quit."
"I told you. You can't quit" Gabriel said in a slightly agitated voice.
"I'm fed up with it. Just 5 days ago a model slipped and died, and she challenged me to a beauty pageant." Death asserted louder.
Gabriel had a small smile on his face "No way." Death had the full attention of Gabriel "Wait, you had to do a beauty pageant? But you're nothing but sk- robes and bones."
"It was fucking horrible. The only deities available to be judges were some demons who had nothing to do, and they wooed me on. I think one of them took a picture and now there's a fucking pinup of me on Satan's wall."
Gabriel couldn't help but laugh. In fact he was pretty sure he hasn't laughed this hard since God pranked Abraham into almost killing his son.
Death started to snicker too, it was pretty funny looking back on it.
After a little bit Gabriel came to his senses and said "Alright Death really, what do you need?"
"I don't know. I need somebody to help me, some of these games get too much for me at times." Death scratched the back of his skull thinking, an old habit he picked up after watching mortals think. "Hey Gabriel I have an idea."
"What is it?"
"How about you come with me during these games. Not everyday! Just like only 3 or 4 days of the work week."
Gabriel was amazed Death would even think of something like that. At this point Gabriel was sitting up straight. "Death you know I have to write to the Church for guidance, they can't even wipe their ass without it being holy parchment and approved by God."
"They'll figure it out! You've been holding their hand for millenniums, they can do without you for one century."
"I don't know man, God might be furious with me. You know what happened to Lucifer."
"Come on man, back then when we were unassigned and learning about existence we were cool. All I'm asking for is just a little help, it'll be like old times. Also maybe we can have another archangel come with us on some days." Death was borderline begging him.
Gabriel paused for a brief moment then got out of his chair. "Alright, fuck it. Administration is boring anyway. Besides Satan could always send up some of the many bureaucrats from hell to do my work." | 2016-08-15T23:28:58 | 2016-08-15T20:20:04 | 56 | 32 |
[WP] A pill has been created that adds 50 years to a person's natural life. To get a pill, one must prove to a jury of their peers that their life is worth extending. Each time, the criteria for extension become more rigorous. You are the world's oldest person, and your last 50 years has just ended. | "Just... Please, let me die already."
The jury didn't even blink. I was tied to the litter and couldn't do anything to avoid my grim future.
"For the crime of rebellion, Prisoner 1809", they don't use my name anymore, it's part of the punishment. "You were sentenced to 1000 years in prison. The damage you made to our society isn't paid in full yet."
The guards came and forced me to take the infamous pill once again. | "Think not about what I have to gain. Think about what you have to lose."
He was hale and hearty as ever. The pill just added another 50 years, so it was like cutting 50 years from your age and all sorts of things.
"I am the oldest human alive. Each time I have come to the council, I have proved myself worth of extension. In the past 1000 years, I have ended an insurrection in Africa, created civilization in dead lands, *made crows speak English*... If I were to not take this pill, what would humanity lose?"
The council spoke. "There will always be another savior. Another person to rise to the top, do the greatest of deeds. You, on the other hand, have not done any this time around."
"It matters not," The oldest man alive smiled wistfully. "Even I have considered just dropping dead, at this point in my life. But remember: There will *never* be another 'oldest man alive.' The criteria keeps rising, so never again will a man know what it means to live over a thousand years. No one else, but me."
He clears his throat.
"Please consider what I've said. Pill or no pill, good day."
-
A/N I was rushed. Sorry, might fix later.
[10:10] Hey, got those fixes done! Still pretty short, but I wrote two long ones today so whatever. | 2016-10-25T16:43:47 | 2016-10-25T16:29:36 | 505 | 41 |
[WP] Write a story with more holes in its plot than Swiss cheese in a shooting gallery, then resolve all of those plot holes at the end with a single logical explanation. | I am sleepy, but not tired.
I wander in wide-eyed amazement, while oblivious to most of everything around me.
I create worlds, populated by people and animals, and they vanish within one hour.
I talk to my friends and relatives, when there is no one else in the room.
Science is my favorite subject, and yet magic occurs to me every day.
I am completely loving, but have never, ever thought of making love.
I am hard to handle, easy to control; confined to a schedule, unbound by time; the center of the universe, ignored by the world; and I never existed through history, but am the future of life.
I am a not a living contradiction; I am a growing child. | As the sun rose between Mountain Chiamoke and Mountain Roatan, the Indians have begun to wake up. First stood up the chief, the youngest of the tribe that ever had the honor to become the leader. His face, covered in blood, looked firmly around to check the plateau for others that have survived. There was a child sobbing quietly, with its arm broken. Gleaming Moon howled, and the survivors turned their faces.
-Stand up, we have to build! - He ordered
-I...I can't build today, chief. - Rose Tree replied. - I'm armless.
-Green Cloud!
-He is no longer between us, chief. He left.
-Left where?
-Left to the Valley.
Chief began crutching through the plateau. Sitting Spider dead. Everybody dead but three people, all with broken arms and legs. Gleaming Moon stood up at the edge of the plateau, to see most of his tribe two hundred feet down. There was a single woman sweeping the rocks away with the only arm she had left. Gleaming Moon walked around the edge of the plateau. He trembled as he saw his daughter face down on the river's surface. Two people were hanging from the rocks of the plateau, ninety feet above the grassy field. The chief gazed far away, looking at the giant wooden skeleton near the trail leading to the top of Mountain Chiamoke.
-Catapulting people to get to new lands may have not been the best idea, but at least we hit the spot pretty well. - He said, looking at the skeleton. | 2016-12-05T23:39:20 | 2016-12-05T23:36:36 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | "Alright, listen very carefully," Charlie grumbled, the words odd in his mouth. "We may not have much time. There's a man, a nefarious persona, who comes here every morning. He has no business here, yet he walks on our lawn, and fiddles with the paper contraption." Charlie paused, his dark eyes silent in reflection, recalling words he'd picked up in his six-year life. "Mailbox, you call it."
I had to suppress a nervous laugh. "Oh, the mailman, you mean?"
"He goes by many names," Charlie said darkly. "His deeds are dark, and so is his smell." Charlie sniffed. "This is a conspiracy of the highest order, boss."
My girlfriend and I exchanged amused glances before I turned back to the dead-serious golden retriever. "Charlie, all he does is deliver letters to us. Words on paper from other people. Packages."
"The man is evil," Charlie persisted in a gruff voice. Briefly distracted, he circled around, chasing his own tail. "An enemy! A fiend! The words he brings you are distractions, his eyes shine with biting intent!"
Anna giggled. "Poor Charlie," she said, "At least we'll always have you to protect us."
"My warning shouts have kept him at bay," Charlie acknowledged gruffly, "But I fear that next time his plans will-"
Suddenly his ears tensed up. "He's here!" He ran towards the door, jumping madly. "He's here! The time has come! It's upon us! Oh God of Infinite Petting, he'll bite us all-"
"Alright, that's enough Charlie," I grinned, moving to open the door. "Look, I'll introduce you to the man, okay? So you can see for yourself. Just behave."
"For the love of chewy objects, do not open the wall of protection!"
I ignored Charlie and opened the door, just in time to see the mailman, a jolly, uniformed man with a friendly face and a package under his arm.
"Morning, sir, would you mind telling my dog-"
"SIX YEARS I'VE WAITED FOR THIS!!" the mailman screeched, chucking the package through the doorway.
"Noooo!" Charlie howled, trying in vain to intercept the package.
Too late his voice returned to the bark that had kept the mailman at bay, all these years. "Noowwoof! Woof!"
"What the fu-" was all I could mutter before the package exploded, obliterating the house and everything in it. | I sat back in the leather the chair while my dog stared back silently at me. She was smart, too smart. In the past 15 years she'd learned much and instantly knew that what I had given her was more then peanut butter on a spoon.
The room became uncomfortably quiet. The ceiling fan cast shadows against the tan wall while the sun burned through the east facing window.
Was I wrong, had I not read the instructions correctly knowing this was my one and only chance.
"You!" she said.
In shock I listened as this small 8 pound Yorkshire Terrier stood up with a prideful pose that could only have been passed down from generations of much larger Terriers.
"You, gonna put me on your lap or what?"
Puzzled at the simplicity of the question, I complied.
"You know I really do love this. To me there's nothing better than cuddle time. I just wish you'd move this chair to the other side of the room though. I'd love to have some sun on me while I relax."
"You remember that first day we met, when I slowly walked over to chew on your shoe. I picked you, you know."
I looked down and smiled as I ran my hand through her long soft silvery hair. It's funny that the medicine was having the opposite effect on me.
"I know that I haven't been that active lately, but I'm sure you know why."
As I rubbed her back, my fingertips felt the same typical lumps I'd learned to expect.
“It’s ok she said, the pain isn’t as bad today, but I know I can’t continue at this pace.” she looked up at me with her tiny black adorable eyes. “I’m happy to have been able to share this time with you and I know I couldn’t have picked a better owner, you’ve meant the world to me.”
Just then my other dog, a slightly pudgier black Yorkshire Terrier walked by.
“Don’t bother to give him a pill she said, we all know he’s an idiot, but he’s a nice idiot. And I have to say in these past 8 years that adorable chunk has grown on me. Make sure you give him some love now and then when I’m gone.”
Finally I mustered the courage to ask the question that I’d been afraid to ask from the beginning. But without getting a chance to speak she answered.
“Let’s make this our last month, I don’t want you to worry anymore and I want you to know I’ll be fine. If it’s true what they say, I’ll be there waiting for you… in the end.”
She lay her head down on my lap and suddenly went silent.
I carefully moved her to the side as I gradually got up from my chair. I gently rocked the chair until it moved towards the east window and walked out of the room and into the kitchen to compose myself.
My stalky black and tan dog followed me and walked towards the water bowl. The little ball of muscle and fur looked at an empty spot on the carpet then began to scratch on a plastic bin filled with his food. I walked over and reached for a cup which I used to scoop some food out.
“Only half a cup I said” as I spread the pieces on the ground. Undeterred, he moved towards the food pile as if I had said nothing.
I looked out the window and watched as empty birch trees stood motionless in the yard. The cool breeze outside did nothing to sway them.
“It’s going to be a cold winter, isn’t it.” I said to myself. | 2017-02-23T07:06:25 | 2017-02-23T06:59:37 | 1,311 | 32 |
[WP] Scientists invented a pill that enables dogs to fully speak and understand English. It lasts for ten minutes, and will only work one time. You give a pill to your 12 year-old Border Collie, whom you've had since they were a pup. Your dog immediately says "Alright, listen very carefully..." | "Alright, listen very carefully." The pills had taken effect almost immediately. I was in shock, and let out a, "Wow."
"No. No. No time for 'wow'. Snap the fuck out of it. I know what bullshit you just fed me; Toby told us about them the other week. I know they only last for a while, so there's something very important I need to convey to you." I nodded silently, assuming she was talking about the next door neighbor's dog, Toby.
"My fur," she continued, "do you know why it's so long?" I didn't even have time to formulate an answer before she spoke again. "It's so that if some big fucking animal, like a wolf, grabs onto me, they have a harder time doing any damage. It's essentially a natural suit of goddamned armor. What would you do if a wolf attacked you? Oh yeah, you'd fucking **die**!"
Confused at both the information and my dog's tone, I asked, "Why are you telling me this...?"
"Shut the **fuck** up, Tom! Tom... Humans have such weird names. Do you know that the name my mother gave me would roughly translate to, 'undefeated guard' in your language, in this disgusting speech I have to use to convey ideas to your pea brain? That's a great name, my name. Tom is... a name. It doesn't mean anything, but that's how human names are. They're just... names. But, it's not offensive. It's not degrading." Suddenly, I realized where this was going.
"But a fucking terrible, shitty, embarrassing, goddamned unacceptable name," She raised her voice with every word. My dog was yelling at me, in English. "**is Fluffy**!" she screamed. "I swear to fucking God, Tom, if I hear you, or **anyone** call me that undignified name **ever** again, I will piss on **everything** you own! I will hide my shits where you sleep! I will chew your shoes, ruin your furniture, knock dishes off of your countertops! That is not my name, and it never will be again! I don't deserve such a *Arf! Arf! Arf! Arf!*"
I breathed a sigh of relief as the pill wore off. She ran in circles, now just barking at me. Would petting her calm her down? I didn't dare try it. I didn't really know what to do, other than come up with a new name for Fl-- for my dog.
I sighed and sat on the couch. At least that horrible experiment was over. Lesson learned: Life is much better when your pets can't bitch at you.
Soon after, when I heard a loud, "My name is not Mister Mittens!" from the bedroom, I realized my girlfriend was about to learn the same lesson from her cat. | "Alright, Listen VERY carefully, I've been trying to tell you this for months now, but there is something very dangerous lurking in the back yard. It's been stalking you for months, unseen, unheard by you and apparently.. and this is something I can't understand, unSMELLED by you. I love you human, but you've got to take this threat very seriously because it's going to strike now that it knows that you know that it's there. Please, let me out into the backyard and stay indoors until I scrape the window with my paw."
And with that, I let Mary out into the backyard, she immediately started sniffing around and growling as she always did when she was out doing her business. But this time, it gave me chills.
I got my dads old shotgun that I'd saved in case a bear or something ever came around. Sure I wasn't living in the sticks, but I wasn't exactly in the city either. The possibilities flitted through my mind, one more worse than the other. I loaded a couple of shells into it, cocked it and felt slightly more secure, I hadn't fired the thing in ages, but I still remember my instructors words "always keep your hand off the trigger until you're ABSOLUTELY sure you're going to fire at something"
But my trigger finger itched. Mary still hadn't come back after five minutes, so I decided to start looking for her. The underbrush was dense and the trees were pressing in on me from all sides.
I found her in a clearing a few minutes later, frantically digging at something in the ground, I kept my shotgun down towards the ground and slowly walked forward. The moon faintly illuminated the clearing as I got closer and closer to the growing mound of dirt that she was throwing up behind her, she was digging like mad and when she noticed me standing next to her, she stopped and barked at me and gave me a long look. Apparently the pill had worn off.
I looked into the hole she'd produced, there wasn't anything special about it, just dirt... and .. nothing else. Mary kept digging for a while, but then seemed to perk her ears at something. I resisted the urge to point my shotgun towards the bush she was staring at. Then she started walking slowly towards the bush and she growled in a way I'd never heard her growl before. Before I knew it, she'd rushed into it barking like a madman and I yelled at her to stop, but she was well beyond listening to me at this point. I heard her rusting through the underbrush and then.. a sharp whining sound from her and after that, silence.
I went absolutely crazy, I stormed through the threes, brushing them aside, not caring how they tore the skin on my face and my arms. MY DOG WAS IN DANGER! was all that was going through my mind and I kept my shotgun at the ready, intent on blasting whomever had hurt my dog into the world beyond this one. When I finally caught up with Mary, she was lying on the ground and she seemed so small for some reason.. I looked down at her.. and that's when I heard a branch snap behind me.
Before I knew it, it had struck the first of many devious blows at me. My leg was lost, there wasn't anything I could do but try to maintain my composure as I heard it voice it's satisfaction at me by going "meow, meow, meoooww" as it playfully bit into my leg. Mary woke up and barked at it, I told her shush and despite her protests, this was the night that Mister Assassin-Mittens came into our lives.
Mary still pretends to hate it, but I can tell she's loving it when it makes it's bed on her back when she's sleeping in her bed. | 2017-02-23T04:57:25 | 2017-02-23T02:14:42 | 842 | 167 |
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