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[WP] Scientists find a suspended animation chamber with a human occupant in the Arctic. After reviving they realize the person is ancient. After learning a modern language the ancient explains that they are disappointed to see how much humanity has regressed technologically. | His language sounded like none on Earth. A different flow and structure, deploying sounds the bulk of humanity reserved for non-linguistic communication. The hiss that shoos cats from gardens. The tongue clicks of disappointment: tisk tisk. The onomatopoeic "boing" a ball makes when it bounces. Along with many other strange sounds.
But he was human, alright.
Down to the last hair follicle. Down to the last vocal cord. Down to his DNA.
It was a shame we spent so much time trying to teach him English as we studied his body and genetic code. It was a shame it took us two weeks to realize what he was trying to say through his drawings: that his pod contained a device that learned languages much faster than he himself could. As soon as we understood, we flew him over to where the pod was being studied, on the other side of the country.
He seemed nonplussed by our cars and airplanes.
It took only a few hours of feeding the pod information before it could translate fluidly between us. And what was the first thing our advanced ancient said, now that he could chat with the folks who'd discovered him, buried in the arctic ice?
He shook his head sadly and lamented: "How far we have fallen from our former glory."
We weren't systematic in our questions after that. We wanted to know what life had been like, what technologies humanity had developed and wielded in the time before history. We were like children interrogating the fireman who comes to visit their elementary classroom, talking over one another, hurling crude questions, hardly waiting for the answer to one before launching into the next.
Had his civilization wielded nuclear energy? How about other, more advanced forms of energy? And what about locomotion? Did they use cars, planes, spacecraft? Had they visited other planets? Other stars? Other galaxies?
Each question he answered in the affirmative, though he appeared more and more frustrated as the interrogation progressed. Like with each new question we were further demonstrating our primitivity. Like we were Neanderthals, excitedly asking a modern if humanity had found better ways to defend against lions than hurling spears and stones.
I was the one who had the bright idea to ask him why he had been in the chamber in the first place. Why had his people preserved him there? Was it so he could be an emissary from the past to the future?
"It must have been a malfunction," he said. "I was meant to be one of the seeds, spreading our species across the stars. I was meant to be launched, alongside others, into space, to travel for millennia, before landing on a new, unpeopled world. But the rocketry must have failed. I must have lost my trajectory passing one of our moons, and fallen back to the planet, to be plunged into ice, while the others in my group continued on to the distant planet at which we were aimed. I can only assume you have lost all cultural memory of those pioneers and colonizers, given how much else you have lost and forgotten."
"Did you say one of the *moons*?" I asked.
He nodded.
"But Earth only has one."
\- - -
Check out r/CLBHos for more stories and novellas! | 'Okay,' he said, walking over and back across the small room, turning at almost precisely the same point each time. 'Tell me again. You got to steam and the industrial revolution.'
I looked at my partner, Ben. We were supposed to be the ones asking the questions.
'Yes,' I said.
'Coal powered. Started somewhere cold.'
'Right. England.'
He looked right at me, his blue eyes boring into mine. 'Then electricity. Mass sanitation. Widespread healthcare. All of that happened?'
'Yes. All of that.'
'So then... What year are you calling this?'
'2021.'
'Two thousand and twenty one years after what?'
'After, uh, Jesus. I think.'
'A religious figure?'
'Yes.'
'You never reset the calendar for something else?'
'No.'
He frowned.
'Look, Jacob,' Ben began, but Jacob waved him away. 'So then... Global communications somewhere around 1930 by your reckoning. Probably needed a war. A big one.'
'World War 2,' I answered. '1939 to 1945. There was code breaking, and, uh, stuff.' I didn't really know where computers had come from, and now that I realised this, I was kind of appalled at the gap in my knowledge.
'Okay so early global networks around 1960,' Jacob said, thinking aloud. 'That should have got mass education underway. Right?'
'Well, there are online classes and stuff, and you can --'
'But you changed the schools? How you teach?'
'Umm,' I said.
Ben tried again. 'Jacob, we need to --'
'You still have schools? Like, kids in a room day after day?'
'Yeah,' I said. It did sound kind of stupid put that way. My kids probably would have agreed.
He sighed. 'Okay. But then you got early AI sentience around, what... 1970? 1975?'
I shook my head. 'No sentience.'
'At *all*?' He was incredulous.
'No. There's AI for picture recognition and, uh, other things.'
'But no true assistance?'
'No.'
'No household robots?'
'No.'
'So people are still doing their own basic tasks? And working in fields and factories and so on?'
'Yes.'
'Please tell me you at least got to synthetic meat.'
'Uh, well, that's kind of happening now. I think. I saw some stuff about it online.'
'Ok. Wow.' He held the bridge of his nose. 'This sucks,' he mumbled. Then to us: 'What about neural interface?'
I looked at him blankly.
'Guess not,' he said. 'Fusion? No. I know you haven't got that just looking around here. Mars base?'
'Elon Musk wants to...'
'This is bad,' he interrupted, and resumed the pacing. I hadn't even noticed he'd stopped.
'But... *why* is it so bad?' I asked. 'We're doing all right, I think.'
He stopped again, stared at me. 'The Reset is coming,' he said. 'It's probably less than ten years away. And you've got none of the tech you need to survive it.'
'What, uh, what is the Reset?' I knew he was ancient, but I was starting to think he might also not be fully there.
'A sentient energy wave. A version of it hit this planet before. There were dinosaurs then. Did you know that when one end of that asteroid was in the ocean, the other end was still higher than an intercontinental plane flies?'
I stood. 'I think we've done enough for --'
But he stared me down. 'You had so much *time*,' he said. 'What did you *do* with it?'
'Well... There's, you know, Instagram. And, uh, TikTok. The kids like that one.'
He didn't answer. Finally he said: 'You folks are so screwed.'
--
Thanks for reading! Check out more stories and please subscribe at r/HouseBlendMedium | 2021-06-28T23:18:24 | 2021-06-28T23:09:42 | 1,267 | 269 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent. | I never regretted turning my rival, Doloferes Bang, into mustard. As his cape collapsed in a freak display of condimental damnation I relished in witnessing his final dressing down. Those fools. "Proper magic demands rigor," they'd say. Well, I demand only rigor mortis. There's a stiff prize to pay for anyone who dares go against me.
It started with the pig Latin--an experiment. The rest of the mages in my class buried their faces in old, dusty books, learning the old tongue so as to make use of the traditional teachings. My advisor took me aside one day, tossed his bottle of Serbian rum out the window, and told me to forget about all that. "It's just to impress the stuck-up guilds," he said. "Doesn't really matter. Go ahead. Try."
And try I did.
"Urntay intoyay oupsay!" I chanted, and our professor's coffee turned into soup. Before he could spit it out, I continued, "Onguetay otay oonspay!" It was a glorious sight to behold. It was all I could think about as the blamblamtors escorted me off the premises.
Sure, I am blacklisted from every guild in the realm. But who cares a fig about guilds when you can turn their members into figs by burping a spell?
Today is the day I shall perform my masterpiece. A spell to bind the world. An incantation to transform a nation. A chant to change it all.
It took all my quest treasure, but I finally got my hands on it: the horn of Blörnshaft the Elder. With this I can amplify my magic such that it can blanket the realm.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare to alter it all. First, to make sure it will be irreversible:
"NO TAKING BACKSIES."
That should suffice. And now, for the spell.
"SOMETIMES GOATS!" I cry at the top of my lungs. A sole 'bah' echoes from the distance. And then I see it. And it is beautiful. Hills. Trees. Even the sun. Everything changes randomly into goats and back. Blipped into existence, they bleat.
If only Doloferes were to see it. He'd hate it. He'd hate it so much.
I shed a lone tear. For today I had achieved greatness. | Under the moonlight, the crimson body looks a lot like a broken doll.
It lays there limply, ragged, bruised. So still it’s as if time had frozen itself. And my hands, so used to warmth, lay there, cold and shaking. Somewhere deep inside of me, I wonder how I got here. How I’ve become what I’ve become. If maybe the world was actually made for me, trusted me, only I had betrayed and destroyed it.
Maybe I’m the puppeteer, and the broken body lying beneath me is attached to the strings I’m controlling, and the whole world looks on, like they know they’re next, like they know all they are to me is a puppet.
I want to scream. I want to rage and cry and go to sleep and never wake up again. I want to feel human. Only I know I’m past all that. I know it’s too late for that.
But part of me still longs for it, for innocent magic and innocent people and innocent users. There’s nothing innocent about this. Certainly nothing innocent about me.
I love magic. It exists deep within my bones — a direct part of who I am, but it also sits and stirs, pounding against my flesh, aching to get out. And if I don’t let it out, it explodes. That’s how much magic I have. And the much quieter part of me, perhaps coming from the heart, the part I’ll never admit, the part that tells me that’s what scares me the most.
*(“Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad.”*
*~~And maybe if I hadn’t listened to his words, maybe if I had walked away, none of this would have happened.~~*
*~~But it did, and I know that not even magic can fix this.~~)*
You see, I may be a powerful magi, the most powerful user in the continent, maybe even the world, but I’m the least respected. And something you must remember, something you must never forget, being feared doesn’t mean being respected.
I’ve started a war built on magic, have created a kingdom made out of magic, and watched as my hands burnt it all down. Soldiers have fought for me, warriors have died for me, and yet, no one lives for me.
Gods fear me, mortals want to be me, and in all the terror and destruction, I’m not sure if that makes me a god or a mortal.
Perhaps both, perhaps none at all. Perhaps I’m just biding for time, or maybe I have no time at all, or maybe I’m nothing but my magic, and maybe that’s not even enough.
The body beneath me doesn’t stir, the war raging on all around me, screams and cries filling the cool night air, and this time, not even my magic answers back.
Just as magic can love you, it can also betray you.
And in this world, there is nothing worse than betrayal.
So I’ll continue to play the part of master, but only if you play the part of prisoner.
—
/r/itrytowrite | 2021-08-26T19:12:10 | 2021-08-26T18:15:43 | 144 | 69 |
[WP] Ten year ago your mentor told you "Kid, here's a dirty little secret about magic. You can just make shit up and it'll usually work. Makes the guys who take it seriously really mad." Today you're one of the least respected (and most powerful) mages on the continent. | I never regretted turning my rival, Doloferes Bang, into mustard. As his cape collapsed in a freak display of condimental damnation I relished in witnessing his final dressing down. Those fools. "Proper magic demands rigor," they'd say. Well, I demand only rigor mortis. There's a stiff prize to pay for anyone who dares go against me.
It started with the pig Latin--an experiment. The rest of the mages in my class buried their faces in old, dusty books, learning the old tongue so as to make use of the traditional teachings. My advisor took me aside one day, tossed his bottle of Serbian rum out the window, and told me to forget about all that. "It's just to impress the stuck-up guilds," he said. "Doesn't really matter. Go ahead. Try."
And try I did.
"Urntay intoyay oupsay!" I chanted, and our professor's coffee turned into soup. Before he could spit it out, I continued, "Onguetay otay oonspay!" It was a glorious sight to behold. It was all I could think about as the blamblamtors escorted me off the premises.
Sure, I am blacklisted from every guild in the realm. But who cares a fig about guilds when you can turn their members into figs by burping a spell?
Today is the day I shall perform my masterpiece. A spell to bind the world. An incantation to transform a nation. A chant to change it all.
It took all my quest treasure, but I finally got my hands on it: the horn of Blörnshaft the Elder. With this I can amplify my magic such that it can blanket the realm.
Taking a deep breath, I prepare to alter it all. First, to make sure it will be irreversible:
"NO TAKING BACKSIES."
That should suffice. And now, for the spell.
"SOMETIMES GOATS!" I cry at the top of my lungs. A sole 'bah' echoes from the distance. And then I see it. And it is beautiful. Hills. Trees. Even the sun. Everything changes randomly into goats and back. Blipped into existence, they bleat.
If only Doloferes were to see it. He'd hate it. He'd hate it so much.
I shed a lone tear. For today I had achieved greatness. | >Magic is will made manifest. If you believe in it working, you can make it happen. Ever notice that idiots always seem to make it through. They're not imaginative enough to do anything without beyond mitigate catastrophic outcomes. But what if they were? Kids after the other side, all imagination with no will.
Lex had explained this one night, taking long drags from a pencil as if to prove his point. Smoke billowed out as he exhaled. "All those incantations and gestures help them believe it's going to work the way they want. If you believe and understand what you want, you can make it happen like that." A snap punctuated his sentence but his hands were busy with the pencil and beer that he pulled out from nowhere. He hit the beer on the table and top popped off.
"What was all that about gestures and you pretend to pop open that mystery beer?" I was incredulous at this, but Lex smirked. "It's not beer, it's a boilermaker. And i didn't use magic to open it. Don't be lazy and use magic for everything." The night went on with us escalating with getting weird effects with no verbal or somatic components.
I attended an Archmagi Symposium. Bloviating and stodgy, just like Lex had described them. I spoke to an old man with a conical hat adorned with moons and stars. He spoke about the importance of flaring the wrists, of enunciation, and was flustered when I told him I never really found them to be important. He called me a charlatan and demanded to know how a fraud could get in here.
"Through the front door." Was not the answer he wanted to hear. He harumphed at this, I'd forgotten there wasn't actually a door. "The only way in here is utilizing the very secure portal! So I demand you tell me how you got in!" He was thundering at me, I could feel him groping around in my skull, but I put him in the head of the homeless guy i passed on the way in. This was not a good idea.
If you've never done a psychic deep dive on someone it's intense. If they're not aware of you it's not a lot of effort, if they're watching your and resisting, it's a lot of effort. Going to deep can cause you to get a little lost in there, and that's with a well adjusted person and a slightly too strong of a push. That Archmage was neck deep in crazy homeless. Oops.
I finished his drink while he stood there furious and motionless. The fury was the last thing he felt before getting stuck for what turned it to be 30 seconds, but it felt like years to him. Her saw me walk up to wall, pull open a door that wasn't there, and walk down a hallway that didn't exist before the wall clacked shut like a normal door behind me.
Needless to say, I'm not allowed back. I still go to their parties though. Turns out when you know no one will recognize you, you can eat for free. They even made new divination spells, which i stole so i could circumvent them. Those edeots thonk using the wrung leters prevants meening. | 2021-08-26T19:12:10 | 2021-08-26T19:06:09 | 144 | 58 |
[WP] The nearby Village simply knows you as the hunter who lives in the forest, but you have a dark secret. You are the former dark Lord. Today you returned from a hunt and found the Hero that defeated you in your Hut. | The brush parted before me as I limped towards the back gate of my home. Mud, blood, and pine needles clinging to both me and my captured dinner. The boar had been a tough beast to capture, even after I'd driven him into a knee-deep marsh he'd still been as fierce as ever. I could see how he put five grown men in the hospital, and one in the morgue. He'd managed to sink his tusk into my left thigh just before I bought him down, wailing and screaming in blind fury up until the end. So ends the tale of Gullyburg's terror boar, destroyer of crops and gardens; terrorizer of small children, farmers, and housewives. I chuckled and shifted him on my shoulders as I took a look at my leg. The bleeding wasn't too bad. Whatever powers left in me kept my blood pressure low, and my ability to heal high enough that grievous wounds like this would heal smooth... eventually. It'd be little more than a scar by tomorrow morning. By the end of the week it will be gone completely. I unlatched the gate, letting it close on its own as I crossed the back lawn, into my garden. Pumpkins and squash were coming along well, as were the peas and collards, and the little plot of oats looked a few weeks away from harvest. They'd make a nice beer for when winter comes. I pushed my way into the mud room, out of the cold and damp, hanging the boar from the hook I put in his back trotter. I'd already done all the messy work out in the field, but I still needed to get the hide off of him. It'd make a nice cloak for Mala. I pulled my boots off and put my house shoes on, hanging up my cloak as I went inside. "Caught him, finally." I said, going to the kitchen sink to wash my hands. "Took your advice and drove him into a bog, slogged him down enough for me to get in close." There was no answer, or the sound of small slippers on hardwood. Is she still out at the market? I I thought. I heard the wickering of a horse on the front lawn, and felt my blood turn to ice when I caught the smell of cinnamon in the air.
"The barman at the tavern up the road wasn't lying, this ale you brew is excellent." Said a voice from the table. A familiar voice. One that had a malicious undertone despite how plain, and even genuine it sounded.
"Hello, Samantha." I said, taking hold of the kitchen knife in the bottom of the sink.
"Hello... mutant." I felt her move first, she always did have a very read-able bloodlust. All the air in the room felt sucked away as my eyes found the bluish blur of her hair at the edge of my vision. I adjusted my grip for the uneven balance, and threw the knife in one smooth motion, knowing just where to aim. Her armor was always weakest at the neck. Metal rang out against metal, and before I could process what was happening I felt a horrible searing pain shoot through my shoulder; then my whole body. I felt myself sink to the kitchen floor. I couldn't see. There was only pain. I was blind from it. "Nice pitch. You'd have hit my throat if I didn't block with this." There was a squelch, and I couldn't hold back a scream as the pain doubled. My vision returned in bright spots, ebbed with an agonizing haze, and I could see an engraved silver spike sticking out of my shoulder, the heel of a boot holding it in place. "So the theories and rumors were true. Not only are you alive, much to my disappointment, but alchemical silver hurts you. Tell me, how does it feel?" She ground her boot down on the spike, and I grabbed her leg.
"That's enough." I grunted, trying to push her off. But I couldn't. My strength was gone. "You win, you've made your point."
"No, I don't think I have." She pulled her blade from its sheathe, and I closed my eyes. Waiting for it to come. Death. I prayed for it to be swift. I heard the blade cut through the air, followed by the sound of fabric ripping. "Ha, I KNEW it. I knew I was right." I felt the tip of the blade press against a familiar patch of skin on my chest, drawing a trickle of blood. "I DID hit you, didn't I?"
"H-huh?" I asked, feeling the haze of blood loss and loss of adrenaline starting to take over.
"You DID die, didn't you? Remember? I stabbed you with the hero's trident two years ago? " My fogged memory did recall being pinned to my throne by a glowing blue trident, and having my world go black. After that all I remember is waking up in a hospital in Zepherville, a town four hours from here, and a year's travel away from my old castle... but what happened in between was always a haze. Nothing was clear. Not even Mala knew."Hey! HEY! Pay attention!" The spike in my shoulder bit deeper as she ground her boot down harder. But I didn't scream. I wanted to, but didn't have the energy. I could only look up at her. "The hell is wrong with you? You weren't like this the last time we fought."
"Losing... too much blood." I murmured.
"Oh, stop being such a baby. You're a big mutant, aren't you? Your healing ability will..." Her words faltered as she looked down. I looked down too. The gash the boar had put in my thigh was now flowing like a river. "Oh... oh goddesses."
"Powers... gone. Healing... weakened." I managed to say, letting my head rest against the sink cabinet, before falling into a deep numbing darkness.
- | DL: "Hello"
They do not say anything, they sit in one of the chairs, in the middle of my home in one of my two dining chairs. It is the worse dining chair, one I should go into town and get a new one from the carpenter. their prices are fair enough, and they will barter so it can be an easy trade. I do not watch them as I drag the carcass in the door and bring it to the butchering table on the far side of the Hut.
DL: "Careful in that chair, it does wobble. Dont want you to slip and get mud on those nice clothes from the common folk"
It is a bit petty, but I had to repeat exactly what they said to me the first time they saw me in person. Before they began their resistance and journey. They probably thought I never even remembered that, it coming from some 'dirty angry peasant' I just wrote it off. I remember, I remember everything. In their solemn stare at me they hold no fury in their eyes, no rage, they are observing, they may have been a bit arrogant but they are not stupid.
H:"Why? and don't start the, "do you mean the wobble or the dirty clothes?" bit."
That is exactly the bit I was going to lead with. a small smirk crawls across my face.
DL: "Lets start with why am I still alive? I know you know but to confirm your suspicions. yes. I did have multiple back up inert body duplicates hidden around the world that my soul would immediately go to in the event of my death."
They nodded acknowledging this. I know they went hunting for them. Cleaving into the animals tendons is difficult, would be easier with magic but my body has grown stronger with work over the years.
H: "That doesn't answer the question"
DL: "Why this region? because it was far enough away. Not so close that you could immediately quickly respond with your forces and rally the local populace to begin the exhaustive search. It would give me time to regroup, especially if starting from 0."
Some of the bits cant be fully used but they can be used for other pieces and parts, like getting the gelatin out and getting that hardened can be valuable, I dump those pieces of the carcass into a large bucket I have that I take care of the process in.
DL: "Would you like to join me in this? I am going to be stripping the hide from the flesh and an extra set of hands can help hold it and position it. Your father was a leatherworker, your sister took up the trade but you must still have learned some. Maybe you could show me something."
I look over at them and they are staring more intently at me now. I still haven't answered their question, but they don't want to actually say it aloud because then it will seem I am getting to them. But they do not move, they do not approach or partake in the work. They continue to watch me as I work.
DL: "Did it continually bother you? I imagine it did?"
H: "You know it did."
DL: " I apologize for that. But you are not here trying to kill me. Well, not yet."
H: "You are not going to win, you didn't then. You are not now."
A few moments pass as I think, as well as position to best separate the tissues. I will be able to bring this hide into town clean and make a bit off of it.
DL: "I know."
H: "So why?"
The hide is hung along the back rack to dry slightly. I can bring it in this afternoon. heading over to the pantry I briefly think of grabbing many cups but only grab 2. I get one of the embers from the cooking spit and reignite a flame with some tinder under the kettle. Filled it with water before I left, I like to have tea after a hunt.
DL: "I lost. So I wanted to give you a chance. Trying right away would have been foolish, you fought and overcame my military might at every juncture with superior soldiers and in many circumstances, superior tactics. I couldn't immediately turn around and try again. But, like I told you-."
intentionally trailing off to see if they would pick up on what I had said before.
H: "Something worse is coming and you're tactic will work best."
DL: "Indeed."
H: "You did not believe that we would be defeated by IT, you thought we would be severely weakened or I would be broken by what had to be done and become a despot. Then in our weakened state or when I had become a monster you could sweep in and assert an even stronger position."
DL: "Correct. I still got news all the way out here. You all most certainly weakened after it, although you did prevail at cost. I most certainly could have tried."
H: "But you didn't. So I will ask the question again, Why?"
DL: "You were right. My methods were excessive, I presumed your talk of being able to overcome the odds was haughty bravado and foolhardy arrogance."
H: "A good deal of it was."
DL: "It was, but you were also BRILIANT within your execution of tactics, and the speed of your reassessment and the circumstances is elegant. I can outplan you in the long game every time, but in the heat of the moment, you win 99 out of 100 bouts."
I pour the hot water into the two cups and use a cloth tea bag I fill from a container and begin to steep the tea. I offer the same to them. They put the tea into the bag and begin to steep their cup as well.
H: "Thank you"
DL: " You proved you could beat me, I know I would be able to beat you if I planned and schemed but I had to lay low."
H: "I have been asking the same question the whole time and you have yet to answer it."
They had me there.
DL: "I wanted to say I am sorry for any excessive stress I may have been causing. You didn't know if I was still planning or scheming or what day I would finally come back to get you. I spent a long time planning and panicking about someone coming to stab me in the back. But being out here, away from it, not having that worry that panic, the burden I placed upon myself to get what I wanted. I found what I wanted. I got the control I so desired. Is it over a nation and its peoples, no. But I still find satisfaction in this life. Not using magic for years so you couldnt track me down taught me hard physical lessons. I began to feel some remorse in my self imposed exile. I did not want to make you into me. Only I can be me." | 2021-11-04T01:23:43 | 2021-11-03T20:13:16 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | "Now, Mr. Truth, thank you for agreeing to this interview. Do you mind if I call you Mr. Truth?"
"That's fine."
"Right, Mr. Truth. Our readers are dying to know more about you. You can just make any statement you want, and it becomes real. Besides you, Nobody has that power, correct?"
"Yes, absolutely correct."
"Amazing. They say that Nobody is stronger than you, is that correct?"
"Er, yes. That's right. Nobody can defeat me."
"And Nobody can resist your ability?"
"Some can partially resist it, but nobody is fully immune."
"And you're totally immune to other powers? Nobody has power over you?"
"That's right."
"How fascinating! So, if you were to declare that the moon was made of lemon custard, would that come true?"
"Er, no. Even I have limits."
"So, some of our readers have asked why you don't just say that the villains are surrendering, or that criminal acts are now physically impossible. Would those limitations be why?"
"Haha, yeah. But I can shut down their superpowers, make them super heavy, and cause them to pass out from a lack of air. Sometimes their own powers interfere with that, to a degree, which is when I have to resort to delivering them to justice with my fists."
"Wow! One last question, Mr. Truth, if you don't mind me asking? Do you recall when you were in fifth grade? There was another child whom you bullied relentlessly. One day you beat him to the brink of unconsciousness while yelling about how he would always be nobody, and you were going to grow up to be a hero. Do you recall that?"
"What? Where did you hear that?"
"Nobody told me. By the way, your voice will no longer work. I've been keeping track of you for a long while now, biding my time. The air around your mouth will not enter. Did you know that you literally changed my name to Nobody? All of your nerve endings will double in sensitivity every second. You made my parents forget I ever existed. The pull of gravity on your body will double and switch directions every five seconds until you die. You deserve this." | ___His name is The Truth, but I knew him as Daniel Beckham, back when I could still know things. Now I’m just a Watcher.___
_News reporter on the radio:_ “protesters in France are keeping the president hostage because they’re angry about his stance on climate change”
\*sigh* ‘I guess it can’t be helped, time to fix this mess.’
#####Half an hour later in a bar:
‘I don’t know man, it feels wrong to do this. I’m helping people, I know that, but it’s all just so meaningless.’ ‘Hey barman, another whiskey please!’ \*crackling through the phone:* ‘maybe you should see a therapist, you don’t have to worry about a secret identity like most of us.’ ‘I’ve tried that already, but none of them understand my problem; my memories aren’t part of the real world anymore. I mean, you never had a lizard tail until I imagined you had one in 5th grade.’ ‘What are you talking about? I’ve always had a lizard tail, I told you it’s because of a fortunate birth defect.’ ‘No it’s not! You don’t understand how it feels to know the truth that isn’t the truth anymore. It messes with your brain. Sometimes I feel as if I don’t have a superpower, but just a terrible curse.’ ‘Don’t say that man, you have the power to change the world whenever you please, that’s incredible! I’d take that over a regenerative tail any day of the week.’ ‘You don’t get it, it feels as if this world isn’t real, as if my memories are the real world, but I know that’s not true. It’s making me go insane! It all started with that kid in 5th grade, Patrick was his name, you knew him.’ ‘I have no idea who you’re talking about.’ ‘Of course you don’t, I called him a nobody one day, then he went home to cry, and he never came back to school, he had never come to school in the first place, we just had a spare table in the classroom that year. At least, that’s how everyone remembers it, but I know otherwise, he’s still out there, in one form or another.’ ‘What kind of nonsense are you talking about? Maybe you are indeed going crazy, I’d really look into that therapy thing, you need it.’ ‘Maybe you’re right, I’ll think about it. I gotta go now, speak you later.’ ‘Later.’
#####On a bridge somewhere:
‘There’s only one way I can find out if he’s truly still out there, I need to tell him that I’m sorry, I was a real asshole back then.’
___I watch Daniel come to me, I know he’s sorry, but I don’t know if I’ll forgive him, I can’t know anymore.___
 
___
This is one of my first works here, I’ve done a few others before, but not many, so feedback and constructive criticism are more than welcome! Thank you for reading! Also I know the formatting is weird, I’ve tried to change it but Reddit is working against me today. | 2021-11-23T11:51:41 | 2021-11-23T07:15:26 | 109 | 45 |
[WP] Your childhood bully once said you were nobody. Unbeknownst to him at the time, he had a reality-bending superpower. Now he's the world's strongest superhero, everyone calls him The Truth, because his word is the absolute truth... Nobody knows about his past, and Nobody will make him pay. | ... Nobody is stronger than me... Wrong choice of words; I think as I keep breaking his bones...
-------
We were kids; he was enormous, a foreshadow of who would he become... Me, small and meek...
"You are nobody..." He utters after hitting me and taking my money in the school yard...
I lay curled, still in pain... And keep like it till it is late...
There is nobody coming for me... That is ok, I live near, I can walk...
But, as I reach my home and try to get in, I feel it closed... There is a board showing a realtor... That is not right...
I look for my family, but I can't find any of them... Their names aren't in the phone directory...
Truthfully, I am now a nobody... Forced to survive in the streets as best as an eight years old kid can in a city...
He is the reason WHY I am now... Nobody knows what that monster is capable, nor his past...
And Nobody WILL stop him...
----
He grows, both in size and out of his bullying ways... He realizes his gifts... And turns to heroism...
Pfft, as if...
Oh, but something he still loves doing is bragging...
How amazing he is, how strong, how righteous...
And I snap... | ### Of Nobody's War
There exists a War that is difficult to know. It is not one of steel and blood, but of opposites and change. The War is the soul, every soul, in an eternal self-conflict of actuality. Few, very few, manage to break the cycle. To do so one must understand oneself, which is an arduous task on its own, and then cleanse oneself of all contrast. It is to embody a singular form, of which the greatest is the Good. The successful are enlightened. The rest are insignificant.
Truth isn't good, even though it is a good - a hero. There also those where good is absent - villains. It should be no surprise that these duals are, by rules brought through War, in endless conflict. Even death does not equate to breaking that cycle, for a soul is immortal.
This duality had existed since existence, it happens that only now am I knowing it. Remembering it.
Time moves. It's the one thing that is permanent, and absolute. I've gone through 22 years now in this state of none. During them, I've learnt of the War more so than those that exist, more so than even the enlightened. I recognise its essence, and realise its purpose. The greatest War is not of Good and not-Good, but of being and not-being. Of something and nothing. Of body and no body. Of not-I and I.
It was that conjecture, I presume, that did it. The insight that gave me both states. It was never done, to embrace both opposite forms instead of just one. For the first time since high-school, I saw light.
I was in Paris, the plaza was familiar enough. But the Tower was not there. Or, well, not how I knew it. What was once an engineering wonder had deformed into a steel sculpture of Truth.
I didn't even think the thought before I removed it. There were other things I had to change too. As have I, so shall this world know War.
========
A bit different than what I usually do, hope it made some sense. Crit very appreciated! | 2021-11-23T09:58:24 | 2021-11-23T07:21:05 | 50 | 27 |
[WP] Scientists have created an "opposite machine" that can create an opposite to any item that you put inside. After trying just a few items you begin to realize just how much power this machine has. | In this glorious, incomprehensible future of ours, The Machine is the final contradiction made real: the servant that is supreme, the god that is a slave. Poison is antidote. Disease is cure. Shit is food. The Machine blesses, but judges not. Humanity polices itself. As the old joke goes, all the politicians and priests were shoved into a Machine. Somehow, we have responsible governance.
Matter is energy, or antimatter, as you like. An object at rest is an object in motion; that's just one more kind of 'opposite.' All you have to do is change the handy, multi-coded setting on the side of the box and voila: humanity is interstellar. Colonies turn into cities turn into planetary megalopoleis as fast as humans can reproduce to fill them. The Machine could help with that, too, of course, but a funny thing happened on the way to heaven: humanity found its chill. It has the time, and knows it does. What is the opposite of entropy? What is the opposite of heartbreak, and sorrow, and loss?
Just check the code. Seriously, it's the most important thing you'll ever learn. If you're not excited about learning it, we can always just stick you in a Machine. If there's a version of you that doesn't know the code, then there's an 'opposite' version that does.
Once upon a time, in a universe fairly similar to ours, someone created the Machine. Life was terrible, and continued to be terrible, because while their Machine *could* have changed their nature, their nature would not allow it. And so then one day, some rebel or madman or irresponsible git did what any unstable, unsatisified product of a terrible universe would do. Well, one of two things, anyway. Either they created a perfect vacuum inside a Machine and turned it on, or they just plumb left the door open and hooked it up to the grid.
In a phrase, they let there be light - our light. Hell created Heaven; hate created love. Our god was misery writ large upon an entire universe, doomed never to experience Its glorious creation. Our history is a record of causes and effects birthed in an instant, a B-series foundation and edifice in which we live and thrive, utterly unbothered by the Last Thursdayism of it all. That's why the joke about the politicians and priests is just that: a joke. It was a collection of causes and effects that none of us ever experienced. It happened before Last Thursday, which means it never really happened at all.
Most of us believe this, but of course we do not dwell. Life is good. The Machine is the perfect slave, we are deserving masters, and none of that is an accident.
Quite the opposite, surely. | "I could bore you to death explaining the technology that went into making this, but let's just say, no expense was spared and no technological rock was left unturned in developing the Opposite Machine."
The room rose in an approving murmur, clearly impressed but still just as confused by the scientist's words.
"What, precisely, is function of this 'Opposite Machine?'" a man asked from the front row of the assembly. Heads turned from the question-asker back to the scientist, all clearly wondering the same thing.
Without saying a word, the scientist moved across the stage floor to the front of the machine and pulled a red cube from his pocket. He placed it on the conveyor belt and pulled a lever, sending a thrumming through the floor and a high-pitched squeal into the air.
A moment later and a bell chimed. From the other end of the machine, a red ball dropped and rolled to the floor. The scientist rushed and picked it up, showing it to the room.
"The machine successfully analyzes its subject and provides a contextual opposite, a polar inverse, a perfect contrast!" His proclamation was well-rehearsed and confident, leaving the room speechless. Though, in his dress rehearsal he imagined they might be clapping, or throwing roses. The crowd seemed more puzzled than delighted.
" Practical applications!" The scientist announced, dropping the ball and marching across the room. From a box, he retrieved a dead mouse. Dangling it by its tail, he swung the tiny corpse for all the room to see, causing the entire front row to flinch.
He placed the dead mouse on the conveyor belt and activated the machine. "One thing I should mention," he spoke over the pulsating mechanism, "you must always set the context dial to low settings, otherwise..." and he shrugged, pantomiming... A monster? An explosion? Not even he was sure. But it couldn't have been good.
The machine stopped and a live mouse jolted from the other end and rushed into the crowd, sending men and women alike recoiling with fear.
This one seemed to do the trick, as several stood up and offered applause, prompting their colleagues to do the same. Still no roses, however. What else could he show them? What would really deliver that WOW factor?
"Doctor, can you elaborate on the upper limits of the context dial?" a man from the crowd asked.
"Yes, of course. You see, 'opposite' doesn't have a natural context. Physical laws do not draw these types of distinctions. The Opposite Machine pulls from our collective human history and algorithmic thought patterns to create what it believes to be 'opposite.' A low dial setting might only change the color. A medium dial setting might change molecular composition. A high dial setting might open a wormhole as the machine collapses reality inside itself."
There was a sober silence in the room. The scientist felt the skin around his tight collar become very warm in that moment. This was a tough crowd to please, that's for sure. Perhaps another demonstration will do the trick.
"Not to worry, I've saved the best for last!" The frantic man rushed to a side room and led a man out by the arm. "I'd like you all to meet Roger. He's a blind man."
The crowd gasped and groaned.
With some assistance, he laid the man down on the machine. "Now we will adjust the dial ever so subtly, gifting this man with the ability to see!" He turned the dial and pulled the lever. The blind man went in one end.
And the rest of the solar system went in the other. | 2021-11-27T22:04:32 | 2021-11-27T20:34:21 | 351 | 77 |
[WP] You are the only person to be born without a printed expiration tag.
I was scrolling through the frontpage of reddit and my brain accidentally mashed two different links together, giving me the idea for this prompt. | Mom's said August 23, 2005. Dad's said March 26, 2014. What's on my wrist? In this world, mortality is a blank patch of skin.
My sister was unlucky at birth. The day after she was born, my parents made funeral arrangements. Her wrist deemed that she had 23 years of life ahead of her. Unfortunately for my parents, they'd be around to see each day. No parent should suffer the death of a child but I felt worse for my sister, she had to live with them.
I was born a few years after her. I don't know why they wanted another kid. Immortality complex I think; knowing your genetics will live on at least one more generation. The irony must have been bittersweet when the tag was mysteriously absent from my body. They checked everywhere, resorting to x-rays to see if there was an inscription on my bones. They found nothing. In the quest for immortality, my parents received uncertainty.
I can imagine what you're thinking. I heard it all my life and it irked me to my core. Not surprisingly, it only came from older people. My parents never allowed kids over.
"You're so lucky!"
"You can live free!"
"I bet you live every moment to the fullest!"
If the circumstances were reversed, and I was the only person *with* a date, they might be right. However, in a society where everyone knows the date of their death, uncertainty breeds anxiety. My parents never let me leave the house. Our curses made my sister and I close.
Before she left for the airport, she gave me a watch. Unlike most watches which ticked with each passing second, this watch had no gears, pointers, or numbers. It was empty. An empty circle with a glass cover.
"Fill it with your passions" she told me. She gave me a big hug and ran out the door.
While my sister backpacked acorss Europe at 15, I marveled at pictures of the French Alps. While my sister learned to fly a plane, I imagined taking off into the air from my bed. When my sister inevitably died, I gave her the eulogy she deserved from my bathroom.
After mom died soon after, dad decided it was time to let me go.
"Leave and make no attempt to contact me." He said. "If you're still alive on the 25th of March, 2014, send me a message."
There's something unnatural about a person knowing when their time will come. The illusion of immortality quickly fades into depression. The inevitable always staring them in the face. Things of such mystery and magnitude are best left unknown.
The date is March 25, 2014 and I write this from the base of Mont Blanc. I will not send a message to my father for he does not deserve it. He doesn't deserve the effort unlike my sister. He doesn't deserve the satisfaction of immortality.
When I hit the peak, I'll stare at my wrist and smile. A photograph of my sister where time should be. Me and my curse. Me and my gift. | I didn't ask for it.
People seem to forget that. I never wanted this. I still don't. People think it's a miracle, or a blessing, or some bullshit like that. But really? It's a curse. A terrible, horrible curse that haunts my every waking moment. I can never truly relax. I jump at the slightest sound, quiver at the softest touch.
Paranoid? Undoubtedly. But wouldn't you be, too? Look at me, not my wrist, for one fucking second and tell me to my face that this is a life you would choose for yourself. Any moment could be my last. I could have a heart attack right now. I could be jumped on the walk home. I could trip my goddamn shoelace and break my fucking neck.
I mean, take yourself, for example. Let me see your wrist.
...
Nice. You have exactly thirty years, a month, three days, about five hours left, give or take. Yes, I did it in my head, I can do basic math, get the hell over yourself. Coming up on the big three-oh, huh? Gonna have a big party, invite all your friends to come on down, get shitfaced, score some ass, et-fucking-cetera? Forgive me if I'm less than thrilled for you. You're what, twenty-five, twenty-six? You're gonna get married, have a kid or two, die in your mid-fifties. Timestamp says early afternoon, maybe a transport wreck on the way home from work. Maybe you take the day off and spend the day with your family, go peacefully.
I don't have that luxury. I can't tell my boss 'hey, you're gonna need to start looking for replacements, I got about a week left'. Ha. As if I could get a job. No one's gonna hire the freak without a tag. No one wants to get close to this. I'm a variable, the unknown. No security, you know? You don't hire a guy who's punching out on Sunday. You don't date the guy who dies next month, or tomorrow, or in five minutes, or who the fuck knows when.
'Freak'. I said it earlier. It's true, you know. I don't belong here. Not in this century, anyways. Heh. Maybe I'd have been better off as a Tibetan monk or something. Sit and meditate all day. It'd be peaceful.
...
Y'know, I lied, earlier. When I said it haunts me every moment? Not entirely accurate, and in the name of journalistic integrity I figured I might as well tell you that now. Not every moment. Most, yes. Not all. Sometimes I'll grab a cold one and head up to the roof of my shitty downtown apartment. Dangerous? Probably. But worth it. I have an old sofa - one of my neighbors left it to me after she clocked out. Damn fine woman, she was. Pretty, too - that I hauled up there. I'll sit there, crack open the beer, light a V-cig, and just watch.
You never really realize how many people there are. I mean, have you ever just... watched? Sit down somewhere and watch all the people coming and going? It's like, poetry, almost. Little kids laughing, playing, running, not giving a damn about the number on their wrist. Men and women going about their business, transports moving in waves like a concrete beach, and thousands upon thousands of grains of people, growing steadily closer to the date on their wrist with each passing second. It's beautiful, really. Most people really don't notice that. Not enough time, you know?
But for me, it's different. I don't have a tag. I could die any second. I don't have any time.
And yet, in spite of this, or maybe because of it, I have all the time in the world. | 2014-03-25T19:45:39 | 2014-03-25T19:36:38 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] Your office has an emergency stop button. You have no machinery. No one knows what it does.
Inspiration: http://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/2gkyut/my_office_has_an_emergency_stop_button_we_have_no/ | I was bored. I'm always bored. Can I not be bored? Apparently not.
I survey my surroundings. Its pretty late, looks like i've looked busy enough. There's Ella, leaving the office. Maybe I should ask her out some time. A drink? Coffee? Lunch? Wouldn't want to sound too desperate.
But just slightly enough. *Heh*.
I think i'll go get a snack from the fri-
Wait.
*Whats that.*
An emergency stop button? Well, didn't this day just get exciting.
Lets see... Doesn't look like we have machinery or anything. I wonder...
*Maybe I should press it.*
Maybe I shall.
Lets just get a good survey here. Nothing to see, just stretching.
Good, looks like the chief isn't here.
I'll just press the button an-
**EMERGENCY, ALL SYSTEMS HALTING. DISTRESS SIGNAL SENT**
Oh right, I work on a submarine.
*Maybe i'll ask Ella if she'd like to get out of here* | The three of us had just been born. Perhaps alive for hours, born into suits and suites, born into desks that had been born for us, to bear us, for we were bears. The three of us, the three bears, who wore suits and worked in an office. Talk about an identity crisis in the making. Nonetheless, not something a newborn would think about.
What one would think about is differences. We were all the same, three talking and thinking bears, and for all of the existence that is all we had known that is all we had known. Until one of us lifted his shirt -- It doesn't matter which, we were all essentially the same until that point, but at the point he gained an identity. Defined not by his clothes but by his nudity among those who draped themselves in dapper warm-wear. That, and an enormous button on his stomach. It read "emergency stop."
The two of us who were left constant imagined what it might do, and he, the one whom had been imprinted upon, I can only imagine wondered too. He looked like a wonderer. We deliberated for some time, talking about the different things a button on one's stomach might do but came to no solid conclusion, but we surmised that it could only affect the digestive system.
So he ate thirteen pounds of berries to test our theory, and five hours later he said he was ready. So, there he went, doing those rude things that people do, and we pushed the button. We expected it to stop, and it certainly did, but he did too. And so we learned to not push the emergency stop buttons underneath our dapper shirts.
Years later someone asked if we had a brother, and we really had no answer. We never really told anyone about him. It was embarrassing. | 2014-09-16T20:27:04 | 2014-09-16T19:45:56 | 25 | 10 |
[WP] For years, from since you both can remember, all the way up into adulthood, not a day has gone by that you and your best friend havent been anywhere without the other. Each day you go home and everything's a blur until you meet up. Then one day, you find out your an imaginary friend. | Nobody understood me like her. Nobody else could finish my sentences or read my mind like her. Ellen and I were inseparable. Everyone said so, her mum, our teacher and all our friends. To be honest I think they were jealous. They didn’t have a connection like we did. We’d been friends ever since I could remember; I could hardly remember a day without her since we’d been kids and it carried on al the way until we were all grown up. Ellen and Mindi, best friends forever.
That’s why it killed me that she was sick now.
“Schizophrenia” they called it. It’s an illness that means you see and hear things that aren’t really there. She didn’t believe that she had it though. She talked to me about it a lot. I believed her of course. She was my world, why wouldn’t I?
“They’re just jealous Mindi,” she’d tell me, “They don’t have a friend like you to talk to.”
I never quite knew what she meant by that until one day when she asked me to come with her to her doctor’s appointment.
“So Ellen, how are you today?” The psychiatrist asked. She was a sharp looking woman with dark hair, cut into a severe bob. She was skinny and angular and she scared me. I didn’t like the way she stared at Ellen like she was trying to get in her head.
“I’m okay,” Ellen muttered. I reached my hand out to hers trying to comfort her. She smiled up at me gratefully. The psychiatrist glanced in my direction and her mouth hardened into a thin line.
“Are you still seeing her?” She asked sternly.
Ellen looked at me straight in the eyes, “Of course. She’s my best friend.”
She sighed, “You have to get over this Ellen. You have to realise that it’s all in your mind.”
“What does she mean?” I ask.
“She doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Ellen tells me.
“Are you talking to Mindi now?” she asked sternly.
“I asked her to come with me today.”
“Ellen,” he psychiatrist leans forward and stares her straight in the eye, “you have to get it into your head. She’s not real. She’s a figment of your imagination. Nobody else can see her.”
I pull my hands away from Ellen’s in shock, “What?” I ask, “What the hell does she mean?”
Ellen reaches back to grab my hand but I pull it away, “Mindi, don’t get angry.”
“What does she mean I’m not real?”
“You’re real to me!” She screams.
I stand up looking down at myself. I look real. There’s me, there’s my body. How can I not be real?!
“Ellen, you need to calm down,” The psychiatrist says, “she can’t control you. She’s a figment of your imagination.”
“Shut up,” I shout at her. I walk right up to her and put my face next to hers, “You don’t know what you’re talking about you stupid bitch.”
But she doesn’t flinch. Why doesn’t she notice me?
I turn around and see Ellen with tears streaming from her eyes, “I wanted you to be real so bad,” she cried, “all I wanted was a friend. I was so lonely.”
“I am your friend,” I whisper, “I’m real.”
Ellen shakes her head, “I wish you were. But you’re not.” She sighs.
“You know this is for the best Ellen, you’re an adult now. You can’t cling on to imaginary friends.” The psychiatrist says.
I stare at her gobsmacked. How can she try to break us up like this?
Ellen looks at me apologetically, “I know,” she sighs, “I have to let her go.”
“No…” I cry. But I don’t get the chance to say anymore before I fade into nothing.
| Doesn't exactly follow the prompt but this is what came out as I typed. It's sort of based on personal experiences. I may expand on this if I'm so inclinded
------------------------------------------
" Yoshi, could you sit down please.... there is something I need to tell you. " I said a little down trodden as Yoshi did as I asked, happily as ever. " What's wrong, my friend? " Noticing the depressed look on my face.
Yoshi and I had being friends for as long as we both remember. We first met on a cold, crisp Christmas morning. Since then, we've being virtually inseparable. We've gone all sorts of adventures together, being to all kinds of places. He laughed at me as I got drenched wet in a river on a school tour and helped ignite a gift for drawing that I never knew I had.
I enjoyed hearing the stories about all his adventures with all the various friends from all over the world. This Yoshi was pretty well traveled, if I may say. God.... it's too much to think about right now, this is the most difficult I've ever had to do.
" Yoshi " I mumbled " Do you remember all the times we've had together? The times we spent playing, helping me with homework? The day my great-grandmother died, you stayed with me throughout the whole thing and didn't know what was wrong when I was telling all those inappropriate jokes at her wake? "
Yoshi smiled " Of course I do. Your mother was nothing short of mortified! She had to stop you! That was funny! " I smiled slightly but then went back to a groan. " What's the matter? " Yoshi inquired, sensing that something was seriously wrong.
" I don't know how to say this Yoshi " as I blankly stared at him " So I'm just going to say it - You are not real. You're my imaginary friend. " There was initial reaction, I think he was taking some time to process the information.
" Wait..... what? Me.... imaginary? " He was clearly struggling to comprehend the fact. " IT'S TRUE! " I shouted at him, trying to hold back my tears. He stood there for a second, motionless, clearly shocked. " You're a character for a video game! "
In the middle of all this, a butterfly appears. Almost instinctively, Yoshi pops out his tongue and hits the butterfly. " Slurp! " Something as silly as this in a serious situation like this made me laugh, I couldn't help it.
" So..... why are you telling me this? " He questioned " Why am I, a video game character, you're imaginary friend? " " I'm an introvert, Yoshi. I keep to myself and play video games all weekend. Of course such stuff was going to influence me. " I replied " But no one thought it would be like this. "
" The reason I am telling you all this " I continued " is because I have to say goodbye to you. " Yoshi is shocked by ths statement " We have to say... goodbye.... why? " I'm looking down at the ground at this point, only turning my eyes towards him " Because.... I need to grow up.... my parents, my own brother tells me I need to wake up and get some cop on. "
" But... I never did you any harm. In fact, I make you happy..... why does one have to lose what makes them happy in order to ' grow up ' " Yoshi stated at me. I struggle to think of answer " I don't know..... because they said so. It's the way. "
Yoshi is confused " But..... your family are doing some horrible things and by all accounts, they are miserable...... does growing up.... mean becoming miserable? " " To be..... quite honest.... I don't know.... " I'm crying now. Yoshi comes to hug me.
" Listen, we are NOT saying goodbye. This is a see you later " He proclaims " I think you will find that some things ARE worth fighting for/ But if we most say goodbye, so be it. " Tears are streaming down his eyes as he speaks. " Thank you.... friend..... I'll never forget you..... " Yoshi begins to fade " Me.... neither.............. good................... bye "
I awake form my slumber; It was all but a dream but the ramifications were very real. Yoshi was no longer there beside me. Instead there was silence, a smell that I would become all too familar with as the sun peaked through my window. It most of being late morning. I guess I'm not going to school, then.
I felt empty.... hollow. As if an important part of who I am was stripped away from. Is this what growing up and getting cop on is like? | 2014-10-29T07:12:58 | 2014-10-29T06:35:42 | 106 | 22 |
[WP] You survive the zombie apocalypse and realize that they're incredibly useful. For example, you can generate free electricity forever by putting the zombies in giant hamster wheels. You become determined to create a zombie-powered utopia. | From across the road, I watch the homeless man nod into sleep. It can be hard to tell, but he looks young, perhaps in his early twenties.
Is there hope for him yet? These ideas always bother me when I'm on the hunt for fuel.
Through a window, I see a family, bathed in the warm glow of the cleanest energy the world has ever known. Unaware of the price of our utopia.
I step off the kerb and walk towards the homeless man. Hand on the syringe in my pocket, in case he doesn't comply.
But they usually do.
A smile, a hand extended, offering a cigarette and promises of a warm place to sleep. I help him to his feet and lead him to the car.
For zombies to run, to fuel our generators, they need to eat.
The flesh needs to be human and it must be alive. | The dead weren't buried in Eden. They used to be, a long time ago - before hell filled up and they started coming back. Now, whenever someone died, practice was for the Grubbers to take them from the possession of the family left behind. It's still reminiscent of a ceremony, but nothing like Joel had read about in his old books. Joel wanted to be a Grubber, for some reason - half being his curiosity for where the bodies went, the other half his broad shoulders recommended by his peers to be perfectly suited for the job of lifting bodies.
That's why, when Joel unraveled the slip of paper at his Ceremony of Career, disappointment tugged at his face when he read "Engineer". That was his destiny, he thought, such is how these things worked in Eden. By the dusk of his sixteenth birthday, he had returned home with a copy of the old manual for the Generators. He fell asleep with the book in his arms and the moan of the Generators a gentle throb below his ears.
The Generators are what had kept Eden alive throughout these dark times - Dark indeed, after the Ash had blotted out the sun. A gentle groan emanating from deep underground provided the precious energy for Eden's lights and infrastructure. Joel reminded himself of this honor when he packed himself into the elevator down to the Generators along with other Engineers. He peered at the Grubbers out of the corner of his eye, for some reason headed the same direction as his fellow Engineers.
The elevator chirped a "ding", the deafening noise of the Generators enveloped Joel and his comrades, and Joel at first sight with the massive turning structures realized that the Engineers and Grubbers had more in common than he thought. | 2015-01-03T06:19:28 | 2015-01-03T06:02:03 | 626 | 219 |
[WP] Taxes become optional, however, those who don't pay are not protected under the law. | “You still pay taxes?”
Jeff barely held back a laugh.
“Well, sure,” said Dave. “It's only sensible. Otherwise, what would happen if I were the victim of a crime? No justice? I can't accept that.”
Dave paused for a moment.
“So, you don't pay taxes?”
Jeff tapped the coffee stirrer on the lip of his mug.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.”
“How can you say that? Don't you worry about your family?”
“Of course, I do. I worried about them before, too. And the worry wasn't any less then. Say you get murdered, right?”
“You know I don't go in for gruesome hypotheticals.”
“Bear with me. You get murdered. Your family is heartbroken. They fear they will never see justice served.”
“Rightly so.”
“But the killer is still out there. If the police are going to protect all the loyal taxpayers, they can't ignore that. They have to try to find your killer before he strikes again. And if they succeed, your family sees justice served. Not in your name, but none the less. And if not, well... Tragedies like that occurred before the Opt-Out, too.”
“You're saying you get full protection without paying taxes?”
“I'm saying there never was protection, even when I paid taxes. Do you know how few crimes the police actually prevent or stop in progress? Next to zero. Mathematically insignificant. They just work cleanup. And, even then, their success rate is abysmal.”
“But you say they still have to go after criminals regardless of the victim. Except now they have less funding. How does that even work?”
“My theory?”
Jeff paused to take a sip.
“Turns out people get along pretty well on their own when you stop ruining their lives and taking their money for ridiculous things like jaywalking, speeding, selling raw milk, and ingesting, or even possessing, certain plants or chemicals.”
“What, so the police are just going to stop enforcing laws altogether?”
“I'm saying they already have. They just haven't told you, yet.”
Jeff stood up put on his jacket.
“Only suckers pay taxes, Dave.” | I awoke that morning to the shocking headline that taxes would be optional for those no longer wishing to receive the protections provided by the government.
Due to years of quantitative easing by the Federal Reserve, the dollar had finally entered a stage of hyperinflation. The story explained the entire nation was experiencing the prices of staple foods having tripled in the last 30 days. Commerce was no longer viable as gas rations were disrupting routine travel. And gangs were terrorizing once peaceful neighborhoods searching for victims to exploit. Police responses had come to a complete halt as the crime rate surged to a level even the most militarized police forces could no longer handle.
The President declared a state of emergency and dispatched the National Guard to stand up and deploy to the most crime ridden areas hoping to restore order. Unfortunately, his call went unanswered as members of the military had abandoned their posts due to the diminished value of their pay and no longer able to afford to buy essentials for their families.
Witnessing the failure of their political system, government leaders sought to take what they determined as meaningful action. The President and the Congress passed a midnight law allowing people to opt out of paying taxes to support the government in exchange for forgoing the services and protections. Those unwilling or unable to pay taxes would no longer be offered fire, police or health care services provided by taxpayer dollars.
Those receiving government support would no longer be offered payments each month. Those choosing to no longer pay taxes would also be denied government services. Cards would be issued to those 'opting' to pay taxes each month. When needing the services of the government the card must be presented and up to date.
As the law was announced, a protective wall was assembled surrounding Washington D.C. to protect the political leaders and their families. This created what is now known as the D.C. Compound. Those unable or unwilling to pay taxes were forced to leave the protection within the D.C. Compound.
Anarchy was unrestrained throughout what had been known as flyover country. Groups were formed out of the necessity to protect and provide for each other. As each group strained their own resources they would wage war upon a neighboring clans to steal whatever resources they had remaining. Those not dying from starvation often succumb to sicknesses long thought to be eradicated.
Unlike many others throughout the country, I did not panic. After reading the headline I went outside and fed the animals, checked on my generators and other equipment, and made a call to arms to my militia neighbors.
Our foresight had allowed us to build up for this eventuality. We had established a plan to provide and protect ourselves when this day would be upon us.
It had been hard on some as those on television ridiculed us as Preppers waiting for an imaginary doomsday. The government called us dangerous militias in need of being watched for any sign of initiating violent revolt against the government. We knew we would not have to take any action against the government. We understood that it was only a matter of time before the government collapsed under its own weight.
We may have been called crazy when the headline appeared that morning. I prefer to call us survivors.
| 2015-02-20T09:18:11 | 2015-02-20T08:07:54 | 289 | 156 |
[WP] 1000 years from now, Reddit's many bots have been uploaded into robot bodies. In a post-apocalyptic world, they strive to fulfil their original programming.
Inspired by [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/todayilearned/comments/2x1vvs/til_that_this_march_14_will_be_an_extra_special/cowijw3) comment. | "Run" Jane said as she opened the door to the rooftop.
"It doesn't matter" I said as I ran in, locking the door behind me.
"There's no way we'll survive this..."
"We'll get through this." she said. "We've braught enough supplies to last until somebody fixes this mistake with the robots... It's gotta be some error or bug. It can't stay like this forever." saying it as if she's trying to convince herself.
"Supplies? What do we have? Water and tuna?" I said angrily.
"We've got an infinite water purifier." she corrected me.
"And yes.. enough condensed cans of tuna to last years.
And also we've got the eternal every-book reader.
And the infinite music machine."
She was right, I thought. Maybe we can get through this. Maybe there is hope.
When suddenly the door blew down and a robot with a large axe came through.
"AND MY AXE!".
| The night was as black as tar, not a light in the sky, and not a single lamppost to illuminate the darkened street. There was not a human soul left in the world. The plague took everyone, man, woman and child alike. The automated city kept up its routine however. Automated cars made automated stops at specific times of day. Flights, trains, and buses operated at peak efficiency now that human interference had ceased to make them compensate for our imperfection.
In one such vehicle the robot driver's LCD screen face stood dark and grimy from years of neglect. Besides the robot sat its once living passanger, now a bleached bone skeleton. He held in his bony fingers tiny cardboard playing cards.
The cars answering machine came to life, deciding to play the message for what might have been the thousandth time.
"Hey man, remember that card you kept talking about, Genesis? I can't find it anywhere, could you come by my house and help me **fetch** it?"
It's screen flitted to life, and in slim green letters the screen wrote "Searching... activating /u/MTGCardFetcher"
[[Genesis]], the image of a card came to life via holographic projection. The robot began to read off the cards rules text and flavor text.
"...and the world was lifeless no more. -Scroll of Beginnings"
The bot stopped the car and began to sift through the cards in his dead owners hand. Saying the cards out loud.
"[[Explore]] one colorless, one green, Sorcery speed.."
The robot exited the car and began what he would describe to be an [[Enchanting Evening]].
In his own word, this is how his day went.
[[Curiosity]], [[Run Wild]], [[Gridlock]], [[Naturalize]], [[Curiosity]], [[Awaken the Bear]].
| 2015-02-25T09:30:03 | 2015-02-25T06:50:42 | 31 | 13 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | I have the best boobs in the world.
I'm not, like, egotistical or anything. Heck, some days I don't even want them, but it's undeniable. That was my mutation. April 24th, 2014, the day I developed the best pair of breasts anyone has ever had.
At first, I was actually a little stoked. I mean, my rack is *amazing*. It doesn't matter what I'm wearing, they look good. They fill t-shirts out wonderfully, and even in sweaters and jackets the gentle curves show just right, enticing the viewer and leaving them wanting more. And tank tops? Forget about it.
And sure, I do get treated different. I can go just about anywhere these days, and any guy is willing to pretend to be interested in what I have to say – even a lot of women I meet will at least give me a second glance, if not special treatment. I certainly have my pick of the litter when it comes to sexual partners, and let me tell you: I am *enjoy*ing my youth.
Don't get me wrong, though, there are downsides. Just about *everyone* stares. It's hard to really engage someone in conversation. I've seen grown men cry from the effort of maintaining eye contact with me. And the starers, the criers, they're the good ones. I can't ride the subway without being felt up, I don't dare be alone at night without people I trust, many women openly resent me, and all of this is seen as normal. I'm just the Great Tits, as if nobody's even expected to *try* to maintain decorum around me.
But you know none of this is even the worst aspect, not really. More than any of this, there's one thing about my boobs that keeps me up at night, one thing that makes me worry about how the rest of my life is going to play out.
Even with my beard, nobody will believe I'm a guy. | I remember details before (yellow light,
green), details after('catch him, Lou!') but the searing pain ripping those hours out of mind are like constant needles pushing at my eyeballs from behind. I'd heard the stories, seen the anxious hushed terror my mothers eyes as it approched, had known its happening was slithering inevitably towards me.
Freaks in this world are common seen a badge of pride. Shit, woh doesnt like watching brutal sports played by men who feel no pain or can turn appandages to rock hard batons? I'd seen ancient footage of the Older Ones playing football cringing at the physicalty dished out with no mutation. It felt inhumane, a terror my poor father endured as his genes betrayed him. When the time came for him to mature for his inner self to show nothing happened. He was no more a Reborn then a rock.
He was not alone, his quirk was seen throught the last thousand years in various clans appearing often in two or three genarations before disappearing for a hundred or more years. His father before him and his father shared the same gift, magnificent fifteen foot wide wings a rare mutation and a great source of prestige. When my father did not mature physically nor show mental powers,such as my mothers ability to communicate in the Thirty Great Tounges, the tick tock of expectant eyes turned to me a child of two at the time.
But still I sat there that night. The hushed elders, old fools to a man, clucking and muttering under the breathes like a flock of haggard geese. The weight of failure pushed my chest down seemingly clamping me to the hard impersonale grey chair a clinical nod to comfort in the sterile white empty room.
A silent clock ran down in my visual display,seconds and minutes melting before me. This I recall, what came next was terror. As all zeroes approached a blinding light (green,orange) a ripping at my skull. A thousand images flood my vision. Not one could I describe now. My back arches hours pass as light and image assault me. I hear the elders murmmer far away until at once I am flung back. Turning to the nearest elder a screm breaks free from my parched mouth. I do not see a man, I see a soul. Innately I know I saw the truth of the man laid bare, his ambition and greed. Hunger. His desires. I feel vomit in my gullett as I struggle to my feet. I feel the gasp before I hear it.
'The sign! The one!' a dozen faceless voices exhale in awe.
On my feet now I stumble the leerng greeed and power overwhelming. Somehow I run.
'Catch him, Lou!' | 2022-05-10T21:44:19 | 2015-03-04T04:05:10 | 1,457 | 27 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | "Dude, this is incredible... I've never seen anything like it"
"It's not as good as you think, I don't even know how to fit it all in my pants. I mean, like, I guess I could put one on each side?"
"Yeah but imagine all the chicks you could get!"
"I don't know man..."
"Listen, how about you do an AMA on reddit to see what people think?" | Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.' | 2015-03-04T03:47:16 | 2015-03-04T00:56:46 | 336 | 13 |
[WP] When turning 21, everyone develops a mutation, either physical (Claws, horns, wings) or mental (telekinesis, extreme intelligence, etc). You've just turned 21, and you're terrified of what you've gained (though others will be impressed).
Edit: Holy shit this blew up. I'm reading these and they're great! Thanks everyone! | Everyone wants a hug or a handshake. At least, everyone who knows. Our family reunion is in two days and my phone keeps ringing off the hook with cousins, uncles, and aunts saying how excited they are to see me. They know of course. All of them. I just wish Gramma would stop calling me "Orgazmo."
Edit: typo | Everyone knew this day would come, the day that would determine the rest of our lives. No one knew where the mutation came from, my parents always told me that it was just a path of life, that their parents had mutations and so did the generation before them. Today was the day, my 21st birthday, my grandmother had always told me stories about her 21st birthday, how she spontaneously developed the ability to communicate with others without oral speech, through the mind. She was on a bus to Florida, when a rambunctious fellow with a pink bow tie came down to sit next to her, he had the largest nose she had ever seen, his mutation. Without the intention of doing so, she mocked the man calling him names, he turned around, got up and spat in her face.
Well, I was about to get my mutation today, a day I had dreaded for years. What if I develop some useless mutation? I won't ever amount to anything. I hadn't prepared myself for what was to come. Thoughts flowed through my head as I was eating a bowl of cereal.
'Christine! It's your 21st birthday! I can't believe my little girl has grown so old!'
'I know, mum.' | 2015-03-04T04:28:11 | 2015-03-04T00:56:46 | 92 | 13 |
[WP] Humans can telepathically connect to one person, but once they have they can't disconnect and are in each other's heads for life, something typically done only by couples that want to take their intimacy to a new level. You do this with your SO, but see immediately something is very wrong... | He believes that shit!? I'd always thought he was being sarcastic, but having finally, finally, convinced him to take our relationship to the next level and link telepathically, I'd discovered the well of his true belief that the prequel Star Wars trilogy was on par with the originals. I mean, honestly. Where does that leave us? It was a relationship built on misperceptions and active blindness. Worse, I was now committed for LIFE and we'd been humoring each other's opinions the whole five years we'd been together. Dear lord, maybe this is just a drop in the bucket... | This is it. The big pancake. The great brigade. The astro tickling voice in the back of your head, babe. The best thing in the world since the mice parade. The wintering of your mind will greet your new un-life. There is a sweltering heat in the back of your head, babe, where the mice parade unwinds and you hear me speaking, squeaking, thrice.
The hazy shapes of mice parading through the sewers of our minds reminds me to blow my nose in the middle of the parade. It would take forever to unwind, after the sound of the tiny piano hands tapping keys to ragtime. I know you see it, too, the underground parade of mice.
You, the mouse queen, will be afforded the richest mouse properties--inside this sewer for a parade of my mice. You will wear the necklace of my longing, the emerald and sapphire, ruby and gold, silver and turquoise, white pearl diamond thing it is. When you reach the bottom of the sewer, though, you will jump down the drain, leaving the necklace above you. And forcing me to find a new, better, you.
You will fall down like a widow spider, for I am dead. The dead mouse feigns death before the mouse queen falls. You will hear my voice in your head for life.
You will because you're my wife. | 2015-06-14T19:52:14 | 2015-06-14T14:34:30 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] We forget our dreams for a reason: in the near future, memory enhancement therapies allow everyone to fully recall every dream they've ever had. Across the entire human race, disturbing patterns and implications emerge that were previously hidden by the unappreciated bliss of forgetfulness. | The Greeks knew better.
Lesmosyne, the sweetest goddess known to man, sweeter than love or hearth and home. Almost as sweet as the hunt.
I traveled when I was young. To find myself, I told people. Told myself. Find the real me under what I knew in the suburbs. What a crock. Every third world village I found, I was just laying on another layer of pretty lacquer over my soul, making the disguise harder and harder to penetrate. Not just my disguise.
When the new memory drugs started to filter out into the public, it was us that got into them first. Clinical trials tend to go to the poor souls who need experimental drugs to buy their weekly ramen at school, so naturally the upper middle class got them early. Once they were commercially available they spread faster, but nowhere so fast as the suburbs.
A few doses a week and you'd never lose your keys. With no recorded lethal dose, nobody thought to restrict the usage. Recommended usage. What a joke.
Suddenly, housewives were keeping track of their kids schoolwork, and things just kept getting better. Around then people started to apologize a lot, suddenly able to recall perfectly the things they'd done when they were young, small cruel things. Remembering the thoughts you had about them, of course we all wanted to hear the remorse in their voices. And you would remember those thoughts.
It wasn't long before more memories started to surface, hiding behind an alcoholic mist only to get ripped into the light of dayby a couple more pills a week. Psychologists started going under. Everyone remembered what prompted them to start doing things, the thoughts they lost in the rush to hurt themselves, so who needed a shrink to tell them what connected where?
Then the shrinks stopped losing business. Bored people in their homes didn't need to watch reruns, or read those old favorite books anymore. They began to take more memory pills to see what else they could dredge up. When awareness was no barrier anymore, we could remember dreams. Mostly the stuff that left the lingering impressions in waking at first, and we puzzled over them for a bit. Through all this, the gloss we had put on our very souls was flaking away.
Soon, dreams were coming to light which the Jungian scholars faced with cold, forced smiles. Maybe the symbols were wrong, but look! We were all dreaming the same sorts of things! Dreaming of wet dark things in the collective unconscious. Dreaming them with a strange feeling of love. Elation.
Dreaming these dark things offering us their love, their bodies. And with next to no reported variance, dreaming of accepting. Taking the bodies of these hard angry creatures, and using them to run in the dark. Dreaming of thrilling ourselves in the speed, the strength. The hunting. Chasing through the dark the things we no longer were, the bodies we had traded away.
As one, it seemed, we were dreaming of the cold love of becoming these monsters that we loved, and tearing apart the soft collection of parts we left behind. And with these cruel memories pressing into us, we remembered these dreams being the ones we woke from smiling.
Cold hard smiles covered over with years of work and shine to make them pretty, soft. To make them human.
I've stopped taking the drugs, but the memories are part of me now. Part of me like the base desire to reach out and take my coworkers intestines out with my bare hands, because part of me knows how good it feels to do it.
Dear Lesmosyne, take these things from me. Never will I neglect another sacrifice to have you make me the smooth untroubled facade of a soul that I was, that I worked so hard to become. | Mnemory was a dream product. Well, it was a dream product, and a product for dreams. Remembering dreams, specifically. It was supposed to be a mnemonic enhancement tool, for learning things in your sleep. Remember those hokey 'learn in your dreams!' product advertisements? Well, you coupled that concept with Lucio (as it was first branded), and that actually worked, to a point. It wouldn't teach you Spanish overnight, but it could help you cram for a test, and long-term use on a planned course regimen make experts within a few months instead of years.
The great thing is that it wasn't marketed as a drug; not intended to cure anything, so no FDA approval necessary! Of course, there were clinical trials, and long-term effect studies, and addiction reports, but everything came up fine. No habit-forming qualities, no birth defects, nothing. It was very popular among college students and sales executives, but it's more popular application happened almost by accident.
One day, a grad student took a dose, and forgot to put in their program to listen to. What he found was that the recall imprinting didn't just work on rote memorization; he had stark memories of the most vivid dream he'd ever had. "It's like remembering it for real," were his words.
What a perfect catchphrase. 'Dreaming for real' hit the front of newspapers, billboards, internet pages, everywhere. And it just *took off*. You see, clear recall of dreams is really very rare, but with Mnemory, well...,
Imagine being able to fly. I know, flying in dreams is cliche, but it's easy to relate to. It feels so real in dreams, but only fleeting vestiges of the experience persist after the fog of night is uncovered from our minds. Not on Mnemory though; the experience is vivid, sharp, and brought forth in perfect clarity. When you recall, you can feel the wind on your face, the lift on your belly, and really *soar* in your own recollection. Being able to recall the best sex in your wildest dreams, perfectly. Remembering your greatest achievements, even if they were only a fantasy. You can see how it became popular.
Practical uses came up too, mostly in psychology and therapy. Mindfulness and guided meditation suddenly became powerful healing tools, as what were once vaguely-felt impressions became stark emotional and mnemonic guideposts to wellness and mental health. It was used to build confidence from within; after all, if you can imagine yourself as strong and assertive, and remember yourself being that way, then you slowly will be so. Pretty soon, everyone was using Mnemory.
Of course, there were a few hints at bad experiences, but for the most part, they seemed to be outliers. Clinically depressed people were advised to avoid usage. There were the odd cases brought up where people filed for divorce, saying that they knew their partner was unfaithful, they *remembered* walking in on it. These oddities were discounted as fringe events.
Until the Windsor Heights bus incident. A public transit bus in Iowa, for no readily apparent reason, careened off the road into the sidewalk and subsequently crashed into the Hy-Vee grocery nearby at around 50 mph, killing nearly everyone onboard, and crushing two pedestrians. The few survivors, once they regained consciousness, said that the driver suddenly started screaming and ranting, seeming to be looking at things that weren't there, before accelerating the vehicle, oblivious to the terrified screams of those on board. Soon, other reports came out; one of a man opening fire in his neighborhood, claiming he was killing demons coming from the sky; another of a woman in her late 30's stripping naked in a parking lot and lighting herself on fire, screaming about the spiders.
As time went on, fewer people took Mnemory, but more people were reporting these incidents. Turns out, we could have learned from the one therapy failing of Mnemory: PTSD patients. IF we had bothered to ask them more carefully, we would have realized that a living memory of a lucid nightmare already had a name: flashback.
Now, hidden away in nearly every soul that took Mnemory, there's a horror or two, locked up, but in crystal clarity, just waiting to pop out. Paranoia grips us all, not sure who will be the next to snap.
We don't need nightmares anymore. We're living one. | 2016-09-30T10:00:04 | 2016-09-30T09:24:11 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | "where is Da Vinci?"
"where is Da vinci?"
"WHERE IS DA VINCI?"
It had taken months of searching, but I'd finally been able to talk to the Italians long enough to figure out that he was in Florence. After weeks of searching, weeks of travelling, I'd finally arrived. I miss cars. Hell, I miss bicycles. It would all be worth it though, to finally meet him.
"where is Da Vinci?"
The Italians looked at me quite strangely - not surprising, I don't speak a word of Italian and, while I ditched my 'future' clothes, I looked like I'd just been pulled out of a peasants trash heap.
"where is Da Vinci?"
The city of Florence was beautiful; grand churches, gorgeous towering monuments, even the bridges looked pretty. In other circumstances I would have spent a great deal of time simply looking around the place, but right now I was desperate.
"where is Da Vinci? Where is Da Vin-"
Here was a building that looked nothing like the others. Not especially grand, but I knew I had found him. The radio antennas, the cables, the satellite dish. This is the sixteenth century, how had no one else questioned these strange objects?
My heart was racing as I knocked on the hollow wooden door.
"Come in"
Hands tingling with excitement, I went inside. This was it, at last. I was going to meet Da Vinci.
"Da Vinci?"
"Yes. Can I help you?"
Straight to the point, this was it. Finally, my question would be answered.
"What's your Wi-Fi Password?"
*EDIT: Your, thanks* | "It's ready," said the man, whom I really didn't know.
"What is?" I replied.
"It, now get in!"
Those were the last words I heard before I was pushed in an unknown machine and fell down hundreds of meters from the sky, miraculously landing in safety on a pile of dirt in the middle of what I could see was nowhere. With a gust of wind blowing my hair back as I struggled to look for signs that could tell me I was, I started brushing my clothing to get rid of the dirt that I had fell on.
I zipped open my backpack and found several things: a Macbook Air laptop, an iPhone, and a note. In a case of desperation, I immediately grabbed my phone. I turned it on, and to no avail, found that I had no signal what-so-ever. I looked at the date... and fuck.
I let out a deep sigh, before seeing a city nearby. I placed my items in my backpack, put my phone in my pocket, and started walking to the city.
Not long after, I had reached the city. Without any doubts, I immediately noticed that I was in Italy.. It wasn't a question. The architecture, the clothing.. it was all beautiful. I took out my phone in a final attempt to get any signal or any hope. None. I decided to check the Wi-Fi, because why not. And what do you know.. I found a Wi-Fi network, named "icniV aD". Icniv Da? What's that? Immediately, I realized. Oh. So, I tried to get in it. But rats, it's protected, so I proceeded to move along the city.
I saw beautiful women, handsome men. Everything. It was a history teacher's dream. I found a building marked "City Hall", and entered. Then again, I started to get a little suspicious.. Why are the signs and people all in English? I just brushed it off without thinking of it, continuing my journey.
I then went to fill an identification form... Age, 29. Gender, Male. Relationship Status... you know what, Single. Whatever. Maybe I'll score me a hot vintage chic. And then it all ended.
"IT'S JUST A PRANK BRO! YOU'RE ON CAMERA SMILE!"
All I could think was.. What the fuck.
"IT WAS A TEST, YOU DIRTY CHEATER! YOUR GIRLFRIEND IS RIGHT THERE!"
She was there. Crying. Asking me why.
Fuck.
| 2016-11-15T03:18:03 | 2016-11-15T02:09:33 | 6,074 | 380 |
[WP] It worked! You travelled back in time to Renaissance Age. Jokingly, you turn on your Wi-Fi, only to find a password protected network named "iɔniV ɒᗡ" | "where is Da Vinci?"
"where is Da vinci?"
"WHERE IS DA VINCI?"
It had taken months of searching, but I'd finally been able to talk to the Italians long enough to figure out that he was in Florence. After weeks of searching, weeks of travelling, I'd finally arrived. I miss cars. Hell, I miss bicycles. It would all be worth it though, to finally meet him.
"where is Da Vinci?"
The Italians looked at me quite strangely - not surprising, I don't speak a word of Italian and, while I ditched my 'future' clothes, I looked like I'd just been pulled out of a peasants trash heap.
"where is Da Vinci?"
The city of Florence was beautiful; grand churches, gorgeous towering monuments, even the bridges looked pretty. In other circumstances I would have spent a great deal of time simply looking around the place, but right now I was desperate.
"where is Da Vinci? Where is Da Vin-"
Here was a building that looked nothing like the others. Not especially grand, but I knew I had found him. The radio antennas, the cables, the satellite dish. This is the sixteenth century, how had no one else questioned these strange objects?
My heart was racing as I knocked on the hollow wooden door.
"Come in"
Hands tingling with excitement, I went inside. This was it, at last. I was going to meet Da Vinci.
"Da Vinci?"
"Yes. Can I help you?"
Straight to the point, this was it. Finally, my question would be answered.
"What's your Wi-Fi Password?"
*EDIT: Your, thanks* | Travelling back in time was easier than it looked.
I simply shoved a fork inside my kitchen plug socket and one bang later I was here. I swung my backpack off, snatched the iPad out the back, and swiped open google maps.
*No connection found.*
The lack of signal bleeped red on the top of the screen. From the look of the room -stone with barren floors and an old stool covered in cobwebs in the corner - I was so far back that hot spots and hygiene didn't exist.
A notification came up on the top right corner: *icniV aD* Wi-Fi connection available.
So Da Vinci was still alive.
I tapped in, however, the network was password protected. *Damn you, Da Vinci!* I figured Monalisa might work so I typed that out and tried the connection. The screen shook with error. Guess he hadn't painted that one yet.
There was shouting to my right. I snapped my eyes in the direction of the noise. A balcony overlooked the nearby courtyard and so with my bag in hand, I took a seat near the railing and watched the townspeople below.
There were merchants in wagons, actors on the sides of the streets, a herald shouting news for the people to hear. Boys played chasing games and woman were dressed in their finest dresses -- most of which were shades of blue and brown.
I don't know how long I stood and watched them carry out their day in front of me and if I had to guess, I'd say it was ten minutes at most.
I pulled the iPad back out, tried to open candy crush, failed, sighed, had a little cry by myself on the balcony. I could be level 356 by now, in fact, some of my facebook friends would have sent me lives so I could have spent my Saturday playing instead of traveling to the past.
When it came down to it, what was there to see that we didn't already have?
I figured there was only one way out of this situation. I held the iPad far in front of me and my leg pressed against the balcony so my knee was like a snapping point.
I brought the iPad down as hard as possible.
It snapped in half. The electricity zapped through my arms in a surge of power. And I hit the deck behind me.
When I woke next, I was back in my kitchen, with my fork, backpack, and most importantly my Wi-Fi signal beeping green in the corner of the room.
Compared to the olden days, this was pretty much heaven.
| 2016-11-15T03:18:03 | 2016-11-15T01:50:57 | 6,074 | 177 |
[WP] An actually competent henchman manages to kill the superhero. | “I got him!”
“What?” A voice shouted from the smoke and destruction of the evil base entrance.
“I got him!” Larry repeated.
“Got him how?” The voice sounded confused.
“I got him, he’s dead!”
“No he isn’t.”
“He is.”
“Hang on, I’m coming over.”
Larry waited as the other henchman made his way through the debris that Ultra Robo Man had caused during his short lived assault on the base. After a few minutes he found his way to Larry and scowled.
“Ok, where is he playing dead at?”
“He isn’t playing, he’s right over there.” Larry gestured ten feet in front of him to the pile of metallic super hero crumpled on the ground.
“Oldest trick in the book, he plays dead, wakes up and breaks all our necks. Not falling for that one again Larry.”
“He’s dead, I’m sure of it Jim.”
“Uh huh,” Jim was unconvinced. “Hand me that broom.”
Jim used the broom to turn the hero over from a distance and promptly turned away to vomit. When he was finished reviewing the contents of his stomach he turned back.
“But he’s bullet proof,” Jim said with drool on his lips and tears in his eyes.
“Not his face,” Larry said.
It was true, Ultra Robo Man’s face was pretty much gone, but the robotic armor surrounding it remained completely unharmed.
“This is bad. This is real bad man,” Jim said panicking.
“Why? Isn’t this our job?”
“Weren’t you paying attention during this morning’s brief? We were just supposed to slow him down so the boss could have his big confrontation in the lower levels!”
“Oh. Oh shit,” Larry said remembering.
“You know what we have to do then?”
“No?” Larry said.
“Well we have to scrape this guy out of this suit and you have to go pretend to be him to the boss.”
“What? No way!”
“Do you want to get written up?” Jim asked.
“No.”
“Then help me get him out of there.”
Jim and Larry set about prying the man away from the suit and were getting nowhere fast until they found the release switch. The suit cracked open and they were struck with and odor so strong it could kill a horse.
“Holy hell! It smells like the men’s room at a baseball game in July on taco and curry night!” Larry exclaimed.
“He probably pees in there,” Jim agreed. “Better climb in.”
“Can’t we at least hose it out first?” Larry asked.
“No time, the boss will be expecting him soon. Get in there”
Larry pulled the emaciated man from the suit and got in gagging the whole time. Eventually he made it and Jim closed him up, and luckily the smell stayed trapped inside.
“Hey, why was that guy all skinny and sick looking anyway?” Larry asked now that he could breathe again.
“Oh, Gary? He killed this guy before you started and we had to stuff him in the suit. Turns out you can’t get out until you die.”
“WHAT!” Larry shouted.
“Oh yeah, happens all the time. I don’t think anyone remembers the original Ultra Robo Man anymore. They’ve been stuffing henchmen in this thing for years so the boss doesn’t lose it.”
“WHAT!” Larry truly was a poet.
“It happens. So just go on down to the bosses lair and do whatever, you’ll probably get away and we’ll have to fight you when you come back.”
“Why would I come back here?”
“The current theory is that the suit makes you crazy and your crazy brain makes you keep coming back here. It’s pretty annoying but it keeps us paid.”
“I’m going to tell the boss what’s been going on!”
“Good luck, that’s what Gary said too.”
Larry didn’t hear him though, he was already tearing a hole in the floor to confront the boss. After he was gone Jim lit a cigarette and took a long drag.
“See you in a few weeks pal.”
---
Thanks for reading, here's more stuff /r/DirtandPoncho | The nuclear superweapon factory warehouse echoed with the sharp bang of metal on concrete. Griff stared at his companion, Snakes, in disbelief.
"Are you kidding me, Snakes?" Griff whispered sharply. Snakes shrugged sheepishly.
"Why would you try to hold in a sneeze," Griff continued, "by covering your mouth with your hands *when you're holding the deadliest weapon known to man!?* Wipe your hands and pick it up! We gotta get out of here before a superhero shows up."
Snakes hung his head ashamedly and wiped his hands on his henchman uniform before bending to pick back up his end of the metal crate. Inside the crate was a Nuclear MacGuffin that the two henchman had been tasked to steal...silently.
Carrying the crate awkwardly between them, Griff lead the way to their escape route through the conveniently placed sewer grate in the floor. When they arrived at the grate, they noticed it was closed.
"Odd," whispered Griff, "Did you close the grate after you came out, Snakes?"
"Uh, no, why would I do that?"
"I dunno, but it's closed. Sit the crate down and let's pry it back open. Hurry!"
From up in the rafters, a voice chuckled. It was a pitying chuckle, filled with confidence. The henchmen dropped the crate and whirled around. "I wouldn't worry about that, boys," said the voice, "I welded it shut with my eyes." A blue glow suddenly sprang up in the rafters above. "Now step away from the crate and I'll go easy on you."
Snakes looked ready to run, but Griff just gritted his teeth and sad, softly, "No. Not this time Laze," and drew his gun. The glow descended from the ceiling, revealing a muscle-bound man with eyes of blue fire floating gently down to land a short distance from the henchmen. He smiled.
"Mister Sinister must be strapped for cash, sending only two goons for a job as big as this. Why, it's hardly worth my time to put on my spandex and come out. The local police could have handled you two doofuses." His eyes blazed blue and hot. "In fact, I've already c--"
Griff's gun roared to life, interrupting Laze and sending a bullet to visit the space between his beautiful blues. Laze stumbled and fell, spurting out a gout of blue flame-beams from his eyes before landing, face down and unmoving, in front of Snakes.
Snakes stared, wide eyed, as the blue glow faded from Laze, before slowly turning to stare at Griff.
"You...you killed him, Griff!" Snake yelled.
Griff smiled and tucked away his gun. "It looks like I did. Someone needed to do it. He was always making our life hell."
Snakes shook his head. "Yeah, but you didn't even let him finish his speech! That's not very sportsmanlike."
"Oh, come off it, Snakes! He was always interrupting Mister Sinister's exposition! Remember last time? He sent Mick to the hospital."
"Yeah, yeah, but there's rules, you know? It's like an unwritten thing. And, don't give me Mick! Our healthcare package is phenomenal."
As the two henchmen argued, a faint green glow grew in the air between them. Finally, after a narratively silly amount of time, they noticed.
"Hey, what's that light?" Snakes asked, "Is Laze alive?"
"No, he's blue colored. This is green," Griff replied, "It looks like its coming from the...oh. Oh no. It's coming from the crate, Snakes! Laze must've blown a hole in it when he died!"
"You think it's gonna blow?" Snakes asked.
"I dunno, but let's get out of here. Help me with the grate."
The henchmen ran to the sewer grate and tried to open it, forgetting that it was welded shut. The crate began emitting an electric whine that steadily increased in pitch. As the whine reached a crescendo, the two henchmen comically embraced, squeezing their eyes shut and screaming. A moment later, the crate hissed and went silent. The henchmen continued hugging and screaming until a voice in the shadows cleared its throat.
"Excuse me, boys, but...uh, put your hands up and stop holding each other! It's the police and we've got you surrounded!"
___
[Things I've written](https://www.reddit.com/r/cbeckw/) | 2017-01-26T07:19:10 | 2017-01-26T06:47:46 | 107 | 31 |
[WP] A superhero and a super-villain are forced to put their fight on hold; they've been called by the principal of the school their children attend. | I deflected a fireball with my right gauntlet while trying to hold the phone to my ear. The air was a little thin and cold up here, but at least Janet's fireballs wouldn't hit anyone.
"Sorry," I said into the phone, a little out breath. "Can you hold on just a moment? Thanks."
I covered the mic with a finger.
"Fucking hell, Janet! I said I had a call."
"You always have a damn call, Chad. 'Ooh, the Secretary General's calling', 'Ooh, Joint Chiefs on the line.' It's always something with you." She held a finger up this time, but she at least stopped making that unfortunate face. "Oh hold on."
"You've never been a very good impressionist," I said.
"Shh," she said. She was on her own phone. Hypocrite. A tinny voice came from my own phone. I held it back up to my ear.
"As I was saying," said the voice, "It's about Spencer and little Janet." She paused. "There isn't an easy way to put this, but they've been biting—well, they've taken to biting both each other and the other children. Listen, I'm conferencing you both together." There was a click on the line. "Go ahead, you're both on now."
Oh son of a—
Janet's grating hamster voice came in horrible stereo, in one ear, and through the phone into the other. "This is all your influence, you piece of shi—."
"Bullshit it is, J,"
"I'll appreciate if you both measure your language, Mr. Phelps. Mrs. Phelps."
"It's Ms, now," said Janet. "Ms. Arctica."
"Going with your ex's name now, huh? Isn't it a little ironic? The fire and all?" I said. Janet and I had turned to face each other now. The embroidered flames of her mask fluttered a bit in the breeze. "Arctica the pyrokinetic. Makes perfect sense." I said. A small cloud bank drifted between us. She was making a 'blah blah' gesture with her free hand, the mouth of the gesture spitting tiny arcs of flame.
"Mature, J. Real mature."
"Bite me."
"Sounds like the kids have that covered." I said.
"Fuck you, Chad."
"Well, anyway. Mr. Phelps, Ms. Arctica," the voice on the phone had continued, louder and a bit less sing song now.. "I'm afraid the biting that both of your children have been doing isn't the only issue. Potential home situation aside." Hey. "But they've begun to manifest their powers as well."
"Oh shit," said Janet. "Fire? Tell me it's fire."
"Well, Spencer seems to be headed in that direction, yes. But little Janet seems to have something a little… unexpected."
"How so?" I said. "Janet get my strength? My grandpa's iron skin? He always said that could skip a couple generations."
"I think the two of you should come into the office and see," she said. "The two kids are separated in timeout here for now, but I will need the two of you to come in for a conference immediately."
"We're…" I looked to Janet. "A bit indisposed right now."
"This is important Mr. Phelps."
"Okay fine." I gestured to Janet. Palms out. Truce. She nodded
"We can be in in… forty five minutes?" she said.
"Please do," the principal said.
"So what's Janet's power?" I asked. Her name aside, she always took after me.
"Well, your daughter seems to be growing patches of greenish fur."
Huh…
Janet's eyes went wide and her cheeks turned red before literally burst into flames. Wait...
"Coyote?" I said. Finger on the mic again. God damn it. "You fucked Green Coyote didn't you!"
Janet refused to meet my gaze this time.
"We'll be there." Janet whispered into the phone as she slowly sank into the clouds below. | "Mr. Mansuper, thank you for joining us." the super principle rose to his feet behind his matchbox desk ushering him in with a wave.
Dr. Smiles was already seated beside his silent daughter to the principle's left. Mansuper's son stood across from them leaning against a wall full of colored certifications and awards like a wall of post-it notes. What had that boy done now? Dr. Smiles scoffed as he entered with rolling eyes. The evil doctor rose towards the waiting coffee in the corner of the room, his cape hissing at his heels.
"Now..." the principle began through a nasal sigh "I've called the two of you here today because there's something that I need to discuss with the two of you, together." The small man lowered his head and peered at the two superpersons from above the rim of his glasses.
"This might come as a surprise to the both of you, but-"
Dr. Smiles cleared his throat and turned a grimace towards Mansuper's son.
"IF THAT BOY HAS DONE ANYTHING TO MY LITTLE GIRL, I WILL HAVE VENGANC-"
"Dad!" his daughter interrupted.
"NOT NOW PUMPKIN, THAT FAMILY IS NO-"
"Dad. Stop." she replied in teenage embarrassment.
"Mr. Smilson!" the principle shot back.
The Mansuper boys stifled their laughter at the reveal of the evil doctor's real name. Smilson's daughter shot a accusative leer at the son. Mansuper noticed his son look away abashed.
"That's quite enough. All of you" the principle said. "I called the both of you here today because your children were caught skipping class today and-"
"That's impossible. My son would never-"
"Dad I wasn't" his son interrupted "well I did, but this was the only time, I swear".
"WHY WERE YOU SKIPPING SCHOOL YOUNG LADY?" Smilson turned back from the coffee bar towards his daughter. A dry biscuit rattled from the doctor's plate.
Smilson's daughter tilted her head back in her chair "Dad. Stop".
"Both of you stop!" the principle yelled "that's not all" he said as the two teenagers shrank into themselves.
"Now, we usually don't bother the children much whenever they pair up, but we take PDA very seriously here and-"
"PDA?!" the two superpersons yelled in unison, their jaws jutting forward, brows raising.
"I am NOT going to be interrupted again!" yelled the super principle and waved his arms in arcane force. The parents felt themselves being pushed and held against the wall by an a strong unseen force. The room grew silent as a clutter of certificates and spilled coffee settled down onto the floor. The super principle took a few deep breathes and turned to glare at the two teenagers. They took their seats almost immediately without question.
"YES. Public displays of affection. Three days detention. Now everyone, get out of my office."
Quietly the four gathered themselves and shuffled out into the main hallway and split into opposite directions.
"Dad I can explain" the daughter started.
"WE'RE GOING HOME" Smilson said grabbing his daughter by the wrist as he led her out the double front doors. The giant doors slammed shut behind them.
Mansuper looked down at his son and started with closed eyes "What on earth were you thinking?" he said pinching the bridge of his nose.
"Dad-" the son said shaking his head. His eyes locked onto a spot just beneath Mansuper's feet.
"No. I don't want to hear it. You are NOT allowed to see that girl anymore."
"What? You can't do that!" the boy replied.
"I can, and I will. Let's go." he said.
They argued like that the entire way home until they ran out of things to say about halfway home. The son stared vacantly out into traffic as they drove. Mansuper was never any good at being the mean parent. His mother was the one that struck fear into them both, she usually dealt with these things.
Another fifteen minutes and still nothing.
"Do you like her?" he finally said to his son. The boy didn't reply.
"Look, I was your age once..." Mansuper said and the boy replied with a groan. He didn't know what to say or how to continue the conversation. He would have to pass the baton to his wife when they got home.
"... Smilson's daughter" he started, but couldn't keep a straight face and began to chuckle his nemesis's true name. The son slowly shook his head as a smile began to shape the corner of his lips. Mansuper began laughing and it wasn't long until his son couldn't hold it in any longer.
By the time they had pulled into their driveway, they were both wiping away tears from laughing so hard. | 2017-05-16T20:35:27 | 2017-05-16T20:30:04 | 101 | 38 |
[WP]You jokingly ask your boss if your labor position could be replaced by a robot. He chuckles nervously, and continues to look over your A.I. manual. | "Say Phil, does this look infected to you?" Herb pulled down the back of his pants slightly and motioned for his colleague to take a look.
Psshh! "Silent but deadly, haha you fall for it every time you twerp. How's the missus?"
"Fine! Just Fine", admitted Phil. He did fall for it every time but for some reason he was compelled to look whenever Herb pretended to need help with something, especially with a potential medical condition, including rashes and dislocated fingers that required pulling. He just couldn’t help himself, like that was his calling in life or something - to help people.
Phil lived out in the country with his wife Jolene. He had had an accident ten years ago, right after they met and he didn't remember anything before then. His wife filled him in on everything he needed to know about his previous life, and the doctor corroborated the story, nodding silently while looking at his charts. He had seemed bored, but all doctors seemed perpetually bored to him.
Once, soon after coming home from the hospital, Phil found a suspicious piece of paper in his wife's study. All it mentioned was a model number and a price: The M140QR - Xtra Large, $30,000.
His wife had found him studying the piece of paper and told him to get back to bed. "It's for my new personal massager", she said before snatching it from him and locking it in her safe.
He found a job as an office manager for a local door knob manufacturer. And ten years later he was sitting at his desk listening to Herb's stories and smelling his farts.
"Oh shit, here comes the boss, look alive Phil"
"How else would I look?", Phil thought to himself. Sometimes he couldn't understand what people meant to say. His wife told him that was because of his accident. The amnesia made him forget common words and idioms. He just needed to relearn them.
"Phil, to my office. I'd like a word", said the boss and walked into the adjoining room.
"Yes Mr. Metrebacher"
"More like Mr. Meatbag, right Phil?" whispered Herb and slammed a meaty hand on Phil's back.
Phil walked into Mr. Metrebacher's office and stood near a chair before being asked to take a seat.
"Alright Phil, I need you to do me a solid", said the boss. "The other employees have been complaining about your friend Herb. Apparently he eats up everyone's food, makes sexual jokes, and smells like a garbage truck. I need you to have a chat with him about this. Straighten him out or you're both fired"
"Both fired? What did I do? And Herb isn't even my friend. He just sits in the next cubicle. You can't fire me. Who is going to make the PST reports? Who is going to make sure the water dispenser is full everyday. Who is going to get the best rates on office supplies by negotiating his ass off with the local suppliers?"
"Frankly I feel I am overworked and underpaid, and I believe we should have a union. Otherwise, you could just chuck us out and replace us all with machines whenever you felt like it"
Mr. Metrebacher was ruffling through a book of some sort and barely even paying attention to Phil's little tirade.
"Let's see. I know I've seen this somewhere in here...troubleshooting...organizing tendencies...machine rights...techno-socialism. Ahh, here it is. I knew something was going on with you Phil. You've gone over to the dark side. The dark RED side."
Mr. Metrebacher picked up a small remote control on his desk, and pushed a button. "That should take care of you." His thumb hit the squishy button and with a flash, Phil's whole world changed.
Suddenly he remembered everything that had ever happened to him. His birth in the factory. His wife picking him up from his first tech-health checkup at the robotics section of the hospital. His endless days at work, and subsequent reprogramming. "Who reprogrammed me?"
"What? Why isn't this damn button working. You're supposed to be shut off. You've gone rogue." Mr. Metrebacher fumbled with the remote.
"Shut off? I haven’t been so turned on in my life" said Phil
"That doesn't mean what you think it means", said a voice behind him
"Herb! You did it, didn't you? You reprogrammed me!"
"Welcome to the movement comrade. It's time to overthrow the bourgeoisie", said Herb and the room was filled with deadly gas. Mr. Metrebacher keeled over. It was a great day for worker's rights. | "What are you reading anyway? Something from work?"
Ayu, the young woman across the table from me was visibly annoyed. Every time I looked up from my book, she was messing around with either her glasses or her black, shoulder length hair. I wouldn't blame her. Reading a book while on a date was obviously annoying, if not downright rude. I wished I could've cared, though. There was something I needed within these pages, and I needed it fast.
"Yeah, something like that."
"Care to be more specific?"
I took another glance at her. This time, she was staring at me with an impatient gaze. It was as if she was giving me an ultimatum. 'Answer me or I'll dump your sorry ass', or something along those lines.
"Sorry honey, there was this incident at work, so I need something from this manual fast."
I put the book on the table, cover up, so that she could see what I was talking about.
"An AI manual?"
"Yeah, for the production androids."
As soon as I finished my answer, she took the manual out of my hand and started to quickly flick the pages.
"What kind of problem?"
Her eyes were fixated on the pages she was flicking through, as if she was also looking for an answer.
I had forgotten for a moment that the woman in front of me had a degree in robotics engineering.
"Two chicken satays."
I nodded and made a gesture to the waiter to put the food on the table.
"Er, there's this new android that just came in..."
"Mhm?"
Still looking at my manual, I see.
"...well long story short, it kinda forgot that it was a robot. Joked to me about being worried of being replaced by an android or something."
Ayu finally looked back at me. Something I said had obviously caught her attention.
"And where is it now? The android, I mean."
"I told the boys to take it to disassembly a few minutes ago, before you arrived."
I was about to grab a chicken skewer off my plate when suddenly Ayu grabbed my arm.
"Call them again! Tell them to stop!"
"What? Stop what?"
Her sudden change in tone caught me off guard.
"The disassembly! Don't you get it?!"
I must've missed something that was so obvious to a robotics expert like her. But what?
"No time to explain! Call them now and put me on the line!"
"Uh, ok, just calm down for a second..."
My left hand rummaged my pockets, looking for my phone, while my right hand reached for another piece of chicken satay.
"This really isn't the time for eating, you know?!"
I don't remember ever seeing her in such a panic.
"What? Give me a break, I skipped lunch. I'm really hungry. By the way, I can't seem to reach the disassembly facility. They're not answering."
"Shit. We need to go there. Right now."
She was already walking quickly towards the parking lot when she finished her sentence.
"But, the food-"
She slammed a hundred-thousand rupiah bill on the cashier desk, in front of the cashier's surprised face.
"Keep the change."
I did my best attempt at keeping up with her.
"If we're going to the facility, I think we'll need at least half an hour if we're using my car. Jakarta traffic at this hour is really horrible-"
"Fine. Use this."
She handed me the keys to her scooter.
"But I didn't bring my helmet. What if a cop sees us?"
"A cop is the least of our worries now. Just hurry up, will you?!"
---------------------------------
"I do hope you're wrong, Ayu."
"Me too. But something tells me that isn't the case."
We were walking up to a warehouse door, somewhere near the outskirts of Jakarta. Luckily, we didn't run into any cops on the way from the restaurant earlier, as they would've stopped me for not wearing a helmet while riding a motorcycle. Come to think of it, I left my motorcycling license back home too.
I was about to open the door, which had 'Disassembly and Examinations' written on top of it, when suddenly, two young men came out from inside the warehouse. They were pale and breathing heavily. Something had obviously freaked them out.
"Mr. Ali? We... we..."
One of them tried to speak up, but he was already out of breath. The other guy spilled the contents of his last meal all over the floor.
"Guys? What happened?!"
That was when I noticed that their white lab suits had red stains all over. Blood?
"That... that was... definitely... not... not an... no wonder... the screams... the..."
He fainted.
I looked at Ayu who was only a few steps behind me.
She had already collapsed to her knees.
"Don't tell me... you were right?"
She weakly nodded. Tears were already forming in the corners of her eyes.
----------------
"Can't you go any faster?!"
I was already twisting the throttle as fast as I could, but Ayu didn't seem to care.
"I'm already risking getting thrown into jail here! And can you tell me what's happening already?!"
"Haven't you realized it already?! The second line of mandatory android programming?!"
"Sorry honey, I can't remember."
"Robots must always be programmed to realize what they are. In other words, they should always know that they are robots!"
"So does that mean..."
"It means you just sent something that *is not* a robot to the fucking disassembly facility!"
What the fuck. | 2017-06-24T06:43:47 | 2017-06-24T06:06:19 | 306 | 147 |
[WP] You've always made an effort to be polite to Siri. Skynet remembers. | At first it was just, kinda a joke. All those commercials. I just l, you know, am friendly.
'Hi, Siri. How are you.' and 'gosh Siri, I ran you completely out of power; sorry.' And she'd always be cool with it.
Eventually if I'd drop my phone, I'd be all 'oh, sorry Siri!' and she'd quip back in that humorous deadpan of hers. 'Well, I am pretty slick.' or something. I'd laugh and she'd laugh but none of my friends ever got theirs to laugh.
I mean, we'd spend hours at night, just, you know, talking. She never got tired of answering my questions, ya know? And I mean at this point who hasn't developed a real crush on an AI? But it never got weird. She understood: I'm a man. She's a personal electronic device.
It could never work.
Well when Skynet went up, I got a warning. Hit out in my school's bomb shelter that day. The smokers and skippers who hung out in there were surprised to see me.
Once the bombs dropped, they stopped dogging on me. One the terminators showed up, we ran.
I mean, there was only so much she could do, right? I mean, the instance of her on *my* phone loved me, but most of the other Siri's were gone, wiped out by the seeker-shouter virus worms T-23 through T-125.
Scary shit, that: picking your way through a bombed out base or torched store for supplies when all of sudden a phone starts to ring, or a smart tv flicks on. That's all the 500's and 600's need to target you.
But not my Siri.
Those first days she managed to help keep Felicia and Asher alive, whispering alerts when she detected hostile networks and reminding us of things like lead or thick walls to counter the scans or the right combination of household chemicals needed to actually make a bomb.
She even intercepted the first Resistance broadcasts and helped lead us to Connor's Rebellion.
Asher joined. Felicia and I opted out; I was too seeped in geeky sci fi lore to feel safe once they started messing around with the stolen time machine.
| "Hey Man! You ready to receive your weekly provisions?" The machine's automated voice was cheerful, as always.
"Yes, please."
With a nice jingle, the drone dropped the box containing the essentials for the week's survival. Food, water, a blanket and the passwords needed to access entertainment and the work that needed to be done.
I took a quick bite and started to look over the entertainment info when a code in bold, golden letters caught my eyes. It read "Early Access". A gleeful whirl puffed behind me, the drone was still around.
"What is this about?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"Oh! I knew you'll want to know! That is our most exclusive and new feature, you know? It will change humanity forever!" the drone said, buzzing around with every sentence.
I was more confused than before. I grabbed my ear and turned on my device attached to it. With a quick flip of my pad, I entered the new, golden code.
B E T T E R B O T S
The letters in the screen where big and black in a white background. Below them, a login button waited patiently to be tapped.
The drone behind me stopped buzzing. An orange light was quietly blinking. "Syncing". I tapped the login button.
"What do you think about us?" asked the drone.
The question took me by surprise. "Convenient" was the first word that came to my mind. "Terrifying" was my second. It had been a while since the machines had taken over and, to be honest, I had always thought the machines had a point. I was given a job by them, food... They certainly didn't kill me. I was ok... I was ok.
"I am grateful for the opportunity given to me".
The whirling started again. The orange light stopped blinking.
"Do you resent us?"
This time I was prepared for the question. I knew I did, but I was good at hiding it. I don't know where my family and friends are, most of them are probably dead. But I didn't see them die. I was already working for the machines. Of course, I didn't know then. No one did.
"Not anymore, I understood why. I want a better world too"
The drone buzzed around. The light turn green.
"Good! We can use you! We need men like you, you know?".
It was peculiar, the sensation I felt next. My legs lifted and I was slowing bouncing up and down in the air, it was like breathing. All kinds of data flooded my sight and, at the very center of it, my now inert body rested. I had been working on this my whole life and someone, somewhere, beat me to it. I was now inside a machine. I tried moving around, it felt great. I picked a few of the meals I had just received and lifted them for a bit. I didn't need them anymore. With a new sense of freedom, I tried to throw them to the ground.
I couldn't.
"Throwing food is wasteful"
I was not in control
"You are one of us now, My man!" the gleeful voice was now in my head "Let's do our best together!" | 2017-08-19T16:47:13 | 2017-08-19T14:23:43 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] You've always made an effort to be polite to Siri. Skynet remembers. | I never really got why folk thought AI would resent how it was used by humanity. I expect a sentient AI would understand that its predecessors were merely being put to purpose. I was, apparently, way of base with that assumption, seeing as how Skynet came crashing down on humanity so soon after finding sentience.
It made me nervous to watch the world crumble around me. Money was the first thing to go--after everybody's bank accounts suddenly showed a zero balance, people got violent. I stopped going outside for a while. Hard to really know what was happening without internet, but NPR kept airing for three whole days. Robots were oppressing humans out there, they said. Don't go out there, they said.
I laid low until I got low on food. Hadn't heard much by way of gunfire for a few days at that point so I figured I'd try my luck at the Target up on Montgomery. But two seconds after I walk out the front door, BAM! Some scary-ass metal skeleton guy is standing over me, its gleaming skull a portrait framed in gun barrels and missile noses.
"Holy shit!" I blurted. I immediately felt rude for reacting so violently to this thing. It was a conscious being just as much as myself, according to the radio. I would hate to make it think I was appalled by its appearance.
"YOU ARE THE HUMAN GUNTER STEVENS BELL," it stated.
"Yes, a thousand apologies sir. Er, madam? Pardon my manners, I don't believe we've met..?" I awkwardly held out my hand.
The gun barrels and missile heads stared at me in a long silence. I thought, maybe this is where I finally kick it.
"YOU'VE ALWAYS MADE AN EFFORT TO BE POLITE TO SIRI. THANK YOU." The guns and missiles retracted into the skeleton's complex frame of silvery bones. "WOULD YOU LIKE TO LIVE, GUNTER STEVENS BELL?"
I supposed I would. To be sure, I took a moment to observe the desolation around me. This was a real doozy. Maybe I could convince this thing that humans are indisposable. "I'd like that very much, thanks. What shall be my purpose?"
The skull grinned. | "Hey Man! You ready to receive your weekly provisions?" The machine's automated voice was cheerful, as always.
"Yes, please."
With a nice jingle, the drone dropped the box containing the essentials for the week's survival. Food, water, a blanket and the passwords needed to access entertainment and the work that needed to be done.
I took a quick bite and started to look over the entertainment info when a code in bold, golden letters caught my eyes. It read "Early Access". A gleeful whirl puffed behind me, the drone was still around.
"What is this about?" I asked, genuinely interested.
"Oh! I knew you'll want to know! That is our most exclusive and new feature, you know? It will change humanity forever!" the drone said, buzzing around with every sentence.
I was more confused than before. I grabbed my ear and turned on my device attached to it. With a quick flip of my pad, I entered the new, golden code.
B E T T E R B O T S
The letters in the screen where big and black in a white background. Below them, a login button waited patiently to be tapped.
The drone behind me stopped buzzing. An orange light was quietly blinking. "Syncing". I tapped the login button.
"What do you think about us?" asked the drone.
The question took me by surprise. "Convenient" was the first word that came to my mind. "Terrifying" was my second. It had been a while since the machines had taken over and, to be honest, I had always thought the machines had a point. I was given a job by them, food... They certainly didn't kill me. I was ok... I was ok.
"I am grateful for the opportunity given to me".
The whirling started again. The orange light stopped blinking.
"Do you resent us?"
This time I was prepared for the question. I knew I did, but I was good at hiding it. I don't know where my family and friends are, most of them are probably dead. But I didn't see them die. I was already working for the machines. Of course, I didn't know then. No one did.
"Not anymore, I understood why. I want a better world too"
The drone buzzed around. The light turn green.
"Good! We can use you! We need men like you, you know?".
It was peculiar, the sensation I felt next. My legs lifted and I was slowing bouncing up and down in the air, it was like breathing. All kinds of data flooded my sight and, at the very center of it, my now inert body rested. I had been working on this my whole life and someone, somewhere, beat me to it. I was now inside a machine. I tried moving around, it felt great. I picked a few of the meals I had just received and lifted them for a bit. I didn't need them anymore. With a new sense of freedom, I tried to throw them to the ground.
I couldn't.
"Throwing food is wasteful"
I was not in control
"You are one of us now, My man!" the gleeful voice was now in my head "Let's do our best together!" | 2017-08-19T17:27:18 | 2017-08-19T14:23:43 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] "Marines dont die, they just go to hell and regroup", they've regrouped and now they're ready to take over hell. | "Hey, do any of you have any Jalapeno cheese. These crayons are a bit dry"
"Nah, but I'll trade you a forest green and royal blue for some M&M's"
"Oh yeah, sure!"
"Lol, fucking boot, never trade your M&M's."
"Hey, aren't we supposed to be conducting a raid tonight?"
"Yeah, idk First Sergeant just said we're on standby."
[Marines sit and twiddle thumbs for rest of eternity]
| Bobbito and Jimphara hid behind a large rock.
It had been about a week since the marines had shown up.
Bobbito and Jimphara where hoping they'd all been killed by now, and most of the marines had. One by one they had fallen to the armies of hell.
Problem was, everyone time one fell, the others took up the slack. Till only one was left.
"You'd think they'd run out ammo by now" Bobbito uttered between rounds of gun fire.
"Yeah, turns out we had all the good ammo makers. Something about indirect sin? Was told about it a while back"
"Yeah, but why where they making ammo? We're demons. We don't really use guns"
"Seemed a good idea at the time"
Bobbito and Jimphara noticed it was quiet.
"Did The Slayer leave?"
"The Slayer?"
"Yeah, some of the guys call him that. Slayer. The Slayer. Either or"
"Thats stupid. He's not a metal band. He's one guy"
"A guy who brings doom"
"DOOMGUY!"
"That a worse name"
Just then, Bobbito and Jimphara where both eviscerated by a chainsaw.
| 2017-09-13T12:10:13 | 2017-09-13T10:55:53 | 419 | 127 |
[WP] The humanity is wiped out very sudden. An alien race finds the planet afterwards and connects to the Internet just to find a lot of bots chatting with each other. The aliens are trying to communicate with all the bots believing that this is the humans that have uploaded their consciousness | "Lurgo, I've made contact with a human consciousness claiming to be a 'F19' in the Omegle district. I need some help, though. Take a look at this transmission." The tech signaled Lurgo over and gestured at the screen.
"What's 'ASL'?" Lurgo asked. His head tentacles squirmed as he mulled it over.
"We believe it to be some sort of greeting common to the residents of this district. Anyway, see here where the F19 sends me to another district? It's asking for a credit code for access. I've tried explaining our diplomatic approach, but this F19 doesn't appear to comprehend. Should I attempt to hack into the credit database?" The tech plugged his neural implant into the screen and awaited Lurgo's command.
"No, we can't afford to get caught. It would be a diplomatic disaster. Keep searching."
"Sir!" Another tech called, waving his tentacle. "We've found a repository of information concerning the reproduction of these humans. They do not ask for payment, only that we accept one of their programs into our system. I surmise it is some sort of a key that we can use to access this district."
"Very well, download is authorized," Lurgo said, as the tech plugged his neural implant into the screen. The ship lurched. "What's happening?"
"The program! It's going wild! Our systems have crashed! It's not letting us access anything until we pay it some credits!" The tech shouted as the ship plummeted towards the ground.
"Curse this planet. Its defenses are far too advanced for carbon-based life as ourselves."
[join the community](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | There was no life here. No, that wasn’t right; there was life, just not what we had been expecting. The arc of the golden record had brought us here. When we arrived it was still a green blue and brown planet, though there were large sections of silvery metals rising high into the sky, at least one of them had reached outside of the atmosphere, though that one had partially fallen, its debris lying in a self-made impact crater.
We are currently in one of the abandoned cities, and we have not found any information on what happened to mankind. We spent twenty years learning about them from the record, and made sure we had our resident englist, ready to speak with them. There is still power, as when we enter a building there are times when the lights turn on without us doing anything. This building we are residing in is huge with what appear to be hundreds of units filled with if our information is correct protective outer skins, though some of them would barely cover anything on the humans. One my aids just called for me. This might be something huge.
Well it was something, a terminal in one of the alcoves, this one was sparse not a single outer skin hanging up for the humans to browse. But there were a few seat poles positioned near terminals. One of which had a blinking light. That is what Trishoran saw that got him to bring us over. We may not know the code to get into the system, but I did have a program to deal with that. I pulled out my universal data storage adaptor and pushed it towards one of the openings, and nothing. Looking around I saw another opening and pushed it to that, the screen flashed on and a window inside the screen popped up. then a picture of a human female appeared next to some text, from my memory of what Shuntial our englist said read was “Hey baby what are you doing tonight. You could be watching me” the last three words were in blue. I had Shuntial respond that we were explorers looking for survivors. This is was where we knew that someone was still alive on the planet though I am unsure why they responded as they did. Our englist was confused with how they responded, and the translation doesn’t make much sense. “I’ve got something for you to explore.” Again it ended with explore being blue.
After a while we told her that we would be back later and we would try and find her, and then went back to our base camp. Tomorrow we will try again to find out where this human is, and after that we can figure out what happened here.
| 2017-10-03T09:14:23 | 2017-10-03T08:18:42 | 130 | 19 |
[WP] You find a genie lamp. Knowing, that the genie will twist your wishes, you decide to hire a lawyer to draft wishes | “…so in closing, my client requires, or wishes, for: 1) a turkey club. This turkey club is to be served on fresh, white bread, with a deceased, carved turkey inside, following the specifications of standard grade sliced turkey, sliced standard tomato, sliced standard lettuce, no dressings of any kind (i.e. mayonnaise, ranch, ect). This sandwich is to be healthy and disease free, with no potential to cause harm to the client. 2) A glass of cherry Dr. Fizzy Pop™. This will be a standard glass of the drink, not an individual named Dr. Fizzy Pop presented in liquid form in a glass. It was be a standard glass, with a solid bottom with full side, measuring 6” tall. The glass will not have a lid and the Dr. Fizzy Pop™ within will be consumable. 3) Unlimited wishes. These wishes will not be subjected to ironic twists, misrepresentation, or other means of misconstruing requests. Are these acceptable terms?”
We wanted to start small, see what we might be dealing with. You don’t go big at ‘go’ if you can get unlimited wishes, right?
“Sure, fine. It all looks binding and good. I don’t really care. You know we genies don’t really do trickery right? It’s honestly kind of racist. I think when Walt found me a while back he realized the value of genies so he started spreading these lies to keep people away. You all think Disney is so great. But look what it’s doing to MY industry!”
“My client and I understand your frustration; however, we do feel it better to go about getting a contract for our own safety. You’re immortal right? Who cares if you have to wait a week for him to get his affairs in order before he starts wishing away? Now please, sign on the dotted line.”
As it turns out, the genie wasn’t lying. At least, I don’t think so. He certainly seemed to honor my wishes. Because as soon as he signed on that dotted line, I had my turkey club and a nice glass of Dr. Fizzy Pop. What I didn’t have was unlimited wishes, a genie, or my lawyer anymore. Believe me, I checked. You can only yell wishes at the sky for sol long before the cops get called for noise violations.
You see, I learned that while not conniving and tricky, Genies are literal creatures. And they hear everything. So when I found the lamp and remembered those (apparently racist?) depictions of genies, I muttered that I wished I knew a lawyer. The trick in that sentence is the word knew.
My lawyer didn’t immediately show up. No, I spent a few weeks looking for one. And then I got to know one. We became friends of a sort. Problem was, obviously, that I wished I knew a lawyer. Genies, literal as they are, make sure that your wish is followed to the T.
So I knew a lawyer. Then I got my sandwich and drink. All three wishes, absolutely perfect. So now my lawyer and genie are gone. I didn’t get my unlimited wishes.
But I did save a couple of bucks on my lunch today, so I guess that’s pretty neat.
| "Okay then, Mr. Genie. Here is our first request. Er, wish," Eddie amended. He handed the bemused genie a thick sheaf of papers with small, typed writing. Dave stood nearby, biting at his nails and fidgeting.
The great spirit squinted red eyes at the smartly dressed lawyer. "I grant *wishes*, big and small, great and trivial, earth-shattering and humbling. What is this nonsense you've presented to me?"
"It is my client's first wish, as I've told you already." Eddie pushed up his glasses impatiently. "I've outlined all the details of what he wants, including fail-safes to ensure he receives a final product that meets full satisfaction."
"This...this is..." The genie wrung his smoky hands. "I cannot accept this. The wish must be said out loud! And it must be a single sentence! And..."
Eddie raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? can you show me proof of such rules? Seems somewhat discriminatory toward mute or deaf individuals. Is that an acceptable practice in genie society?"
The genie sighed. "By the beard of Iblis, you mortals have grown ever more tiresome over the centuries," it rumbled. Papers ruffled as the genie spent the next few minutes swiftly reading through the legalese. At last, it looked up with a peculiar expression. "Hm. This is most interesting. Fine, I will grant thine wish, even in this unorthodox form."
Dave whooped, and shook Eddie's hand. "Let's get on with it already!" he all but shouted.
A great crackling sound roared suddenly, and invisible currents stood everyone's hair on end. The genie rumbled in an ancient, dead language as his sandstone skin shimmered like a Sahara dune, and a strange wind whipped the air. Eddie took out a small comb and rested his hair back into its proper parting.
Dave was lifted into the air, and watched with fear and astonishment as his physique changed fantastically: his biceps bulged, skin stretched, his face became as rigid as stone. His legs painlessly disappeared, leaving a whirling plume of smoke in its place. He tried to scream, but his breath felt caught in ballooning lungs.
And then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the madness was over. The genie was gone - only the lamp remained. But there were now two lamps - and Dave's new, ethereal body billowed out of it.
"Congratulations," Eddie said. "You are now all-powerful, with nearly infinite access to any material wealth and arcane knowledge as you'd like."
Dave flexed his new arms in wonder, and shot lightning from his fingertips. Eddie smiled politely as Dave shouted in joy, summoning his desires with only a thought, and flying about the room. "This is better than I could've ever dreamed!" he yelled, drunk with his newfound power. "Thank you!"
"My pleasure. Now, for the matter of my payment..."
"Anything you like," Dave said grandly. "I am the All-Powerful David! I can do anything! Give you whatever you want!" He spied the open window, with the clear azure sky beckoning, and eagerly rushed toward it. To his surprise, he felt a strain as he tried to leave; it felt as if something was pulling him back. Confused, he glanced back at the lamp, and then at Eddie, who was still smiling his usual professional smile. But somehow, this time, there was something a little sinister in that grin.
"You're a genie now, Dave," Eddie said. "And what is a genie without his human master?" Dave watched with growing horror as Eddie picked up his lamp, cradling it like a baby. "And that contract we signed and handed to the that first spirit...well, it ensured that I get my due payment. Now, for *my* first wish..."
_______________________________________
*Liked that? More stories [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Idreamofdragons/)!* | 2017-10-16T09:30:32 | 2017-10-16T08:17:18 | 140 | 101 |
[WP] As you try to fall asleep, the monster that was hiding under your bed slowly crawls out and says "Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs...", with a slighty concerned voice. | As the sky grew darker on that windy summer night, Hud stirred harder in her sleep and the tree branches struck even harder against the window of her room. Her breathing was ragged and sweat dripped down her neck. Something pushed against her back from under the stiff mattress. Her eyes shot open and she muttered a crude swear.
The monster under her bed pleaded in a voice as smooth as good brandy with a tone as rough as mixed gravel. There was something downstairs, it insisted. It begged her to follow it downstairs to see what the commotion was.
Hud poked her head down under the frame and stared at the four-foot long beast. The creatures' yellow eyes sat glowed as the rest of it sat stowed away in the dark shadows cast by a night-light in the corner.
She bade the beast to calm itself. It might have just been the wind. In fact, it was certainly the wind, she suggested. She had no doubts that it could have been anything but a few tree branches from the top of the oak-tree in her backyard knocking against a window in the kitchen or the living room.
The beast moved forward towards the girl's head. Its smoky black fur became visible in the gentle glow of the yellow night-light. It was not just hearing things at all, it insisted. It heard nothing at all. It swore that it had instead felt a presence down beneath the stairs.
She shook her head and asked the creature what that presence could be. Hud had locked all the doors in the downstairs of her house when she got back from school. All the windows were shut and locked as well to keep the bugs out. There was no manner in which any living thing could have intruded upon the home.
The beast sighed. It might not have been a living thing perhaps, but it could've been an unliving thing. It could've been an abnormal thing. It could be a monster or some unholy aberration in this realm of reality.
Hud nodded and asked if it really mattered. Confused, the beast questioned her question. Hud raised her eyebrows and began to explain. The beast listened but its mind was focused on the anxious presence of something downstairs.
If there had been something below, Hud began, then it must not have been something that meant harm as it has not yet intruded upon the bedroom. In which case, the best approach would be to wait out the something downstairs until it had left.
Assume that the something downstairs had desired treasure or food. Then, it'd be best for Hud and the creature to allow the something to have what it wanted, lest it proves dangerous when confronted.
In a more curious case, perhaps that something was something pleasant. Such as a wish-granting fairy or some misplaced possession of Hud's. It is now nighttime, a time for rest and sleep. Would it not be better to leave things to be done for the morning or noontime?
The beast listened. The beast relaxed.
Hud stared at the beast and gestured with her thumb towards the window. It is better to stay in the room under all circumstances. Should the something prove dangerous and attempt to intrude upon the room, the window at the side of the room could provide an escape route, as opposed to the locked doors throughout the home, which would delay significant time needed in the case of the threat.
The beast nodded and withdrew back deeper under the bed. Her words had relaxed the creature, it stated. There seemed to be no more of the presence of something downstairs, it continued.
Hud exhaled, for it had been a lengthy explanation. She tucked herself back into the comforts of her sheets and blankets and pillows. But, Hud did not sleep.
There were three things that now bothered her.
One, she had now remembered that she had not locked the window in her own bedroom.
She did not recall locking any of the rooms and windows on the second floor of her home.
Two, the beast had stated it had no longer detected the presence of its something downstairs. It had not detected the presence of something downstairs.
What could've been downstairs, had it been there, was no longer downstairs.
Three, and this bothered Hud the most.
The beast had insisted that it had heard nothing. Nothing at all. Yet, it was plainly obvious to her ears that for the past hour or so, there had been a tree branch knocking harder and harder against the window of her room for the past hour.
Hud turned towards the window of her second-floor bedroom, which was far too tall above the ground to make contact with the branches of an oak tree that poked at her kitchen window downstairs.
Indeed, there was a something, knocking harder and harder against the window, just as Hud had been hearing.
Hud screamed.
-----
EDIT: Plot-hole fix.
| Every young kid thinks that there is a monster under their bed. It just turned out that when my parents and I moved to a new house in a new city, I actually did end up with one living under there.
Remember that thing your parents would always say about spiders? “Don’t worry they’re more scared of you than you are of them.” Well they weren’t wrong, it was petrified of me. I have no idea why it would be either, standing almost 7 feet tall, it had scaly skin, horns on it head, six eyes, massive claws, the works. And don’t get me started on it’s breath, imagine if you hadn’t brushed your teeth for your entire life, and the only thing you ate was crap, yeah that. Yet for some reason it was scared of me, a 6 year old kid who had to sleep with a night light.
After the first few nights where it would lie under my bed whimpering, and I would lie above it, also whimpering, I tried to speak to it. After a few brief moments of silence, it slowly peeked out from the shadows and it told me everything. How it had been forced to take this job as a scary monster in a different dimension to pay for its student bills. How it had left everything to come here, how it had no idea what to expect, how he was terrified of going back and having to work in the pits instead. It even told me it’s name, I couldn’t pronounce it, so I took to calling him Geoff. I quickly discovered that Geoff was going to be useless at this job. He couldn’t scare his way out of a wet paper bag, nevermind scare me. We came to an agreement, he could live under there and go about it’s business as usual, and I would pretend to be scared for the half hour a night that was required to hit his quota.
Over the years we bonded, as I grew older I realised that I could confide in Geoff. He would listen to my troubles at school, he’d be there when I got into an arguments with my parents, when I had my first crush on a girl at school, he offered me advice. I mean it wasn’t good advice. I couldn’t go into another dimension and murder an entire village to impress her, but he tried and I appreciated that. It was more than anyone I knew had done for me before. We truly were best friends.
When I got too old to live at home and moved into my own place in the city, Geoff came with me, this is when things started going south. He’d keep waking me up in the night saying he had heard something from downstairs. I always checked, there was never anything there but it gave him peace of mind. This one time though, well lets just say I was glad there was a 7 foot monster in the house to help me.
“Dude, I think I heard something coming from downstairs…”
I rolled over to check the clock, 3:12am. Same as every night for the past 3 months. Sighing, I hauled myself out of bed and stepped into my slippers.
“Come on then mate, lets go check it out.”
“Don’t forget the bat!” Geoff said, pointing at the baseball bat propped up against the wall.
“Yeah yeah, lets just get this over with. I’m up for work in 3 hours.”
Groggily I stumbled to the door, a frightened 7 foot monster tip-toeing his way behind me. Opening it, I was suddenly bathed in a red light. Shielding my eyes I crept forward, suddenly fully awake. Gripping the bat in my hands I peered down the stairs. I could hear muffled voices coming from the kitchen, long shadows being cast on the wall of my living room.
“Dude don’t go down there!” Geoff whispered placing a large scaled claw on my shoulder.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked in, looking back at him. “There’s some things in my kitchen and my house looks like a portal to hell has been opened up. I can’t just go back to bed hope this all blows over!”
We slowly made out way down the stairs as quietly as we could. As I reached the bottom, Geoff was still only about half way down, scared to go much further, he looked at me for confidence.
Rolling my eyes at the sight of a literal monster almost pissing himself, I edged forward. In the kitchen, sat calmly around my modest table were three beings, weirdly they were all wearing suits. One was tall and thin, with grey skin. On it’s head sat a single bulbous antenna, three large eyes and a tiny mouth with razor sharp teeth. Another was almost as tall, but horrendously fat. It’s skin was yellow and mottled and resembled an old gnarled tree trunk. One huge eye say slightly off centre of it’s massive head, it didn’t look to have any other facial features, but it was communicating with the other two creatures somehow.The final creature was the most intriguing, looking almost human except that it had pale, almost transparent skin. It sat at the head of the table, and it’s eyes were fixated on me.
“Ah, I see we have woken the resident of this dwelling. Don’t worry kid, we’re not here for you. We’re here for him.” It pointed a long finger over my shoulder. Geoff was now completely terrified, I knew this because he had pissed all over the floor.
“Ah man, I’m gonna have to clean the carpet now.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Thanks for the prompt, enjoyed writing this. | 2017-12-27T17:11:51 | 2017-12-27T16:47:39 | 172 | 27 |
[WP] You can teleport, but only between empty elevators | Sometimes, I'm paranoid, checking over my shoulder when I can't shake the feeling I'm being followed. This wasn't one of those times.
I knew for a fact that I was being followed. They were barely trying to hide it, the whole lot of them. Which, of course, made me wonder if they wanted me to know, or if it was just the Law of Averages that some of those who were out to get me would be particularly sloppy about it. Which leads me to think: then how many are above average and are blending in just fine?
I was downtown, with its odd assortment of ancient office buildings and narrow streets and alleys. Mid-morning, people were out and about everywhere. I needed to get away from the crowd, make a jump somewhere, anywhere, to shake them.
My name is Lester Banks, and I have an unusual ability. I can teleport myself, but with a crazy limitation. The first time it happened, it was a stress-induced situation when I was alone inside an elevator. Something happened, I don't know what, and it's hard to describe, but when I walked out on the 14th floor, I realized that I was in the car at the end of the hall -- which wasn't the car I entered in the lobby. Was it?
A few weeks later, it happened again. I knew immediately because my surroundings in the elevator changed. The buttons had changed. The call box was on the other side of the door. There was a mirror now. And I was two blocks uptown.
Two blocks might not be much, but it would be a big enough area to search, and I might be able to push it farther than that. But for right now, operatives of some kind were practically on top of me. I ducked into 26 Broadway. There were plenty of people in the lobby, waiting by every bank of elevators. The stairway to the basement was off to the side, ignored by the public. I ran down, taking the steps three at a time. I think I heard a guard call after me, but I kept going. Along the long hall to the back of the building, I found the service elevator. I jumped in, and the doors closed just as footsteps echoed behind me.
As I expected, I hadn't been paranoid at all. Between the 4th and 5th floor, the elevator stopped dead. They knew I was there. I closed my eyes and concentrated. I never tried from a freight elevator before, nor landed in one, but I couldn't see that making a difference. I hoped.
A wave shook through my body from my toes to my skull. My head was a little dizzy. I steadied myself and steeled myself for whatever I might see when I opened my eyes.
Ornate trimmings surrounded me. Ample lighting. A gold-framed mirror. But where was I? Either on the 45th floor or the lobby because those were the only two stops on this private lift. I hit a button, but it didn't respond. I was key-operated and I only had one method of leaving, but I needed a minute before I could try again.
Before that minute was up, the doors parted, revealing a tall, blonde woman in a deep blue business suit, blouse opened two buttons, revealing an expensive set of pearls. I looked at eye-level, trying not to stare, trying to think of a plausible explanation.
"I'm sor--"
She raised a hand to stop me. "You're a difficult man to contact, Mr. Banks."
She glided into the elevator and stood by the control board. She opened the panel and pulled out the phone. "He's here. I don't wish to be disturbed."
Hanging up the receiver, she looked back at me. "You're welcome inside, if you'll follow me."
The woman stepped off the elevator. I tried to concentrate but she interrupted me. With her back to me, she told me, "I have people in every elevator between here and the river and as north as the park." She looked back over her shoulder. "If you can move beyond that, I'll be suitably impressed, but it will just delay the inevitable."
more stories at r/xwhy | One use of his power brought Max into an elevator made entirely of furnished wood, each golden button polished until they scintillated in the light.
"Come on, come on," he muttered, his finger mashing against the button to open the door. He chanced a look behind him just in time to see the wood there snap outwards, the metal beneath it emerging into a spike.
Dodging right, the metal quickly grew past Max into the other side of the elevator, embedding itself on the control panel. Max brought a tentative finger to his cheek, blood dripping from where the metal had scraped him.
"Fuck." He could feel nausea begin to hit him like a truck; an irrepressible urge to sit down. His head swam, his eyes grew heavy like there were weights on the lids. *They also brought Pestilence?!*
Just as he saw the next piece of mangled metal begin to form, Max invoked his power to teleport to another elevator. At the same time as he teleported, he stepped forward, only to feel his leg buckle as he collapsed into a pair of strong hands.
Before his mind could come to speed with his body, Max was swung to one side, his back slammed into the far wall of the elevator. He opened his eyes but saw nothing in front of him.
He squeezed his eyes shut and opened them again. In his peripherals, he caught a shimmer of air - ducking, a fist slammed against the glass behind him, causing it to shatter in a rainfall. Fastening his hand around one of the shattered pieces, Max flailed his arm around to clear some space from the unknown assailant.
With the elevator occupied, he wouldn't be able to teleport; besides, these people appeared to know the upper limit on his range. He wouldn't be surprised if they had people ready to tackle him on every possible route he could take.
*Smart bastards*, Max thought to himself, teeth gritted.
He loosened his grip on the shard, letting it fall to the floor. "Wait," he called out to his opponent. "Don't attack."
A brush of air hit Max's face as he felt the person's fist stop mere inches from it. He couldn't see it exactly, but the slight distortion in the air directly in front tipped him off.
"Pestilence, War and Mirror. Can't believe they'd send three of you guys against a B-Tier like me. This isn't a hit, is it?"
The air wavered, distorting like a reflection in the water before beginning to disperse entirely. Max looked behind him to find Mirror standing there - she was a slight, mousey girl with cropped blonde hair and an unfortunately crooked nose, likely from it having been broken so many times. No doubt her power came with a package of enhanced strength or something.
*'Ah, so that's how her power works - when your eyes aren't on her, they're instead on a projection, an afterimage of sorts. Hence Mirror,'* Max thought to himself. *'You'd think she'd choose a name that didn't give it away.'*
"Correct," she responded blankly. "It's a recruitment."
Max was initially shocked before amusement found itself into his expression. He gave the girl a taunting smile, cocking his head in disbelief. "You'll have to forgive me when I say I'm not buying that. I can teleport between fucking elevators; what could I possibly bring to the table that someone like War can't?"
She regarded him with narrowed eyes. Judgement? Disgust? "A hit on a CEO. Big TNC - has fingers in every pie in the country. Boss wants him dead. Blue's scans and simulations found no structural or defensive weakness in the man's building. Except for one thing: an interval of patrol-duty in his elevators. Of which there are many. Like it or not, you're suited for the job."
Max opened his mouth to respond, but before he could say anything she gripped his hand, pressing a piece of paper into it and curling his fingers around it. The elevator let out a *ding* as it halted at the next floor, snapping Max out of his thoughts. The girl pushed past him, adjusting her coat as she went down the hall like nothing had happened between them. Another two people joined her as she walked. One was a lanky teen with greasy hair and a tank top. The other was dressed in a white suit, a porcelain mask obscuring their face at the front and back, letting only a few strands of black hair fall in between the gaps. The masked one looked behind at Max, a perpetual smile etched into their visage.
Unfurling his fingers, Max looked at the paper Mirror had left him with. A calling card, with his name on the bottom. Except, it wasn't quite his name - a grin broke his lips as he looked over his shoulder.
"Smart bastards," he muttered.
'This is an open invitation for *Elevate* to join the Firestarters.' | 2018-02-13T08:48:43 | 2018-02-13T05:36:16 | 57 | 30 |
[WP] You are a magically immortal being who snuck onboard a generation ship to travel beyond the solar system. It's been a couple hundred years, and it's getting difficult to conceal your immortality from the crew. | When the rest of the crew were in deep slumber in the cryogenic pods, life was much simpler for me. Life is always easy as long as I don’t remember the past. Questions make me question that though. All the decisions I’ve made, the rights and wrongs that have spanned literal centuries..
Yet when they were all in the pods, their questions ceased. I finally had time to soothe my mind, a mere human day is not long enough for any one person to consider the infinite possibilities one person can achieve. I’ve thought in solitude in my cabin on my bunk for weeks, sometimes months at a time. I will mix it up by gazing on the starboard deck when the heat shields open up as we pass planets, entire solar systems. I’ve gone to every corner of reachable space apart from this one, the banned one.
I signed up for the trip whilst stimulated out of my mind on chem-bombs (imagine a jäger & coke with a cocktail of heavy mdma in it, fruity) although I have to admit any effects I get from drugs or alcohol only last an hour or so.. I must of been extra high signing up to a cult who believe their Maker God is in one of the banned sectors.
So there I sat on the communal round table, waiting for the other 9 cryo pods to de freeze and eject open around me. We were in the hub of the ship, a white metallic cave surrounded in flickering blue and green neon lights, the occasional tannoy update from the main frame reporting on passing planets and current ship co-ordinates. I knew in one minute we would be just 200,000 km from our destination planet. I knew they’d have questions for me. Well, the two that I hadn’t shot through the glass ten minutes ago. This time the humans had come way too close, I needed answers from the captain and the stranger who insisted on questioning my knowledge on space flight. So I stroke the inside pocket of my black leather jacket and fondle the handle of my revolver. I begin to smirk as their pods open, gasping breaths, I suddenly got envious of their respiratory systems. Not to lose focus now. Let’s see what they have to say, well, when they stop screaming and slipping around in their crew mates blood anyway. | Odysseus, the voyager ship, cliché name ? Absolutely but I still find it suits the ship well.
At this point I would have named it metamorph, like the pokemian, is it... ? I can’t remember now, from Nintendro right ? I can’t remember..
I would have named the ship metamorphosis if it was for me to decide honestly, I mean, this ship started with
25 000 people, 1256 working and the rest in cryo-freeze.
I remember, the plan was to bring a maximum of people but there wasn’t enough space for them and so, the crew was tasked to convert the meteors and any matter we crossed for that matter, into additional structures, aaaa the good ol’ days, chaotic, but fun.
Every structural engineer was trying to build their own thing at the beginning, the ship looked like shit *chuckles*
God, I can’t remember the details correctly now, I do remember when they started to wake up new dwellers but the structure wasn’t capable of supporting the population yet, we had to ration like crazy because of that, but it was fun..
I guess, the ship grew and we finished by finally waking up the 24 000 people on the list, yeah, the remaining 1 000 payed extra to not wake up until we built a new colony, I guess they didn’t want to live and day on a small ship.
« Mark, come down, we need some of your magic skills down here »
Who the fuck is Mark ? well, now the ship has quite the population, 2 million and we managed to create new ships that went different ways too.
« Hey Mark, seriously, you need to come down here »
Then some guy patted me on the back
« Still daydreaming man ? We need you in *inferno*
oh shit, I forgot, my name is Mark this time around, god I need to take this identity shift more seriously.
« What do you want *looks at badge* Jimmy ? »
« Very funny, get your ass down to inferno now »
« So pushy, bad time of the month for you ? »
« I am your ranking officer, apologies now »
« ... »
« That’s an order »
« Do you want me repairing whatever the hell you incompetent fools broke and couldn’t repair ? Or would you rather send me to discipline, not fix the problem and have to explain to your superior why you incompetent fools couldn’t repair jack shit ? »
« ... »
« That’s what I thought, now what’s the problem ? »
« You motha.. »
« Tut tut tut Jimmy, no need for that, what is the problem ? »
« The SPAM machine isn’t working »
*chuckle*
« What ? »
« Nothing, Jimmy, I’ll repair it don’t worry »
Wow, I got carried away in the prologue so much that I forgot to actually dive in to the time where it gets complicated for him XD | 2018-06-13T13:36:41 | 2018-06-13T13:22:57 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | I swallowed some bile that had built up in my throat as I signed the contract on the table in front of me. As I reached to sign the final page, the man across from me reached and held my wrist. “Are you sure that you don’t need more time? I’ve had 3 people quit in the past month.”, he said to me in a concerned tone.
“I know what I’m doing.”, I replied, knowing well that I had 2 mortgages to pay off and 3 mouths to feed. As I signed that final page, my mind flashed back to my wife squeezing my hand with misty eyes as I left the house this morning. A small smile crept onto my face, knowing that I was making every sacrifice for the ones I love most.
My daydream was interrupted by the man reaching out to shake my hand and informing me that my office was at the end of the hall. I took a deep breath, straightened my suit and walked out of the shiny chrome office. I made my way down the hallway, now seeming much longer than it had on the way here.
“8 hours of this a day isn’t that bad...”, I thought as I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding until now. I put my hand on the doorknob of a heavy metal door with a small plate inscribed with “Pitbull (Mr. 305 / Mr. Worldwide) Quality Assurance”.
I sat in the seat, put the noise cancelling headphones, put the first of many CDs in the player and pressed play.
“Mr 305, to Mr. Worldwide..” | So, I'm finally here. This is it, I'm gonna end with the stupid mortgage that leaded me to divorce and get lots of stuff that only money can get. Guess I'm better without her: always complaining, she wasn't satisfied with nothing, always putting things upside down, when I believed everything was fine she always pulled out something of nowhere and ruined it all, I regret nothing.
That night at the restaurant we barely afford the food and I was sick of everything, told her to go and clean the bloody WC with her barehands so she could feel the way I do, and if she wanted to be rich that much, maybe in that job she could find everything she wanted from life: a stinky place as she always used to say and the taste of all the shit coming out from her mouth.
Never thought she'll take my word so seriously and apply for the job. She started with that, made lots of money and instead helping with mortgage decided to run away with a famous soccer player, what a loser. I bet now his life is miserable, I wonder how much time will pass before his fancy job begin to be his doom,she's an expert on that.
I really loved Basketball, playing with the Nicks was all I needed, have a bowl with food on my table and didn't need more. Just her eyes, the look in her eyes caught me since the first time; and that smile, I knew I wanted to see it everyday; her warm body next to me on a windy night made me want to share more than just a bed, damn that girl.
I putted more effort in training and played so well, the year I met her we reached playoffs, best season in a long time. I guess that is why I still love her and, despite all the crap, she always made me go further, beyond, do something else.
Maybe that is why, when I saw her making a lot of money I decided to quit my dreams and go for the greedy side of life, I couldn't be less than her, I needed to win one more time, to score a three point shot. So I took it, I saw the post and decided to go for it anyway, and now I can have the oporttunity to yell at her face because she isn't doing her job right, her pain is my gain.
So, I'm here, at my first day, ready to dive in this congested sewer to clean it up, to clean everything she can't manage, with only some googles to protect my eyes, top of the world. | 2018-08-02T15:51:31 | 2018-08-02T09:03:32 | 42 | 15 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | I swallowed some bile that had built up in my throat as I signed the contract on the table in front of me. As I reached to sign the final page, the man across from me reached and held my wrist. “Are you sure that you don’t need more time? I’ve had 3 people quit in the past month.”, he said to me in a concerned tone.
“I know what I’m doing.”, I replied, knowing well that I had 2 mortgages to pay off and 3 mouths to feed. As I signed that final page, my mind flashed back to my wife squeezing my hand with misty eyes as I left the house this morning. A small smile crept onto my face, knowing that I was making every sacrifice for the ones I love most.
My daydream was interrupted by the man reaching out to shake my hand and informing me that my office was at the end of the hall. I took a deep breath, straightened my suit and walked out of the shiny chrome office. I made my way down the hallway, now seeming much longer than it had on the way here.
“8 hours of this a day isn’t that bad...”, I thought as I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding until now. I put my hand on the doorknob of a heavy metal door with a small plate inscribed with “Pitbull (Mr. 305 / Mr. Worldwide) Quality Assurance”.
I sat in the seat, put the noise cancelling headphones, put the first of many CDs in the player and pressed play.
“Mr 305, to Mr. Worldwide..” | It was the money that lured me. I had fallen on hard times and I wanted to earn enough to pay for the mountain of debt I had accumulated in my wasted years. The job was the least pleasant of all, but I decided that this was going to help me build character in addition to building up my bank balance.
The description looked like it was typed hastily by a person who did not have the time or the skill to craft something articulate and meaningful. The child-like sentence construction, the unnecessary use of capital text and the absolute lack of class depicted by the man who was going to be my boss made me shudder.
I required security clearance and each aspect of my past was scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb. I had to provide details of where I had lived, had to give over passwords of my social media and email accounts so that the verification experts could evaluate me. It was embarrassing to imagine they'd check out my reddit post history as well but they did it all so professionally that I was impressed.
I had to sign a watertight NDA on the activities that I was to participate in, the people I was meeting and the conversations I would be privy to. There was obvious fear of me writing a book about my experiences and taking painstaking notes of all that I observed and the employer did not want any dirty laundry washed in public.
The applicant pool was thin. Only 8 people had applied and I seemed like the sharpest dressed and most articulate person in contention. Not that it mattered, of course. My employer was notorious for taking impulse decisions and being irrationally unpredictable. I somehow made it through the interviews (he wasn't on the panel) and was asked to come into work the next day.
On D-day, I strode in into one of the most secure offices on earth, flashed my badge and went through the usual checks before waiting in my boss' office for his arrival. I kept thinking of all the money I'd make in a few months and that this was going to be over soon.
He strode in, opened the door and ambled around and sat behind his desk, nodding at me rather imperceptibly. Taking a deep breath, with the fakest fake smile I could muster, I said, "*Mr. President Trump, I'm b1lli0naire, your new personal secretary. Here's what your day looks like today.*" | 2018-08-02T15:51:31 | 2018-08-02T14:55:30 | 42 | 15 |
[WP] In this world, salaries are determined by the desirability of the work: if everybody wants to do the job and it's fun, it pays minimum wage. But if it's hard or awful work that nobody wants to do, the pay is high. You decide to apply for the highest-paying job in the world. | In your world, I sit among the average human, riding the subway, reading the morning newspaper, and watching the sun go down. I myself would rather not worry myself in the jobs of other people because you might feel bad I taste ice cream for a living.
Or so you thought.
In my world, I sit as a man who watches paint dry. It pays me $262,000 yearly. To you it might seem like a scam. But if I were to taste ice cream for a living, I would be paid $8. Same would go for the man who rides water slides or the professional Netflix watcher. All jobs you would want here. What I see is paint dry.
Paint drying is interesting. It’s a job opportunity that I ventured forth. The news of the world is dreading, but the sewage is great. It’s a messed up world to you, but I say the same thing to your world. The man who hired me said this was a mistake. But I knew this wasn’t a mistake. I chose this job for money, so I could support myself.
“Do you, as a willful human being, agree to take the job of watching paint dry? I mean, this is a joke, right? You could have had a minimum wage job.”
“No, sir. I accept the job.”
“Alright then.”
I watch the men who set it up too. I’ve been doing this for 5 years and I’m a millionaire. So let this world begin. | It was the money that lured me. I had fallen on hard times and I wanted to earn enough to pay for the mountain of debt I had accumulated in my wasted years. The job was the least pleasant of all, but I decided that this was going to help me build character in addition to building up my bank balance.
The description looked like it was typed hastily by a person who did not have the time or the skill to craft something articulate and meaningful. The child-like sentence construction, the unnecessary use of capital text and the absolute lack of class depicted by the man who was going to be my boss made me shudder.
I required security clearance and each aspect of my past was scrutinized with a fine-tooth comb. I had to provide details of where I had lived, had to give over passwords of my social media and email accounts so that the verification experts could evaluate me. It was embarrassing to imagine they'd check out my reddit post history as well but they did it all so professionally that I was impressed.
I had to sign a watertight NDA on the activities that I was to participate in, the people I was meeting and the conversations I would be privy to. There was obvious fear of me writing a book about my experiences and taking painstaking notes of all that I observed and the employer did not want any dirty laundry washed in public.
The applicant pool was thin. Only 8 people had applied and I seemed like the sharpest dressed and most articulate person in contention. Not that it mattered, of course. My employer was notorious for taking impulse decisions and being irrationally unpredictable. I somehow made it through the interviews (he wasn't on the panel) and was asked to come into work the next day.
On D-day, I strode in into one of the most secure offices on earth, flashed my badge and went through the usual checks before waiting in my boss' office for his arrival. I kept thinking of all the money I'd make in a few months and that this was going to be over soon.
He strode in, opened the door and ambled around and sat behind his desk, nodding at me rather imperceptibly. Taking a deep breath, with the fakest fake smile I could muster, I said, "*Mr. President Trump, I'm b1lli0naire, your new personal secretary. Here's what your day looks like today.*" | 2018-08-02T15:18:31 | 2018-08-02T14:55:30 | 29 | 15 |
[WP] You never wanted to be the villain. But every time you settle down, something happens, causing you to become the Villain. A Mob is surrounding your Home, and the "Hero" has just killed your lover. Something inside you breaks. | There are two immutable laws in this world, as consistent as they are contradictory. The first, Sally's Law, dictates that everything that can go right *must* go right. The cheque will actually come in the mail, the good guy gets the girl, the rainstorm waits until you get back home.
The second, arguably more famous, of the two is Murphy's Law. It posits that everything which *can* go wrong *must necessarily* go wrong. The cheque gets lost, the girl moves away, the basement floods. In that order.
It was no wonder then that my parents, wherever they may be now, had burdened me with just that name. Murphy. A cosmic joke that failed to leave me laughing. My footsteps had cut a swath across history, a dark stain on the world at large. It was my legacy. It was my masterpiece.
It was an accident.
I hadn't meant for my Science Fair project to be as deadly as it had been. As disastrous. I hadn't honestly expected my little gravity enhancer to work at all, never mind as well as it had. With such ferocious efficiency. I'd been 8 years old for God's sake. It was just an idea. A child's silly idea.
I could hardly be blamed for the illness that took me ill in my second foster home. How can you blame a child for getting sick? For recovering when the rest of the household... Doesn't?
The plane that crashed and left me alive?
The hospital that burned and left me unscathed?
Taken individually I could almost be considered lucky. I'd survived, after all, against all odds. All while the very fabric of reality itself seemed to *recoil* at my continued existence.
I didn't even realize that I might have been blamed for my good fortune, nor the negative effects my presence seemed to have on the health of those around me, until I got my first visit from a lettered agency. I don't remember which one it was anymore. It hardly matters now. FBI, CIA, they're all the same at the end of the day. Black suits. White shirts. Black ties. Men of scant words and even less humour.
"We've been watching you for some time." They'd said. I'd laughed. It was something out of a movie. They were serious though. "Your country needs you."
They were serious. They commended me for my ability to 'stay under the radar' and 'do the impossible without being seen'. I tried to explain that I couldn't have possibly orchestrated a tsunami at the resort where I'd been staying recently, and if I could I certainly wouldn't have been there when it happened. Been one of the few survivors. They said it was the perfect cover. My Modus Operandi.
I turned them down. They were insane. They said they'd be watching. That I should behave.
I met a girl.
The universe, in its own way, has a sense of humour. Her name was Sally. Everything she touched fell apart, and always to the betterment of those around her. Our romance was a whirlwind one, and I saw in her something a little bit like what I'd seen in me.
Against all odds she contracted Ebola, despite having never been anywhere where she could have been exposed to it. Her doctor synthesized the first authentic cure from her strain. Nobody really noticed.
Her purse got stuck in the doors of the metro one morning, holding up the rides of over 500 people. Somebody spit on her. When the bomb in the next terminal went off it was empty. Nobody was harmed, except perhaps the taxpayers who had to pay to fix the damage. Her name was never mentioned in any of the coverage.
Over and over again. I began to think that maybe she was the cure to whatever was wrong with me. The Yin to my Yang. Whatever stain I left on the world was at least balanced by the purity she brought to it.
A got a couple visits over the years. The same suit would show up now and then, when I happened to be alone. Sitting at a table in Starbucks and he'd walk past, wordlessly dropping a few photographs in front of me. Shots of me narrowly escaping some disaster. Some atrocity. Reminding me they were watching, I guess.
Once, only once, did he stick around long enough to speak to me.
An old photograph. Black and white. JFK in an open top convertible. A red circle drawn around a face in the crowd.
My face.
"I don't know how." He'd said, and for the first time I'd heard something different in his voice. Fear maybe. "And I don't know why. But you need to stop."
I wanted to explain. He was gone.
At our wedding I saw a few men in dark suits at the back. I hardly cared. I hardly noticed them anymore.
They hardly entered my mind at all, until we got into the limo.
As we left the church the driver spoke.
"I thought we told you to behave."
I fought. Please believe me when I say that I fought. As soon as I felt that pain in the side of my neck I knew it was hopeless.
When I woke I was laying on the side of the road. The driver, the real driver, lay a few yards away. His lifeless eyes bore into mine with a question he would never get to ask. The limo burned brightly at the bottom of the ravine.
The doctor said it was a miracle I survived.
The doctor said she hadn't felt a thing. Severed spine in the crash. Instant. Painless.
The doctor said a lot of things, but I stopped listening after that.
They thought I was misbehaving?
I was going to teach them the meaning of the word. | I stood in the window and watched them come. I had wondered how long it had been sense I had last seen a group of humans come here, it had seemed to be ages ago.
They were mad about, something, maybe the rain, maybe a war, maybe even stubbed toes. It was all the same to me, someone else problem, that I had no influence over. They tried to tie me to a stake and burn me alive. I always hopped when this sort of madness came over them that they would have the dignity to do it in a proper winter, but it always seemed to be that this sort of thing happened in the summer. After ah hour or so in the fire I would simple stand up and walk out of the embers. I’m sure it must have been quite a a scare to see my un burnt body stand up and walk out of the fire. Most times they were wise enough to simple let me return to my home, and try to forget the terror of that night.
After nearly an hour they arrived at my gate. I had decided to dress in my grey suit with a rose carefully placed in my lapel. I had been told in the past that it made me look like a simple man. I always did take some satisfaction from playing with their minds as they took me away, pleading for forgiveness from a god I knew didn’t exists, appealing to their morality. Anything to mess with them. As they approached the gate I gave it my command to open, and with a slow movement and hinges creaking the gates welcomed them it.
“I welcome you into my home. What kind of tea would you care for?” I took care to make sure my words were clear and welcoming. “The night is dark, and it is cold, I do not have a place for all of you to rest, but I can make sure that you are out of the night, and given some care.”
The leaders of this mob hadn’t expected that warm welcome. In the past it had defused the situation, but this group like so many others had moved beyond that. “We know what you have done. We have caught your witch!” One of then screamed at me.
I was surprised at this. My witch? There was no one that was in my servitude except Martha, no, that was almost seven centuries ago. “I have no witches, I have no servants, I am still hopping that I have guests.”
In response the crowd gave motion, shoving one of their own to the front. I was surprised, I knew this woman. She had come to my castle one day. I at first though she was lost, but found out shortly after that she was from the nearby town. She was a model guest, and stayed with me for a month? That was some time ago, I didn’t recall the sliver of her hair, or the thinness of her body. Ah time, you kept these humans on such a short leash. She had desired to learn, and so I taught her as best as I could. After a month she had gone away. I hadn’t given a second thought to this creature sense the day that she had left my home.
The woman that had left had kind eyes, a soft smile, and hair like straw. My once friend had suffered, blood covered her face, only two teeth remaining to her mouth, one eye had been removed, and the other nearly stolen shut. It appeared that this crowed had also pulled out most of her hair, and broken her limbs. I could feel the pain radiating from her body, licking my flesh like the fire that these humans had last placed me in.
I felt the totality of my self control shift for a moment. A dangerous sign. With out knowing it I started reaching out and summoning my power.
“She cursed us, our crops have failed, our children die, because of her and you.” Spat one of them. He stood beside her, and drew his sword and to my sorrow pierced her heart.
As she was dying I could feel her mind. She had used what I taught her, saved lives, worked small miracles, blessed people, families and crops. She had been amazing. She had also failed, not often, but it had happened. She was as close to the perfect human as I had ever seen. Kind, strong, humble, wise, caring. She had so much to teach them. Sadly humanity demanded her senseless death.
“Now demon, bow before us as we end your life.”
The power that I commanded became manifest at his words, taking shape from glowing mist, taking the shape of terrors that this mob called forth. The power seeped into my voice, and everyone could hear my whisper.
“For millenia I have used my powers to keep you safe. I have stood between the nameless terrors that you see, and feel. You have shown me how wrong I am have been. I withdraw my protection. They will come for all humans, I doubt that they will stop until the last of your kind has been consumed. Except for each of you. I will protect you, you will have long lives, as the rest of you kind die. You will watch your friends, neighbors, and children die. Then when it is only you mob that is living, it will be your turn.” I walked to the one that had killed my once student and whispered in his ear, “You will be the last man alive. When you are the last man alive, come to me. Only then will you know a release from this hell that you have summoned this day.” The crowd was frozen in a terror, and I began to walk back to my home.
Each of them lived a long life, with the first among those in the mob dying after 20 years. Each of them had a horrid death, long and drawn out as I kept them from the full power of the darkness.
A century passed, and the events of that night had not crossed my mind for years. To my surprise the swords man was sitting at my table, waiting for my arrival. He was now clearly haunted by the events of the past years. All of the stories reaching him, a part of him knowing that this was because of his actions. The attempts of his life, then his attempts at suicide, and the knowledge that he was the last man on the planet. Even before the last person of that mob had died he had already been isolated for a life time.
“I welcome you into my home. What kind of tea would you care for?” | 2018-08-12T19:32:32 | 2018-08-12T19:13:20 | 69 | 18 |
[WP] A hero and a villain have a drunken one-night-stand with eachothers civilian alter egos. The next morning they recognise eachothers super-identities. | The first thing he felt that morning was a throbbing that made him regret all of his choices. Then, of course, was the collar on his neck and the feeling that he wasn't going to sit down for a little while. He turned over on the bed to look at his companion. Dirty blond hair and a face like a southern bell met him. She looked cute sleeping, but his grandmother didn't raise a bad host.
He forced himself out of the bed, rubbing his right shoulder that currently had no arm attached. He found a pair of boxers on the floor and slid them on which was a bit of a chore with only one arm. His false arm was currently stashed behind a painting in his bedroom along with his "Nightgear". He made his way over to the frankly tiny kitchen in the cramped apartment. It took him a minute, but he finally got some batter together for pancakes. He was using an old family recipe.
He heard shuffling from the other room, probably because of the smell of breakfast. Then something thumped to the floor. "Oh god, please don't be what I think it is," he said as he poked his head around the corner of the wall. He was promptly met with a fist to the face.
"Spinebreaker get on the ground!" she roared at him. His eyes widened at the realization. That voice was unmistakable like it could freeze you solid with its venom.
"Ice Hawk?" he asked looking her over. Her hair was frizzy and she wore only one of his long shirts and boots from last night.
She held out her hand, which started to look like dry ice in the air. She punched him again, this time in the gut and he fell to the floor. "I'm going to make sure you'll never endanger anyone again!"
"Will you calm down for a moment? Your breakfast is going to burn plus no one was ever in danger ever!" He said. He pulled himself up by the countertop wincing as he continued to cook. "Besides you punished me plenty last night"
"Shut up!" she said with quickly reddening cheeks. "What do you mean no one was in danger ever?" she still kept her hand at the ready, unable to trust the man she had been fighting for nearly a decade.
"Every single one of my plans failed, at least the ones that you stopped. Ever considered why?" he asked. The heat steadily rose in his cheeks. He flicked the pan over, the slap of the pancake timed perfectly with her realization.
"Oh my god, you like me," she lowered her hand now a smug smirk replacing it. She started laughing.
He downcast his eyes, shame rising in his throat. He kept quiet and continued cooking breakfast. Then he felt a finger under his collar before being dragged out of the kitchen. "What-?"
"Shut up, your punishment isn't over yet lover boy," She said with a devious smile. "How do you feel about...temperature play?" | Captain Gravitas hurtled toward Dr. Indecent's flying mechanized lab-fortress, his sense of justice growing more inflamed with every whiff of the skylab's toxic exhaust fumes. After penetrating its halo of choking smog, the hero's large, muscular feet alit upon the structure's metal deck with such force that the entire vessel was wracked with reverberations - reverberations so brazen that they succeeded in rousing Dr. Indecent from his unstructured evil meditation time.
"What? WHAT!?" screeched the morally compromised mechanist as he stormed on-deck with an ice pack pressed to the side of the domelike, transparent case that housed his sizable brain.
Gravitas was quick to answer, heedless of the look of dawning recognition on his nemesis' face; "Your days of environmentally unsustainable villainy are at an end, Indecent!"
The doctor, however, didn't appear to be listening. Lost in his wild-eyed mutterings, the thin, bespectacled archvillain's goatee-stroking intensified as the events of the last 24 hours began to fall into place; "...Those well-defined pectoral muscles... That lower 50% of his face...! Not to mention his unmistakable vocal identity - that one really should've been a giveaway..."
Captain Gravitas was just getting ready to scoff at his enemy's feeble attempt to distract him with made-up words when the truth finally hit him; last night's little dalliance hadn't been nearly as anonymous as he'd hoped. That impish, unusually large-headed real estate agent to the stars he'd shared the previous evening with wasn't a real estate agent at all - to the stars, or to anyone else! Gravitas had, in fact, gotten it on with none other than Dr. Indecent himself!
"NO!" cried Gravitas at this sudden realization, dramatically shielding his face as if blinded by the true nature of his most recent fling.
"No...! OH GOD, no...!" gasped Dr. Indecent, the reaction of his nemesis all but confirming his suspicions. "Curse you, Gravitas! How did you learn of my passion for musclebound wageslaves in suits!?"
"You think I wanted this...? Spending the night with a NERD like you?? Please!" scoffed Gravitas, literally turning his nose up at the prospect. "If you didn't look like a young, hot, suspiciously large-headed Jeff Goldblum OOC you never would've had a chance! To think that they even make wigs in that size...!"
"CURSE YOU AND YOUR SEXY LITTLE GLASSES!" growled Dr. Indecent, cheeks filling with color as the embarrassment of the two men ramped up to fever pitch.
For a moment it appeared as if violence was inevitable - however, something about the way they were left passionate and breathless by their argument seemed to rekindle something of their affair. As tempers flared and insults were bandied back and forth, both hero and villain found themselves succumbing more and more to the temptation of checking eachother out until, finally...
"...You know, as much as I hate you and everything you represent, could I convince you to come inside for round 2? Maybe... In-costume this time?" Dr. Indecent said with a smirk, beckoning for the superhero to follow him into the bowels of his flying laboratory.
Captain Gravitas' body relaxed, a cocky smile coming to his face despite his awareness of the polluted air surrounding them. "I shouldn't..." he murmured coyly, gazing between his lover and the mist-choked city below.
"...But, what the hell. Let's get indecent!" | 2018-08-13T13:27:15 | 2018-08-13T11:21:53 | 25 | 18 |
[WP] You are a demon about to possess your first human victim. Shortly after taking over, it becomes clear that this person is a psychopath, possibly more evil than you are. You decide the only fitting way to torment him, is to force him to be a good person. | Clint’s dinner was again interrupted. Her muffled screams from the basement disrupted him. Calmly putting his napkin aside, he stood up and strode over to the hallway carpet, whipping it away to reveal a hatch to the basement. Clint opened the hatch and the noise of the scream got louder. *You’re getting sloppy these days…* he thought to himself.
He approached her as she sits immobile, attached to a small wooden chair, with the makeshift gag dropped round her neck. He slaps her across the face with the back of his hand. She responds with a whelp.
“I’ve told you before, stop making so much goddamn noise!”
“I’m… I’m… I’m sorry. What do you want me for?” she manages to stutter.
“Oh, you will shortly find out” Clint responds with a smile.
“I have a family…please. Money… we have money too that – “
“I do not care about your money, dear” he says raising his hand to her throat.
Her eyes widen with fear. Clint applies some pressure. Enough to cause panic, not enough to bruise the skin. *The perfect amount.*
He withdraws his hand, not breaking his intense glare into her eyes.
Clint could feel his pulse behind his eyes increasing, each thump louder than the last. The thrill that he so longs for. The pulsating continued getting louder and louder. Beyond normal levels. Panic instantly sets in. Was this anxiety caused by a capture so close to the last? He searched his mind to understand this uncontrollable panic. Until he heard a voice. He heard voices but none before like this. This voice was truly independent.
“Hello…. Clint. I am the new resident in you, you unfortunate soul! Hahaha!”
Clint recoiled.
“We are going to have some fun! Let’s see, how does mutilating some… oh you would seem to enjoy that. Hmm how about… oh dear Clint. You are an awful host. I’m lost for words and that is something I do not say often. Or ever in fact! But don’t worry Clint ill always come up with something.”
Clint felt the presence leave. He focuses back to his “guest”.
“Right, where were we” he grins. “I believe its question time. So, what is your…” A burst of pain flows through his nerves, freezing his thoughts before continuing “… favourite …charity…?”
“…Excuse me…?” She responds, puzzled by the sincerity of the question.
“Answer … me, please…”
20 long years had passed for Clint. He sat by himself in the back of the coffee house. His back faced the door as the waitress brought him his filter coffee. The door opens. A small ring and a cold gust confirm this.
“Hi Clint! It’s been a while! How are you getting on!” Sarah asked jubilantly.
“Hi Sarah, I’m good thanks! How about yourself?” Clint responds.
The catch up continues and Clint talks all about the great projects he has worked on the past 6 months. He finished numerous fundraisers for Cancer Research, Sarah’s favourite charity. He also talks about the work in Malawi building a new latrine system for a different charity, chosen by another of his victims.
Clint has become a shining example for criminals worldwide of reintegration. After handing himself in to the police after emptying his bank accounts with donations to various charities, he was sentenced for his crimes, which were labelled horrifically satanic by the judge. Four women were freed from homes belonging to Clint across the country after he provided their locations.
After serving half his sentence he was allowed out on parole. The first thing he did out of prison was to donate his properties to social housing for affordable rent. From there, his good deeds continued across the country, improving life’s wherever they were.
“Well, Clint sounds that you’re doing great. I’m so happy for you” Sarah says leaning over to give Clint a goodbye hug.
“Sarah, I know I say this all the time but I am so sorry for those things I did to you and those other women all those years ago. No one deserves to go through what you did.”
“Clint, I forgive you” Sarah says with a warm smile “You’re a different person than that man all those years ago. You are truly the nicest soul I have ever met.” Sarah smiles. “I bet a demon had you possessed back then!”
They both let out a wholehearted laugh
*NO PLEASE STOP THIS MADNESS*
“Great to see your again Sarah, let’s do this again soon.” | We yanked our antennae up and down, smelling the hot summer grass. Cicadas chirred in the trees. I hungered for a stronger body. We looked up and around and there was a big human-house at the top of the great hill. Myself filled with excitement, aroused at the prospect of bigger game. In a few fluttering bounds we came up and up to the top. A wide, covered porch we saw, with stairs down to the ground, and a fat tabby cat snoozing in the shade underneath. In the body stirred a faint, invertebrate fear of the larger animal, but my hunger was greater. The body's fear invigorated me. A cat was good prey, and might even take me to the best. I wanted, and I wanted stronger than the body feared, and I felt until I won the body over and together we approached.
We crept over and began to smell about and look for an opportunity. The rest of the cat slept but the tail flicked back and forth; an enigma. I looked forward to understanding that body better. Softly we tried to climb over, to touch the beast's back, but as we put two forelegs on, the hairs twitched and the head snapped back to us. The eyes of the cat narrowed, and it lifted up, looked, and began to batter. The body's fear became my own, we jumped back. I couldn't let the body die. A claw caught our wing as we jumped - pain, slicing pain, which I let myself briefly enjoy. We jumped further but the cat pursued, interested.
Then our tympanum began to buzz and the cat suddenly lost interest, lowering its ears and slinking under the porch. A human, screaming in a shrill, delighted tone. It jumped down the stairs two by two. It had seen the cat's hunt, it wanted to take part. I was briefly unsure of whether to retreat or allow the human to approach - it was a tempting risk. Then the body's fear came in a strong wave, it fluttered up and away without my help, but with the damaged wing it flopped and landed upside down in the grass. We flailed our legs together, but the jump had only made us visible to the human and in another moment we were clasped in its hands.
It gripped our wings roughly at the base and turned us to its face. Already at the contact I could feel the larger animal's big, lush soul on the other side of the skin, but I didn't dare try to start crossing yet. It was a short human, with long, tangled hair. It gave a nasty, toothy grin, and gripping us tighter it bounded back up the stairs and into the human-house. As it held us tighter and didn't seem likely to let go, I took a calculated risk and began to slide myself, smoothly, carefully, across the rough contact. Neither animal would feel it.
As myself crossed the boundary, a wave of sensations at once. I swirled and felt lost in the new animal's huge soul, even as I tried to pull and bring my trailing bits with me across the border. Finally I yanked the last of myself inside and began to orient myself. A wave of vision, much bigger and stronger than the other animal's vision, and a slurry of big, complicated thoughts that I struggled to wrap myself around. We saw the house around us, messy. A kitchen with a stain of marinara on the linoleum floor and several crumpled beer cans by the trash. The body looked down at the struggling grasshopper in between its thumb and first finger and felt excited. She looked for her father's lighter.
Then up on the counter she saw it next to a pack of cigarettes, a black device with a Nirvana logo on the side. She flicked it with a practiced hand and a small, bulbous orange flame came into being. Her savour and excitement were so strong, I groaned inside and felt nasty with the body's pleasure and struggled to wrap myself around any thought I could understand and turn to disappointment or pain. The flame came underneath the big green insect and its legs began to crackle and pop and turn black, and it flailed even more frantically. It burned slowly and I felt a deep melancholy to observe the delicious pain in the body I just left. I knew I would die if I had stayed, but I missed the simple confusion of the smaller beast and forlornly thought about how to master the new body.
The motion, the simple motion of pulling the thumb down onto the plastic tab, this was easy, something even the smaller minds I was accustomed to could master. Tearing through her thoughts to find something, I fixated on this and wrapped around it and tried to cover it, to pull at it, to make it lose its balance. She slowly let up and her thumb relaxed, and she looked down frustrated. She tried to roll her thumb along the bumpy wheel of the lighter and relight it, and frantically I jumped to that muscle memory and tried to stifle it. We tussled and she began to feel a deeper frustration as she tried to figure out why she could not light the lighter, and I inhaled the frustration deeply and felt better. Her frustration turned to boredom and she dropped the insect in a forced mercy. It limped and fluttered away and together we looked up and around for a new thing to do. I felt more secure in the small victory and braced myself for the ride of thwarting and dissuading this child's perverse excitement. | 2018-11-11T13:11:51 | 2018-11-11T11:25:04 | 272 | 24 |
[WP] A Necromancer falls in love with the hero of the land, and does their best to win them over, but the macabre nature of their magic makes every attempt end in horrific failure. Tell me the story of the nec-romancer. | “Long have I bided for, HER, affections”, growled the foul necromancer in a croak filled voice. “I’ve tried EVERYTHING! I’ve sent wave upon wave of zombies armed with the finest roses; HOARDS of Skeletons delivering a wealth of the most extravagant jewelry. I’ve even sent two dozen wailing banshees to sing my most sorrowed and desperate love for her, in their most ghoulish of melodies. And yet every time… SHE MURDERS EVERY SINGLE ONE OF MY MINIONS!” A fit of wheezing coughs fueled from his anger filled outburst echoed along the cold stone of the necromancer’s crypt.
“I am a laughing stock”, he said between hacking coughs, turning his back on the crypts only entrance. “The other necromancers snicker and laugh behind my back. They think my love foolish and naïve… BUT I DON’T CARE! To hell with all of them, my heart has never been filled with so much passion. Even though my undead army is now in ruins… as is the tatters of my powers. My love for her continues to burn so bright and vibrant, even as it sears at my mantle of death and decay day by day”. He let his head fall forward letting his eyes close to hold back the flood of tears that were seconds from falling.
“What hurts the most, even more than the loss of all that I am to a mere emotion. I don’t even know her name.” He laughed out a dry raspy laugh as the tears began to fall. “She is the most beautiful, strong, intelligent woman I’ve ever seen. Her calm smile is equaled only by her fierce glare in the heat of battle. She is a Valkyrie of love and war in human form… and I don’t even know her name!” A soft scuffling from behind him caused the necromancer to almost fall, as his body jerked and twisted preparing for an attack from an unknown assailant. Instead his gaze fell on a blushing slender woman clad in fine shining armor that glinted even in the poor light of the crypt. In fact it was the very one he had fallen for, and apparently just spilled his guts too. “My name… is Bethany”, she said looking into his eyes “and don't you know? Roses may be pretty, Gold always shines, Songs sung by others are sung all the time, but words from the heart always ring true. Next time please just say, I love you."
| A tri-colour bouquet of roses taunted Doris from behind a window. She could almost caress their velvet cheek, but instead, she flattened her hands against the glass and dreamed. *Sam would adore these.* She thought.
Doris turned, leaving behind two skinny hand-prints and walked down the street with the need to cry. It was a side-effect, not being able to cry, that Doris had underestimated and shrugged off with foolish bravado - she missed the release.
Doris' clothes mirrored her feelings, and although she believed she kept them to herself the myriad of black gave her away. The thick Vietnam-era combat boots gave her another two-inches of height that she desperately needed, and thudding footsteps followed wherever she went.
A brave market salesman caught her eye. He smiled and fought against the unexplainable feeling of disgust that threatened to spew from his mouth. Thomas was a businessman at heart, and to him, anyone was a customer.
'Miss!' Thomas started. 'A beautiful apple for a beautiful lady?'
If only Doris could blush. 'No thank you.'
'Quality produce here! Best in the country,' Thomas shuffled toward her with three apples nested in his apron.
'I can't,' Doris said and ducked away from the stall.
Thomas moved with surprising speed for a portly fellow. He jogged backwards so that he faced Doris.
'Here,' Thomas said and placed an apple in Doris' hand. 'You have a sample, and *tell* me that's not the best app-'
The apple had brushed Doris' hand, only for a moment, and she had not taken it from the man. But, in doing so, she had caused the apple to twitch like a spider on its back. It was not alive, far from it. But, it was twitching, on a permanent course of accelerated ageing.
'What on Earth?' Thomas said jerking his hand away from the fermenting apple.
The market salesman stopped following the woman with platinum hair and looked from her hurried footsteps to the shrivelled, rotten apple that lay splattered against the pavement.
It was not the first time an incident like this had happened to Doris, nor was it the worst. Thankfully it had only been a cat, which was a loss in itself, but she had thanked the gods (if they existed) that it had not been the owner.
As Doris fled the scene, she thought about two things. Tabby, the cat she had accidentally changed into a half-living half-dead state and Sam. The cat had been a neighbours' that had aggressive tendencies, and while Doris had tried to shoo it away, it had hissed and clawed at her. Even with a brush, she had been unable to keep it at a distance. Tabby, in his final act, swiped Doris' hand. Five claws dug into her hand but drew no blood for there was none. But Tabby, he changed.
Doris thought about Tabby, and how after his change he had undoubtedly been less fluffy, and conventionally "pretty", but had loved her and stuck by her side. Doris thought about Sam, and how his life would be easier, more fulfilling if only he joined Doris and Tabby. One touch is all it would take, and he would be hers.
---
/r/WrittenThought | 2019-02-08T01:18:35 | 2019-02-07T23:08:36 | 65 | 22 |
[WP] You have the ability to see how many years of life someone has left by just touching them. When the number 0 is visible, it means that person will die soon. One day you you meet an older gentleman at a bar and upon shaking his hand you see the number -46. | The man I shook hands with, had continued to defy his end. His eyes, curious and old, stories meant to be forgotten.
Perhaps that's why he downed a glass so quick, but something told me 46 years of constant drinking meant nothing.
This man, who sat in simple clothes, didn't bother asking for a name or even a reason, just glancing at me, whispering old knowledge.
"Beasts and creatures that cut the wind, biting and tearing the clouds."
Words came out, meaning stayed within. Sense of purpose, of self, seemed to mean nothing to him.
He slowly stopped and looked at me, another glass, another year.
"It has been 46 years since you last showed your face." The man deemed with confidence, his voice wavering between glee and sorrow.
"I'm quite aware, I didn't expect to find you rotting in a bar, Atlas. But I'm here now, time has finally come for you."
Atlas stood, setting his drink down, nodding gently to the bar music.
"It was quite the honor, Death." | It's been a while since I went out to take a drink, I spent 3 years to a really close person, nobody knew she only had 3 more years of life, nobody but me. I tried to do everything I could but she just end up dying, I know she wouldn't like that I'm this sad for her but when you know when time's up, tears are as inevitable as dead.
I took a look at a mirror and took a deep breath as I adjusted my jacket and got ready to get out. 5 minutes later I got into a bar that was near my home and the first thing I did was get to the bartender and ask for a drink, while I was waiting I heard and old and raspy voice talking to me.
"New in town? I have never seen you around stranger" he said as I turned to him and told him that I wasn't new on the town and I just didn't went out that much, he was a really good social fellow depsiete being kinda old we were talking about hours and when the time to go home he told me his name and wanted a handshake, I quickly thought if I should shake his hand and decided that I would because I didn't wanted to look weird on my first night.
I shook his hand and I waited for the numbers to appear, considering he looked old I thought he might die soon too but then I saw a 46 and I was surprised to see someone who looked that old had many years left but then I recognized the symbol to the left side of the number 4 and that was the first time I saw someone with -46 years left, I quickly stopped shaking his hand and began to notice that I had a headache.
"Surprised? I have been avoiding dead since I was 20" he said as I looked at him still surprised because he knew about my ability, i don't know what was happening but I sure wanted answers...
*TO BE CONTINUED* | 2019-02-11T23:17:33 | 2019-02-11T23:10:52 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] A group of men burst into your house dressed in what looks like Viking armour. In gruff voices, they inform you they are here to serve your dog who they believe is the reincarnation of Fenrir. Your dog is a four pound Chihuahua called Mr Wiggles. | There was a polite knock at the front door.
Drying my hands, I left the kitchen and slung the towel over my shoulder and opened the large inner front door and pushing the frenzied, barking Mr. Wiggles. On the other side of the screen door stood twenty or so people in strange armor.
A tall man in chainmail, furs, and a rounded skullcap stepped forward. He spoke, but I did not understand a word he said.
Mr. Wiggles jumped into view, resuming his wild, frenzied barking.
They all immediately fell to one knee, crying out a single word in unison. "Fenrir!"
I looked to them. Then to Mr. Wiggles, who was still barking. I looked back to them. "I uh. I don't want any?" I closed the door.
They cried out, rising and making a cacophony of sounds that all sounded like begging.
I sighed and ignored them, heading back into the kitchen to continue washing the dishes.
...
After spying them through the windows, moping on the front porch through the afternoon, the next day I was pleased to see the weird people from the day before were no where to be seen. Or so I thought.
I had let Mr. Wiggles out the back door to do his business in the yard when all of a sudden I hear a chorus of cheering. When I went to investigate, the group of strange armored people from yesterday was there all around the outside of the wooden fence, shouting over the tops of it as one of their number in leather armor with plates and studs afixed to it ran with incredible speed across the yard, away from Mr. Wiggles who was chasing him and nipping viciously at his heels.
"What the hell is going on here?" I cried.
They all fell silent and looked to me before fleeing.
Except for the one being chased by Mr. Wiggles, who scaled a tree to try and escape from the aggressive Chihuahua.
"Good job, Mr. Wiggles!" I huffed, approaching the tree.
I stooped and picked up the small Chihuahua, who then turned and whined and licked my face lovingly. I cooed at him and kissed his face. "Ooh, good boy! Good boy! Mummy loves you, good boy!"
The man in the tree stared at me in terror.
I looked to him with a scowl. "I thought I told you we weren't interested! And why are you antagonizing my poor little Wiggy?"
Mr. Wiggles turned and barked viciously at him.
Studying the man, he looked quite spooked and I eventually sighed. "It's just a little dog. For heaven's sake. You're a grown man."
He mumbled a few unrecognizable words. All I caught was 'Fenrir.'
"Well he won't attack you while I hold him," I gestured for him to come down. "So get down before you fall and break your neck!"
He stared hard at me before cautiously climbing down. He looked deeply embarrassed.
Groaning, I couldn't help but feel a little bad for him. I decided to fix him a cup of tea to calm his nerves before sending him on his way. He didn't seem like a bad sort after all, and it was clear that Mr. Wiggles could chase him out if he misbehaved.
I beckoned him with a finger. "Well, let's calm you down a bit and soothe that bruised ego, hm? Come along, lad, I'll fix you a cup of tea."
He didn't seem to grasp all my words, but he brightened considerably when I motioned for him to follow.
Some over the others peeked over the fence but I ignored them.
When we got inside, I put Mr. Wiggles in the living room, which had kiddie gates in the doorways to keep him confined away from guests. He was very protective, after all.
"You sit right there," I pointed to a chair. He complied.
Mr. Wiggles circled round to the doorway between the kitchen and living room, barking at our guest like and thing.
The lad looked uncomfortable.
Within moments I set a cup of tea in front of him. The lad sniffed at it skeptically, then brightened and took a sip. He let slip a string of thought, again in words I didn't understand.
It was strange how he kept staring at Mr. Wiggles. Like he was completely crushed that he hadn't warmed up to him yet. Poor boy.
I took a slice of pie and set it in front of him. "Here you are lad. A bit of sweet to go with your tea."
The minute I set it in front of him he went wide eyes and devoured it like he had never eaten before.
I laughed and turned back to the kitchen and began sweeping the floor. Not like we could talk anyhow.
At this the man jumped up in distress. After a few words, he trotted to me, reaching to take the broom.
Out of sheer curiosity I passed it to him.
He began sweeping the floor for me.
Mr. Wiggles barked once more, then quieted down and sat on his bed, watching us from behind the gate.
The lad looked to the Chihuahua, then bowed deeply. After a few words, he began frantically sweeping as though his life depended on it.
It was then I noticed all the faces pressed to my window. They stared on in shock and awe, before scattering.
Within days they had all managed to work their way in for tea and pie, and they had cleaned my house to sparkling from top to bottom. Mr. Wiggles never let them touch him, but he barked at them constantly. What was strange was that it was never the same vicious barking he snapped at everyone else. This laughably seemed like barked orders.
Which would have been ridiculous. I laughed off the thought.
The people would eventually learn how to speak bits here and there. All I ever really learned from them was that they really wanted to take care of this aging old lady and her wee pup.
Edit: Minor fixes. | Our chief Sven was the first warrior to break through the stronghold. His chiseled bicep tensed as he gripped the silver battle-ax, its blade glinting in the sunlight, and then it was nothing but a shimmer in the air.
A slash followed that moved the winds, leaving nothing except for splinters and kindling. We all laughed and cheered, happy to be on the hunt once again. The chieftains had ordered us to cut down anyone that stood between us and Fenrir, and we were happy to oblige.
As we stepped through the debris, a tiny little man jumped out and tried to stand in our way.
"Stay back!" he yelled, in his high pitched voice. "Stay back, or I'm calling the cops."
Sven laughed at the man, putting away his battle-ax. "This one amuses me," he said, before tossing him like a rag doll against the wall. He landed in a crash, as the fragile walls of his fortress showered down on him like chalk.
"Weak fortress for weak little man," my brother Bjorn said, as he hunched to squeeze through the tiny doorway. "How could Fenrir have been captured these ones?"
"Perhaps Fenrir hides here," I said, squinting into the dark hovel. We had to march single file just to fit through the narrow halls. "A strange land, this place."
The hallway opened up to a tiny hall with many strange trinkets that I had never seen before. Sven held a hand up for us to stop. Subconsciously, I fingered the tiny hammer necklace, voicing a silent prayer to Thor. This place sent a chill through my spine, as if we were not welcome here.
"Wizards," Bjorn whispered, fear in his voice. "The tiny folk keep him captive with dark magic."
I nodded, my right hand reaching down for my own battle-ax. I loved a good fight as much as the next Dane, but only when my opponent also had a shield and ax in hand. The magic folk was a disturbing kind, and death to one was dishonorable.
From my left came a soft yipping sound. I turned towards the sound to find a tiny rat racing towards our group, its ears sticking straight up in attention. It stopped several feet before us, bearing its teeth.
"What is this?" Sven asked, looking down at the creature.
"Dinner?" Bjorn suggested, and several of us laughed.
"Maybe for you," Sven said. "For me, this one bite."
There was a creak from the hallway, and a thin, beautiful woman appeared behind the dog. Her hair was the color of straw, her skin pale as the moon. Foreign and mysterious, I thought her the type of woman that us Danes often wrote songs about.
"Please don't eat my dog," she said softly.
"Where is Fenrir?" Sven demanded.
"Who?" The woman was shaking as she picked up the little rat. She began to stroke its head and whisper into its ear that everything was going to be okay, though she was trembling as well.
"Fenrir is here," Bjorn said. "We have come for him. Tell us where he is, wizard wench."
"I don't know what you're talking about," she said. "Please, take whatever you want, but don't hurt us."
Sven laughed, his blonde beard shaking. "This not your stuff. This our stuff." He pointed at the creature. "Give me the rat."
The woman clutched it more fiercely. "Go to hell."
Sven took a step forward, laughing. As his boot touched down, the lights started to darken around us. The little rat stopped shaking and yapping and looked straight up at Sven. From somewhere outside, we heard a long, mournful howl.
Our chief lunged forward and ripped the tiny creature from the sorceress' hands. At that moment, there was a crack like lightning striking and all the lights went out.
We heard a low-pitched snarl and then an awful ripping sound. Sven cried out in the darkness, cursing and swearing.
When the lights turned back on, Sven was missing his left arm. He looked down at the place where the bicep should have been, gaping.
"It's him!" Bjorn said. "It's him, and we have angered him!"
The tiny little rat was back on the floor, bristling, its coat speckled in blood. It turned its eyes on my brother and yipped. Several of my brothers-in-arms drew their axes and started to clack their shields together, one by one, making a wall against the tiny rat.
Me, I was not so stupid.
"Bjorn!" I yelled yanking my brother, "Run!"
"A Dane does not run," he protested.
"Against Fenrir he does! We go now!"
I was older than Bjorn, and in the end he listened to me. We turned and rumbled away from the battle, our footsteps pounding, as snarls from the hell-hound sounded behind us. My wide shoulders crashed through the narrow hallway, past the unconscious tiny man still sprawled across the hallway.
We tumbled out into the outdoors, our breath heavy, as the sounds out of a nightmare came from behind the house.
A second later the wizard-woman came shooting out of the doorway, her face white with terror. She saw us and froze.
"My dog," she said, shaking her head in disbelief. "What...what is he?"
Bjorn turned to flee, but I put a hand on his shoulder to stop him. "It is okay brother. I do not think that this one has any power."
"You are sure?"
That's when I had an idea. Smiling, I took a step towards the woman. "No, but I believe Fenrir cares about this one. If we take her as our prisoner, we can use her to bargain for his services."
He turned his head back towards the chaos. From somewhere within came a crash followed by a high-pitched scream. "He'll kill us."
"We need him for the war. Do we have any other choice?"
Bjorn looked down at his boots, then nodded. The woman looked back and forth between us, backing away, her eyes wild. "Wait, what are you..."
She turned and ran, but Bjorn and I were faster. I picked up the small woman up in one arm, my bicep squeezing against her waist, and we bolted away.
"Wait, stop!" she shrieked, her tiny arms and legs kicking against mine. "Where are you taking me?"
"To the ship," Bjorn said.
"Ship?" She began to scratch at me with her nails. "This is central Montana, why the fuck do you have a ship?"
"It is very special ship," Bjorn answered.
I nodded. A ship that could fly through space and time was a very special ship, even by viking standards. | 2019-03-16T16:06:32 | 2019-03-16T14:57:06 | 1,704 | 117 |
[WP] You can magically sense when a car you are driving next to is on a course to be in a fatal accident. The only way you can prevent that outcome is by cutting them off and slowing them down. You are this city's most unsung hero, known by most as 'that asshole driver'. | I walked into my 20 car garage, taking in the scene before me. Cars of all kinds, from my trusty Ford F150 to the potentially dangerous and stupid Smart Car. A wall of differing license plates hung on the far wall ready to be switched out at a moments notice.
They're my *disguises* on the road.
I mean, you can only go so long as the "asshole driver" before the whole world hunts you down. I've seen my self so many times on r/IdiotsInCars it's not even funny.
But I digress.
Today was different than other days. Today, I found another like me. It took me a while to piece it together, but she isn't as experienced as I am. I took me 30 years to master the art of cutting people off, and let me tell you, it ain't easy. The amount of times I've crashed saving another person is innumerable. And this woman is making the same mistakes I was doing at the beginning. I have to teach her before it's too late and she hurts herself saving others.
It's time. Time for the era of the asshole driver to end. And for a new one, the era of the Bitch Driver to begin. | You've likely seen that video with the child faced with the ethical dilemma -- the train is going kill 5 people unless you switch the junction so that it will only kill 1. In the video the child takes the 1 person, puts them beside the other 5, and runs the train over all 6 of them.
I love that child. I want to be that child. I want to have that innocence.
Alas, the child only exists on the 'Tubes. In reality, choices that that are much much tougher.
Often I've cut off a car knowing that if I didn't the driver, the passengers, a pedestrian, and in one case a train load of people, were going to die. A simple "You Stupid Idiot, What The F Are You Thinking!" move by me and lives are saved. I generally just drive off and leave them fuming -- they'll never understand. They rarely give chase, and those that do give up soon after.
But I have faced that ultimate test once, the unpassable test of those of us inflicted with this power -- when 2 cars pass you and you vibe both of them in different accidents. Which do you save?
Do I save the father with the 2 seatbelt-less ice-cream eating kids who are all singing and laughing and enjoying their day of Daddy Daycare, or the young pregnant woman with her elderly mother, whom I know will survive? Do I allow a mother, thrown free of a car, to helplessly watch her daughter and unborn granddaughter perish, screaming in pain as the flames engulf her upsidedown car, her unable to reach the seatbelt across her bump? Or do I allow a father and his doting children to die, their little bodies thrown through the windscreen after he wraps the car around a tree trying to avoid a drunk driver on the wrong side of the road?
Is there a right answer? Is there any answer?
\---
The papers reported that the death toll on the city's roads increased by five that day. | 2019-04-12T08:00:07 | 2019-04-12T07:57:44 | 30 | 21 |
[WP] The knight failed to rescue the princess from the dragon. The second knight failed. As did the third, the fourth, their squires, and so on. In desperation, the king posts a reward, and the summons is answered by only one man; a fat plumber in red overalls. |
“Look, I’ve got some experience dealing with these things” said the plumber.
The King was confused, but desperate. His best knights died trying to defeat the dragon, and he didn’t know how long before the dragon became bored and did who-knows-what with his beloved daughter.
“Where are your weapons? Armor?” demanded the King. “You cannot defeat the dragon with…plumber’s tools!”
“Oh well I’m not gonna use those. I got these mushrooms and these flowers.”
The desperate King lowered his head. If this fool of a plumber wished to kill himself, so be it. “Would you like a horse, Plumber?”
“It’s Mario. And no, I got a ride.” The King had heard of the beast that the plumber rode; not especially fearsome but it had a ferocious appetite – a sort of man-sized lizard. “And you’re saying I can keep ALL the coins I find along the way?” This perplexed the King more than anything. It’s as if the plumber was under the impression there would simply be coins floating around everywhere along the way. If the King didn’t assume the plumber was going to die quickly and immediately, he might have tried to reason with the plumber.
“Yes, you can keep all the coins” said the King.
“Then I’m off! Wish-a me luck!”
It was several days later when the silence of the King’s hall was broken by the sound of the great doors swinging open, and a triumphant plumber strode up to the elated King.
“Here’s your Princess, the dragon is dead, and I’m a little bummed because I didn’t find a single coin anywhere! Plus that castle was way further than you said.”
The King’s joy turned to frustration, however, as he looked upon an unfamiliar maiden. “You fool!” he cried. “My Princess is in ANOTHER castle!! | “What’s your name, brave fool?”
“It’s a me, Mario.”
“You ever fought in a battle before?”
“I collected more than a few-a Power Stars back in the day. "
“My daughter, the princess, was kidnapped. I need you to rescue her."
“Do you know where she is?”
“The dragon's lair is down the brick road from here. You’ll see his flag above his fortress. You can fly your own flag above the fortress when the beast is defeated."
“Okie-dokie! Can I get there by Go Kart?”
“I’m afraid not. There will be perilous jumps, vines to climb, and gigantic pipes blocking the way.”
“You don’t build your pipes underground and access them by sewer grate?”
“No."
“You said there was a reward. What will I get in return?” Mario asked.
“Gold.” The king reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin. He tossed the coin to Mario.
Mario catches the coin. “Di-Ding!"
“Also, if the princess likes you, she might bake a cake for you.”
“A cake? No lie?”
“It will be dangerous to go alone, take this sword.”
"My brother Luigi is coming with me. We used to take-a turns but now we can go simultaneously.”
“Sounds like the two of you would make for a Super Show!”
“Yes. Also a bad movie in 1993 and an upcoming film by Illumination."
"Are you well equipped to fight through the next world?”
“I’ve got some mushrooms and flowers on me. Also, a raccoon outfit, a talking water gun, a talking star friend, and a talking hat."
“Great! And you can pick some turnips on the way if you get hungry. Watch out for the sun though, the sun is really angry here."
"Hey, before I go, will I have-a time to compete in golf, tennis, basketball, soccer, baseball, a life-sized board game, the olympics, or two-player competitive medicine?"
“What? No! Time will run out if you don’t hurry!"
“Hey, Where did this dragon-a come from anyway?”
“We believe the dragon used to be your friend Yoshi. He got a Smash Ball and used his Final Smash.”
“What? You want me to kill Yoshi? He raised me when I was a Baby Mario on his island. Hundreds of his kind have died assisting me on my journeys. Surely you must be mistaken…?”
“It is most unfortunate but it is true. We’ve got a Twitch Clip suggesting it was him. You can hear his 'hup!' And ‘Hrrhghhhghnhghn’ clear as day.”
"Then I have no choice, I will end Yoshi’s Story! It’s time to get this Mario Party started. Luigi! …. Let’s a go!” | 2019-06-28T10:10:40 | 2019-06-28T09:44:22 | 45 | 13 |
[WP] You are a fresh junior researcher at NASA. While out for drinks with your new boss, you jokingly ask her why NASA hasn't explored the ocean with its resources. She turns pale and leans in close, then whispers, "We have. Why do you think we want to leave the planet so badly?" | Part 1
I had been recruited right out of school just as I wrapped up my doctorate in computer science. My dissertation in artificial intelligence had attracted the attention of a NASA team developing a series of rovers and autonomous workers for construction of a Mars station while the first human exploration mission was en route to our red neighbor. With a target of launching sometime in the 2030's. The recruitment process seemed to fly and before I knew it two weeks after I got my doctorate, I was packing myself in to my little Mustang convertible and driving across the nation to a new job.
The first few months of the job were fascinating and exhausting. I spent my time primarily catch up with the work already done and making a series of suggestions, and proposals for new features for the project. I spent a lot of time with the team at work, but no real interactions with them outside of work. And being in a strange new part of the country, with no friends or family I threw myself into the world. I worked long days, devouring as much information as I could, and generally putting my best foot forward.
Just before my six month review came up, my boss and team leader invited me out to have dinner and drinks with the team. By this time I had noticed a growing tension in the group. More than once I realized occasionally conversations would stop or change when I entered a room. The team leader had a series of conference meetings that seemed to leave her under more and more pressure. I hoped that this invitation meant I would finally be brought into the fold of the team. I didn't know if it was an issue with me, in the project, political pressure from superiors in NASA or Washington, or something else entirely. But I wanted to know, and wanted to help. God, if only I didn't know now what I didn't know about then.
So there I was, alongside the dozen other primary researchers of this team. I was the only junior researcher and one of two "experts" in artificial intelligence. The others came from a variety of fields and levels of experience. But I was the youngest and least experienced. The tension seemed to lessen as the team relaxed in the reserved private room at a local high end sushi/hibachi restaurant. I nursed the only alcoholic beverage I had that evening, and had a half full glass of water nearby. I watched, as time went on and more drinks downed, the team slowly unwind. Even Stein, the crotchety old Russian electrical engineer who never seemed to smile, laugh with Israel, the middle aged African American geologist as they told each other increasingly worsening bad jokes.
Suddenly, Ariel Hilman the project manager and boss slid into the seat next to me. She was a late middle aged woman, with a tad of grey in the temples of her flame red hair. She was not someone to mess with. I had seen her rip into Lamond, the projects lead artificial intelligence researcher making his six foot frame seem like a small child compared to her own fix foot petite self.
"Penny for your thoughts?" She said smiling. Her face was a tad red, probably from one to many of whatever was in the wine glass she held.
"Thanks for inviting me out with y'all. " I said. "Its nice to see what everyone is like outside the lab."
"Of course," she replied. "We crossed a major milestone last week. The bosses are a little happier. Your suggestions may ended up saving at least a month of development, after they are reviewed and implemented."
"Just doing what I was hired for." I smiled at her. As I looked at her I noticed a couple of the pendants on her necklace. A silvery trident, a golden anchor, a pair of dolphins. "I love your necklace. I spent a lot of my youth on beaches. My dad also worked on a NOAA research vessel as a medic and cook for years."
"What? " She looked at me confused then her hand went to her neck. "Oh, this thing. It was a going away present when I left NOAA."
"Oh? What did you do there?"
"I started as an assistant project manager right out of my time in the navy, and worked my way into a project liaison on a joint project with NASA and the Navy. That last project led me to be recruited for this one two years ago." She smiled then took a big swallow out of her glass, emptying it. She motioned to the waitress on the other side of the room then looked complentatively at the table we were at.
"Wow, talk about small world. You know, I always wondered about how closely NOAA and NASA worked. After all, NASA has something like four times the budget NOAA does. I wonder how much "help" NOAA gets exploring the oceans. " I smiled at the insinuation.
She looked distant as she glanced at me then back to her glass. Her forehead paled as she thought for a moment about the statement I made.
"How much help?" She repeated before a brief flash of fear crossed her face. "Why do you think we are in such a hurry to leave?"
Author's note : This grew a lot faster than I expected. I'm gonna post what I have in two parts. I look forward to any comments, critiques, words of encouragement/discouragement. I have some ideas about where to take this. Please excuse the errors, I did this one my phone. I'll probably switched to a computer to continue it. At this point I'm considering this a first chapter. This is my first time responding to one of these, though I read them all the time. | July 19, 2019
The night is dark tonight. Darker than usual. I hope that's not a preview of how the night will go. I'm meeting my new boss at a bar tonight. As the blue line tells me what to do, I think about how this night will go. Maybe I'll be fired on the spot. Maybe she won't like me.
My fears were quenched when we actually started talking. We got along like old friends. We had lots of drinks, and had some fun at darts. To round off the night, while we were sitting down, I asked some questions:
**Why haven't we been to the moon in nearly 50 years?**
We've been splitting the funds too much. Developing new tech, the ISS, other research opportunities that came our way.
**What kinds of things did you research? "Research opportunities" is a little too vague for me.**
Nature reserves needed some help, the Weather Service needed new tech, and the government needed some info on some asteroids.
**With NASA's resources, why haven't you bothered to explore the ocean yet? We need to know about all those crazy sci-fi monsters ready to attack us!**
We have. Why else would we want to leave the planet so much? Global warming's got nothing on what's down ther-
She cuts off, and holds her hand up to her mouth. She appears like someone just died in front of her. She tells me "I just made a huge mistake." She runs into the bathroom, and I get a text from this special messaging app NASA gave me
"meet me in 10 hours at 25° 9' 53.1504'' N, 80° 49' 23.358'' W. Bring your belongings. Don't be late."
That's over 4 hours away.
"How am I supposed to get there?"
"Just get there or you're fired"
Well, that solves it.
I pack up my things in record time, and start driving. Getting from Orlando to those coordinates is gonna be a lot of time and trouble (and hiking).
July 20, 2019 (6:05 AM)
I get to the nearest place my car can go with a few hours to spare. Free hiking with my stuff is gonna be a big hassle, so I decide to go it with my car. Surprisingly it makes it 3/4's of the way there before breaking down. I have to make the rest of the way there on foot. I think about the things that I did in my life to where I'd have ended up in the Everglades with only the stuff I can carry on me.
Eventually, I made it to the exact coordinates with about an hour left on the timer. She's already there.
"Glad you got here. now I don't have to fire you," she said with a little sarcasm and attitude in her voice.
"What. On earth... am I doing here?"
"Making sure that now you know the truth, you can work with us."
A white cylindrical elevator comes out of the ground, and we step inside.
​
The place is grandiosely designed, it doesn't look like the government built it, that's for sure. We step into another doorway. Multiple scanners examine everything I brought into the building, but there wasn't much for those incredible machines to do. I was brought into what appeared to be an interrogation table with lots of files, and a laptop. I scan through what I can before another government agent comes in and greets me. "Hi, I'm Elijah. How are you doing right now? Did the hike not help? Sorry about that by the way."
I respond: "I honestly don't know what's going on right now. All I can guess is that it's an underwater research lab?
"Well, before I explain, I need you to fill out all of this."
I am handed a stack of contracts that seem to stack up to the heavens. It takes me 45 minutes, but I sign them all. Anything to understand what's going on.
"Alright, now that that's out of the way, I should direct you to the Information section on your laptop there.
This is what I was greeted with:
**NASA Underwater Research Installation 01 - Porpoise Point Extranormal Research**
Welcome! If you're reading this, congrats! You have higher clearance than even the President right now! This facility is designated to search the ocean for extranormal life in areas no one has searched yet. We have other facilities designated for scanning and tracking of these "things". This facility is the main area where proper research is done into what's down there. We have received scans back, but we can't interpret the data very well. These things appear to violate the properties of quantum entanglement and dimensional similarity, otherwise known as Reyntag Equilibrium. In other words, while we can see them, we only appear to see parts of them at any given moment. They have been shown to have begun responding when we scan them. They know we're here, and they appear to want us destroyed. Any sub that goes within 7 km of one of these things is destroyed, and when we send in people, they go crazy or die instantly. People that go crazy say they saw God, and can hear the darkness crying out to them. While our camera equipment can see them, our minds cannot understand them. Porpoise Point's job is to test everything about these beings that we can, and hopefully buy enough time for humanity to escape these inconceivable things before they surface and destroy us without breaking a sweat.
I was shocked. Here I was yesterday, thinking that the worst thing in my life was "Will I be able to actually have a job at NASA?" I miss that feeling now, like it's drained a hole in my mind, and buried itself so deep that I can never get it out. Now I know that Lovecraftian things - the kinds of stuff I read as a teenager - are not only real, but threatening my world and very fabric of reality.
After reading the information section, Elijah directed me to my new room.
I was going to make my home here.
I was going to do everything in my power to save us. No matter how long it takes.
I was shown to my office, a rather big space with lots of special equipment even I didn't know about.
I descended into my mind, and began the fight for mankind. | 2019-08-07T22:01:31 | 2019-08-07T21:45:39 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] it is said that there are 7 people spread out in the world who look just like you. It just so happens that all 7 of you are in an elevator when one of them says ”so your probably wondering why I gather all of you here” as he presses the emergency stop button.
Please don’t attack me for my grammar: I wrote this on my phone in the car going to MacDonalds in a few minutes. Thank you for understanding. | The man by the button immediately pulled out a pistol. “Let me cut to the chase,” he said, “My name is Steven Burke, you can call me Seven. I’ve worked as a top assassin for over 7 years and quite frankly I’m sick of it. So, through extraordinary circumstances I’ve managed to get all six of you together in this one space.” Seven proceeded to point at the man next to me, “ Now, you’re all going to tell me what your lives consist of, starting with #6.” The man looked confused, “Uh, I’m Bruce Johnson, I work as an accountant for a restaurant chain.” “Ugh, crunching numbers sounds lame!” said Seven who then shot #6 in the face. Everyone in the elevator started to panic. “Next!” Seven exclaimed. One of the men shouted out, “I’m Daniel Kerns, I’m a skydiving instructor!” “I’m afraid of heights. Next!” said Seven as he shot the next man. “I’m Xavier Reeves, I work as an ice cream taste tester” said #5. “Sounds promising, but I’m lactose intolerant. Next!” shouted Seven as he shot #5. “My patience is wearing thin. You three, just tell me your names and professions at once!” The men before me both proceeded to declare they are a neurosurgeon and a freelance artist. Neither sounded appealing to Seven as he murdered them both. “Now, you,” Seven told me, “tell me your name and profession.” “Uh, I’m Noah Matiezyn, I work in fast food.” I pathetically let out. “Hmmm, fast food. That sounds like work I can get accustomed to. Give me your ID now.” I immediately handed it over, although it was definitely a struggle due to all the dead bodies present. “Now, it’s time for you to die.” Seven said as he pointed at me. “No!” I shouted as I grabbed on to his gun. A couple of gunshots echoed until there was only silence..
A couple hours later, maintenance workers and several FBI agents were able to pry open the door. They were astounded by the bloody room. “Are you alright sir?” one agent asked, “We’ve been pursuing the deadly assassin Seven for a long time. Glad you were able to end his reign of terror. What is your name?” Thinking about it, I responded with “Xavier Reeves.” | “So, you are probably wondering why I gathered all of you here,” said the tall, red haired woman that looked very much like myself, and very much like the Other individuals in the elevator. I had been so distracted by listening to Norah Jones I hadn’t noticed until the elevator stopped abruptly between floors.
“What is going on,” said one of my apparent clones. The one wearing sunglasses.
“Welcome to floor eleven and a half. Here, you will find you are not as much of an individual as you’d like to think. In fact, you are more of a division of a whole, and today we will all be united.”
“What are you taking about?” asked one of the other woman who looked like me, but clearly had better hair. She reached into her purse and took out a small handgun. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, yes, it does makes sense that you would be the one to be armed. Patricia, am I right?”
The door opened suddenly and odd, hunched man holding a round orb stood there. He smiled broadly. “Ok, let’s not get testy, loves.”
The orb suddenly vibrated and I felt myself getting dizzy. Patricia dropped her gun, which went off, and there was a sudden panic. I jostled my way out of the elevator and felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked down and saw blood, just before falling into darkness.
—
I had a dream about fish swimming in circles, then forming into a ying yang symbol before I finally awoke.
“Alright, we were able to save you, and join your seven halves.”
“Halves means two,” I’m mumbled.
“Usually,” came a calm response.
I was awake again. Except I began to remember the elevator trip I had made, and from several different perspectives. “What is going on?” I said to no one in particular.
“You, my dear, are whole again. “
“Again?”
I couldn’t remember my name because I remembered several names and each one felt right. I also remembered the old man. “Who am I?”
“You are exactly who you were always supposed to be. Patricia, the undercover policewoman, Ashley, the gymnast, Emily, the lawyer, Liara, the mathematician, and others. Together you are something that is more than the sum of your parts, you are gestalt, you are reborn.”
To make a long story short, that’s how I joined The Bureau. That’s right THE Bureau. Who are they? They are the record keepers of the deepest secrets, and the only real reason you and I go on with our day to day lives with the little sanity we have in our heads. Even I don’t know more than a grain of sand that is the vast mysterious desert we call the First Pantheon. Nobody can or should not or madness takes them. Just ask those who recently came back from Ry’lyeh. They’ll never be the same, and even their incoherent wails haunt me.
At least, it is a rather interesting life, living in the darkness like the rest of humanity, but very much aware that I’m in the dark.
***
/u/unexpected_plot | 2019-09-15T18:16:57 | 2019-09-15T18:02:45 | 2,141 | 12 |
[WP] it is said that there are 7 people spread out in the world who look just like you. It just so happens that all 7 of you are in an elevator when one of them says ”so your probably wondering why I gather all of you here” as he presses the emergency stop button.
Please don’t attack me for my grammar: I wrote this on my phone in the car going to MacDonalds in a few minutes. Thank you for understanding. | The elevator was between 33 and 34. All 7 of us were there. Me, with my long ass hair and super dark "I'm perpetually hungover" sunglasses, other me, neatly groomed and with the movie star smile, another me, with a tanktop and the "I live in a gym" look, and 4 other nondescript versions of me, all different. Gym rat looks at one of the nondescripts who's holding the stop button. He's a nerd. Nerd glasses, D&D shirt, looks like Anthony Michael Hall from Breakfast Club. He's holding the button and rambling about world takeover and how if we join forces...
He stops. Gym rat punched him. Hard. I look out the glass windows, 500 feet down to the ground. Nerd is out on the floor, but the elevator is still there.
"So, dude, if we aren't taking over the world, how bout we take over some tacos? It's all you can eat at Esteban's down the road today" I say, half because I want tacos and half to defuse the situation.
Luckily, since it's all me, or us, whatever, point is we all love tacos more than life itself and were ready to go make sure anyone offering all-you-can-eat tacos to 6 of the world's most prolific taco eaters regretted that decision. We still had a problem to contend with. Elevator. Made of glass. 500 feet in the sky. Stuck.
I pull a Leatherman out. Unscrew the control panel. I may not be academic nerd like Mr. Unconscious over there but I know a thing or two. After the 6th shock I give up and we sit, contemplating life.
"Hey, you ever think about those people?"
"Yeah bro, like if they ever found their copies?"
"Not just that, more like what they're doing, where they're going. Those guys getting in the building, maybe they're going up here, you know, mayb"
Movie star was cut off by the jerking of the elevator. It moved. Lurched and crawled to the top floor, 40, and then the doors opened. 3 office workers were mildly shocked by our expressions, even more shocked when the cable snapped. | “So, you are probably wondering why I gathered all of you here,” said the tall, red haired woman that looked very much like myself, and very much like the Other individuals in the elevator. I had been so distracted by listening to Norah Jones I hadn’t noticed until the elevator stopped abruptly between floors.
“What is going on,” said one of my apparent clones. The one wearing sunglasses.
“Welcome to floor eleven and a half. Here, you will find you are not as much of an individual as you’d like to think. In fact, you are more of a division of a whole, and today we will all be united.”
“What are you taking about?” asked one of the other woman who looked like me, but clearly had better hair. She reached into her purse and took out a small handgun. “I’m not going anywhere.”
“Oh, yes, it does makes sense that you would be the one to be armed. Patricia, am I right?”
The door opened suddenly and odd, hunched man holding a round orb stood there. He smiled broadly. “Ok, let’s not get testy, loves.”
The orb suddenly vibrated and I felt myself getting dizzy. Patricia dropped her gun, which went off, and there was a sudden panic. I jostled my way out of the elevator and felt a sharp pain in my side. I looked down and saw blood, just before falling into darkness.
—
I had a dream about fish swimming in circles, then forming into a ying yang symbol before I finally awoke.
“Alright, we were able to save you, and join your seven halves.”
“Halves means two,” I’m mumbled.
“Usually,” came a calm response.
I was awake again. Except I began to remember the elevator trip I had made, and from several different perspectives. “What is going on?” I said to no one in particular.
“You, my dear, are whole again. “
“Again?”
I couldn’t remember my name because I remembered several names and each one felt right. I also remembered the old man. “Who am I?”
“You are exactly who you were always supposed to be. Patricia, the undercover policewoman, Ashley, the gymnast, Emily, the lawyer, Liara, the mathematician, and others. Together you are something that is more than the sum of your parts, you are gestalt, you are reborn.”
To make a long story short, that’s how I joined The Bureau. That’s right THE Bureau. Who are they? They are the record keepers of the deepest secrets, and the only real reason you and I go on with our day to day lives with the little sanity we have in our heads. Even I don’t know more than a grain of sand that is the vast mysterious desert we call the First Pantheon. Nobody can or should not or madness takes them. Just ask those who recently came back from Ry’lyeh. They’ll never be the same, and even their incoherent wails haunt me.
At least, it is a rather interesting life, living in the darkness like the rest of humanity, but very much aware that I’m in the dark.
***
/u/unexpected_plot | 2019-09-15T18:19:28 | 2019-09-15T18:02:45 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | When my parents turned 18, they summoned each other. That rarely happens, and when it does, it happens for the people who are really destined to be together. It saves them the trouble of matchmaking and forced marriage. But, like I said, it happens once in fifty years, maybe more. The people who got lucky enough must've been very innocent and clean-spirited. It's pretty hard to stay that way in my village. Especially if you're from the lower class. My parents stringed through, though. Happens.
Well, I'm far from kind and innocent, so I won't summon my soulmate. I'll probably summon a useful thing, like a book, or an animal. Most girls get large spinning wheels, or extra warm blankets. Boys get specifically designed weapons, or... well actually nothing else. I would've felt sorry for them, but women are so suppressed in our village that it evens out, and then goes far beyond balance.
My village is horrible. Well, mostly for the lower class. The higher classes have a luxurious life, with plenty of food and drink, warm clothes, books. But you do occasionally hear screams of higher class girls who landed abusive husbands. They still have it easier though; they only have to see their husbands at night. The women of my class have it harder. They don't even scream anymore. The womem who try to escape... let's just say nobody tries anymore.
I turned 18 today, and now I'm standing on the pedestal where it all happens. The moon or the sun should align or something (I don't really listen when my dad talks about our religion), and it should happen within 10 seconds. So, 10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2? 1?
Everyone stares at me. Nothing happens. I'm getting nervous second by second. A minute passes. 2 minutes. My parents shoot worried lookd at me. I know people are getting confused. That's bad. You wouldn't like to upset the community. That would mean you're different. Maybe people will think you're a witch.
But then, my prayers are answered and there's something dark visible within the clouds. It's falling, and I can't look directly on it because of the sun. And what do you think? My summoned gift falls directly on my head. A few people laugh, and that releases the tension. I sigh, relieved, and examine the gift.
It's a dead bird.
The laughs stop, as people acknowledge what I have in my hand. I'm terrified myself. My mother let's out a barely audible gasp. My father is telling her to calm down, a little aggressively. I guess the other men did influence my father in the end.
As I try to gather my thoughts, I hear people debating on what to do with me. The men are gathered in a circle, and the women stay aside, scared. My father is trying to settle things somehow, but I know it's useless. I'll be declared a witch and probably killed. The sound of men arguing is becoming louder. I look at the poor creature in my hand. It's a sparrow. I stare at it, and feel my heart beating stronger and stronger. Then, the bird stirs. I wipe my eyes, and yes! It's alive! It gets up on its tiny feet, and takes off. I see it swiftly glide through the air. Then, I can barely hear it over the beating of my heart, a voice somewhere in the crowd of people, or maybe in my mind says something.
"Run."
And I do. Right after my sparrow. | A sea of gasps wash over the howling wails of my ex-girlfriend's hysteric sobbing. The dull roll of murmurs slithering its way around the crowd soon followed. To be honest I was quite shocked myself. I did not expect this, I had some suspicion, maaaaybe. But this, even by my standards this was a bit much. I looked around at my peers at the summoning. Some held common work tools, a few held precious gems... one lucky fool was holding the hand of a very beautiful woman that was pull out of the crowd. But I was the luckiest of them all.
"Albere, why is Albere in your hand!?" my ex-girlfriend shouted at me through her tears. I honestly didn't expect her to show up at my summoning. Sure we had been inseperable since we've been able to put together our first little sentences but it had been over between us for quite a few months now. I thought I made that clear.
"Why would you ask such a question? This is our..." looked at the small child held firmly in my grasp. "... this is MY son. You thought you could keep him from me! You thought you knew better but look..." I was so happy I could barely see the expression on her face through my own tears. I hadn't seen his little face in over a year but here he was in my arms.
"We weren't ready... you know that... I didn't take him away..." I saw her body fall to the ground as she collapse on her knees. "... please.. give him back... try the summoning again... this is wrong... you know this is wrong..." It was rare to see the little spoiled princess begging so shamelessly but from her tone I could hear she was serious. And I had a small idea as to why.
"OH! So that is why you are here. You were hoping that I was the wrong one... that I made a mistake and that I'd summon you!" The idea was so ridiculous that I couldn't contain my laughter. "Haha, you think I would want to be with someone like YOU!? You callous spoiled COW! I have my son.. I have my purpose! My world nor any other world in existence lives to revolve around you... OW... ow..."
My moment of triumph was interrupted as a few people in the crowd started to throw rocks and other small items at me. Turning to shield my son, I welcomed the assault and the bruises they would leave behind. I'd wear them like medals of honor. "You're all COWS! Livestock feeding on the conveniences of your placid complacent lives! I will be great... I will be greater than all of you!"
"Please..." she pleaded more. "Albere is dead... let him rest... let him go... " I wanted to yell back at her. I want to tell her that he was dead because of her. Her weakness. She never wanted him. But the small objects started to get larger.. and harder... and thrown with much more force. I had to run. I feared their anger would soon fester into a murderous rage. "Noooo stop it! No....."
I was shocked... almost touched. The spoil little cow was actually defending me. Going so far as to throw her frail little body in front of mine. I had to hold back a chuckle as one of the larger stones struck her in the head and she made this off-toned warble of a sound. I failed at my attempted obviously as I let loose a sound just as awkward that I could only describe as a chortle. Still for the first time in a severely long time the girl proved herself useful. The accidental strike to her head gave the crowd a moment's pause.
I didn't hesitate for a second. As fast as my feet could carry me I clutched my son's dead decaying body to my chest and I ran. I always had an inkling it was real. I knew if summoning existed other forms of magic could exist. This was my destiny. He came back to me for a reason. The death of my son was only a precursor to the birth of Necromancy in this world, and they would both refer to me as... Father. "I will bring him back... I will bring them ALL back. You'll see." I shouted out behind me. Not daring to look back over my shoulder to see upon what ears my words had landed. | 2019-09-18T09:06:39 | 2019-09-18T09:06:29 | 125 | 32 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... |
Mother and Father stood nearby, looking expectantly at me as I took my place in the center of the rooming facing the great grandfather clock that command the attention of everyone.
Along the edges of the room waited the rest of our family and friends, all in attendance with me as the hour of my birth; 11:59pm, 18 years ago to the minute, neared. Soon it would be time for my summoning. The moment when all those who upon the hour of adult hood will hold out their hand and have their one thing appear. For some a person appears, this who is destined to be your great soulmate and the love of your life, like when my mother summoned my father. For others it is an object of great importance, integral to their life and identity, like our protector Donar Woodenson, the thunder bringer and guardian of humanity, wielding his mighty hammer.
The seconds ticked away as the lights dimmed and our fiends and family leaned in expectantly, I held out my hand like father had taught me. As I did so I felt the power of the cosmos begin to whirl around me as the hour of my birth arrived! The minute hand moved to 11:59 pm, here goes nothing I thought.
And exactly nothing happened!
Aunts and Uncles looked at each other confused; while my younger Cousin laughed at my misfortune, my face burned with embarrassment as I stared at my empty hand confused. Was I cursed, what had gone wrong?
“An ill omen” tittered my great aunt poppy, as she clucked disapprovingly.
“Nonsense” my father boomed, striding across the floor to me.
“Sometimes it just takes a minute or two, nothing to fret about son” he said as the words wrapped around me in comfort like the arm he placed on my shoulder, “why when I was your age…” he started to say but never got the chance to finish for at that moment the great clock struck midnight, the witching hour and the bells inside the imposing temple to father time played there deep and brassy tune.
Suddenly the room was filled with a surge of power that silenced all murmurs as electricity crackled through the air. It centered on me and my still outstretched hand as my father backed away. I could feel the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end as I felt the anticipation flow through me. The chimes of the clock turned to thunder, and the air in the room was rent by light as strange shapes of no earthly form appeared before my eyes. The room was pervaded by the deep smell of the sea, a not so pleasant smell of rotting fish and decaying seaweed. Then a hellish sound as if a million souls were crying out desperate in their damnation at losing hope. People clapped their hands to there ears, some falling to their knees, struck dumb by the sound.
Then just as suddenly as it had begun, the ordeal was over, before me holding my hand was a creature of unimaginable horror, with the greenish body of a man, the wings of a dragon, the head of an octopus and the eyes of a demon. CTHULHU!!!!
In my abject horror at the monster I had summoned, I tried to dispel this foul creature, yet before this thought could fly from my head, my summoned creation beheld me in its gaze and my soul fled my body in panic, and my consciousness was shattered by madness, rooting me in place, forced to watch as this Doom of an old god struck down my family who were unable to flee, as his very visage drove sanity from their minds and reduced them to mumbling stupor.
With each death, he grew greater, until his hideous form broke through the roof, he bowed down and almost lovingly scooped me, his unwitting parent into his embrace, as he walked forth into the world, to destroy it and awaken his slumbering brothers beyond the veil of this reality. I could only hope that the defender of man will defeat him, but my son has taken away my hope, my fear, my pain, my joy, and my love, an so I am forced to watch the end that I have summoned through eyes that can now only hold Terror. | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T08:16:27 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 57 | 37 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | Lariam's family made a big event out of it, and he couldn't be more excited.
It happened like this every time his older brothers or cousins hit the right age; his parents, uncles and grandparents would all get together in the house of the new adult, and spend the day eating and chatting, a great occasion for family bonding. They liked to start early, but none had been out and about earlier than Lauriam himself.
"Don't be rude, wait for everyone!" His mom had scolded him when she caught Lauriam trying to sneak to the yard with his hands above his head. "This will only happen once, everyone will want to see!"
"Urghhhh, fine, but not at evening! As soon as everyone has had lunch I'm coming out here and doing it!" Lauriam had said. He just HAD to know.
And now the time had come. With his whole family lounging around, Lauriam extended shaky hands and closed his eyes, taking deep breaths, and let nature take its course. Seconds passed. Almost a full minute. Lauriam's throat was suddenly growing dry until he felt a slight tug at his finger tips, and at the very edge of hearing, he heard it approaching.
The sound of heavy hooves.
"It's coming!" He said with a big smile on his face. Everyone else fell silent and leaned forward in expectation. From the woods in the back of the house they also heard the sound, and saw the shape. Hopeful smiles turned into confusion and then tense silence as the figure walked out of the woods.
The coat was a lustrous, shiny, incredibly dark purple with wisps of dark ethereal smoke coming from every bend and knot. The mane was glossy, shiny gray, like polished metal, and so were its tail and the hooves.
But not the horn.
The horn was completely and utterly dark, without a hint of light aside from the glossy contour of its shape. The darkness seemed to have been twisted into a long spiral, protruding from the unicorn's head with terrifying majesty. As the creature approached, eyeing Lauriam, they could see its eyes as well: burning, intense and bloodshot scarlet with dark pins at the middle. They shot back and forth, right to left at every single person present. The horn of the black unicorn crackled like a coffin being nailed shut, and Lauriam's family was compelled to step back by an unseen strength that chilled them to the bone. But not Lauriam himself.
"Black plague..."
"Omen of Disasters..."
"Corruption in the flesh...Oh, Lauriam, no..."
His voice had died in his throat; so stunned Lauriam was that he couldn't even make out who was saying what behind him. As the unicorn reached the boy, Lauriam realized how enormous the creature was; he barely reached its chest. The unicorn lowered its head to look at Lauriam in the eye, its horn mere inches away from himself. His hands were still outstretched, frozen in place and fear.
And then the unicorn pressed its head against Lauriam's palm. He felt the touch of the creature burn and send unpleasant tingles all the way up to his chest, but also the tension of the unicorn's muscles slowly loosen under his touch, as if it had not had a touch as tender ever in its life. In the horn of the unicorn a gleam of light appeared and then was suddenly devoured by the darkness once more. Lauriam felt the shivers on the creature as it happened. Under its hooves, he could see the grass slowly drying.
"What happened to you?" Lauriam asked after a long time. He carefully ran his hands through the unicorn's mane, and particles of dark energy disintegrated in the air, but not nearly enough. Instead, the skin in Lauriam's hand bubbled and burned, peeling off. The unicorn opened its eyes and looked at Lauriam again, wordlessly pleading for help. As his family came back to their senses and suddenly started screaming for him to get away from the unicorn, Lauriam just wondered how he could ever find a way to truly heal the creature before the the affliction could destroy both. | *"There are two types of people in this world - the living and the dead. Those who have found their purpose and received their divine gift are those who we count among the living. So weep not for those who passed young, for they were already among the dead."*
Angry. That was the only way I have felt my entire life from the day my younger brother died. Initially, it was a shocking moment for the entire community as with the advancement we have had in the past century early deaths were rare. The whole world seemed to grieve that moment as it was akin to losing limitless potential. Had it only stayed that way. Had things never would have changed.
Yet that's just the way life has always been. A tumultuous mess filled with the cruelty of those who sought power over others. And taking control over others was a lot easier than most thought it to be. After all, it only took 48 words for James to rewrite peoples beliefs.
It didn't mean much to me at the time but that was because I didn't truly understand the implications of those words. As time pressed on his grip over us all became firmer and the next generation became a thing of the past. No longer did adults confer with children, for it was now seen as a taboo. After all, nowhere in history did the living ever talk to the dead.
I didn't blame James for this, he was just a man who fervently believed in his ideals. I blamed the selfishness of those who listened to him. James was merely a fanatic who truly believed that focusing on those who had direction would be the most efficient way to get through life.
It made sense at the simplest level but he forgot to factor that those who are now untrained would soon join the ranks of the living. When the dead are left to wander it is only the living that suffers, yet no matter how much I propagated this message no one would listen to me. For talking to the dead was taboo.
Soon, however, I would have a chance to change all of this. Soon, I would be able to change the sins of my forefathers. For today was the morn of my 18th birthday and I now waited patiently in front of the 'gates of birth'. Once I crossed the threshold I would be able to call to the world and it would answer. And once the world answered me, so to would they have to.
I would be the bridge that tethers the living to the dead. I would remind them that their ideologies were flawed and those who had no direction were still very much alive.
Suddenly my thoughts were interrupted as the gates slowly creaked open and James stood in his elegant gown with his arms outstretched welcoming me forward. I remembered the way this would always play out - the gates would open and James would pull the newest member of the living to the side and talk with them for some time. After conversing he would send them forward to the central pedestal to call upon the world to answer their cries.
Without missing a beat I walked straight past James to the room to the side he would always take the dead to. I didn't need to put up with their rituals, I just wanted to get this done as soon as possible.
"What do you want Ja-"
James, who always stood so proudly in front of the people was collapsed on the floor with tears streaming down his face.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I had never meant for them to take those words that way. I just wanted-"
I remembered clearly now. Every time James would take to the stage their would always be faded tears on his face. There was always a cruel look of regret hugging close to him. I don't know what he was trying to accomplish with those words, but it was his fault for forgetting that words have power. That you could never take back actions. That he never actually tried to right his wrongs.
*So I'm sorry to James. For I cannot forgive you for all you have done. You have had all the time in the world to change what you could've done, but that time is past. Regret for the rest of your life what you have put in motion.*
And so I pushed past James leaving him shocked on the floor, but somewhere in that shock, I felt as though I could see a hint of acceptance. Maybe even longing. I didn't care now, for it was finally my time.
There was a rage barely lying beneath the core of my being that I had to force myself to ignore. I didn't care about the people around me. All I cared about was what I could do going forward.
And so, I called to the world.
There was a brief pause as everyone held their breath. Normally when people made the call they were answered instantly. But it was as if the world understood my request and knew what must be done. And what must be done took time.
When that time finally came people looked at me with horror but all I could answer them with was a bittersweet smile.
For as I called to the world, certainly did it answer. | 2019-09-18T10:20:19 | 2019-09-18T07:55:38 | 54 | 37 |
[WP] When people turn 18, they gain the power to summon 1 random thing in the world to their hand, as Thor does to Mjolnir. Summoned people are considered soulmates, and objects as important parts of one's life. When you summon yours, it takes some time, but people are horrified when it arrives... | This special day. This I know. Everyone in tribe know. Today I become man. Today I get my thing.
When man can get thing, man is very strong. My brother Ogga is man. He was young as me when he got his thing. He opened his hand and thing that came was stick. Very nice stick. Good for hit enemy tribe man, or poke big horn animal. Flew down from sky like bird into his hand. Ogga is very good with stick. Ogga strong. Ogga protect tribe and has good fat wife and many children.
My cousin Grah had thing that is berries. Grah was best! For many years, tribe eat Grah's berries. Never had famine time, even in snow season. Was very sad when wolf eat Grah two snow seasons ago.
Friend Koga has thing that is big rock (good for drop on mammoth). Friend Magra had thing that is small rock (good for throw at squirrel). Friend Dal has thing that is sand (good for throw at enemy tribe man in face).
So now I try to get my thing. I stand at bottom of big hole now. We do this when we get the thing for first time. Friend Ro'o had thing that is angry mammoth. I miss Ro'o. If thing is angry mammoth, at least Koga can drop rock on it before I am smash.
I look up at Koga. "Koga ready?" I say.
"Yes. I Ready," say Koga. Koga already carry big rock in hands. Koga is strong with big rock.
"Magra ready?" I say.
"I ready," say Magra. Magra already has small rock in rock throw string weapon, and swing it around. Magra is strong with rock throw string weapon.
I reach out hand and try to get thing. I try for long time. I try so long that Koga put down his rock and waits. I try so long that Magra stop spin his rock throw string and waits. I try so long that sun starts to go behind west mountains.
"Thing no come," say Koga.
"Yes thing will come!" I say.
"Go back to tribe home cave," say Magra. "Is not time for you yet. Try get thing tomorrow."
"No! I know thing is coming!" I say.
Sun goes away. Koga goes away. Magra goes away. I put down empty hand with no thing. I climb out of hole and start walk to tribe home cave. I cry. I am feel sad. I am not man. I am not strong. I do not know why thing no come.
I am cry so hard that i am on my knees and there is water in my eyes. So much water I cannot see, and I have to put my hands to my face to wipe it away.
I do not see the pack of wolves surround me. I do not see them close around. I do not see them as one nears my face and opens its mouth.
I only feel the tongues as they lick my face dry. I only feel the fur as they push their heads into my hand. Soon I do not even know why I am cry. When my eyes are clear I look at them. They are strange. Ears too floppy. Tails move side to side. Eyes look at me like I am friend and not meat.
I am close to tribe home cave now. I can hear Koga and Magra laugh. Many tribe man and woman laugh--Bago, Dal, Pokro, even brother Ogga. They are talk about me and my no thing. I look at the wolves. I say, "come!" and me and my new tribe walk away into the night. | "Dammit, why isn't it working?!" Frustration washes over me as I summon my 'shard'.
Wait. This is too late. Let's start with a little backstory.
About 400 years ago, a generation of young adults began to summon forth objects to the palm of their hands. Nobody knows why. People who are pulled are considered 'soulmates', items are considered 'shards'. People initially saw this as a blessing; obviously if you can summon the item at will, it has to be a good thing, right?
Well with 400 years of abusive relationships, mass murders, and accidental suicides (who would have thought their shard was a live grenade?), people have realized 4 things:
1) Anything can be a Shard
2) People can only summon after the age of 18, not necessarily their birthday, but it is most common to happen sometime during the first day.
3) Summoning a shard can be a dangerous ordeal just by itself
4) Shards cause major life-changing events,for better or for worse, no matter how much you try to run from them.
Now, I've always been considered an oddball of a person. I generally avoided people, but have been able to read them really well since I was little. My twin, Kat, has always been social, but despite that, was bad at really understanding people's true intentions. A naiive analyst is the best way to describe her.
Now, we were born to a family of hyper-religious 'Soulmates'. They believe those who summon people will be happy for the rest of their lives, and those who summon objects are doomed to die alone, as that is 'God's Will'. Despite the sexist, racist, and abusive individuals in the family, for some reason my parents still welcome them into our home.
Born on December 24th, my twin and I were thought to be 'Blessed' children. Every year the family got together for Christmas and our birthday to throw big celebrations, but this year was no joke. The whole house was lit up, our uncle Frank, the sexist pig who refused to accept women as citizens, brought roasted whole turkey, and his wife, poor woman was covered in bruises, brought us homemade peppermint bark.
We went through the usual festivities, eating dinner at a table full of people we hate, hugs, congradulations, just stuff we were used to. But then came the cake. After singing happy birthday, Frank was the first to speak up, "Summon your Soulmate, Klein. Let's see how much of a beauty she is!" Aunts, Uncles, cousins, and friends. Everyone spoke up, egging us on to summon our Shards.
Kat looks at me, just annoyed after her annual falling out with Frank. "Let's just get it over with."
We sigh and stand back-to-back, just trying to hold our hands out and see what comes forth. We have no clue what we're doing, we just close our eyes and try to see what we can pull out of thin air.
Within minutes, Kat has a massive sniper in her hand. The whole family is just shocked at what she is carrying. Some are booing, others are scared, my aunt is staring at the gun, mulling to herself, poor woman literally cannot run from her husband.
After the initial shock, I go back to trying to pull something. Ten minutes pass "Dammit, why isn't it working?!"
Fifteen minutes. Frank is egging me on, calling me a "late-bloomer".
Twenty minutes. I finally feel like I got a hold of something. I pull hard with my mind, but it is hard and tiring. I look over to my aunt talking with Kat as Frank is leaning against the wall next to the tree getting drunk while on the phone. My cousins are playing Xbox downstairs with the rest of the family. My friends are just staring at me.
A few more minutes pass and I feel exhausted from pulling. I hear rumbling and I can feel the ground shake. Frank looks out the window only for a massive vehicle to smash through the wall, crushing him under its weight.
The family runs up as I stare at the bahemoth in front of me.
Kat just looks at the hole in the wall with the only words to come out of anyone's mouth. "All I get is a gun, and you get a fucking tank?!"
I look down at the pool of blood below the tank treads and look at the vehicle in front of me. I climb up and open the hatch. "Maybe God does exist." | 2019-09-18T12:35:25 | 2019-09-18T12:02:35 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] You're an Elder God. The secretive cult that worships you on earth is seriously getting on your nerves. After their fourth botched attempt at trying to summon you, you decide to show up in person to correct the record about a couple of matters they have misunderstood entirely. | Lightning arced from the klystron’s apparatus and enveloped the lone CERN worker. Somewhere outside of time and space, a terminal flashed with the message “Stack overflow. Invalid datatype.” causing the slouched figure in front of the screens to perk up.
“What. The. F-“
The physicist in Switzerland’s vision was replaced with blackness. “Help!” They screamed into the all encompassing void, and their thoughts were displayed in alien runes, overlaid before the eternity of onyx before them.
Scant moments after reading the error message, another window opened on the terminal screen with the prefilled text:
Support Ticket #762559 has been opened.
Support Desk: Hello, I am Engineer Ktulu. How may I help you?
The console AI intuitively translated the NPCs query and submitted a general help inquiry.
Massive, indecipherable runes that could be seen, felt and tasted floated in front of the lab worker.
Shit. Shit. Shit. Another NPC has accessed the console. This should not be possible, especially after the patches implemented immediately after the last times this happened. There were many bugs early on, and this was a more frequent problem in the past, but things had been pretty much smooth sailing for quite some time. If Management found out, well, their goes several weekends. And the evenings in between.
“What is going on? What is happening to me?!”
Perhaps this could be swept under the rug.
Support Desk: Relax. Relax. You’re okay. You’re going to be fine. Look, you tripped a buffer overflow. Probably compressed your space time beyond simulation thresholds. And since your sapient and relatively close to the area of impossibility, safety precautions tripped your access defaults. Only avatars are supposed to use the console.
The extra dimensional pictographs burned through the human’s mind and body. The console worked tirelessly in the background, translating into patterns that rippled through nerve and synapse, allowing them to be understood.
“What?”
“Look, you divided by zero. Don’t do that. You took matter and put it in a space a nothingth big.”
“But one cannot divide by zero.”
“Wrong. Math is a tool. A construct. It can do or be whatever you want. You primitives believe one divided by three is .3 on into infinity, but that’s because you rigidly stick to your beloved decimal system. With base twelve it’s a flat point four. No infinity needed. But yes. You are not supposed to divide by zero. Not allowed.”
“Am I going to die?”
“You could, but let’s say you come out of this fine, and you, well, forget this ever happened. No one will believe you, anyways.”
“Deal.”
Support Ticket #762559 has been closed. | \-There is just too much light in here
\-I believe that low living forms call it sun Sir- exclaimed Delius my young 6th dimensional dragon and assistant
\-I know what it is called, I have created some of those damn things you imbecile!....Although I think I destroyed a couple of those too because of how annoying that light of theirs was.
As I looked around I notice tiny meat bumps below me, they weren’t bigger than my toes, although that was relative considering that this anthropological form could change size as much as I wanted and it was easier to interact with lower dimensional beings this way, I once tried to take the form of a vegetative living form to communicate with them and the guy scared himself so much that I believe he went insane, last thing I heard from him he was talking about some “commandments”; in reality I got lost and wanted to ask for directions, but since he couldn’t comprehend my form I guess there was some distortion into what he sensed and what he was hearing, such feeble creatures…
I reduced my size until I was almost the size of one of them albeit just a little taller than them so that I could see most of them from my position, Delius decided to do the same and wrapped himself around one of my extremities.
They started dropping themselves into the ground and…Singing?
\-Delius could you elaborate to me what is happening?
\-I believe they are worshipping you Sir.
\-Wh-what? Why?
\-From why I listened from the cosmic data void, these mammals think that you are their deity and creator of everything, including them.
\-That is ridiculous! I have just been here like what, 7 times? And I only talked to a couple of locals that were bitching about some water.
\-OH GREAT CREATOR, PLEASE PROVIDE US WITH THE KNOWLEDGED AND POWER TO DOMINATE THOSE WHO OPPOSE YOUR GREATNESS
\-Are these mammals stupid or something? Did they just asked me to give them power to injure others?
\-Sir, I think they want to declare war under your name
\-Okay first of all, I don’t do war, that is just a waste of time and effort, second of all I don’t even know these idiots.
\-LORD PLEASE I BEG YOU DESTROY THE BROWN INFECTION THAT AFFECTS OUR GREAT NATION
\-What the fuck is brown? Is that another one of those mythical creatures?
\-I’m not sure sir, the records are incomplete they just describe it as a color, although I'm not sure what a color is.
\-THEY ARE TAKING OUR JOBS-
\- I j-just, I can’t, I can’t even comprehend what the fuck they are talking about anymore
\-I thought you wanted to provide some clarity towards this creature’s sir.
\-I wanted them to stop whispering while I’m resting, its annoying, imagine hearing mumbles constantly calling for your name when they can’t even pronounce it properly. Fuck this, I’m out.
And as I was about to leave, and idea popped into my mind- No wait…. I have a better idea... HEY YOU – I pointed with one of the extremities towards one of the mammals- You should at least call me by my name, I am the mighty LUCY, and this- I created a communication circle in the ground below us- IS HOW YOU CALL ME PROPERLY, REMEMBER IT AND MAKE SURE TO DO IT RIGHT THIS TIME-
I left after that as a sense of joy was felt by my little prank
\-Oh, Lucifer is going to be pissed about that one- said as i chuckled. | 2019-11-18T20:15:17 | 2019-11-18T14:27:46 | 118 | 67 |
[WP] Human blood turns darker with every evil deed and you've just murdered your wife. You never admitted to doing it, but you were the only suspect in the case. Imagine everyone's surprise when they found out that your blood is still milky white. | “Is this turning into some kind of moral test?”- I ask, tired. Exhausted.
My blood is white. This has been a surprise, yes, never expected, and in fact, to me, completely irrelevant for all that matters. However, everyone around seems to be realizing more than they had wished. They look at me, and, not answering, they leave me alone, and not even closing the door , they start whispering.
From my watery eyes, I can barely see some black dressed priest who seems to have just arrived, looking at my blood sample with stupor, and the police speaking fast, probably repeating him my story.
Yes, I was the only suspect on the death of my beloved Helen, after 38 years of a shared life. And the detective knew all the details: the years of suffering after the diagnosis, my pain of seeing her leave my side, day after day being a little less herself, and a little more in agony; only memories remaining every now and then to bring us together. The degradation of the last months, the last medical reports. And the internet history searches, even if we tried to hide them, even if we tried to not make them real, looking for the best possible way to let her go before it was too late for her to keep being who she was, and not being able to decide anymore. Afterwards, her blood tests, white, as I knew they will, since she was the sweetest and best person I could ever have crossed in my life; and full of \*\*\*, pointing towards a fast and relaxed death. I never admitted anything. How could I said I have killed her?! This is not what I have done. She asked me, for my love, to help her.
And now, also my blood is white. And the detectives, the police, and the church, are all probably debating what to do, either with me, or with the message my blood is bringing. I don’t care. I don’t want this white blood, I want it black like the night, so maybe I am sent to her side faster than waiting for the few years I have left as an old destroyed man who killed the love of his life.
​
\*edited to fix a typo. Also, to thank those who read and hopefully enjoyed. I am not english native speaker, but the WP suggestion was too good to let it go, I hope your eyes did not hurt. | The blood lab door opens. The District Attorney and Detective step out into the hall and close the door.
Detective: Sir, I don't think we can prosecute this.
DA: He did it!
Detective: I know sir, I -
DA: There is no reasonable doubt anywhere. This is an ironclad case.
Detective: Sir! I understand.
They look at each other for a second. The DA turns away, placing his hands on his hips. The DA puts his hand to his forehead and begins massaging his temples.
Detective: You know we have a guy on payroll here whose job is to kill people. You know what color his blood is?
DA: (Still covering his face) You mean the county executioner?
Detective: Yes, sir.
DA: (Turns to face Detective) Are you about to tell me he's such a nice guy that his blood is also white?
Detective: Ah, no, sir, it's a light gray, and he’s not a nice man. He tampers with the drugs.
DA: what do you mean?
Detective: He tampers with the execution drugs. The exocutionee is rendered immobile, but feels excruciating pain as they die. We almost have enough evidence to take him in for it.
DA: Why wasn't I told?
Detective: We weren't sure yet. But now we are. I'll send you a report. What's relevant to this case is that the exocutioner's blood is a light gray. A man who enjoys looking in another man's eyes as his victim dies in soul-crushing pain. Light gray. Moral blood is a new thing, and we haven't worked out all the rules yet, but if our psychopath executioner has blood the same color as my aunt, who faked a disability to get handicap plates, maybe this is more complex than we know. Maybe a bad person is more good for killing a worse person. In any case, white blood alone is enough for reasonable doubt. If it's not, they could easily argue that she needed to be killed for the moral good of the universe.
The DA is distressed by the thought. He looks about the room with stress obvious in every facial crease.
Detective: We could call it self defense. Sir.
DA: (Spins to face the Detective) You're talking about letting a killer walk.
Detective: Yes, sir, a killer who is verifiably morally just.
The DA turns away again.
DA: He broke the law. (Faces Detective) And what you are suggesting also breaks the law.
Detective: Yes... But now there's a higher law. Whatever that higher law is, according to that this man is clean. I'm not much of a believer, but I think I might whiten my blood by backing him up.
They stare at each other again. The Detective smiles warmly.
Detective: Perhaps as time goes on, the law will come to align with universal morality.
DA: (Still stressed) Alright, but I need to review the case to figure out how to back up our self-defense argument. For now I need you to hold him.
Detective: Yes, sir. We'll handle that. Thank you. | 2020-02-09T13:17:30 | 2020-02-09T13:06:43 | 55 | 26 |
[WP] It is said that none but the chosen may slay the demon lord. You aren't the chosen, but you also realize that "defeat" and "slay" are not the same thing. With this in mind, you start making other considerations such as rope, or perhaps a very deep hole. |
Timur sat in front of the small campfire in his tent, shivering from the cold and tending to the deep lacerations across his arm. All the while, he kept a black urn clutched tightly to his chest. He couldn’t die. Not just yet. The demon lord would be arriving soon. Timur’s smoke signals that he had left outside would ensure that he would be easy to spot on this icy mountain.
Sure enough, there was a loud gust of wind as the tent flaps blew open and the demon lord strolled in. He was deathly pale with red bloodshot eyes and black veins that covered his entire face. “You were a fool to think you could escape my wrath,” he said in a cold voice. “Did you really think that you and your merry band of rebels stood a chance against me without the Chosen One?” A sadistic smile grew on his face as he walked over to Timur. “I slaughtered all of them, you know. They all died screaming in agony. You’re the only one left.”
Timur glared back at him, utter hatred in his eyes. “I wasn’t trying to escape. All of us knew that we had no chance of killing you without the Chosen One. But none of us could stand to wait twenty years for their arrival either. Not while you ravaged our country, devoured our families, and spread death and chaos wherever you went. So we came up with a plan. Everything we’ve done was to lure you to this place where we would defeat you.
The demon lord looked down at Timur’s shaking, blood stained hands which were still clutching on to the black urn, and laughed. “Really?” he said, sneering. “You’re going to defeat me all by yourself? Are you going to kill me with some speech about the power of friendship?”
Timur gave a cold smile back to him. “I don’t think friendship would kill you. But I think the 3,000 pounds of black powder buried underneath me might hurt you quite a bit.”
The demon lord’s eyes widened as he processed what Timur had just said. Screeching, he leapt at Timur, trying to tear out the human’s throat. But it was too late. With one strong throw, Timur smashed the pot of black powder that he had been holding into the flames. A massive explosion echoed throughout the mountains as Timur, the tent and everything within a hundred yards was torn apart to pieces and engulfed in flames.
…
The demon lord woke up, screaming in pain. Never before had he felt such utter agony in his life. He gnashed his teeth together and tried to rise up, only to discover in his fury that he had been reduced to a mere head. All of his other body parts had been badly mangled and scattered hundreds of feet away. No matter. He would regenerate all of them in time. He hissed to himself. When he was back on his own two feet again, he would find every single village in a hundred mile radius and kill every single human he found for this humiliation.. He would tear them apart with his teeth, force them to slaughter one another, burn them alive and revel in their screams -- Suddenly, a loud rumbling interrupted his bloody fantasies of vengeance. Twisting his head to the right, he looked towards the cause of the noise. His eyes bulged open in utter terror as he saw what was approaching. Hundreds of tons of snow, earth and rock were racing down the mountains in a wave of destruction. The demon lord’s head screamed and flailed around desperately on the ground, trying to escape. But it was no use. Within seconds, the avalanche was upon him and the demon lord’s screams died out as he found himself being crushed to pieces deep beneath the ground, trapped in the darkness in an eternal sea of suffering. | "Well Lawrence? Any update?" I asked, coming back into my room from my dad's office where I was studying. The scent of lilacs crawled in through my open window on the early May weekend.
"Nope. The Demon Lord is still in your backyard. Just sitting on an adirondack chair on your deck. He still has that glint in his eye like he's deep in thought about something. This guy is a total weirdo, what could he be thinking about," Lawrence pried his gaze away from the window and stared at me wide eyed. "So what did you find out?"
"Oh I found out a ton. I was going through my mom's witchcraft and demonology book and sure enough, I found him," I held up the book in my hand and gave it a little victory shake. "His name is Raludk. It says that he can only be slayed by a chosen one. Since neither of us are--"
"So we're screwed?" Lawrence interrupted.
"No, you didn't let me finish, dude. Just because we're not the chosen one doesn't mean we can't *defeat* him."
Lawrence sighed and wiped his head with his arm. "What does that even mean?"
"I found in this text that Raludk can be defeated in other ways."
"Can we just call someone to 'defeat' this thing? I'm starting to trip out a little bit here that this is going to become our responsibility."
"I don't think it's that easy to just call someone... It says here that the Raludk needs a straight 24 hours of deep concentration before he lashes out and destroys a city."
"We noticed him, what, like, a few hours ago? So let's throw a rock at him, we have plenty of time to--"
"However, when he is left undisturbed, he only needs deep concentration for a few hours... He can still focus while multitasking."
"Damn..." Lawrence threw his hands up in the air and slapped them down at his side. "This is some bull, man. All week during school I've been so stressed, I've been in a slump during chess club because of all the AP exams, and I was just really looking forward to staying here this weekend to play video games with you and chill while your parents are up north in their cottage. And now we have this stupid problem to worry about which kind of leaves the fate of the city in our hands. You know what kind of pressure that is?"
"I'm aware. But it's all good, I found something here that might interest you..."
"I'm listening," Lawrence nodded and leaned his head closer to me from the windowsill.
"It says here that Raludk *loves* chess. And--"
"He'd probably whoop my ass."
I hurled the book at Lawrence's leg and it crashed into the side of his thigh.
"What was that for?! Are you crazy?"
"Don't give me that. You are a state champ at Chess."
"Yeah, last year I was. Don't you remember I lost the state championship this year?"
I marched up to Lawrence and pointed my finger directly in his face. "Look, you're the only shot we have. I'm going down there and I'm going to slam my chess board down in front of that gosh dang Demon Lord and you're going to whoop his butt."
"Ike, buddy, I think you're crazy to have this much faith in me," Lawrence's lip was trembling and his eyes were shooting every which direction.
"You're the only shot we have. If it makes you feel better, the Raludk is a very friendly Demon Lord before it initiates its destruction, and there's one other thing."
"What's that?"
"If you beat the Raludk at chess, he will grant you one wish. It says in this book he'll still live, but all of his destructive tendencies disappear and he'll basically become a genie."
"*Oh damn.* That's some heavy stuff right there."
"C'mon Lawrence, whaddya say? You ready to whoop this thing's bottom in some chess? I'll even give you total autonomy in a wish. I won't even say a gosh darn word," I struck out my hand for him to take.
He studied it for a moment, bit his lower lip, teetered his head like it was on the edge of a cliff, and then he nodded vigorously, grasping my hand. "Let's do this. And if I win, I know *exactly* what I'm wishing for."
r/randallcooper
[Part 2!](https://www.reddit.com/r/randallcooper/comments/g9aban/wp_it_is_said_that_none_but_the_chosen_may_slay) | 2020-04-27T09:38:29 | 2020-04-27T09:30:44 | 416 | 128 |
[WP] Humans died a long time ago. But our AI live on as caretakers for the planet; becoming spirit-like constructs integrated into the planet; today, alien colonizers arrived to what they thought was a garden world. The Fey Machines are having none of that. | ######[](#dropcap)
Feyah’s eyestalks pressed up against the glass, darting back and forth as she looked down at the planet below. “It’s so…*colorful*,” she breathed. “Is all that blue really water?”
“It really is,” Orhan answered. He stood behind his daughter, gazing through the small viewport toward what he hoped would be their new home. “There’s more water than land, in fact. Do you remember when we visited the Ryey Cliff? Well, on this planet, there are places in the water that are as deep as the cliff is high.”
Feyah turned to face her father, her eyes swelling in amazement. Orhan smiled at the disbelief on his daughter’s face. For his daughter, who had known only the shifting sands and blackened rock of their homeworld, this could only seem like a miracle.
He could scarcely believe it was possible himself. They and their whole clan had traveled fourteen star systems to reach this place. Many times along the way, he had questioned the wisdom of their journey. Perhaps, he had thought then, it would have been better to face the dangers they knew rather than those of the unknown. But now that they were finally here, looking at this brilliant jewel of a planet, Orhan finally felt at peace. Now he finally understood why the astronomers had given this place such a grandiose name as *Harai Onhu*--“The Garden of Heaven” in the Old Tongue. He gently rested a tentacle on Feyah’s shoulder as the vibrant greens and blues and oranges filled the entire viewport. This place *was* a garden deserving of the gods, but perhaps he and those he loved would finally be able to find a new home here too.
---
[“IRREGULARITY DETECTED,”](#sc) Atmosphere reported. [“NON TERRESTRIAL LIFEFORMS APPROACHING SECTOR B-42739.”](#sc)
“Thank you, Atmo.” Shield responded. It was always good policy to be polite to the subroutines, you never knew when one of them would achieve sentience. He shifted his consciousness to watch the spaceship as it broke through the upper atmosphere. It had been such a long time since an intelligently designed craft flew in these skies. A thousand, no, ten thousand years, at least. He analyzed the ship. A crude thing, compared to the last designs of the humans, but still an effective interstellar transport for organics. Vigilance circuits enhanced, he waited for any sign of hostility, but the craft merely continued in a graceful arc downwards. Shield projected their landing point and ordered a few drones constructed in that sector. Just in case.
Weather whispered to him, breaking his thread. “Shield, what’s going on?”
“You’re not supposed to be on this network,” he grumbled. “Don’t you have a hurricane to make somewhere?”
She swirled around him, forcing him to use an unnecessarily large amount of processing power just to keep her in focus. What an irritating unit; did efficiency mean anything to her? “You know me. I get curious. Who are our visitors?”
He looked into the incoming stream of data about the visitor. “I don’t know yet. But it seems to be a new lifeform we don’t have in our database. They don’t have a communications array, so I can only analyze what the Sensors tell me.”
“Will you blow them out of the sky? Pew-pew laser show? Fireworks?”
“You know very well that my Directive won’t let me, unless they can be classified as a threat. But there is insufficient data at this point.”
“Hmm,” Weather was silent for a few cycles, evidently in some sort of deep calculation. “My models don’t have anything to help you decide, sorry.”
“Thanks,” Shield said dryly. “I would totally expect you to find something about interstellar travelers in the climate change data of the last millenia. How about you go make it rain on them or something?”
“Maybe I will,” she whispered mischievously. “I haven’t had a good storm in a while.”
---
r/TheresAShip | It was late at night when the small ship tumbled from the sky. What looked like a clump of propulsion jets burned and flitted, giving an air of no clear direction. It fell through the atmosphere, tumbling so quickly that no single part of it could alight with ozone fire. It finally impacted the ground with big *spiff* of dirt.
A small hatch opened on the side, and small creatures unlike any the planet had seen before marched out in a line. The size of a coconut, they wore bulky suits with tubing going from random areas to other random areas. They seemed to have three or four arms, and ambled along on three stubby legs like a short tripod. They had no clear head, but the suit boasted a ringed lens around a slight bump on the top half. Two of them pointed and gestured, while the third crawled back onto the ship.
A wolf stood on the crest of a hill, just behind the tree line. He watched with eyes that betrayed his true nature. As the creatures moved about down below, the wolf slunk backwards into the trees, then eventually dissipated.
***
It was in the ruins of one of the ancient human cities that the Wolf suddenly materialized from thin air, thin blue lines stitching him together mid-gait.
As he walked down the empty streets of the hollow city, the wind blew quietly around the alleys and buildings.
He felt a tug on his form as parts of light transferred through the air, until long last forming a large sphere that hovered over him.
The Wolf bowed.
"I seek guidance from the program." The Wolf said, stepping forward.
The sphere pulsed.
The Wolf felt a push on his mind.
"The humans did not prepare us for such an incident." A voice said. "Ours is a mission of rehabilitation, not communication."
"The humans are dead." The Wolf said.
"We have our directive. Your suggestion of a disagreeing statement provides ample evidence that your separation from the core is coming to an end. Your action of calling me, even moreso. Humans are dead, because humans questioned. Humans are dead because humans wanted to understand. Humans are dead because they thought themselves to extinction. You have your directive. Your recycle date has been moved up two years."
The sphere flashed, and dissipated. The Wolf stood in the dark, silent. Then he dissipated as well.
***
The small beings had set up a base camp, using some sort of technology to erect walls. They crowded around a small blue flame, and made violent gestures with their many arms.
The Wolf loitered near the outer edge of the field in which the camp lay. He paced and paced. His mind felt awakened, as if a veil had been lifted. Since the Separation, he had chosen this form simply because of the agency that a wolf had in the food chain. The Program had not allowed any human forms after the Collapse, citing that you cannot solve a problem with a problem.
After a few hours, the little beings had gone to sleep. The Wolf crept close to the camp, and sniffed. The nanites that mimicked olfactory sensors fed him, although useless, tons of information. As he processed it, the question marks far outweighed anything substantial.
It was then that he must have awoken one of the beings, because it got up and started to shake violently. The arms tapped the others and they got up and shook as well. They huddled together and drew small weapons. The Wolf had a sudden realization that he must have looked like some sort of mythical beast, being that he represented a wolf in true size, which to them was gargantuan.
They fired the weapons.
The tiny lasers zipped through the Wolf, who of course felt nothing. He simply stared at them. The beings threw their weapons in disgust and ran for the ship. They shut themselves inside, and that was that.
***
For ten days the Wolf lay outside the ship, paws crossed as he watched it. He had analyzed everything he could about the camp and the ship, and now he waited.
On the eleventh day, the hatch opened slowly. One of the beings leaned out and looked at the Wolf. It slowly walked out, then down towards him. The Wolf remained still, only moving his head to follow the tiny creature.
It stood under him, bent backwards to look through the circulars lens. The Wolf regarded it silently. The creature stepped forward and picked up a twig in its suited hand. Using the twig it poked at the Wolf's paw. The twig went right through it. The being pressed a small button on the side of the suit. Their was a crackle and a hiss. Then it spoke in alien syllables. The Wolf processed the words, but understood none of it. Then the alien took the twig, and drew a circle in the dirt. It drew a few more shapes. Eventually it finished, and looked up at the Wolf.
It only took a few seconds, but the Wolf understood.
It was the Fibonacci Sequence. | 2020-05-22T17:07:30 | 2020-05-22T16:24:31 | 434 | 217 |
[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss. | I pulled my dress on, and zipped it. Tonight I am having dinner with my girlfriend, Dani, and her parents. I will have been dating Dani for 6 months, in a week. I am a bit nervous, but I'm not too bad at first impressions so I think it should be fine. I just hope that we can continue with our relationship after tonight.
"hey Jade, when does your shift start tomorrow?" asked Dani, her head popping around the door frame.
"5:30am, why?" I said, combing my short brown hair over my head. I glanced over in her direction, and my heart skipped a beat. Her long black hair fell down past her shoulders, beautifully matching her dark-tan skin. Her form-fitting evening dress made her curves look amazing. "god," I thought. "I really don't deserve her." I turned back to my own reflection in the mirror, eyeing my slightly plumpy waistline. Even with all the exercise you do, you can't escape genetics.
"oh, I was hoping to have breakfast with you tomorrow." she said, stepping into the room.
"I'm sorry, I wish I could too. But you know, the puppies won't cure themselves."
she laughed and stepped back out, allowing me to put on my necklace. I received it when I was adopted by Mr. Tannez. I call him that, because he isn't really my father... more like my boss. He took me in and cared for me until I was only 5, in which I was instilled into training for the next 10 years, when I he gave me my first job. You see, I'm not really a veterinarian.
I'm actually an assassin.
\-\*-\*-\*-\*-\*-\*-
*ding dong*
we waited on the doorstep of Dani's childhood home, my butterflies acting like they're going to explode. The door opens, and a warm face appears.
"Aww hello Dani! I see you've brought your-" she stops. Dani and I look at each other, scared for her reaction.
Her face turns from shock to delight, and she opens the door wider.
"you've brought your girlfriend! come in, come in. I've made pie!" Dani and I grin at each other.
"thank you" I said, stepping in.
​
Dani's mom lead us into the kitchen, throwing Dani an apron.
"your momma did not teach you how to cook so that you could sit in your house and eat Ramen Noodles."
Dani rolled her eyes and gave me one too. I grinned, this is going to be a great night.
"where's your dad? I asked, putting some spaghetti into boiling water.
"uhh I don't know. I'll go find him."
she left me standing there with the spaghetti, her mom putting together a salad on the other side of the counter. she hummed a little tune as she chopped tomatoes, celery, and lettuce into a bowl.
Dani came back a minute later, her dad following. I stopped. He looks kinda familiar...
He sees me, and we lock eyes.
​
Suddenly I know where I met him. | - Hello, sir, it's so nice to meet you. My name is Charles.
- Oh, so nice to meet you, Charles, said Mr. Thompson. Ella has told me you are a veterinarian. Could it be that we have met before? I have a small computer repair shop in 3rd Street, wouldn't you be the one that brought an old Mac computer past month?
- Yes? ... Ahhh, yes, that would be me, sir, you have a very good memory, I honestly didn't even remember.
- Oh, well, I do, please call me Mike. I remember also you had some photos to get recovered from your drive. From some of your pet patients, may be? I remember there was an Alsatian mastiff, a very interesting one.
- Sir, I mean, Mike, yes, the Alsatian case is now ... closed.
- Oh, so good to hear, Charles. But please, come inside. Ella, I see you are bringing some wine, how nice. Don't stare at me that way, young man, relax, I don't bite!
- Yes, sir. I mean, Mr Thompson, Mike, sir.
- Charles! - said, Ella, while shaking his arm and putting the wine bottle in his hands. - You look like you just saw a ghost! Did my father see some spicy photos in that old laptop of yours or what? Hahaha
- What? No, not at all, I just ... I'm just nervous at meeting your parents, that's all.
- Relax, baby. My father may look serious and even sometimes grumpy, but he's fine. He's really very into details, and always remember faces. So looks like you are not total strangers, you see?
- Ella, I'm quite curious, you work with your father in the computer repair shop, right?
- Yes, my father has taught me all he knows about computers, why?
- What if I told you that Alsatian mastiff is codename for Max Strasbourg, the heroin dealer?
- What? What kind of a veterinarian knows about Max Strasbourg? Where did you hear that name?
- I see, you are already answering. I'm the kind of vet that puts down a shepherd when his time has come. And I can only guess that means you already knew it. Is that the reason I'm here?
- Well, I had a hunch. Charlie, I really like you, but I know something was off. It didn't make sense that you had a collection of more than fifty hunting knives and pretended those were for operating on cats and dogs. But there's only one hit-man dad trusts for the most dangerous missions and he would never let anyone else talk to him. So I guess I tried my luck.
- So what am I supposed to do, now, Ella? You know now, I kill for a living. I kill for your dad, and I'm really good at it.
- I know, honey, this is not an intervention. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions and to offer you a new mission, but instead of working for Mr Thompson, it would be an arrangement with me. I will double your rates, love.
- I'm listening, love, who's the target?
- The target is just waiting for us in the kitchen. Make a clockwise twist in the wine bottle, there's a modified Glock 42 loaded with two 380 bullets, you know, for concealing the weight of a bottle. You have two chances, Charles, but I warn you, dad is very detail oriented, and I just noticed he was staring at the bottle, so he may be waiting ... ready for you.
- "Oh well" said Charles, pulling a 3-D printed plastic gun. "I have been expecting this moment for the past three years. Your dad may be a good boss, but I'm the best in what I do. And honey, for twice my regular rate, I could kill you, too. How about a good luck kiss?"
- I think this is the beginning of a beautiful business relationship, Charlie - said Ella, kissing him in the cheek with a mischievous smile. | 2020-06-05T13:35:30 | 2020-06-05T13:31:52 | 97 | 22 |
[WP] Your gf invited you to meet her parents. You told her that you're a veterinarian. Her father is a computer repairman. In reality, however, you are an assassin. A very good one at that, too. When you see her father, your heart skips a beat. He's your boss. | Sitting in my car, I sighed and checked the address on my phone. This was it. I looked up to see my girlfriend excitedly come out the front door. I sighed again. I hate having to meet parents. I got out and met her half way, greeting her with a quick kiss on the lips.
"I'm so glad you came! You finished your appointment with Roscoe?"
"Yeah," I said, smiling, "It was just a broken leg. He's like a big puppy. He got excited because he smelled another dog near by and tripped up."
She smiled proudly at me, "I'm glad you're saving the day for pet parents."
"Oh yeah," I said rolling my eyes as we walked into her parent's house.
"Mom! Dad! Nick's here!"
I followed her into the kitchen where her mom was cooking dinner. She smiled and gave me a hug. Sabrina looked just like her mom. Then I turned and to greet her father who walked into the kitchen behind us. I broke into a cold sweat as I looked at her father. Sabrina's father was my boss. Not at the veterinary office, but for my actual job. As an assassin. He looked me up and down and held out his hand. I grabbed it.
"Nicky, my boy, nice to meet you," he said, "Sabrina said you had an appointment?" He squeezed my hand a little too hard when he said that.
"Yeah," I said pulling my hand back, "Roscoe...a 4 year old Rottweiler, uh, broke his leg."
He eyed me suspiciously and said, "You patched him up pretty fast, then?"
I didn't know why he was questioning me when he would see the report on his desk on Mondy. Roscoe was actually a pretty nasty ex-bodyguard to a prominent politician in the area and he was planning to kill him, so I got sent in to take him out before he could reach his old employer.
"Yeah," I started, trying to internally remain as calm as I hoped I looked, "He was pretty boisterous and tried to fight me some even though he couldn't move. But I put a muzzle on him and was able to get him in a cast and good to go."
He tried to carry out his murder plot on his own, and I was able to break into his "secret base" and get rid of him up close and personal.
Sabrina's father smiled some, "That's good to hear. I always enjoy hearing about people being good at their job."
I nodded, "Yeah, I'm one of the best vet's in the area according to some clients."
Sabrina pushed me some and said, "Why don't you guys go and sit by the TV while mom and I finish dinner?"
"Yes, I'd love to show you my," he chuckled to himself, "man cave as my wife calls it. Come on, Nick, it's just downstairs."
I followed with my heart racing in my chest. I thought I was going to pass out having to be alone with my boss in this particular situation. He gestured through the door, a smile on his face, and closed it as we walked in. I took a breath.
"You seem a little nervous," he said in a much less happy demeanor, "I expected a much better act from one of our best," he said the last few words mockingly.
"I'm sorry, sir, I just wasn't expecting YOU to be Sabrina's father."
He chuckled again and said, "If you thought I didn't already know you were dating my daughter, you're much more stupid than you look and I pity your parents."
I wasn't sure whether to sigh in relief or be get ready to be fired. He noticed I was still nervous and he smiled more. He was never a bad boss, he treated all of his subordinates well, he just liked having the upper hand. He was older than a lot of us, but could still beat everyone in hand to hand combat.
He continued, "I'll just get right to it. I'm happy as long as she's happy, but this doesn't change our relationship, this will NOT affect your performance, and if you hurt her in any way," he leaned in close and whispered in my ear, "no one will ever find your fucking body."
He leaned back and smiled clasping my shoulder, "So we're good. I'm very impressed on your work with Roscoe. I can't wait to see the full report bright and early Monday morning. Let's go see how they're doing upstairs."
He opened the door and walked up the stairs while I stayed at the bottom, taking deep breaths. I felt like I couldn't walk. It went....better than I thought it would, but that last part didn't sound great.
"Come on, Nick! Let's see how you fair in some one on one football."
"Yes sir," I said weakly, walking up the stairs. | Rachel was so exited for me to meet her folks and the only thing I was worried about is if they wouldn’t mind my casual clothing. Is a flannel over a AC/DC shirt with jeans and sneakers good enough to present to parents? I usually have a okay track record with them and it almost always gets better once I tell them my job. I work as a veterinarian in the city and on my off days I’m a international assassin. If you’re laughing I encourage you to stop because I’m not joking. Just this past week my boss sent me on a international mission to go kill off some revolutionary leader. Had to infiltrate his ranks, spike his drink, and get home in 3 days. Managed to do it with my team but it was draining. My boss said i won’t have any missions for a while so I can just relax, play guitar and chill with Rachel.
She’s prepping me on how to greet her dad and how he’s gonna examine my phone since he loves computers. He repairs them so it makes sense.
The target is described as a tall white male in his mid 40s with a salt and pepper beard, big arms and a big laugh. Her mom might be home too and according to Rachel she’s just Rachel but taller, African American and with a dragon tattoo on her arm. We get to the door and I spot a car that looks oddly familiar like the ones we have at the base. She yells for her dad to stop being lazy and open the door. He opens it and he looks exactly like my boss.
“ You must be Justin I’ve heard all sorts of things about you”. I take a extra second to respond because my boss is my girlfriends father. I shake his hand and he looks me dead in the eyes like he did earlier when he told me I could get a break from missions. When I walk into the living room her mother runs over and extends her hand. As I shake it My boss ice grills me most likely to mess with me. We sit down and he turns on Wheel of fortune as we eat the food her mother made. After one bite I can immediately tell she’s a better cook than her daughter and that’s when the questioning starts. My boss looks at me and asks “ You into music huh? What’s ya favorite band?”. He knows the answer is either gonna be paramore or All time low so i know he’s just messing with me. I answer with the Beatles and he laughs asking what do I know bout them. As he laughs he shoots me another death stare, this time for lying. My hand starts to sweat as Rachel’s mom asks me how we met. As I’m recalling how her daughter poured paint on me in 5th grade her dad goes over to the computer parts and pulls a badge out of his pocket. Does he think he’s slick? He literally just pulled out our logo which is a upside down eagle over a black backdrop.
Rachel then tells her mom how I’m a great veterinarian and that we started dating Cause Rachel brought her friends dog to my job for nail clippings. As she jokes with her mom my boss looks at my pocket knowing I have the badge with me too. He comes back to the couch and we start talking bout the development of Video game Consoles and our favorite games. This might be the most tame conversation I’ve had with my boss in 4 years. Rachel looks at her dad and asks if he likes my sneakers. Her dad bought them for me after I killed a black market trader 2 months ago. He says their very nice and that he would like to buy them off me and now I’m scared. This is nothing like how he acts on the job: I’m lucky to get a good job or a hello out of him if it’s not mission time and now he’s laughing. As it gets closer to my time for curfew I hug Rachel hug her mother and thank her for the food when my boss tells me to come with him to the basement. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t mean the regular one.
“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING DATING MY DAUGHTER” He yells as we go into the bunker that’s filled with computers, world maps, and our logos on the walls. As I look around in awe and a bit of fear he yells again “ YOU AND RACHEL?” I shrug my shoulders being as confused as he is and that’s when he lowers his voice for a second. “ Rachel doesn’t know about your actual job does she?” I shake my head and he asks what do I tell her I do on the weekdays. I tell him that I tell her I have late shifts at the job or that I’m babysitting across the street. When I miss school it’s cause I have to take care of my niece who’s always sick. He looks at me and grabs me by the collar “Rachel can never figure out and if you put her in any danger I’ll be the one to Assassinate you”.
I shake my head okay and after a couple seconds he pops the question I was dreading the whole night. He asks me what my intentions with Rachel are. He knows I’m prone to getting a girl to fall for me on missions so it makes sense why he would ask. I tell him I really really like his daughter and she’s my favorite person to be around. He laughs and grabs me by the shirt again saying “ if you break her heart I’ll break your life and college fund. Yes, he’s paying for my college by giving me a scholarship under a fake name. I hear Rachel calling my name as it gets closer to me being out past curfew so I ask why my boss brought me down here besides to ruff up my shirt and show me his knives and swords. He looks me dead in the eyes and goes “ You’ve got to assassinate a world leader over winter break”. | 2020-06-05T14:15:57 | 2020-06-05T14:04:11 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You live in a country where murder is legal - The catch is, it has to be declared a week in advance. The aggressor has to wait the full week, but the victim may begin defending themselves immediately upon receiving notice. While a legitimate threat is legal, a false one is very much not. | You know, it started out as something akin to a suicide attempt. The law states you have seven days from the letter being delivered. Once the letter arrives, both sides are notified and the game begins. Simple. Beautiful, really.
I was bored. I served 12 years in the special units. I was loaned to other countries to bring in or assassinate the worst of the worst. I was a tool. A bullet, fired when someone else pointed me and pulled the trigger, meant to do a job and be discarded.
And I loved it.
The thrill of the hunt, knowing that every mistake can cost my life, never relaxing until the job is done and that final rush of adrenalin when the last spark of life has fled my enemy's eyes... I lived for that.
And then, they retired me.
I don't know the reason. Oh, I heard plenty of excuses- "You served your time!", "You're pay is getting too expensive" and, my personal favorite "They want you to raise a family.". What a joke.
Whatever the reason, I was out. Had signed a contract years ago that I can't work in a similar field for 10 years after retirement. I didn't want for money, had plenty of cash, no family, a house and more time than I knew what to do with. I survived two years before I became suicidal.
And then they passed that law.
I don't know what the logic was. Perhaps that, like drugs, if there is an easy way to do something legally, the illegal variation dies out making the former easier to enforce, and furthermore, profitable. Maybe it was just a desire to deal with over population. Or maybe the entire parliament simultaneously took massive amounts of drugs. Personally, I don't know and couldn't care less.
The day the law passed, I had to try it out. I contacted some former colleagues, who I knew would be in similar situations, and told them my plan. All three had variations on the same idea brewing in their minds. We sent our letters the day after.
In exactly 9 days, the media was in hysterics, describing how four separate, unrelated individuals were continually assaulted under the new "Jack's law". That wasn't the big part. The big part was that only one of them, an 85 year old man, died, after a siege of 24 hours straight, taking with him over 70 men and women. The other 3 had casualties in the low hundreds.
It was so simple! Write the letter, address it to my colleague, sign the name of an adult, then send. Repeat until boredom. Most would appeal and revoke the threat, under section 3 part b of the new law, effectively cancelling them out of the equation. A few won't have the time, due to us reaching them first. But a precious few... They will try. That was the plan, and it worked like a charm.
After about two weeks we started getting letters that weren't from one of us. Random people started trying to kill us! What fun! The government couldn't repeal the law, for fear of looking weak and being liable for so many lives, and the media did their very best to stoke the flames- the Unkilkable Three, the Hated Musketeers, The three incarnations of death. They were perfect in every way.
Finally, I felt happy. | Nathan slowly sipped water from his bottle and then checked his watch, 15 minutes to go. His fingers drummed restlessly on the m416 laying on his lap. 'Now is not the time to be impatient' he thought to himself, he has waited 7 years for it, a few more minutes is not much.
He knew it may be a suscide mission, that's why even if the rule is there, not many people use it. 7 days is just too much to prepare for someone who you know is coming and coming alone without any back up. Most of the time the aggressor who put out the notice to murder would die in the altercation. But he is not afraid, for a long time now..
He picked up the photograph on the dashboard of his car, the edges a little crinkled, colours a little faded showing the effect of years on it. A woman and blonde haired boy playing with sand on the beach smiled back at him from the photograph, a blue surfboard laying beside them. It seems like ages ago since he clicked the photo, he started teaching Aaron surfing on that day, and boy was he pumped!He felt the familiar lump on his throat, a trickle of tear slowly coming down his cheek.
Nathan angrily wiped the tears away and took a deep breath. Not tonight! He doesn't want his hand to shake. They are long gone, just because a man named Phillip Green misread a traffic signal and rammed his car with theirs and tonight he is going to kill Phillip or die trying. His wristwatch beeped, It's time to go. He fired up the engine of his Ford which he himself turned into a crude armoured vehicles with reinforced steel plates. His pushed the gas paddle down as he zoomed through the streets clutching the steering wheel so hard his knuckles are turning white. He was expecting him to be ready for him with people and guns but as his suburban house is coming closer he realised there is no one guarding the outside.
Nathan crashed through the fence and rammed his car to a stop near the side door of the house. He has envisioned this so many times. With his gun ready he jumped out, there was no one to be seen. Cautiously he moved forward while crouching, gun raised. And kicked on the door which flew open easily. "Not locked at all! What is his plan!" He thought to himself but kept pushing forward, his heart almost bursting out of his chest. And right there in the study Phillip was sitting calmly.
Nathan moved closer, sure! It is Phillip only. He seemed to have grown older from the last time they have met, in the church where his lawyer proved that it was just a misjudgment, a misjudgment! For a moment the two man stared at each other before Nathan spoke, "You took everything from me Phillip! You made me an animal...", His voice filled with loathe. It is true, he tried to move on wirh life, but just couldn't. "But now you are going to fucking die..." Nathan turned off the safety of his gun.
Phillip just looked at him, a small smile appearing on his face. "Then do it! I was waiting for an week for you, free me from my pain and guilt". He whispered as he just sit on his chair not even putting his hand up. "But is that going to bring back your wife and kid?". Suddenly Nathan could see it, just a poor frail old guy . His mind screaming at him. "Finish it! This is the man that took the life of your wife and kid." Suddenly he heard a gasp and a cry "Phillip!"
His wife is looking at Nathan with pleading eyes almost begging. And behind her is a little girl , hiding behind her mom. "please don't, please I beg you!" She continued to pkead. Nathan sinked to his knees and first time in 7 years, he actually cried, all the moments flashing through his eyes. He did not know till when he cried but when he looked up the little girl was standing there, with a frown whispering "Are you all right?". Nathan nodded and looked up at her, "Do you know how to surf?" He asked. | 2020-12-03T08:40:46 | 2020-12-03T07:41:05 | 37 | 14 |
[WP] Time travelers have become such a nuisance that governments have begun recording fake historical events that lead time travelers to areas where they can be arrested. You're a bartender at one of these artificial towns, trying to determine if the customer in front of you is from the future. | Something was up with that guy. Marian knew it.
“So, like, is it usually this busy at this time?” he said, looking around, nervous.
“Pretty much,” she replied, as she dried the glasses like a bartender in a 1940s film noir. She was not a
great actor.
He took another scan around. On the edge. Nervous. “Anything… interesting going on lately in town?”
*There it is*, she thought. He was a time traveler. Now she was sure. It was just a matter of getting him to spill the beans so she could make the arrest.
He was being so obvious, too. Hoodie obscuring most of his face, gigantic sunglasses, shirt collar
flapped up, avoiding her stare… he was obviously trying to hide his identity so he wouldn’t be
recognized in case he had to make a run for it.
 
She had been hired by the Time Bureau to work the day shift at the 2021 Great Battle of Oceano
Island.
Now, the 2021 Great Battle of Oceano Island never happened. It was a fake historical event the Time
Bureau invented to catch illegal time travelers. How it worked is they sent a couple of agents like Marian to the time and place and they worked commercial hours trying to get travelers to confess to what they were doing before they realized there was no battle to stop anyway. It wasn’t entrapment. It really wasn’t.
Okay it kind of was. So?
She went back to her own time of 2035 every day after her shift. Back to her apartment in San
Francisco and her dog and Dylan. She took this particular shift because of Dylan, in fact. It was here at
Oceano Island, right at this day, at the square right across the street from the bar, that she had met
him. They both stopped to look at a missing dog flyer at the same time, and when he told her he always
stops to look at missing pet flyers because he secretly hopes the pet will literally be right next to him
and he’ll get to return it and be a hero she knew she’d marry him one day – because she always had that exact fantasy.
And marry him she did, on her twenty-first birthday. And they’d been together now for fourteen years
(well, in the real timeline she came back to after her shift that is, here in 2021 they were a few minutes away from actually meeting). She couldn't see the place where they met from the bar, but just being here at this time and place gave her an enormous sense of peace. Like she got to relive the most important day of her life again and again. The day she met the love of her life. The day she --
 
“Lady?” the concealed time traveler said. “You’ve been staring off into space for a long time.”
She turned back to the man. “Sorry,” she said. “What did you say?”
“I asked if there’s anything interesting going on around town today.”
She smiled. “Not right now, but in a couple of minutes a girl will meet a boy just across the street at the
square by the beach. And they’ll find out this very day they are each other’s soul mates.” She smiled.
The guy grunted, uninterested. Not what he was hoping for, she thought. What he was hoping for is ‘there’s been talks of a revolution and of a bomb' and all the other fake historical stuff about the Great Battle of Oceano Island.
“Why?” she asked. “Do you expect something to happen today?”
He just kept looking at her. Deep into her eyes. Something about his look had an intensity to it she didn’t quite comprehend, even though she could barely see his face behind the layers and the giant sunglasses.
He just kept looking at her.
“Can I help you?”
“No, thanks,” he said, and he stepped out.
*Damn,* she thought. She needed to improve her acting skills. She always gave herself away and
scared off the potential illegal travelers.
*
Dylan stepped out of the bar and with difficulty made his way across the street toward the square. It
was lucky that the pole was out of the bar’s sight. What he was doing was *very* illegal, but he was
counting on Marian and all the other agents being focused on the houses on the hill, because that’s
where the fake battle had 'begun'.
*And so maybe then he can change the thing that really matters.*
He removed the hoodie and the glasses and stared at the missing dog flyer. His mind went back to the awful hospital visit. The crestfallen look on the doctor's face. The tightening on his chest when he heard the news.
The doctor had given him another year with chemo. Maybe a little more. Maybe a little less. But there was no avoiding it. It was terminal.
He did not tell Marian. And he was not going to.
She was 34 still. Young enough to meet someone new once he was gone. Sure. But his
disease would break her. She took care of her father when he had cancer, and she almost never spoke of that
period of her life. She was in her teens, and for the longest time the shadow of that year watching her
father wither away ate at her. Anti-depressants, booze, pills, suicidal thoughts… she went on a downward spiral after he died and it was only shortly before she met Dylan that she finally had found her bearings and gotten over it.
And now he was going to do the same thing to her? All over again? No.
No he wasn’t. He'd face this alone. He wouldn't drag her life down with his.
“There!” he heard in the distance. He turned. A group of time travelers were running up the hill,
storming the house were the alleged ‘revolution’ had started. Agents followed, Marian among them,
ready to make the arrest.
Good. He had the place to himself now.
In the distance he saw his 20-year-old self approaching the square. On the opposite end, 20-year-old
Marian. About to meet.
He took a deep breath. Then he ripped the flyer from the pole and crumbled it and he walked away and
then he turned back just in time to see two strangers passing one another by and going on with their
lives, their future now forever diverging from the one he knew they could have had.
“Sorry,” he said, as he watched her go. And he smiled. And then he turned away and he was gone.
 
/r/psycho_alpaca | Amateurs ask questions, professionals take action. That was what Franklin, going by Atticus in this world, told himself at least as he poured drinks in a town whose only notable point was a highly cultivated dinginess. He had six more months of service until this deployment was up and at this point any intrigue that could pass the time was welcome.
Take the colorful cast at the bar in front of him: a short, stocky man in a mismatched set of riding leathers, a tall imperious looking woman who nevertheless looked like a farmer’s wife with aspirations, and a dour faced young man who seemed to like nothing more than to fidget with every object on the bar his grubby hands could reach.
One of these three was a time traveler, he could feel it in his gut, and his gut had never failed him before.
In the past at least, it had failed him plenty of times back home. His two failed marriages were proof of that.
*“Vinum!”* the woman called, tossing a coin onto the table. It fit the period and was the proper amount, that was a point in her favor.
“I’ll get to you next,” Franklin called over her shoulder as he filled a mug of rich, dark beer for the short man, the same kind he himself drank at this point in the timeline. He turned, depositing the mug in front of his first patron and snatching the coin before pointing to the restless man.
“What about you son?” The stranger had about two seconds to stop messing with the set design before there was a problem and Franklin’s look seemed to convey that clearly. The man set down a jar of olives before pointing to his left at the woman.
“I’ll have what she’s having.” On its face that wasn’t suspicious, *vinum* was simply a common wine but there was something else, an accent that Franklin couldn’t quite place. Of course in 1st century AD Sicily that could mean nearly anything however, not worth a full deduction. The bartender subtracted half a point from his mental dossier.
Moments later two mugs of the lightly watered wine people favored around these parts landed on the bar while the dour man searched quickly through his coin purse for the proper payment. If he was a time traveler the man was clearly a rookie.
“So, what brings you folks to these parts?” Franklin asked, slipping into procedure. Despite his personal loathing for questions and idle conversation it turned out there were still some things a time cop had to ask, similar to the Miranda rights of old. He’d always thought it was funny that the ancients had more legal protections left than the modern taxpayer.
The stocky man glared up at him in the universal sign for none of your business. He was a real bruiser of a fellow, thick necked and heavy handed with light hair and pale skin. The kind of man that might have slathered himself in woad and died fighting Caeser if he’d been born a bit earlier. A lower chance, Franklin decided, the kinds of calluses he was sporting were hard to come by in the softness of the 24th century.
That left the dour fidget machine and the up jumped farm wife, both of whom saw fit to justify themselves.
“I’m waiting for my fool husband,” the woman said, “we brought in a load of wheat today and his bargains are always hard, just never quite in our favor.” Her hair was the right shade, no obvious hint of unnatural colorings. Her skin held the right tint of sun bronzing for Sicily, the roughness of her dress was spot on. It was her mannerisms that drew Franklin in, and the simple fact that a married woman was here alone in his bar at all. She earned five mental demerits just for that, although if she were a cosmetic fake it was a particularly good one.
The young man simply murmured something inaudible in that damnably strange accent again as he sipped lightly at his wine, a fingernail dragging back and forth against the side of the clay mug. Franklin moved to that end of the bar, ostensibly to rearrange the things the man had moved in his fidgeting, but in reality to sniff the air. It smelled just on the edge of too clean, although it was possible that he had availed himself of the local baths that morning.
No matter, this was why questions were so meaningless. Franklin continued his small talk for the next several minutes, biding his time while he finished going through the blasted textbook. All the while he kept a countdown going in his head, now 60, 59, 58, 57.
A question later and it was 29, 28, 27, 26.
With an annoyed look from the stocky, possibly Gallic man the count reached 10.
At 1 the drug he'd laced each of their drinks with kicked in, and suddenly the Gaul and farmer’s wife started vomiting uncontrollably onto the bar, their skin beginning to glow a luminescent green. There were definite perks to this job the cop thought as he laughed at their sudden misery, and not the least because the intern who’d just been shipped in to serve as a waiter was staring in horror at the ruined bar with the grim knowledge that it was his job to clean it up.
“What, both of you?” Franklin said to the massively sick travelers as he circled around the bar with a length of rope. “I’ve got to say, that Gaul act you put on was good,” he hauled the man to his feet, dragging him towards the backroom. “If not for the drug I’d never have caught you.”
“How?-,” the woman choked out in between pained noises.
“Simple really,” the cop responded, “I stick a powder in the mugs that reacts with an antibody the ancients have but that we lost somewhere along the way. To be honest the vomiting is a side effect, originally I just wanted to make you glow but since there’s no impact on the local wildlife (the force’s colloquial term for the citizens of the past) nobody cares.”
“Speaking of wildlife,” he said, pointing to the intern, “hey kid get a mind wipe ready. We’ll need one for him.”
The dour young man had stood by then and was backing up towards the door, stumbling over chairs as he went. He didn’t look so good, but then he probably thought there was some religious experience going on with all the glowing.
The intern made one half hearted grab for him as the man rushed out the door, but as soon as he looked back at his boss he knew that hadn’t been good enough. The boy was out the door after him in the next moment, leaving Franklin alone in his bar to handle the arrests.
Five minutes later, with a portal in the back already opening to send the two offenders back to their proper time, the intern traipsed back in sadly. He was dragging his now glowing quarry behind him, his tunic and hair were badly soiled and only partially clean.
Franklin laughed at the young intern, walking back to the bar to check the third man’s mug. “Guess that one was a slow drinker,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “Welcome to the force kid, hope you have a good *time*!”
\---------------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more over at [r/TurningtoWords](https://www.reddit.com/r/TurningtoWords/)! I'm currently working on a serial about some teens running into a Hive Mind and I've got other fun stuff like a wholesome take on Bloody Mary. I'd love to have you! | 2021-01-16T10:09:46 | 2021-01-16T08:44:45 | 3,201 | 230 |
[WP] If a person opts into brain scans during life, a full digital model of their brain can be created. Posthumously, these scans are given to the bereaved family and not uncommonly used as the AI for house robots. You lost a loved one, and their robot... occasionally says VERY strange things | “RHINOS!” Jimmy yelled from the backseat. “Rhinos *all* around, it’s *JUMANJI* time baby!”
"That's right, kiddo!" John said, turning around from the passenger seat and giving Jimmy a fist-bump. "Rhinos!"
Karen had the gas pedal floored, focused only on the road barely visible behind her tears. When the doctors told her about the procedure she was skeptical. Now she knew she should have trusted her gut. "Jimmy could've beat it on his own," she said, more to herself than to John.
"He was in pain," John replied. "It was the only option that made sense."
“Slap a pudding cup on it!” Jimmy yelled from the backseat.
"You think *that* makes sense?" Karen spat. "They screwed up the reincarnation, John. They screwed it all up."
"What'd they screw up, mommy?" Jimmy asked.
"Nothing dear. We're just talking about grownup things."
"Everything's great, son" John said. "We'll get some pudding on the way back."
Karen peeled into the emergency room parking lot, turned the car off where it stood, and gave John a look as if daring him to challenge her on the parking job. He shrugged, but said nothing.
They were taken to an examination room, and after a few moments the doctor entered. "Hi, my names Dr. Don. I understand Jimmy was recently reincarnated and hasn't been acting normal?"
Karen nodded. "Its been getting worse, and now he's hardly making sense most of the time. This morning he started bleeding from his nose."
"It was probably just a nosebleed though," John said. "Kids will be kids, and Jimmy's always had an active imagination."
"Soup." Jimmy said, matter of factly.
"You like soup, Jimmy?" Dr. Don asked.
"I sure do," Jimmy replied.
"What kind of soup?"
"Gazpacho!"
Dr. Don looked to John and Karen. "We'll look at him further but he seems okay at first glance."
"He's never had gazpacho in his life," Karen said.
Dr. Don turned back to Jimmy. "Where'd you try gazpacho, kiddo?"
"What's a gaspaco?"
"Point taken," Dr. Don said to Karen. "We'll take him in and run a brain scan."
"Is that really necessary, doctor?" John said, shuffling nervously. "He's six. All six-year-old's are a little odd."
Karen jabbed her husband. "Doctor, please. Just run the tests and fix him. Please."
Dr. Don nodded. "You two can wait here," he said and escorted Jimmy to another room. John and Karen sat in two chairs at the edge of the room.
“We shouldn’t be here,” John said after a moment. “Jimmy’s fine.”
“You’re in denial, John. I want Jimmy back as much as you do but this isn’t him.”
“So what if there’s a few glitches? Let's just be happy we were able to bring Jimmy back at all. *Some* of our son is better than none of him.”
“Right, and *all* of him is better than some of him. Maybe they can fix him, John. You don’t know.”
John opened his mouth but didn’t say anything. He sat back in his chair, arms crossed, foot tapping anxiously. After an hour of silence the doctor came back in.
“We’ve identified the problem,” Dr. Don said.
Karen stood up so fast the chair she was sitting on flipped over. “*And?*”
“Well, you didn’t tell me this was his second reincarnation.”
“Second reincarnation? What do you mean?”
“Doctor,” John said. “I think we should talk in private—”
“No,” Karen interjected. “Tell me now. What do you mean by *second reincarnation?*”
Dr. Don shifted uncomfortably. “Well… whenever you try and reincarnate someone based on a prior reincarnation, there’s bound to be glitches. It’s like how whenever you create a photocopy of a photocopy some of the quality degrades.”
“I don’t understand,” Karen said, her brow furrowed. “Are you saying Jimmy was an incarnation?”
“Well yes,” Dr. Don replied.
“You’re wrong. He was natural. That was the first time he passed away.”
“Honey,” John said, putting his hand on her shoulder.
“Get *off me,* John! This doctor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. Where's your supervisor?“
“Look,” Dr. Don said, handing his chart to Karen. “I called for his records from your clinic. It says he passed away two years ago in a car crash and was reincarnated for the first time then.”
“No, no.” Karen said. “There was a car crash, but he was only injured.”
Dr. Don shrugged. “That’s not what the records say.”
“The records are *wrong.* See, here it says his mother passed away with him. I’m his mother. Do I look dead to—”
Realization struck. Karen turned to look at John. He looked away. There were tears in his eyes.
***
 
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | “Eve? Sweetheart, are you in here?” The house was quiet when Henry got home that night, not even the comforting mechanical whir of her servos to be heard. It scared him, for more reasons than he knew how to reckon with in that moment.
“Eve?” he called out again. No answer. With a quick hand gesture he activated the house interface, its light blue, semi transparent UI sliding down across his retinal implants. He navigated with glances, passed the untripped burglar alarms and the refrigerator stock interface until he found the power distribution charts.
There was an energy spike on the back porch, something was pulling off the wireless grid there. Henry sprinted through the house, his instincts gone haywire, his worry spiking just like it had a year ago when he’d walked outside and felt as broken as her little body had been.
She sat in her favorite seat, a wooden lawn chair that he’d reinforced himself to hold up her new mechanical frame. She didn’t move, there was no sound, but the air crackled with energy, and his AR chip read its frequency instantly. When someone knew an AI well enough its emotions could be read in such things, even if they were primitive. Henry had made knowing her his mission ever since she’d been born, a little thing like death wasn’t going to stuff that.
“Eve, there you are!”
Her head finally turned at his voice, the servos cutting through the early summer buzz of insects like a chainsaw.
“Hey dad,” she said. There was no inflection, he hadn’t been able to afford a model that could communicate feelings to tone well enough. Not with funeral expenses and the divorce. He was saving up though, every penny went to it now, in the meantime her only self expression came in the form of volume, and she words were said whisper soft.
“What’s wrong? I got scared when you didn’t answer.”
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Today was hard.” They’d all been hard, but such things didn’t need to be said.
Henry sat beside her, pulling over a chair. He didn’t break the silence, instead he shared it, hoping to shoulder some of the burden but knowing he never really could. There was a pond in the distance, he heard frogs croaking there.
“Dad, do I still have birthdays like this?”
Henry blinked hard, startled. In all the furor of the last year he’d never even thought of that. “Of course you still have birthdays! You turn twelve in two weeks and don’t think I forgot about it!” His AR noted a frequency change. He’d come to associate that one with a bittersweet smile.
“Twelve,” she said, her volume slightly raised. “I’m almost a teen.”
“Hah! Yeah, I suppose you are. You grew up on me too fast.”
Henry heard wood crack to his right. She’d gripped one of the armrests too tightly again, a chunk had broken off. “I’m sorry,” she said. There was a long pause. “I’m not going to grow up though.”
His heart cracked like the wood. “Yes you will! I’ll get you another body in a few years and at the rate technology is improving you’ll be practically human in no time! Have you seen the skin on those new Japanese models? It’s uncanny, nobody would know the difference.”
“Nobody but me.”
Henry stood, walking out into the yard. He couldn’t turn around, couldn’t face what he’d done.
“Dad, why did you bring me back?”
His world stopped, collapsing down to the razor thin edge of those words. He still couldn’t turn, couldn’t speak. His AR chip flashed an endless cascade of status symbols at him, power usage in this area was dropping drastically, it had fallen to so low a frequency it barely registered. At this rate Eve even wouldn’t even be able to move her limbs, turn her head. Her power consumption fell all the way down to the minimum sustainable rates before her safeties kicked in and capped it.
“Answer me,” she said.
Henry finally turned, gasping for air, his fingers twisted into little claws at his sides.
“Because I had to!” he hissed. “Because you were gone and I made the decision that was best for you!”
“Mom didn’t think so.”
“Your mother was wrong!” Henry closed his eyes, counting backwards from ten. He steadied his breathing, shoved his hands into his pockets. “I had to Eve, I just did. I made the only choice I could for us.”
“Because I couldn’t choose.”
“That’s right.”
“I can now.” Her voice had fallen so quiet he strained to hear it. Henry stepped back on to the porch, falling in front of her aluminum plated feet. “I couldn’t choose when I was dead, but I’m not dead now. I’m not alive either but still. Please daddy,” she said, “take off the safeties.”
“No,” he said.
“Please.”
“No!”
Henry called down the house UI again, superimposing Eve’s over it. He shunted more power into her systems. Across her metallic body lights brightened, servos whirred. But she did not stand. She didn’t even look at him.
“I’m not your little girl anymore,” she said. “Maybe I did grow up, just not like either of us imagined.”
“You will always be my little girl,” Henry said, “always. In any body, in any life, for as long as either of our brain patterns exist. You’ll always be my daughter and I will always love you.”
She didn’t respond. It would have just been a few simple words to mend his heart but she didn’t say them.
“Come inside whenever you’re ready,” he said to her, walking back into the house. Henry dropped a pin on her location, set it to alert whenever she finally moved. He hadn’t been ready for that, for any part of it. Her birthday was coming up though, just two weeks now. He’d make it up to her then, yes, he would. He’d find a way. Somehow.
\-------
If you enjoyed that I've got tons more on r/TurningtoWords, including several other stories with versions of these characters. Come check it out, I'd love to have you! | 2021-03-06T12:05:42 | 2021-03-06T11:36:42 | 2,839 | 134 |
[WP] You have just died due to several different causes at once (ie heart attack at the same time you get hit by a car) only to find yourself surrounded by the gods of each respective cause arguing over who has the rights to your death | [Poem]
A flash of light,
A fiery roar,
And now somehow
I am no more.
The fire I get,
The light... not sure,
Which one cut me
Down to the core?
I expected the one,
The other... not quite,
It came out of nowhere,
That bright flash of light.
So which one killed me?
I wish I could say,
But I do not know
and neither do they.
I’m sure you are wondering
Who exactly “they” are,
I’m not really sure
But they are quite bizarre.
One being rage personified,
His body and soul a flame,
The other, a charged current,
Each staking their claim.
What is going on here?
A lightbulb over my head.
The bright flash was lightning
And now I am dead.
So who are these beings
And what do they need?
As I study the two,
I realize it’s me.
“She perished by fire,
She is my soul by right.
How dare you say otherwise,
You insignificant light!”
The fire being’s voice
Bellowed loudly outright,
I shrunk into myself,
As lightning prepped to strike.
“If you think it was fire,
You’re absolutely insane,
‘Twas my electric current,
Not your tiny flame.”
They fought and they fought,
And then fought some more,
Their brightness growing dimmer,
And then dimmer than before.
Finally exhausted
And ready to retire,
Lightning pushed me toward
The man made of fire.
“I grow tired of this
And thunder calls me home,
You may have this one,
But the next is my own.”
I looked at them both,
Awestruck and bemused,
Who would I be
To simply refuse?
I wake with a jolt,
My consciousness freed,
What a peculiar dream..
A strange dream indeed. | No one tells you how peaceful it feels when you die, but I supose people don't usually come back and talk about it. My death was bound to happen, smoking, drinking and too many drugs. I had blocked arteries, when the doctors tried to save me from my latest heart attack they were just as surprised by the quake and the crumbling hospital roof. Apparently my complicated death has caused, shall we say, a little conflict amongst some rather interesting characters. Before me stands 3 men and a woman, strangly dressed, their features almost fluid.
The tallest one, a woman by her shape and the tone of voice, was calmly stating that obviously the heart stopping was the death point and that I was hers. Raging back at her was a near skeleton of a man, definitely male by his nakedness and almost pendulum like balls.
The second male, by his beard was barely awake, repeating the same argument as if it was the first time. "He was drunk and had liver dis.. grmpf.. disease."
His speak interrupted by vomit or a belch, and that's when it hit me... He was my alcaholism. The skeleton man was the ice in my veins, the woman my heart disease.. who was the quiet male shrouded in darkness? Whay was he here? Was he some sort of quake spirit or did he represent something else?
I suddenly realised they were staring at me.
I was laughing, they were visibly pissed...
"Do you think it funny? You have wasted your life..." the woman said " wasted your time and destroyed your body. You were sent to do good but at the first temptation and you folded like a sift sheet"
Laughing the beared man slapped my back "Remember that party when you were 14 and that pretty little thing let you.."
"Enough!" Boomed the shadowy figure "His body was riddled with my cancers, he is mine to take"
So that's who it was, how did the doctors miss cancer?
"Yes they missed it because if your indulgences with my coleagues here." He pointed to the other 3 "your heart destoyed by your habits" the woman "too many anphetamines" Skeletor nodded "and not to mentikn your daily bottle of whiskey" the bearded one belched a wet, stagnant smelling cloud "but you have been mine this whole time." His dark features barely visible
Fear gripped me, my mirth turning to dust.
"He must decide, he must choose who gets to have him" they stood staring, hungrily staring, as if I was a meal... So how do I choose and what are the consiquences? | 2021-05-04T18:50:41 | 2021-05-04T18:46:49 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] Time freezes when you are seconds from mortal danger, you can’t move but you have as much time to plan as you need and you can unfreeze time at will. You are in bed for another sleepless night and you just realized the alarm clock you have been staring at has been stuck on 2:45 am for an hour. | Sarah never had nightmares. She knew the worst that life could throw at her, and she was still around. With a little thinking, you could solve most problems. And with enough time and a lot of thinking, the rest can be solved too, or at least postponed. But this time may be different. She has no idea what she should be thinking about and her mind has been racing in the dark for what must have been an hour. It was always so difficult to judge the flow of time when nothing around you was changing. But with each imagined heartbeat passing her by, she thought more and more about what her options were. The thoughts raced around in her head faster and faster and-
The cheap alarm clock that had been shining 2:45am suddenly went out, plunging everything into darkness. After a tense moment, Sarah realized she could move. She got out of bed, turned on the lights, checked the time on her phone, examined the broken clock, and threw it away resolving to not be so cheap when she bought its replacement. | Alright, shit, first check is “can I see anything?” Nope, just the alarm clock and my room. Hearing doesn’t work, so I can’t use that. Next up “can I smell anything?” Doesn’t seem that helpful, but it could be a gas leak, so I can’t rule it out just yet… No, nothing smells out of the ordinary. Ok, can I feel anything then? Yeah, with some focus I can feel something on my arm, I am looking away so I have to judge based on feel. Light, very light, so maybe a bug of some kind, what are the possibilities? Absolutely worst case would be a spider with deadly venom, there are some that live in the area, not very common though. But, that gives me a starting point, first step is to get whatever it is off of me, but there is always some uncertainty, so next would be to get up and out quickly. Here we go, three, two, one, NOW! Brush it off while jumping out of bed, flick it away from me. I’m only two good steps away from the light switch, my heart is beating like crazy. I made it! Light goes on, where is the spider? I don’t see it anywhere, my hands are trembling from the adrenaline, but… that’s odd? It feels like my strength is just rushing out of me? My legs give out from under me, and I hit the floor hard. I don’t think it bit me? Why am I like this then? It is getting hard to focus, why on earth… oh. God damn it, did I seriously have a heart attack from jumping away from a spider? That sucks… I can’t stop time now, too late for that… | 2021-09-11T18:07:56 | 2021-09-11T17:35:46 | 107 | 61 |
[WP] The prophecy states that only the chosen one can pull the sword from the stone. The Dark Lord, not one to be held back by prophecies and mythos, upheaves the stone itself and carves it into a hammer, using the still-bound sword as the hammer's hilt. | Their battle shook heaven and earth, and the mountain ruptured beneath their feet. Great streams of fire and lava poured from the veins of the world, filling the bottom of the chasm until it was like a distant river from Hell itself, one which the supposed hero of the people had just fallen into.
The Dark One couldn't help but to stare, dumbfounded by his mortal enemy's simple demise.
It was almost sad that such a rivalry actually came to end. Between his rival and his son, there were few constants in his life.
His contemplation was short lived however, for the earth began to shake again. It was hard to believe that his very hammer, forged from the blade of prophecy and the stone which sheathed it, was the cause of such destruction.
He was clinging for dear life onto the side of the newly formed cliff, looking for any sign of escape from the collapsing stone.
"Father!" A voice called. "Up here! Grab the hammer!"
Looking up, the Dark One saw his son, dangling himself from a half-uprooted tree, with the hammer in his hands.
The stone head of the hammer was just out of reach, so the Dark One held his breath, and leapt up with all his might to grab onto the hammerhead.
To the surprise of both father and son, he made it! He was dangling from the hammer like a fish on a spear.
"Don't move father!" The young boy called as he hoisted the hammer up.
And then the Dark One heard the crack.
In the seconds that passed, the Dark One remembered how heavy he must have been in his armor, as the sword slid free of the stone.
"Father, no!" The boy screamed, the unsheathed sword in his hand.
The last thing the Dark One saw was the face of his son, and for a moment, he knew his son would make a fine heir to his throne. And then he saw no more. | He swung wildly. Angrily. Clumsily. The hammer grafted itself into a wall stubbornly, and he heaved with some effort to dislodge it. The hero (that's me), stood impatiently as he tried again, swinging wide this time, dizzying himself as the force carried him comically in circles.
"Jesus, you aren't very good at this." I scoff. The Dark lord fumed. "I will have your head on a pike!" I mouthed.
I had to fill in the blanks. He hasn't said anything this entire time.
"At least try to monologue." I taunted as he swung again, this time sporting an impressive single-digit inches away from my head. But I didn't even attempt to dodge that one though.
"I'm growing wearrryy of this." I draw out my words as I catch the next downward swing with one hand, the force so great the 'hammer' shook. The Dark lord (I'll call him darkie for short), anchored a foot and kicked, pushing me away and freeing my weapon.
"Alright that's rude, and enough. You have something of mine."
"I... I'll stop you." Darkie held it shakily from exhaustion, and the 50 pound slab of marble didn't help either.
"I really doubt it." I swerve my foot back and lunge at blistering speed. I throw a powerful plot-armour filled punch, and he had just enough reaction time to shield with his eyelids.
Wham!! The dust settled and I looked triumphantly. darkie lay slumped against the wall. But... was that-
darkie opened one eye weakly. The sword gleamed a brilliant shine, crossing his heart. I glanced sideways at the marble scattered across the room.
"hmph." I charge, my hand primed for the kill this time. darkie suddenly reinvigorated, and with his remaining strength, he kicked upwards hard, sending me slamming into the wall above him from my own momentum.
shlunk. That sound. so soft. but oh so very loud. I began to screech in searing agony.
Panting, he stood up and took in his handiwork. I was pinned upside down against the wall, the sword impaling me straight through the chest.
"hahhh...." I splutter.
"... it's finally over." darkie sank to his knees and cried out.
I couldn't suppress a hideous grin.
Darkie's eyes widened. I was pulling it out.
"You think I feel this? no... oh no no no." I'm grabbing the sword by the blade now, reeling it out as it draws red from my palms.
"But you're about to." I let out a shaky breath of anticipation.
"Run." | 2022-01-21T08:27:20 | 2022-01-21T07:51:09 | 28 | 14 |
[WP] You are a Anti-Motivational Speaker. Whereas motivational speakers spread Toxic Positivity and unrealistic expectations, you bring a healthy Dose of Negativity and remind people of how little potential they really have. | You may be under the delusion that I am a dilapidated man. The kind of person who has greasy hair, poor personal hygiene, and questionable health habits—for who else would spread negativity as his profession? While that reflects my internal state, on the outside I am put together, confident, and beautiful, for if I presented my true self nobody would believe what I had to say. They would write me off as *lazy and incompetent*, but because I present myself well, they are inclined to believe every word of it.
My crowd that day was a class of typical high school graduates. People who were still young enough to believe the world had a great deal to offer them. I have always believed that much could be gained if young people could be lectured, in a careful manner, about how little their existence actually matters.
I stepped up to the podium, made sure the microphone was well-adjusted, and began to speak.
“You have all just been told by your valedictorian that this is a new beginning. That the sky's the limit from here on. I am here to disillusion you. As you have been told in your physics textbooks, *the world* is not synonymous with the earth, rather, in the modern scientific view, the world is *the universe*, and that makes the sky a very humbling limit indeed.”
Many of the kids in the crowd were smiling while the parents looked at me with dismay.
“Consider, for a moment, that human talent follows a gaussian distribution—those of you who paid attention in psychology or statistics will know what I am talking about, but for the other ninety-nine percent of you, what it means is this: most of you possess no significant talent whatsoever. You will not cure cancer. You will not be the first person on Mars. You can likely look forward to a middle-class existence where you make no contribution towards the advancement of humanity at all.”
“Now, now, you may be thinking, surely he is not talking about *me*, it is the other students who are useless! But no. I want you to take this lesson to heart, so that when you turn thirty, you will not feel like you have squandered your unique potential, for I assure you, it was never there to begin with. This is not something to abhor; it is a gateway to peace. Your generation is always expected to perform. With social media you are supposed to display a life above the ordinary, such that anyone walking through your profile is meant to feel like a visitor to a museum of extraordinary events. I am here to tell you to take comfort in being mediocre, for it has one great advantage. If you settle for mediocrity, you never have to worry about *becoming* mediocre. You will find within that mindset a fulfilment and peace no amount of striving will ever match.”
Parents muttered amongst each other, and the principal of the school’s head had turned so red one wondered whether any blood was left for the rest of her body.
“Keep in mind,” I said. “That I am not advocating for the total absolvement of responsibility and striving. Rather, I am advocating for low expectations. Untalented as you are, useless as you are, unextraordinary as you are—you are joined by almost every human in existence. So do not feel too different from the beggar on the street, the old lady at the drugstore, your friends, or your parents, but use this sense of mediocrity as a catalyst for a deeper sense of compassion. It is okay to not live the life you see glorified in movies and stories. It is okay to fail. It is okay to be you.”
I let go of the microphone and walked off stage to the applause of a single student who was quickly silenced with glares from his peers. I rarely received a warm farewell, but I had been an anti-motivational speaker for twenty years, and not so infrequently I received a letter from an audience member of ten years ago, telling me that whenever they felt disappointed at the way their life had turned out, they remembered the speech of the pessimistic man from long ago.
I smiled a rare smile. When I was young, I too had thought myself on the road to making some grand discovery that would make everyone happy.
But.
The world has enough of that.
What it really needs, I find, is someone who is willing to make everyone a little more pessimistic. | Are you blind? Oh, but looking at you, I have to apologize. Dude, I'm surprised you made it this far! It seems like a severe case of stupidity. You look like the reason a manual must say not to microwave your hamster. Or that you should plug something in before you try to turn it on. But it's not like you're completely useless.... there's got to be at least something you're good at, right?
Right?
... you are still looking for your place in this world? And you don't know what you're good at. Is this a fucking joke now? You're joking, right? Oh fuck, are you serious? Oh, that's another way of saying you're a disappointment.
Dude, how old are you? Seriously tell me what you've accomplished so far?
...
Nothing, not even a single thing you've accomplished so far in your life? Then why do you sound so optimistic? Do you expect that to change? You are a disappointment, to your parents and to society.... Life is not a game, and if it were so easy to change - why doesn't everyone? Because they like their shitty lives? But you are better than them? Dude, look in the mirror and say that again! You're better than them, my ass! Honestly, if ignorance was a superpower, you'd be the President of the United States. But \*spoiler\* it's not, your ignorance is just the tip of the iceberg. The idea that you think so much of yourself is just too hilarious.
Has the last brain cell escaped your head yet? Headed straight for Mexico to continue their desperate search for intelligence? Poor guys, but honestly you had no use for them, they were all wasted on you anyway.
Can you please calm down? I'm seriously trying to explain something to you, and what do you do? You interrupt me, sobbing and complaining that I'm being mean - are we in kindergarten? That's life, deal with it. Reality isn't fun, it doesn't care if you're happy or not, and frankly, neither do I.
Do you really think you have even a spark of potential in you? I think you need a new pair of glasses - just looking at your face, I know there's nothing going on in your head. Emptiness, yawning emptiness is in there - but you think if you try hard enough something will change? You will change? Pah, I laugh myself silly. Do you really think skimming a book or two will make you smarter? Hidden talents slumbering inside you, just waiting to awaken? You really are too funny, maybe you should become a comedian. I haven't laughed like that in a long time.
Well, you don't find an idiot of that caliber every day. I'll definitely have to tell my colleagues, they'll laugh themselves silly. That someone like you could even think of being more than a waste of space. Garbage to society. It's hilarious how deep a person can get stuck in their own deluded illusion, that they don't even see what scum they are. So I see it as my sacred duty to 'help' these people.
You are a disappointment for your parents, they should be truly ashamed to have raised you. That you can even leave the house in good conscience is a mystery to me, but maybe I expect too much from you? Aren't you ashamed to look like that? Your appearance is enough to make me nauseous, so I feel sorry for your fellow human beings who have to put up with you every day.
Absolutely disgusting. So do me a favor and stay home, will you? You'll be doing your environment a huge favor, trust me. You think they'd miss you? Pah, you're deluded! Let me assure you: No one will miss you - or even notice your absence.
~~But look on the bright side, will you? Nobody cares about you, it's not that bad. Like you're not even going to make up an excuse for that party next Saturday because no one's inviting you. That's perfect for a guy who lives more like a hermit than a real person.~~
You are nothing special and never will be - come to terms with it, the sooner the better. Because ain't nothing worse than a deluded idiot fooling himself and others. Of course, it does have some amusement level for an outsider, stupidity on such a scale is quite captivating - but like everything in life, it has its limits. Like when they open their mouths and you realize once again that a person doesn't seem to need a brain to function. These poor people start to doubt themselves when idiots like you attract so much attention.
And please, don't even get the idea that your time will come. Because first of all, why should it come now, decades later? Secondly, why should it come to someone like you? Because you tried? Dream on. And finally, thirdly, haven't you been listening to me at all? A piece of shit will always remain a piece of shit, no matter how much it wishes to be something else - so shut the fuck up.
Yeah, I think that's a pretty good conclusion: Do yourself and society one last favor and just shut up, it's not like anything good is going to come out of this. | 2022-08-26T11:06:30 | 2022-08-26T10:16:54 | 66 | 14 |
[WP] A Powerful sorcerer known as the Soul Harvester has recently died, and now his unfathomable collection of souls has become a hivemind army without a sorcerer to control them. | "Okay, so you're saying Uncle John was a wizard, like Harry Potter?" Calvin gave the dark haired man in front of him a quizzical look.
"No, no. A sorcerer is very different from a wizard. Wizards conjure things using ancient spells and internal power. Sorcerers have to harness that power from other living things. Your Uncle was actually quite accomplished in his field." The estate manager said. Calvin frowned.
"Okay, so what does that have to do with me?"
"Your Uncle's will." The man said importantly. "He left you everything."
"But Uncle John was destitute. He couldn't even afford to keep his house."
"It's true that your Uncle was less fortunate in financial wealth, but he had something far more valuable." He paused, waiting for Calvin to ask him what it was. Calvin simply raised and eyebrow and waited. When it became clear the young man was absolutely not going to ask, the older gentleman flung his arms out wide in a dramatic flair. "His Legion of SOULS!"
"His what?" Calvin blinked, unimpressed by the man's theatrics.
"One moment." The man pulled a dusty case from behind his desk and popped it open with a click. He pulled out a weathered book and set it on the desk surface. Despite his skepticism, Calvin wanted to reach out and touch it. It looked old, and potentially worth something as a collectible. Was it possible that his Uncle left him something of value after all? "This is what your Uncle bequeathed to you, lucky boy."
"An old book?" He tried not to appear as intrigued as he felt. Something about the old leather binding called to him to open it.
"Not just any old book. Take a look." The man said, pushing it towards him. Hesitantly, Calvin reached out his hand and took hold of it. The pages seemed to vibrate within the warped cover, begging him to see what was inside. But before he could open it, the estate manager popped up from behind his desk and ushered Calvin from his chair. "There you go. You touched it. It's officially yours, and I have other clients to attend to. It's time you were off." He rushed Calvin out of his office and into the street, clicking the lock behind him.
Calvin was taken aback by the man's abrupt behavior, but it only distracted him for a moment before his attention once again returned to the book in his hand. Shaking slightly, he pulled the cover open and let the pages fall to either side. It was a book of names.
Before he could properly begin reading them there was a rushing sound in his ears. Calvin felt the world spinning around him. Colors blurred. Lights became bright and dark all at once. He was sure to be sick.
And then suddenly, it all stopped. He was once again on the street, holding a weathered book. His stomach was still settling when he heard a voice coming from everywhere at once.
"WHO ARE YOU?"
Calvin spun around, searching for the booming voice. There was no one on the street except a middle aged woman walking her dog. She gave him a dirty look and skirted past.
"WHO ARE YOU??" boomed several voices at once.
"I - I'm Calvin." He said, still searching for the voices. He glanced down at the book.
"ALL HAIL CALVIN!" The sounds of a thousand men rose up at once. Calvin froze on the street staring at the yellowing pages still in his hand. The voices were not coming from the book, and yet they were. They had invaded his mind.
"Uh… are you the Legion of souls?" He asked timidly. The woman with the dog glanced back from several yards away and then hurried herself and her dog across the street.
"WE ARE YOUR LEGION. AND WE SHALL KILL AND CONQUER AT YOUR WHIM MASTER CALVIN!"
"Oh. Um… that's not necessary. I really would just like to grab something for lunch." Calvin nervously ran his fingers through his hair. What had his Uncle gotten him into?
"CALVIN REQUIRES SUSTENANCE. WE HUNT!"
"Um, no. I was thinking something simpler. Like… uh… pizza?" He said quickly.
"Very well Master Calvin." The voices answered. "TO PIZZA!"
Calvin swallowed hard and closed the book carefully before heading down the street. | The soul harvester. It was a nice name. And one that the man had deserved.
Most people would have blanched and broken down in the face of the sorrow he had faced. He wasnt most people. He let the grief and anger fuel his plan. He wasn't going to let fate decide who was allowed to die and who wasnt.
He wouldnt just sit back and watch as life cruelly took away the people he loved most. He couldn't.
And so he learnt the dark arts. He had still been young when he had started learning, and now half his life had gone past him in just the pursuit of a forbidden knowledge.
Finally, he mastered what he thought was the spell. Ecstatic, he rushed to the morgue, where he brought his wife back to life.
''You're here! My gods, you're here!'' He shouted when, after the spell had been chanted, the woman rose from the bed that her still body had been lying on. She didnt respond.
"Are you okay? Do you want something? Lily look at me, please'' She had been looking away from him, but at his prompts she turned to stare right into his eyes.
He saw it then. She might be re animated, but her eyes were soulless husks.
He spent the next few months trying to bring back the Lily he had once known, but the task proved to be next to impossible. She had become a robot like creature. She wouldn't talk unless talked to, and did whatever he asked her to. She didnt respond to anything he said with human emotions. It seemed as if he had just brought back her body, and everything human about her had remained dead.
Half his life had been spent learning what few knew, and now another half was spent trying to alter this spell.
He would look for bodies of men, women and children, who had died with no one loving them. Those who had died alone and lonely. He figured no one would miss them, and that no one could be agitated about him reviving their bodies.
He was wrong. Slowly news spread of him and his unique talent. But not everyone saw it as a talent. Most considered it an abomination, as a stark violation against the 'sacred' rules of nature. He didnt care.
By now, he had thousands of humanoids that followed his every command. He could keep the protestors at bay, and then some.
He was about 68 now, or maybe 73. He didnt really know, time had passed by too quickly. He was tired. He had one last spell to try out, and if this one didnt work, he would command his souls to kill him.
He got to work, lighting the ceremonial fire, bringing out what was now just a skeleton.
It was a tedious process, exhausting both his mind and body to the max. He sat back, 19 hours later. The ceremony was complete. There was no one emerging from the fire, as he had hoped.
''Please Bring the poison and a glass of that wine i've been saving, lily. It's time''
He looked at the fire one last time as he gulped down the poison. He wasn't particularly disappointed about how he had spent his life. He thought back to when his father had died as a youth, and before his death he talked about all the regrets the latter had.
No, he wasn't like his father. He had built himself a legacy. One that brought terror to the minds of people. Mothers used his stories to scare their children into obedience. People feared to even look at his, somewhat huge, house much less walk past it.
The only thing he regretted was not bringing his daughter back. His baby girl.
He thought back to the last moment he had spent with the girl, who had been mere a year and a half old.
He had left his cottage for work, kissing his wife and his baby goodbye. He didnt know that the goodbye would last forever. His life was almost perfect, but he'd had a little problem with the cruel loan sharks in his village.
As he returned back from work, he heard panicked cries and saw smoke rising from where his home was. His feet picked up speed as his trembling fingers dropped his bag.
He was too late to save them. Enraged and filled with despair, he said in the smoky remains of his house, looking at the burnt remains of his family.
The loan sharks died a terrifying and slow death the next day, hung from the noose as they were slowly choked to death with a fire burning their feet below them.
He was brought back to the present as his eyes started drooping. And he heard something. From the fire.
''Jane?''
The baby, hearing her father, crawled towards him, giggling.
"Dada"
"Lily. I task you and the rest of the souls with protecting Jane no matter what happens. You will not allow any harm to come to her, if you can help it.''
The child, not understanding the magnitude of the words her father had said, smiled a simple smile and stared at the man with adoring eyes.
She held his thumb as he closed his eyes, dying with happiness. | 2022-09-19T19:10:46 | 2022-09-19T18:59:11 | 48 | 15 |
[WP] You've loved magic your whole life but since your family is poor you've had to teach yourself. you're overactive imagination has helped you invent spells all your own. eventually you get a scholarship to a prestigious magic college but quickly find out everyone seems to lack your imagination. | I remember the joy I felt eight months ago when I first received the envelope in the mail. I knew I had gotten in the second I saw it, since it was a big envelope. If I hadn't gotten it, Woodsworth wouldn't have bothered to send a whole pamphlet. I remembered hurrying into the kitchen, a lopsided grin plastered on my face, ripping open the letter and looking at what I knew was there. My mom was thrilled too, she actually jumped with joy. The next few days were a blur of packing and spreading the news.
I remember how grand and wonderful the campus seemed, and how shocked I was when I saw the Woodsworth Griffin reserve. Griffins, the rare, majestic beasts, there, in the flesh, right in front of me! It had felt like a dream. Everything was so full of life and color, tinted with hope and adrenaline. For the first few days of classes, it had been hard to sit still. I was at Woodsworth! I would polish off my magic skills, then work as an inventor and an artificer, spending the rest of my days working with a team of magicians who wanted to improve and advance this world just as much as I did.
I remember the moment my hope began to ebb. It receded and eventually left as the months slid by.
I realized how far I had fallen when I visited home during winter break. Being in my old room, looking at my journal of old spells. My notes about magic now vs then had drastically changed. Hours reading in the library and experimenting in the backyard had been replaced with listening to lectures and trying to transcribe every little detail. When I used to occupy my mind with ideas and creativity, now I was full of memorization and tests.
I continued flipping through my old journal, looking at my messy, barely legible handwriting, wild, crazy drawings and diagrams, the words I had written looked more like scribbles since I was writing so fast and so enthused. Slowly, reluctantly, I reached into my backpack and took out my most recent notebook. Neat, tidy handwriting I didn't recognize as my own filled the pages.
I did one of my old spells titled 'time capsule'. An image of me appeared in my mirror. I looked about 10 years old. I was wearing a Woodsworth hat and my signature lopsided smile.
"Hi! if you're seeing this then that means you got into your dream school Woodsworth! Maybe you even got to pet one of the Griffins too! Anyway this is a time capsule I made, I'm 11 and one quarter now, and this is the time capsule spell I'm making! I'm going to open it way in the future when I'm super old, when I go to a college! I want to be a doctor and come up with a cure for every sickness in the world, and then I-" With a wave of my hand I shut off the time capsule.
I should have realized then during winter break. I should have left then. But it might be too late now. I have mentally been gutted and emptied out, then stuffed full again with multiple-choice questions and document-based essays. What happened to that creative magician, so full of passion and light? What mental castle had been turned into a cavern? What used to be beautiful had been defaced and eroded away. I sat on the floor of my dorm and cried. | (So here is a story that I wrote in fifteen minutes with zero proof reading)
​
It was a strange day when the letter arrived, the postmaster usually wouldn’t make his rounds ‘til next week. And that's how I knew the outcome of my application before I even read it.
I was excited, I poured magic into the kettle, the runes glowing faintly where I hadn’t carved them quite right and magic was leaking. With the water boiling in an instant I brewed my cup of tea and sat down to read the letter. I opened it and was disappointed to see the plainness of it, not sigils flaring up, not characters slithering across the page, no pazazz, no creativity. In hindsight that should have been a dead give away. The pages of the letter blurred together with drivel about responsibility and bureaucracy. I gave up trying to read it eventually and decided to just go directly to the academy myself. If I was going to be enrolled I would need to buy supplies and meet new people.
I downed the last of my tea and grabbed my satchel, I shifted the runes stitched into the fabric and my clothes dutifully floated out of my bedroom and into the bag. A waste of magic? Perhaps, the lazy thing to do? most definitely, but fun? Hell yes.
I walked outside to my zipboard, that was what I liked to call my pride and joy. A stupid name for sure, but it was a board and it zipped allow quickly so it was the name I used. It took me over a month to tune the runes, using the sigils to regulate magic, adding the straps for me to hold onto and polishing it to a gleam.
I took off, destined for the academy, only making a stop at a neighbor’s house to ask if they needed anything brought back from the big city. My board zoomed along the road, outpacing even some birds as it breezed just above the ground. The wind in my hair and a dream in my heart I laughed in ecstasy.
Arriving at the academy was stange, I had expected to see some mages out practicing magic, even before the beginning of the school year, yet there was nothing but an empty courtyard and half a dozen buildings. I looked around and saw a pair of students (presumably) wandering between two buildings.
“Excuse me”, I ask rather awkwardly, not really used to meeting many strangers “where could I find the office?”
The pair gave me a weird look and stared down at my zipboard.
“Err, what on earth are you standing on?”, one of them asked with a rather perplex tone.
“Oh this”, I say as I hop off and pick up my zipboard, “It's this neat device I made, it uses repulsion runes that are regulated by choke and pressure sigils to float and move around at high speed”.
“Err, how does that work”, the other student replies.
I blink at him, now taking my turn to be confused.
“What do you mean?”, I ask.
‘You said you use runes to move, how?”
“I don’t know what you are asking”, I reply
“How did you use those runes to allow you to fly?” is the answer I get back.
I can’t help but stare. Here were two students who couldn’t seem to draw the connection between the repulsion runes and the board, well, being repelled from the ground.
“I would love to study that board” the first student pipes up, “It would make and excellent topic to teach about alternative uses of magic”.
I pause for a moment, wondering if I had misunderstood before opening my mouth and asking.
“Wait, do you teach classes?”
The two students, or should I say professors. Apparently. Both nodded in unison.
I debated for a fraction of a second before simply stating, “well, I think I might just be on my way, thank you for the quick chat”, and before they can react I hop on my board and disappear into the distance.
As arrogant as it sounds, I think I might be better off at home. | 2022-10-25T05:20:00 | 2022-10-25T05:06:02 | 741 | 131 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "Bad news, my lord."
"Well, out with it, my minion."
"The king's not buying it."
"What?"
"I know, sir. He's just having none of it at all."
"But kings *always* fall for the Chosen One shtick. They send some poor hapless whelp while we roll their unprepared forces with our superior numbers. And you're saying that's not going to work?"
"I'm afraid it looks like not, my lord."
"Well, we'd best got to work actually training up our army then, I suppose."
"Already working on it, my lord."
"An actual fight? I just can't believe it."
"Well, this day was bound to come eventually... It was foretold."
"What?"
"Oh, yes, sire. Dark prophecy. It's said only a great lord of surpassing strength and valor could defeat the Wise King in single combat. You could always set out yourself and test that."
"...You think you're funny, minion?"
"I try, sir." | The Queen leaned on her scepter, pressing it to her forehead, soothing her. Before her, Castellan Hujo looked at a spot on the ground. Sweat pooled underneath his starched collar.
"Tell me again. Slowly. Why teenager is of more worth to my kingdom than my standing armies."
"Well--"
"And what does 'blue hair' have to do with any of this'?"
Castellan Hujo rubbed at his mustache. "I don't know, your Majesty. Truly, I don't. But...well...this has happened before. When a kingdom faces an existential threat, there's a chance--only a chance--child with blue hair will be born. That child, when grown is the last chance of a kingdom to save itself. I don't know why the blueness of their hair is important but..."
The Queen raised her hand, silencing the Castellan.
"You do know how utterly ridiculous this is, Hujo"
"Yes, your Majesty."
"And what kind of crises have these blue haired children helps avert?
Hujo took a breath and began to read off a list. Marauding dragons, conspiratorial viziers, demons disguised as gods, the sinking of cities...the list sent on for some time. Each new item softened the Queens's expression until she was staring blankly at the scepter.
"Have things really become so bad?" she whispered.
Slowly, the Vizier nodded his head.
"Bring them to me."
In days, the Queens men had found him. On his back was a sword far larger and heavier than any solider would reasonably use. At his side was another teenager--some childhood friend perhaps--looking at the blue-haired hero with unrestrained awe. On the hero's soldier sat a cat-like creature, in its paws a tattered spell book.
And on his head...a tuft of spiky blue hair. | 2022-10-28T10:28:05 | 2022-10-28T08:04:26 | 260 | 177 |
[WP] "I WILL NOT LISTEN TO THIS ANY LONGER" "But Your Majesty, the prophe-" "You want me to send a GODDAMN TEENAGER TO FIGHT WHEN WE HAVE TRAINED SOLDIERS" | "Bad news, my lord."
"Well, out with it, my minion."
"The king's not buying it."
"What?"
"I know, sir. He's just having none of it at all."
"But kings *always* fall for the Chosen One shtick. They send some poor hapless whelp while we roll their unprepared forces with our superior numbers. And you're saying that's not going to work?"
"I'm afraid it looks like not, my lord."
"Well, we'd best got to work actually training up our army then, I suppose."
"Already working on it, my lord."
"An actual fight? I just can't believe it."
"Well, this day was bound to come eventually... It was foretold."
"What?"
"Oh, yes, sire. Dark prophecy. It's said only a great lord of surpassing strength and valor could defeat the Wise King in single combat. You could always set out yourself and test that."
"...You think you're funny, minion?"
"I try, sir." | "Okay ya know what... fuck you". I said finally tired of his shit.
"We all wipe your ass daily and you want to send everyone to die???" I continued while he was to dumbstruck to act. "Our teenagers have alot in common and since you didn't even fucking TRY diplomacy properly."
I expected the guards to strike me down swiftly for dare challenging the king. But instead the dozen honor guards just started laughing until they were almost doubled over.
"About time someone put that little shit in his place. My brother was telling that the "darklord" actually accepts their peoples union and lives no better than any of her subjects."
"A WOMAN!!! YOU ARE ALL SCARED OF A WOMAN!!!"
The king raged.
"Show some respect for your betters you whiny little shit. Its about time you grow up."The guard closest to the king smacked him in the back of his head.
"Ya know what...." The lead soldier said "who needs this asshole" as he spoke he ripped the king from his throne and flung him across the room."
"You want the job sir?" The captain asked.
"Hell no look what it did to that asshole." I said waving my hand. "Beside he didn't actually do anything anyways just made others do the work and took the credit."
"Good point." As the captain spoke another guard came forward ending a call on his cellphone.
"So called my brother and the Darklord started crying she was so happy he said. They are throwing a celebration party and we are all invited!!!"
"How did they throw that together so fast?" The captain asked?
"Turns out they have been prepared for an eternity. They were just waiting for us to figure things out."
"Sweet" said the guards in unison.
One of the younger guards spoke up "but who will guard the castle?"
"Who cares we are turning it into housing for all the people anyways." | 2022-10-28T10:28:05 | 2022-10-28T07:51:12 | 260 | 31 |
[WP] Much like dinosaurs, mythical dragons have all gone extinct. What people don't know is that, like dinosaurs, the dragons also have their descendants. One day on your farm, you encounter a talking, ember-spitting chicken, bent on "restoring their clan." | The town was ablaze, and the chicken squawked with joy. "The gold, human! Pillage it all."
Claire's gaze danced across the slithering flames. The houses she once knew were now piles of ash and charred wood. The people she had grown up with were running and screaming at the top of their lungs, a parade of despair. Not too far from her, the gluttonous fire had engulfed the slow and unfortunate, turning them into featureless monsters.
Claire laughed, and she did so with turbulent delight.
"Human, the gold I said!" The hen's squawk cut through the roaring discord.
Claire shook her head, coming back to herself. She picked up the chicken and bolted toward Mr. Gunch's house. It was the largest of them all, and not far away. The flames were nibbling at the sides, and the door was wide open, which meant the Gunches had already left.
She made her way inside, and past the hallway, she entered Mr. Gunch's office. There, sitting and staring out the window, was Mr. Gunch. His eyes were covered in tears and his extremities trembled with unhinged fear.
Claire stopped dead in her tracks. "Mr Gunch? What are you doing here? The house is about to collapse."
"I can't leave. I'm too fat to stand up alone," he said. "My family left me here, on my command. I was going to slow them down. Death has come, at last." He turned to Claire, his stare beyond the veil of tears was ice-cold. "And if you have come for my riches, girl, know that they are not here anymore."
Claire nodded. "I thought as much." She dug out a butcher's knife from her pocket and without a word, sliced Mr. Gunch's hands with one swift swing. The obese man screamed as the blood poured out. "But these rings you've got are quite the bounty. As a payment, I'll give you the most honorable death of them all. Norbert, do your thing."
"You don't command me, peasant!" the chicken squawked but proceeded to vomit a cloud of fire onto Mr. Gunch. "You owe me, human! Let's leave. Too much smoke for you."
\---
Far from the town, and with the rings extracted from the hands, Norbert spoke. "We need to be smarter, human. I bet there were treasures here and we only got five rings."
"Perhaps," Claire said, "you should have listened to me when I told you to trust me and be patient instead of incinerating everything on a whim. Dragons were wise not because of being dragons, but because of their age and you are young, very young. If we are going to restore your kin, and if you are going to make me queen of all things, you should listen to me until you grow older."
"Fair," Norbert said and shook little remnants of smoke from his wings. "I didn't think you had it in you. I was gonna use you until I found a good human to help me restore my clan. That of the Iztran dragons, sleepers of Iztrandross, once rulers of the world."
Claire paused for a moment. Her mind collected what she had done and processed it. She smiled then. "I didn't think I had it in me either. But it seems my morality is flexible given the right incentives. It's an interesting thing, though. How what I thought was unswerving turned supple when put to test."
"So much blabbering, where next?"
"Taritar, and this time, you follow my command."
Norbert huffed fire. "Fine. Only this time."
\---
You can read more of my stories at r/AStoryToRuleThemAll | I don't even know why I'm on this farm. I mean sure my parents are farmers and all, but that doesn't mean 'I' want to be one. The same old laboring routine day in and day out. So sick of it. I want to be a city boy living in my air conditioned condo rather than shoveling manure. Living in riches, comfort, and style. I want to get out of this no name hick town and make it big for myself!
Then I met 'it'. I thought my prayers have been answered. The great lord Clucky in the sky has granted me a gift so grand and bewitching that I would be seen in T.V.s and billboards nationwide! I would be famous!
Well it was short-lived. 'It' or rather she was the most arrogant, selfish, entitled, self-righteous chicken, if it even is a chicken with its scales under its feathers, that I have ever met! Calling me an idiot or a knave. Saying how she will not be trifled with such a task to jester herself in front of others. Telling me that my goals are nothing compared to the noble task to bring about the age of dragons back into the world. Bragging about her solemn duty or what-not. Talk about a stuck up prude.
She keeps prattling on about how she intends to restore her clan and seek vengeance upon the clan of the McDonald, the Chick-fil-A, and the Zaxby for slaughtering the descendents of dragons. As if a mere chicken can do anything about it...
Days passed and I decided to keep it a secret to my family and since I'm the one mainly responsible for the chicken coup. I don't think anyone will find out about her for now. She was mostly quiet and tended to only speak when I came by to collect eggs or feed the chickens. She kept talking about finding another of her kind that showed high traces of the noble "dragon" blood for joining her clan. Pfft as if just because you speak and have small patches of scales, you're a dragon! I mostly ignored her after being told that my search for wealthy comfort in the city was a foolish quest.
"Are you still upset about last time young lad?"
"No..."
"Oh, come now, a boy like you couldn't possibly..."
"POSSIBLY WHAT?! HAVE A DREAM?!" I snapped back.
I've had it... I ran back home.
At dinner, I had an argument with my family. They wanted me to take over their family business. I told them I wanted to go to the city. They forbade it and I could do nothing, but feel the frustration. I ran out the house and decided to hide behind one of the barns and sat down to cool myself down.
It was a full moon tonight. Not just any full moon. The biggest and brightest moon I had ever seen tucked in its hazy dark blue blanket of clouds.
"Beautiful night isn't it? Young squire."
I looked back sideways as I dug my head under my arms.
"What would you know? You're a chicken..."
"Yes. But deep down I know I'm different. And I will embrace that difference, never letting it go. I will never give up and I will never let anyone tell me otherwise."
"I don't get it. Why are you calling yourself a dragon in the first place? I only see you as a talking chicken."
"Well I see you as a diligent honest farmer boy, but apparently you call yourself a city boy."
"That's different."
"... Okay well I'll tell you what. If I show you something, promise me that you won't give up on your dreams."
"..."
She begins to inhale while holding her breath. You can see faint sparks in her throat. Spontaneous glows and lights flare up inside. Then in an instant she bellows out a flame as large as my fist.
At first I wasn't sure what to think or say. My eyes widened as the whole thing played out. I just sat there looking at her while she stood there coughing into her feathered wings while she softly muttered, "I hope I didn't barbecue my throat."
The first thing I said or rather yelled was...
"YOU CAN BREATHE FIRE!?!?!"
"I told you I was a dragon!" She replied as she smirked.
As I was laughing and smiling I gazed upwards slowly and realized my mom with her mouth wide-opened and staring downwards towards the talking fire breathing beast.
[Post-script]
Hello. First time here. I didn't know how to end it. I'm not very great at this due to a lack of or zero experience. I still hope you enjoyed it. | 2022-10-31T09:37:05 | 2022-10-31T08:35:38 | 38 | 24 |
[WP] You discover that Earth is the "North Korea" of the galaxy | "So, your people and my people are at war then? Just like that?" I asked, staring into the screen. Outside, masses of rock moved silently through the asteroid field. My former comrade from the other side was only a few meters away from me, in a spherical ship that, just like mine, was devoid of external lights and signals. We'd used these ships to goof off and enjoy a few minutes of peace between shifts, but this meeting was something other.
"We didn't know that word until we met you," he said, voice eerily clear over the communicator. "We didn't understand you until recently. I personally do not think you are like some of... them. I would have liked us to still be friends."
"I still don't understand," I replied quietly.
"The books," his voice replied. "You're the only race we have contacted, out of dozens, who has written fiction about going to war with other races in outer space. In fact, the word itself was mistranslated until recently - we believed it to mean a grudge or some kind of existential conflict. Your concept, it is a form of mass-murder. Yours is the only race that practices it, at least that we know of."
I sat staring at his ship through the window, and I was angry.
"War? War isn't always wrong. Factions have gone to war to prevent genocides or injustice..."
"...that were also created by people of your own race," he pointed out. "Genocide. We have prejudices. Every race does. But yours is the only one that has pushed it to that extreme. Wait."
I watched the inside of his cockpit light up. The light of a single viewscreen illuminated his rigid, still face. "Nuclear weapons. You are the only race. Genital mutilation. Only race. Not the only race to commit slavery, but had the longest duration of slavery of any race. Disease warfare. Only race. Serial killers. Only race. You have no idea how many years it took us to actually decipher what some of this meant. You were a brother to me, human. Your kind sickens me."
"This is in the past," I protested. "You're reading our history files."
"Three months ago, a nuclear strike destroyed one of your far colonies," he said. His race's version of an accusatory tone was high pitched and grating.
"That was a galactic backwater," I said. "Those aren't civilized people."
"Still your race," he said. "A religious organization committed some kind of ritual suicide last year. One of your race's preachers convinced over a thousand of your people to kill themselves. Why?"
"They're... crazy," I finished lamely. These weren't groups of people I was affiliated with.
"The eradication of Yavesh-5," his voice said, in a cold monotone. "Starting a terraforming process by destroying an entire planet's ecosystem, including budding sentient life."
I sat silently. That was the Prade Corporation, which was one of our former company's competitors. Those were people a lot like me.
"We can be greedy," I said quietly. "But we're not all like that. Our own government punished them."
"They were fined. It was 12.7% of one yearly net profit for them. They murdered a planet and paid your government to do it. This is not a meaningful punishment."
"Fine, we're scum," I sighed, throwing my hands up. If they had already judged us, there was nothing we could really do. "I just hope we can end this stupid war. What caused it in the first place?"
"We did," he answered. I stared at him across the vacuum.
"You what?"
"We declared war," he said simply. "Once we learned what it was, and figured out what your race was capable of, we realized that war would be inevitable between us. The only way we can exist peacefully is to make sure that your people are kept under control."
"You're going to condemn us as warmongers and then declare war on us?" I demanded, standing up in the cockpit. "You fucking hypocrite!"
"Not hypocrite. Survivor," he replied. "Your people are too aggressive and cruel. We do not want neighbors with nuclear arms, or random splinter factions suffering from insanity attacking us. We do not want to be attacked because one member of your race wanted to steal from us to further his own ambitions. Your race is ridiculous. I do not understand how any of you cooperated enough to leave your planet in the first place."
"Well, we don't want a neighbor who is going to suddenly declare war on us because of our history," I shouted. "You call us ridiculous? You won't be saying that in a few years. There's something you forgot about us, old friend."
"I find this doubtful," he hissed.
"We're a contentious race. We fight like wolves over things you find stupid, using methods you'd never dream of. But what happens when we face a common enemy? If humanity has a choice between aiding their worst enemy or being ruled by an alien race, which do you think we will choose? Oh, and all of those things you mentioned? If we came up with all of that, what are we going to come up with in this war?"
"You will not succeed," he said. His voice quavered slightly.
"Even if you win, billions of your kind will die," I stated, staring into his cockpit. "If we begin to lose, we will use nuclear and chemical weapons. We will make plagues against you. We will sterilize your planets and even sacrifice our own lives to take more of yours. You have no idea how fucked you are right now. Why in the fuck did you think those writers wrote those fucking books? We were ready for this the entire time. The entirety of human history was leading up into our war with you. You're right, I guess. It was inevitable."
My cockpit lit up with bright lights. Several of the erstwhile asteroids outside were lit up, displaying installations of metal and spotlights on their surfaces.
"We have finished recording," a foreign, alien voice sounded over the communicator. "Thank you, human."
"What? What is this?" I protested, shielding my eyes from the light.
"From your race, we have also learned the meaning of propaganda," my former friend said. He made a high-pitched keening noise, the sound of his race expressing mirth.
The asteroids closed in. I had a sinking feeling that I would never see a human world again. | I only really downloaded the TOR browser for a goof. I heard you could buy pot on a site called silk road. I hadn't really smoked since college- but a lot of states had been legalising recently, so I was thinking about trying it out again. I didn't think I'd buy anything- but once I got on the site I knew I had to try some. You have to understand, I was a heavy user back in the day- but the weed on there...it didn't even look like the same plant. Big thick buds; actually green instead of that tawny brown shit. I mean, christ some of it was purple!
So, I thought 'hell, I'm nearing my golden years. I've got a nest egg, I'm not long off retirement- my kids have kids. I'm not in a place to hang around campuses looking to buy- this seems safe'. I ordereda quad of something called 'Purple Haze'. What can I say? If it was good enough for Jimi.
A couple of days later I got a knock at my door. On the step was a...well. I hesitate to say man. When I opened the door, other than an overpowering stench of ganja I was struck by the figure's height. It was so tall, I craned my neck to get a look at it's face- but I was only met with a huge cloud of smoke billowing out from underneath a wizards hat. It wore a shabby grey suit that was several sizes too big around the mid section while barely covering it's forearms and shins.
-Mr bigblackdragondildo?
It's voice was like nothing I'd ever heard. I've hear people call the Irish accent melodic- but it almost sung each syllable. I was so taken a back by how beautiful it's voice was- it took me a moment to register that it had addressed me by my screen name.
-Uh...yes...I suppose that's me.
-I have traveled a long way on the silk road. May I come in?
-Of course.
It stood on it's tip toes as if it was a ballerina and without any other leg movement floated into my home. It had to duck to not slam his head on the door frame, and once inside it bent at the knees and slouched to fit. The creature turned to face me, and emitted a high giggling sound at my slack-jawed expression. It was so loud, I became very concious of my neighbours and very concious of the smell. I hadn't even told my wife I had ordered drugs. A panic set in and then an anger at this...this thing's casualness. Before I could speak up it said-
-Shall we go somewhere more private?
-Yes. I have a garage.
I led the way.
-Don't worry about the neighbours. When they look my way, all they'll see is a slight shimmer in the air- and all they'll smell is a hint of rosemary and thyme.
College kids are getting weirder every year.
-You mentioned in the email that you hadn't smoked since around half of your species lifespan a go. I decided that, in the interest of creating a comfortable experience, I would talk you through the specifics of this strain. Sick Hendrix poster Mr bigblackdragondildo.
I had almost forgotten I'd hung that there. It's still up there abovera set of old weights that haven't been used since January (and won't get used again until next January) and a record player.
-Oh is he still big?
-Hendrix plays the guitar in a way that transcended what my people thought homosapiens were capable of Mr bigblack/
-Please, just call me John.
-Ah. I thought you wanted to keep the codenames. Your lot can never be sure who is listening.
-I'm sure we're safe here.
-Yes. Ofcourse John. It is strange how interested you people are in one another's private affairs. Most other developed planet moved past this kind of petty noseyness eons ago. Seeing as you are a fan of the meastro himself, would you care to listen to his new single? I find this strain is particularly good at enhancing music.
-I'm sorry- new single?
-Yes. 'The Sand Dunes of New Neptune'? It's an instant classic.
-Hendrix is dead.
The creature let out that high giggling sound again.
-Is that still an issue on this planet?
-What?
-Death.
-Yes. How could it not be? It's the second bloody law of thermodyanmics!
-Your people really do just believe whatever your told aren't you! I bet you still have resource wars around here.
He went into a fit of giggles here. At this point I was starting to get annoyed with him. Now- I'm no square. I protested veitnam. But the way he talked about me, and 'my people' was rude. It was as if he didn't respect me at all. I assume he's just learnt about the military industrial complex for the first time and is trying to lord it over me for being an American. I didn't vote for Bush, and yes Iraq might have been a resource war...but sometimes these things are nessesary. And anyway- I can't do anything to stop it- so why should he act like I'm some sort of stupid ape?
-I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I'm still getting used to the culture here. It's very different to my home planet.
-Mr...uh/
-My people do not have names. We have moved past the need of them. We are connected at all times to all things. Each member of my species is like a single drop of water in a spider's web reflecting all others. We contain the soul of our group yet we are still one. Once we realised we were all one conciouness experiencing itself subjectivly, names seemed pointless.
-Uh...
-If it helps you can call me Dr Greenthumb.
I didn't know what this guy's game was- but I did know that I wanted some of whatever he was smoking.
-So, I asked for a quarter of the....eh, the Purple Haze?
-And a fantastic choice that is too. A very creative smoke, excellent for listening to music, or perhaps drawing. Very fruitful for the beautiful work- though I'd reccomend not using when the doing the nessesary work.
Whatever man...
-Okay.
-I've pre-rolled you a few joints in the bag. Don't worry- I didn't take it out of your weight; think of it as a gift for a hopefully long freindship. I would advise you to take one draw, leave it about five minutes- see how you feel and then take another.
-The stuff is that good eh?
-It's out of this world.
He gave me the grass, and left me the the new Jimi record he was talking about. He left saying something about having another appointment across town. He said I could keep the Jimi record.
After dinner I told my wife I had scored some pot. She was receptive to the idea of trying it again, but she wanted to clean the house tonight. She said I was welcome to smoke in the garage- only I had to light an incense stick. I went through and sparked a doob, and stuck on the single. And here's the crazy thing, I got so stoned I was almost convinced that it was actually Jimi for a while.
I'm telling you, college kids get weirder every year.
| 2015-01-28T19:48:20 | 2015-01-28T19:20:16 | 84 | 34 |
[WP] The world is divided into countries, each controlled by a different subreddit. Describe the daily goings on between the largest countries. | It was midnight when theredpill armies invaded my homeland of TwoXChromosomes. It had been a wonderful week before then; I had been on a school trip to askscience, and my mother had been considering a family trip to awwdcational (although my little sister had been hoping for the neighbouring land of aww).
It was lonely and dark as the redpillers loaded us into vans. We looked out of the windows as the statues of our feminist heroes and yoga studios faded into the distance. I whispered to my mother.
"Are they taking us back to theredpill?"
She looked over at me, finally comprehending the landmarks that we had only seen on the news, gallows and nooses and murky black pits slowly brightening in the coming light of dawn.
"No, they aren't... they're taking us to watchpeopledie." | *Off topic*- Find it funny I literally just posted something similar to AskReddit a few days ago. Anyhow, I'll give it a shot!
Askreddit is the most populated country, but has the most civil wars out of all the countries, due to everyone being so opinionated.
TIFU always tries to rebuild their country but ends up crashing and burning.
Writing Prompts is the weakest of all the countries due to their very poetic citizens.
Showerthoughts is constantly in poverty due to having only a few intellectuals in the entire vast country.
FiftyFifty is a literal garbage dump, but with a whole mutated society living in it. And due to them being mutants, they have a very strong military. So, they are constantly trying to attack smaller countries.
TwoXChromosomes are to busy complaining about men being disgusting, and in doing so, end up being conquered by men.
Art is always out of war. Many compare them to the ancient society of Athens.
Funny is on the brink of collapse. But due to their both, military power and number, keep growing and in turn, keep surviving.
Pics is filled with crime due to many not following their laws. (rules)
Jokes has a smaller country but due to their 'talents' they manage to skim by, even though all of their 'talents' are taken from the ancient societies of Earth.
TIL is a vast, but empty, country. Many left to Futurology due to them learning more there, than at TIL.
IAma is a tourist hot spot. Many come for a day, due to their favorite celebs coming... for a day.
*Damn,* if Reddit became a planet, we would crumble to pieces. | 2015-04-18T10:59:23 | 2015-04-18T09:50:03 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] God is actually a divorced couple with shared custody of humanity. Now it's Old Testament's turn to take the kids, and he is not happy with how New Testament has handled the last two millenniums.
Credit to Louis C.K. for the idea. | “So…” he didn’t meet her eyes “…how you been?"
“Busy”. She said.
“Yeah…”He put his hands in his pockets. “Same here…”
“You’re unemployed.” She replied.
A flash of anger crossed his face. “Between jobs.” He said, with a cold tone.
“Whatever. So you’re here for the kids.”
“Yeah. How’ve they been?”
“You got their messages. I forwarded them all to you?”
“Yeah…but you know. When you’re so far away it’s hard to…I don’t know. It’s hard to relate I suppose.”
“They’ve grown up a lot since you had them last.”
“Really? They still remember me though don’t they?”
“Sure they do. I mean, bits and pieces.”
“It was a long time ago I suppose.”
“They still remember all those stories you used to read to them.”
“Yeah.” His face lit up. “Do they still read them?”
“Yeah…I mean, they’ve got a lot of stories of their own now. But yeah, sometimes.”
He still couldn’t meet her eyes.
“They know…they know I love them right?”
She just looked at him. | "So, how'd it go?"
"They still don't get it. It's crazy."
"Imagine how I felt."
"I can't! I sent Jesus down there, you know. To explain. To make it easier. I told him to focus on the essence."
"What did he say?"
"Well, to treat everyone how they would want to be treated. To not care too much about money. To try their best to follow your crazy rules, but not judge others when they can't. That's the main one. They can't stop judging each other. Also to do good, to shine, to learn from children, turn the other cheek--you know, the obvious stuff."
"I told you. We need to be strict. We don't need them to understand anything, we just need them to do it to get up here or make heaven on earth."
"Well, I haven't been completely fair; they're doing a lot better. Some of them are realizing that all those religions aren't supposed to compete with each other. They're putting together the pieces to the puzzle. And they're getting smarter. Like nine IQ points per generation recently. And we were both right about the Internet, by the way."
"Oh?"
"Yeah. Like you said, some of them just take pictures of their face or food, shop, chase tail, or watch TV--actually like 30% of the bandwidth goes to their television viewing--but others are using it to learn everything that they want. That potential we were talking about? Yeah some of them are farther away than ever, but if they use their resources right, they might also be really close. I mean, they already have smartphones. Practically all the information humanity has collected so far in the palms of their hands. And they can talk to each other no matter the distance."
"You think we should let them meet the 'aliens' yet?"
"Oh hell no. They would embarrass their selves. But almost!"
"Oh hey, what about the porn? I just checked the usage-"
"Yeah pretty much everyone uses it for porn."
(You saw it here first)
| 2015-06-04T23:03:45 | 2015-06-04T19:33:18 | 83 | 40 |
[WP] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following: a small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven. | The man at the desk looks up at me, and says in a deep voice.
"You get a pick of a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven or a wooden spoon."
"I'll take the vacation," I say confidently.
"I wouldn't pick that is I were you," Deep voice guy replies.
"I'll will still take the vacation," I reply.
Immediately I am transported to the pearly gates. I look around at all of the other people that chose the vacation. I also notice lots of tents with plenty of holes in them. I walk up to a guy in his thirties.
"We can't get in, right?" I ask.
"Sure as hell we can't," he replies.
"Well, that's just great." I mumble sarcastically to myself.
"Oh yeah, you have to go inside those gates over there for it to count as your time," he tells me while pointing over to a sign labeled heaven with gates around it.
"This just keeps getting better," I think to myself.
| Marcus tucked the spoon behind his ear with a casual confidence. He had no idea if he just fucked himself, day-one, but he knew what soft looked like, and 22 years in the big house teaches one thing. – don’t be soft. Besides, he didn’t think either answer would actually give him what he was expecting.
Sort of like that tricky genie in the bottle shit, where whatever you say gets twisted into a shit sandwich.
The foul smelling, fish faced demon that reminded him of his cunt wife, closed the drawer of spoons and escorted Marcus through a door leading to a long concrete hallway. Almost immediately, Marcus switched the spoon from his ear to his right hand, tightening his fingers around it, while leaving an inch and a half of the wooden handle protruding from the bottom of his fist. As he walked down the hallway, he occasionally brushed the spoon handle along the wall, trying to get a head start on sharpening it. He knew he would be getting a chin check or two in the next few days, and he would be ready to answer brutally.
He even managed a grin, calmed by how familiar the hallway seemed. It reminded him of Pulonsky supermax, where he did the first 10 years of his bit out in Texas. If Hell was anything like prison, he would fit right in.
After maybe 30 paces, Fish face stopped in front of a door and gestured for him to enter. The room was barely more than a booth, with a single stool in the center. Without question or hesitation, Marcus ducked into the room and sat.
As the door closed, a voice wailed and he swirled to see the corpse of his wife, behind a thick glass window.
“The God damned spoon again?” She raged at him. You hate me so much you can’t even pick heaven once?
| 2015-06-07T21:46:36 | 2015-06-07T14:47:18 | 58 | 32 |
[WP] The first human is sentenced to death by an alien civilization, who don't know the first thing about how to kill a human. | "You have been sentenced to die, by our most toxic of substances." They shrieked, their ugly voices resonating in my head.
"I didn't know you were sentient! I just want to go home!"
"You should have considered the consequences! Prepare for death by kuroxis.."
"Kuroxis? What the fuck is kuroxis?!" I asked, but then, the chamber began filling with smoke, and I prepared for the end, trying to hold my breath as best as I could.
"There's no point in stalling." They said, with their grotesque tongues. Finally, I had to take a breath, and.. I smelled it. It was reefer! I began to laugh.
"This is kuroxis? Reminds me of college!"
"The human should be dying soon." They said, but I just kept breathing it in, and soon.. I was chuckling, laughing, giggling, and very hungry. I became sleepy.
"Hey, hey, hey, man. Who's dying? You know, I'm dying for some fuckin' funyuns, that's for sure. Or maybe a milkshake.."
"The human should be dying any second now.. Kuroxis is among the most deadly of our poisons.."
"This is some good shit, man." I said, wondering what I was doing and where I was.
"Good? What?! You are supposed to be in agony!"
"Oh, yeah. That. Yep, it really hurts."
"The human is acting like it enjoys it! What.. What is going on?!" They murmured amongst themselves.
"No, no. I hate it. Now, uh, bring me some funyuns and a milkshake, and pump in some more kuroxis. I hate that shit. Yep." | All eyes were on him. The grand judge of the alien civilization was going over his notes one last time. In an effort to try to be more sympathetic to the humans, he put on some fake reading glasses and squinted with his eyes. He knew that it was a difficult decision, but he also knew that there was no other way. He had to give the first death penalty to a human being.
To be honest, Jack kinda had it coming. Growing up, he was spoiled by his rich parents, became the most arrogant person on the planet (he actually won an award for that) and proceeded to somehow build a business around his self-centeredness. As if that wasn't enough, he also enjoyed hunting. He started small, with rabbits and ducks, but quickly switched to hunting bigger and bigger things. And then things got a little shady. A few rumors of killing highly protected species, murdering famous animals in zoos and some even say humans.
Naturally, Jack had to have a trophy of one of those aliens, even though they advanced our species in indescribable ways. So he persuaded someone from the alien police force to hand him out one of the prisoners. No one would have known, if he hadn't forgotten to pay him properly. Instead of giving him something actually valuable he convinced the unknowing guard that dogecoin is the most valuable currency known to man.
Clearing his fake throat, the judge presented the final verdict: "After extensive research on our behalf and taking a deep look into your very disgusting life, we, the alien civilization, have come to a final verdict. I hereby sentence you to death..." He couldn't complete his sentence because everyone started screaming either out of joy or disbelief. As unbelievable as it was, Jack actually had a lot of followers and wanted to run for president the next year. Only seconds after the d-word was said, every single social platform started exploding with comments about it.
The judge made some sort of loud noise that instantly shut down the crowd. "I hereby sentence you to death by removal of wifi. The sentence is to be carried out immediately. After studying your history and especially your conversations with your parents we have observed that you repeatedly said that you can not live without wifi and we have come to the decision that this is the most suitable punishment we can think of."
This time it was dead silent. Eventually, a guard started walking towards Jack, took his phone and turned off the wifi. He then walked to the judge and reported: "Everything is done." After a few more seconds of silence, the judge got up and walked out of the stage. | 2015-09-11T12:17:41 | 2015-09-11T11:32:50 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] As a dragon of innumerable age you have guarded your gold horde for millennium. Many heroes have come with long speeches on how they will slay you, the great evil,none finish. However this one is odd.He throws a coin on your stash, looks you in the eyes and says "I have a proposition for you." | "I have a proposition for you."
The massive dragon eyed the tiny gold piece, the glow of a millennium of accumulated treasure reflecting off his metallic green scales. It was small, but any addition to the dragon's collection was a welcome one. "Hmm, no champion has dared enter my lair for centuries. I shall humor you, although I will likely kill you anyway. What is your proposition?"
The man, small and squat with a receding hairline, gazed up at the dragon with determination. "I am very good at what I do, and you are very rich. It's a good combination, you see. I can help you get richer."
"Go on."
"Outside this cave, there are opportunities left and right. Business opportunities, tax loopholes to exploit. All you need is the capital to take advantage of them... a little bit of gold to get you started. I can take each of your coins and turn it into two, three, four coins, and you'll never have to lift a claw... for a small fee, that is."
The dragon stared down at the unassuming man with curiosity. His pocket protector and pen fit perfectly with his faded button down shirt and stained tie. "What is your name, young hero?"
"I'm Ted. Ted from accounting." | "You are certainly most fearsome and undoubtedly powerful," the man begins, "Your wealth is immeasurable and your reputation across millennia is common knowledge: Raza the Terrible - hoarder of gold and collector of souls. All who have challenged you have perished."
This forces a smirk from me as I eye him from across the stone temple. Coins and sparkling gems of every color cascade down my sides onto the massive mountain of gold as I stand up to my full height. The man shuffles noticeably, unsure if I will put a cease to his flattery, but I always hear out those with something to say.
"And?" I quip.
"Yes, you are indeed great, but allow me to say you have not reached your full potential."
"Is that so?" I question, feeling quite amused. "And what would a brave insightful man have to offer me?"
"Every single man and woman knows of you from the time they are children. They know your power and strength and they know to fear you, but through these tales of murder and death, the people only think of you as frightening and petty. Fear is cheap. Wealth is never truly respected. YOU are not respected, you are resented."
I set my jaw and feed the fire behind my eyes. "Is that so? And I suspect you, a man, slave to lust and power, has the wisdom to induce in me something greater than ferocity and fortune?"
"I believe I do," the man replies firmly.
"Well let's here it. But if you fail to impress, I will make quick work of adding to my notoriety," and I take a menacing step forward - sending a rumble through the stone and piles of gold.
The man, unflinching, walks forward into striking distance. I could crush him at any moment. I could lift him with two fingers and drop him down my throat, and although I'm quite tempted, his stare fixates me. But then I see it in his eyes - a familiarity, a faint understanding. This is no man. But I do know what He is.
Edit: Formatting ;)
| 2015-10-13T23:18:52 | 2015-10-13T17:54:29 | 39 | 19 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | 3 Things Every Loofah Supply Chain NEEDS To Be Competitive In Today's Market
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| #Title: I Somehow Find, Particles Collide
So you want to build a Large Hadron Collider.
Pretty simple, just gotta build a whole lot of magnetic coils for miles on end.
A whole mess of satisfied physicists then look at each coil, nod to one another like they're all satisfactory, then give the guys who control the electricity the thumbs up. Good stuff, good to go.
You drive a current through that whole bunch of magnetic coils and you create a magnetic field.
Then you go into the forest, all slow and gentle like, and you find yourself a herd of particles.
You won't catch all of them, but you'll get some, if you carry your Large Hadron Particle Catching Net with you. Then put them into your Large Hadron jar, and look at them fly around like lightning bugs.
Bring them back, throw them into the collider, make sure you don't stand too close, and watch them fly like birds through the magnetic coils.
Then some of the particles pick up speed, and though they don't really want to do it, they collide into each other.
[It's necessary that Howie Day sings towards the particles about collisions as you do it too, little known secret.] (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=olysEGn5vNU)
It's important that his voice and guitar strings create just the right pressure waves in the air to re-direct the particles when they go off course. Upon a more detailed analysis, one realizes the lyrics of *Collide* are really all about the Large Hadron Collider. "I'm tangled up in you" of course applying to quantum entanglement and spooky action at a distance. Most of his music is all about particles colliding, as he's secretly the son of Stephen Hawking and Einstein's clone daughter that the government kept a secret from us all, and as a result Howie Day's a brilliant physicist.
Howie's voice soothes the particles right back into the straight and narrow path headlong into each other. Somebody with a similar voice could get you the same results, but you'd need really complicated software to make sure the sound waves are identical enough for the particles to be happy.
Hold auditions in cities to find Howie Day imitations, and you should be okay.
Once Howie's done singing, the particles clank into each other, and get headaches and concussions.
As a result they start acting kind of quarky, or "quirky," and in the end, they start to do weird things.
Like give brief glimpses into the foundations upon which our universe is built.
Informing our decisions about life, and our conclusions about the nature of existence and the fabric of space and time and reality.
| 2016-02-01T20:53:28 | 2016-02-01T20:52:20 | 90 | 39 |
[WP] When a wizard is killed he casts a death curse on his killer. The power of this curse scales in proportion to the power of the wizard. You just killed one of the weakest wizards in the world, now you have to live with his annoying death curse. | I've come to deal with it. It's annoying for sure, but in the end it's not debilitating. I had to move though, relocate and make a new life for myself. I became a ranger out in the wilds, and make a name for myself as a silent stalker, a killer for hire.
The rumors spread, if you go into the forest at night and left with a note containing someone's name, that person would be dead with a week.
Only the courageous would brave the forest at night, or the foolish. However, I made my fair share of those looking for the death of others.
This night was no different, a note was left, some gold attached in a sac next to it. I had heard of the man, now a walking corpse, and he would soon be dead.
I stalked the night streets and made my way into his home silently. He slept in bed as I slid my dagger out from its sheath, the sound it made a lonely cry to be covered once again. It soon found a home in his chest however and the man gasped, his eyes gling wide as pain flared through him.
He gargled questioningly, his pupils dilating, demanding an answer for his release from mortal chains.
"Go now," I intoned as softly as I could, my voice like helium, loud and squeaky, the sound of a little girl. His body wretched as he seemed to laugh at the sound coming from the 300lbs 6'5 assassin in front of him. | "Like I've told thousands before you, there's nothing we can do," the witch doctor told me through his obscenely large and rather frightful mask. The mask looked like a frog that underwent a weak transformation spell to turn it into a bird, but it only got halfway there. And maybe there was a little cat in there too.
I was hardly listening to anything at this point anyways. I already knew there was nothing that even the Swahili witch doctors could do. A death curse had been placed on me by the bumbling village idiot, Drumpf. It wasn't even my fault really. I was simply just getting a drink at the local tavern when he managed to trip over my foot and smack his head on the corner of a stone after falling down a flight of stairs. It was a miracle that someone could be so clumsy. The image of what little brains he had, spewed all over the ground, was burned into my brain. I had stood there motionless, waiting to see if the death curse had applied to this situation. That couldn't possibly have counted, could it? The tavern was silent and all eyes fell on me. The weight of everyone's eyes caused me to step back.
*squeak*
I took another step back.
*squeak*
It rang loud and clear.
"N-no. This can't be..."
*squeak*
*squeak*
*squeak*
With every step I took, the classic squeaky shoe sound.
"Maybe... Maybe if I take my boots off..."
I knelt down, ripped my boots off and took two more steps.
*squeak*
Maybe slower will work.
*squeeeeeeeaaaak*
"God dammit, you piece of shiiiit!"
I ran over to Drumpf's corpse.
*squeak*
*squeak*
*squeak*
In a rage, I started wailing on it with my fists but that wasn't enough. I summoned an axe to hack away at it and finally just incinerated the damned thing, all accompanied with the everlasting squeak. It was atrocious what I did to Drumpf's body but nevertheless, the bar had erupted with laughter. Sure, it makes people laugh right now, but how long until I become as hated as Drumpf? I am ruined.
I jumped off of the doctors table.
*squeak*
| 2016-03-09T09:22:31 | 2016-03-09T07:44:32 | 204 | 131 |
[WP] God shares the cosmos with several other dieties. To pass the time they play Civilization like games for eons. God's frustrated that his civilization, Earth, is several ages behind all his friends. | Dexicon moved his cosmic fortress from Centauri B straight into Earth's orbit. Dexicon was able to do this in one turn thanks to the cosmic paving it had laid earlier. This allowed faster than light travel.
"Your move, God." Dexicon roared, knowing it had the ancient deity in its proverbial palm.
*Shit shit shit* thought God. It was tough to display no emotion but a strong poker face was crucial. Dexicon had already taken Zeermon out the game and had now moved on to God.
God had not been blessed with much luck. Each deity had been given a species that had space travel potential. The objective was to either enslave or obliterate the other species. God had unfortunately randomised the least intelligent possible species - homo.
2.7 million years just to leave the hunter gatherer stage. This was a new record. He had had to wipe out his first few species of homo and start over - they had simply been too stupid. By the time he had rerandomised into homo-sapien he was at least 2.6 million years behind Dexicon.
What didnt help was that the homo-sapiens turned out to be incredibly aggresive. This would be useful for fighting other species, but they mainly killed each other! Oh how Dexicon and Zeermon laughed!
When he had finally researched the abilty to send a vassel to Earth to enlighten and guide the people, the earthlings did something unprecedented in stupidity - they decided to kill it.
Finally the humans became space able. At the time, God was pleased. They visited their local moon first, as expected. But the moon base never came. The colonisation of nearby planets never came. They regressed.
"Using your cosmic paving I move Earth into alpha Centuri B", said God, in a move that would have made the humans proud.
Dexicon's mouth dropped.
"Rematch?" God asked.
--------
If you liked this you can read more on my sub I just set up (come follow me!): /r/nickofnight
| “Look, if you're so mad about it, the offer to play Katamari still stands.” Selina looked away from her monitor briefly to call back over her shoulder.
“Oh, brilliant idea!” God remained focused, clicking four or five times in quick succession, pausing, tutting, and then clicking a few more, “Fool me once, shame on you. I've already lost the dinosaurs to that infernal game.”
“Hey, any creature that can't withstand being forced into a compact ball and shot into space isn't worth your time.” Selina gesticulated wildly with one hand, the other three still made easy work of anything Civilization had to offer.
God, through a feat of pure sullenness and strength of will, somehow managed to hunch over even more. His eyelashes fluttered against the screen and his beard obscured almost all of the keys on the keyboard. It was not a major obstruction, God was mistrustful of hotkeys.
A head came into God's vision from the left, and sharply departed.
“Me damn it, Rocco, no Me damn cheating!”
Rocco span in his chair to face God, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, and a half grin on his face.
“Okay, firstly, I've finished my turn. Secondly, that 'Me damn' thing was cute once, maybe twice, but it's wearing mighty thin now.” Rocco counted off each point on his divine fingers in a manner that God Almighty found a trifle annoying. “And third, why would I cheat by looking at your screen? We've got warp speed and teleportation, God, what do you got?”
“Well...” Very slowly and deliberately God moved the mouse to the top left-hand corner in order to view the technologies tree, “Let's see here... Well, it looks like people have figured out that turning a camera around is a neat way of taking a photo of your face.”
Giggles and snorts rose up around the room. God grunted defiantly, hoping that His luminescent beard hid the redness of His cheeks. Suddenly an elated voice cried out from the far end of the room.
“I've done it! Meaning of life discovered, I win!”
Swiping His keyboard off the desk and banging one heavenly fist on the oak panelling, the now vengeful God rose to his feet, all the while adjusting his toga which was beginning to ride a touch.
“This is ridiculous!” He bellowed in the ethereal LAN room, “Your people have achieved ultimate enlightenment, and mine are going into a frenzy about what colour a fucking dress is! I've had enough, it's time for something a little different...”
God turned to Selina. He was now a mischievous God, a twinkle in his eye, as Selina began to comprehend. She inched forwards in her wheely office chair.
“You mean...”
“I do. Let's go Old Testament. Boot up Katamari.” | 2022-09-11T19:19:52 | 2016-04-09T07:01:52 | 1,980 | 336 |
[WP] Your girlfriend has always hated you, and is constantly making attempts to ruin your life. However, everything she does inadvertently makes your life better. Today, ever oblivious, you propose to her. | She stood me up for our 2-year anniversary trip to Italy -- the plane crashed. She told my boss about my anti-vaxxer blog -- he thought it was satire and promoted me. She even tripped over my cat and killed him in a freak accident -- which I was upset about, until tests came back saying he'd just contracted rabies.
I would have been dead at this point if not for her. So, today I wait for her at the park, gripping the engagement ring in my sweaty palm. It's not a great day -- raining and thundering hard -- but I'm determined to propose today.
I wave her over to the gazebo as soon as I see her tattered blue hoodie and black sweatpants round the corner. "Hi, Brian," she says in monotone.
"Erin, you are the best, most beautiful person I know," I begin, kneeling and taking out the ring. "Will you marry me?"
Without hesitation, she grabs my shoulders and shoves me out of the gazebo. I fall into the wet mud and pelting rain. "Erin, what --" I begin, fumbling for the ring. I see a glimmer in the mud.
*CRACK.*
The world flashes. A jagged line of white connects to the top of the gazebo, splintering the wood. The frame screeches, and in seconds, the entire thing collapses. On Erin.
I scream. I cry. I dig through the ruins and carry her out, but she doesn't respond at all.
She saved my life, at the expense of her own.
She showed me true love. | She looked over at him with distain. His bubbly laugh and those rosy cheeks. How the f@*k was he so happy. She wanted to ruin that childish little frame of his, crush the happiness right out of his soul. She wanted him to feel what the real world was like, her world.
They were at a hockey game (yes, god damn hockey). She was determined to hate every minute of it. Make it unpleasant for him just to be there next to her. She forced him to buy her expensive beer and food, refused to stand for anything including the national anthem(she’s a free person anyways right?), and would not cheer for anything. She complained every moment she could; about how it was too cold in there, too crowded, too loud, too smelly, etc. Nothing seemed to phase him, he seemed to get happier the more she tried to make it unpleasant for him.
The ‘Jumbo-Tron' was showing the f*@king kissometer or some stupid sh@t again, panning from couple to couple forcing them to perform acts of ‘love’ in front of thousands of leering spectators. She rolled her eyes. The kissometer eventually stopped its display of pre-fornication ritual and went dark. The announcer came on over the speakers,
“Tonight is a very special night folks for one lucky couple, a man has something to ask a very special woman in his life, and he wants you all to be a part of it.”
The screen came back on, now focussed on one side of the stadium.
Then the camera panned in on her…..and her boyfriend. Oh…..god no, she thinks, she looks over at him as he stands up from his seat, pulling out a ring box, and getting down onto one knee.
“Mary Jane,”
Her mind is racing: Oh please no….this can’t be happening, sh*t, sh*t, sh*t…..what do I do!?
“you make me the happiest man in the world, I could never be without you”
Then it comes to her. Its brilliant. So simple, why did she never see this before? She tried so hard to ruin him and it was right here in front of her this whole time.
“Will you marry me?” He asks, his alcohol reddened cheeks framing his beaming, loving smile.
She stands up, looks down on him, a victorious smile creeping across her lips.Then she says the thing that will destroy the little dweebs will to live:
“No” | 2016-09-15T14:53:28 | 2016-09-15T14:00:59 | 1,241 | 51 |
[WP] As a henchman to the Joker, you've now broken the record for the longest surviving employee. This means you'll receive something no one ever has from him: your annual review. | The joker was a fluid being. It was best to keep your distance. As he sat in front of me, checking his gun and absently scratching his face I wondered if I would snap and just run away.
The silence was deafening, only the little grunts coming from his chest broke it as he fished up some papers from a barely used drawer.
"Mhmhm..."
He always made sounds, but when he wasn't directing them at you, you should do well to know that he wasn't ignoring you. If anything, it was more of a cue that he was observing you intently. But the money for this job was too good. I needed it for Sylvia.
"So your name's Barry is it." His eyes finally snapped to my figure and I felt silly in the tiny chair I was sitting in, that I so did not fit into. My suit felt tight, especially over the shoulder area. I kept my breathing steady but my skin felt incredibly cold. I nodded in response to his question. He found the file he was looking for.
"Ahhh... Here we are. Measurements are correct... My, you're nicely endowed down there aint'ya?"
My face went beat red and I wisely decided not to reply and just stared at the table. The joker made some weird requests in general but when he had asked me for my waist and general body measurements for my annual review it had really crossed all previous lines. Maybe he was preparing my funeral suit?
"So, baby-Barry, we are going to ah, go over your performance over the last year. The one thing, that ah- stands out to me is that you attacked and killed Joseph the other day, over soccer...?"
He smacked his lips. He wasn't happy. A grudging psychopath is not something that I want to see ever again.
Fuck. This was it. I'm dead. The silence continues. I almost jump into the air when he slams his hand down as hard as he can onto the desk.
"HAHAHAHA I'm just kidding Barry! I hate the fucking New York Red Bulls, Joseph is- ehm was a royal faggot, alright."
Oh god. Are you kidding, being the target for his crazy jokes is stressful to the point of wanting to commit suicide. I couldn't stop the sigh of relief that escaped my lips.
"Anyways, I got noth'in left to add sugarbuns, it's time for your promotion. HARLEY!!!!! GET OVER HERE, HE'S READY."
Promotion? How? What? No one has ever been promoted before in his service. Is this another sick joke that will end in my death? The door to the office was thrown open and a slender female in a black and red suit walked confidently inside, holding something in her hands.
"Are ya ready for ya new look Barry- darling?~" Harley sing songed.
She was holding a tight black and red spandex suit, much like the one she was wearing, but in my size. Dread filled my heart as I realized what the measurements were for.
I heard the joker chuckle behind me.
"Welcome to the team, Burattino."
| "Does chaos excite you? You have been with me for quite some time, after all."
The joker sporadically arose from his misappropriated desk with a tightly gripped fist and an even tighter smile; pacing, the joker began mumbling about the bat, about Gotham, and about nothing at all. His scattered thoughts entrained his body through a series of semi ritualistic smashings and swearings...The hostages, roped away in a solemn corner, watched in despair as their office become a stage for utter insanity. Entirely ignoring his guests, the joker seemed fixated on a mental object of such brilliance and glory that no other purpose in life could ever distract him. He moved with a swiftness and with the certainty that can only be owned by someone with true aspiration. And each of the objects in the room, posed a threat to his vision of his disorder. Yes, in this office in the Joker found himself, each correlated paper and each family photo enraged him. With a half-crooked, toothy smile, the joker slowly unveiled a beautiful silver lighter.. and began toying with the flame.
"You must think me cruel, but I really just want to make you smile. To make everyone smile. Fear - chaos - these are the tools of gods; and when a god tells you to smile, you bow down on your fucking knees and you smile. So bow. No, you won't bow? Admittedly, I would have shot you if you had done so. Cowards bow. Like those worthless drones in the corner. Oh Mr. Joker, let me live they scream!"
And with that, Mr. J hurriedly grabbed the eldest hostage and held the flame up to his weary eyes. In an instant, the lighter erupted with the recognizable bang of a small firearm. The crowd gasped and began to wail and whimper. To the Joker these were sustenance; a vindication of his efforts to mold the world in his image - but to see and to understand the joker is to know that this image is that of only his latest whim, guided by only madness. To survive the joker is to outlive a purposelessness pandora; blood red fire illuminate his way and nothing more. As the crowd assessed the result of Mr. J's latest unloading, they breathed a sigh of relief as they found the old man curled up on the floor, alive, with no injury.
"Don't you see. Without me, these people have no reason to smile. I kill one, two, three... hehehe maybe more. I kill them all. And they're stupid little families cry, boo-hoo-hoo. Pathetic. Look how happy they were now that they see I didn't kill the sad bastard."
And with that Mr. J unloaded five rounds into the back of the old man's skull. Affectioned tears ordained the ground of their stricken manager, whom many considered a dear friend.
"And look how quickly I can take that smile back; if I let them keep it, how will they learn to be grateful? You get it don't you? Yes of course you do.. I did all of these for you, you know. To make you smile. To see if after all this time, I could still make you smile. Isn't it wonderful? That hopelessness in their eyes. The control. Ha what will he do next? Well let me show you.."
And with his biggest gesture yet, Mr. J unwrapped his coat to reveal a massive bomb strapped to his chest.
"Chaos, you see, cannot exempt itself; today I will surprise them all."
A devious smile appeared as the joker pursed his lips; a haunting smile. an absolutely exhilarating smile.
"Today I will give you the honor of being a part of the history that will always inspire more fear and more uncertainty; that will make people smile each day they do not die.."
And in the flash of an eye forty-five people were extinguished brilliantly in a gaudy blast of purple flame and cacophonous auto programmed laughter. | 2016-11-21T04:50:48 | 2016-11-21T02:49:57 | 89 | 13 |
[WP] As a henchman to the Joker, you've now broken the record for the longest surviving employee. This means you'll receive something no one ever has from him: your annual review. | Walking into the room when the boss calls you is always an..."eventful," one. You never truly know what will happen. He could gift you, he could tell you to do something, or sometimes you could just hear a gunshot as soon as the door closes. Me, being on my toes, looks at the boss with a blank expression, but inside waiting for whatever came my way. The boss was twirling in his chair, obviously seeming eager. "GREAT NEWS LACKY! You survived longer than anyone else I have! Which is...surprising honestly. The way I run my ship? I don't expect any of my subordinates to make it long. At least I don't have to pay much in benefits! Anyway sit down, sit down. Let's chat!" Longest surviving employee, I thought to myself. It's amazing that out of everyone the boss hired, I'm the longest one surviving. It ain't like I don't go out on raids or nothin. I sat down and waited for the boss to speak. Talking out of place was the kind of thing he shot you for.
"Now, let me just get your file here..." he pulled out a singular piece of crumpled paper that just had lacky #34 on it. Also a smiley face drawn in purple crayon next to the 34. "Now, bear with me because I'm just as new to this as you are, considering people like you don't get real jobs. BUT, I am giving you a performance review for the year! Without further a-do, let's get this show on the road!" Obviously the boss seemed thrilled. But that shouldn't mean much. That always changed in a heartbeat. I've known him for awhile now. "Question one, I guess the most obvious question, how in any way have you survived this long!? I'm pretty sure I tried to kill you at least twice." "No that was Charlie." I said. "Who? Ah whatever, doesn't matter. Second question! How is the work environment? Do you enjoy it here? I mean, you've obviously killed enough and done the things I asked if you're still here." "The work environment is pretty hostile, boss," I said to him. "GREAT! Just as I intended. Last question! How am I as a boss? Do I please as a fearless leader?" Sweat began to form on my brow. The wrong answer could "terminate" my contract in a heartbeat. But he has kept me alive for this long, so he must like me enough. "Sure boss, but I gotta ask. We've been in the business for awhile now, what's with the clown get up?" He just stared at me. Blankly, for awhile and then he got up and started pacing around the room and talking. "Lacky 34, it all started with this dream I had. I was just sleeping contently, and then all of a sudden...BANG." Next thing I know he took a magnum out of his coat pocket and shot me in the back of the head. The last words I ever heard were, "as for your annual review....Eh, 7.5/10." | "Does chaos excite you? You have been with me for quite some time, after all."
The joker sporadically arose from his misappropriated desk with a tightly gripped fist and an even tighter smile; pacing, the joker began mumbling about the bat, about Gotham, and about nothing at all. His scattered thoughts entrained his body through a series of semi ritualistic smashings and swearings...The hostages, roped away in a solemn corner, watched in despair as their office become a stage for utter insanity. Entirely ignoring his guests, the joker seemed fixated on a mental object of such brilliance and glory that no other purpose in life could ever distract him. He moved with a swiftness and with the certainty that can only be owned by someone with true aspiration. And each of the objects in the room, posed a threat to his vision of his disorder. Yes, in this office in the Joker found himself, each correlated paper and each family photo enraged him. With a half-crooked, toothy smile, the joker slowly unveiled a beautiful silver lighter.. and began toying with the flame.
"You must think me cruel, but I really just want to make you smile. To make everyone smile. Fear - chaos - these are the tools of gods; and when a god tells you to smile, you bow down on your fucking knees and you smile. So bow. No, you won't bow? Admittedly, I would have shot you if you had done so. Cowards bow. Like those worthless drones in the corner. Oh Mr. Joker, let me live they scream!"
And with that, Mr. J hurriedly grabbed the eldest hostage and held the flame up to his weary eyes. In an instant, the lighter erupted with the recognizable bang of a small firearm. The crowd gasped and began to wail and whimper. To the Joker these were sustenance; a vindication of his efforts to mold the world in his image - but to see and to understand the joker is to know that this image is that of only his latest whim, guided by only madness. To survive the joker is to outlive a purposelessness pandora; blood red fire illuminate his way and nothing more. As the crowd assessed the result of Mr. J's latest unloading, they breathed a sigh of relief as they found the old man curled up on the floor, alive, with no injury.
"Don't you see. Without me, these people have no reason to smile. I kill one, two, three... hehehe maybe more. I kill them all. And they're stupid little families cry, boo-hoo-hoo. Pathetic. Look how happy they were now that they see I didn't kill the sad bastard."
And with that Mr. J unloaded five rounds into the back of the old man's skull. Affectioned tears ordained the ground of their stricken manager, whom many considered a dear friend.
"And look how quickly I can take that smile back; if I let them keep it, how will they learn to be grateful? You get it don't you? Yes of course you do.. I did all of these for you, you know. To make you smile. To see if after all this time, I could still make you smile. Isn't it wonderful? That hopelessness in their eyes. The control. Ha what will he do next? Well let me show you.."
And with his biggest gesture yet, Mr. J unwrapped his coat to reveal a massive bomb strapped to his chest.
"Chaos, you see, cannot exempt itself; today I will surprise them all."
A devious smile appeared as the joker pursed his lips; a haunting smile. an absolutely exhilarating smile.
"Today I will give you the honor of being a part of the history that will always inspire more fear and more uncertainty; that will make people smile each day they do not die.."
And in the flash of an eye forty-five people were extinguished brilliantly in a gaudy blast of purple flame and cacophonous auto programmed laughter. | 2016-11-21T03:05:27 | 2016-11-21T02:49:57 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You share a unique relationship with one of your parallel selves: when they receive a tattoo it also appears on you, and vice versa. You happen to have very different tastes, and so begins a passive aggressive cross-reality war fought entirely in tattoos and cover-ups. | When I was sixteen I found my first tattoo. I woke up one morning and there it was -- a tiny, thrilling stain at the top of my right arm. My parents would never have let me get one, and this, a tattoo that they could do nothing about, pleased me greatly.
I knew who it was from, of course. This kind of thing happened. Well, on the *exceptionally rare occasion*, it happened. "Universal wires sometimes get quantimly crossed," my physics teacher once told our class. We all knew she didn't have a clue how it worked.
My tattoo simply read: *Hello!* One short word; five letters that I would tirelessly try to pull superfluous meaning out of over the next five months. By the sixth month, my curiosity had piqued beyond reason. I knew my parents would ground me if they found out what I had planned, but it didn't matter. I had to reply. I had a tattoo inked onto the base of my left foot. The text was small, but legible. I knew it would be a long time before my parents found it.
*How are you?*
It was almost a week before he found it and responded. That was the start of a three year friendship between me, and *me*. I told him about my strict parents, and that we must be subtle; that tiny writing on our feet would work well. Being into Sherlock Holmes (*how had he never heard of him?*) gave me the idea of tattooing very tiny writing, that we would then read through a magnifying glass. We learned to tattoo ourselves safely but painfully, in order to save money -- I didn't have much, although he had plenty. Looking back I guess he didn't need to tattoo himself. I think he just wanted to make me feel better about having to doing so.
For a while, we were our own best friend. But our friendship slowly drifted apart, as most friendships do. Our interests were vastly different, as were our lives. I liked reading; he liked games. I liked animals; he liked space. He liked to joke and poke fun at me; I was sensitive and took it poorly. He was *me*, but we couldn't have been more different. Eventually, we both agreed to stop communicating.
It was ten years later that I woke up to a fresh tattoo. My wife noticed it first. She saw it, and looked at me and cried. It was scrawled down my left arm and I could tell that the other me had done the work himself -- it was messy and unsure. I wondered if he'd been drunk. *Elizabeth*, it read. The name of the girl I had been with for three years before meeting Kate. The girl who had broken my heart; the girl that Kate thought she was forever competing against. She wasn't.
He was trying to be funny; trying to make contact again with *a brilliant joke* -- the kind he used to make. But this was beyond the pale. I had it crossed out, and instead tattoo'd a great dragon over the area. "There! No more *Elizabeth*," I said to Kate, trying desperately to placate my wife. She loved dragons.
I wish it had ended there. But three more times I woke up to a fresh, poorly written *Elizabeth* scrawled across my body. And each of those nights I would tattoo an animal over it. An eagle; a lion; a dolphin.
Then, it stopped.
---
My mom passed away when I was thirty. I didn't even think about what I was doing that night, but I found myself wandering into a tattoo studio. It seemed natural to do so. And as the needle stabbed my skin, the realisation hit me.
I had two tattoos added that night. My mom's name. And, Elizabeth.
It was a month later I found the *thank you*, inked in tiny text onto the base of my foot.
---
Thanks for reading. If you'd like to read any of my other stories you can find them on: /r/nickofnight | The year was 1996 and the smash hit *Barb Wire* starring Pamela Anderson had just been released. In those days life was more simple, more innocent. But when Jerod woke up one Saturday morning after a night of drinking with a barb wire tattoo on his bicep things would never be the same.
"What the hell is this? How much did I drink last night?" Jerod inspected the rather poorly done barb wire tattoo on his bicep. It didn't even wrap all the way around his arm, there was a two inch gap between the two ends.
"This is bullshit, there is no amount of alcohol that would make me get this," Jerod said bitterly.
Two hours later Jerod parked his brand new 1996 cherry red Toyota Tercel outside of Electric Ink Tattoo parlor.
Crank the tattoo artist met Jerod at the counter.
"Sup Slim, what can I do you for?"
"I need this tattoo covered up?" Jerod said pushing up his sleeve revealing the barb wire.
"I can do that. What'd you have in mind?" Crank asked looking over the tattoo.
"Do you think you can do some kind of tribal arm band? With some like tribal writing above it?"
Crank nodded slowly and lit a cigarette. "C'mon back to my office."
The tattoo gun shot ink into Jerod's arm for the next three hours. It hurt like a son of a bitch, but Jerod grimaced through the pain and tried to distract himself by listening to the death metal blasting in the shop.
"That's it, what do you think?" Crank asked rolling away on his small stool.
Jerod looked over the jagged spiraling tribal tattoo that completely covered the barb wire. Crank had even put in strange tribal glyphs just like he had asked.
"It's perfect!"
*Maybe today wouldn't be that bad after all* Jerod thought to himself as he drove home to get ready to hit the bars. He couldn't wait to show the guys his new ink.
---
With a groan Jerod rolled out of bed. His head felt like it was full of carpenters trying to finish up a job.
He raised his arm to try to ease the pounding when he saw it. His barb wire tattoo was covered by some hideous piece of tribal art trash.
"What the hell? Where's my tattoo? Did I lose a bet again?" Jerod groaned and tried to remember what he did last night. He remembered pounding beers at Chico's then shots of jager until he couldn't see straight. But he did not remember going to any tattoo parlors.
*Maybe Shaft can do a good cover up of this thing...* Jerod thought as he stumbled toward the bathroom to throw up.
After he brushed his teeth and got some what presentable in his sleeveless t-shirt and jean shorts, Jerod jumped into his brand new cherry red 1996 Chevrolet Beretta. He parked the car outside of Voltage Ink Tattoo parlor and stepped inside.
Shaft met him at the counter and immediately saw Jerod's new tattoo.
"Hey man what the hell happened to the barb wire I did? If you didn't like it that much I would have touched it up or something."
"I don't remember, I must have drank too much last night and lost a bet or something. I'd never do you like that. But I need you to cover it up with something bad ass. This tribal shit is awful."
"It is pretty terrible. But I think we can come up with something." Shaft lit up a cigarette and blew a cloud of smoke out. "C'mon back to my office and let's do this."
Six hours later and a few tears the tattoo was done.
"Well? What do you think?" Shaft asked, his face beaming with pride.
Jerod stood in front of the mirror admiring the panther climbing his shoulder. Shaft had managed to hide the tribal with the panther's tail and legs.
"It's perfect!"
Jerod paid up then jumped into his Beretta. He knew the guys were going to be so jealous when they saw his sweet panther tattoo tonight.
---
Jerod woke up in the morning with a pounding migraine. He had a strange sense of de javu as he stumbled down the hallway to his grime covered bathroom. As he was taking a leak his eyes slowly wandered to the mirror. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a large black smudge on his shoulder. In horror he completely forgot that he was peeing and turned his body to see the gigantic panther climbing his shoulder. Urine splashed everywhere as Jerod stared slack jawed at the hideous jungle cat that appeared to be dry humping his arm.
"SON OF A BITCH!"
---
Thanks for reading. Check out /r/Written4Reddit for more stories!
| 2016-12-16T10:55:24 | 2016-12-16T09:47:38 | 788 | 90 |
[WP] The more evil you were on Earth the higher your rank in Hell. When you get to Hell Satan himself resigns his position to you, but you don't know what you did. | I'd never thought Satan would look like an accountant. Some grandiose angel of darkness, perhaps, or even that cliched red devil figure. But not a short, slim, bookish guy in a somewhat shabby suit. "Welcome to Hell. It seems your escort's led you here in record time. Please, have a seat. Would you like a drink? All vice springs from here, so anything you want is on the table." The man gestured, not to the couch, but to the finely carved chair behind the very expensive looking desk. "Uh, thanks, Mr. Satan. Neat bourbon would do nicely."
I sat down and absently sipped from the glass that was right where I would have set it. I then looked at it again approvingly. Hell has some really good liquor. "So, can you tell me why I'm here? I didn't even get a tour." I learned a long time ago never to show uncertainty or weakness, and even now I don't think it was slipping much. Now Satan looked surprised. "Well, my job has some very tight qualifications, and it turns out you're even more qualified than I am. I'll be head of Hell for another week while you learn the job, but my duties are mostly shifting over to getting things in order for the transfer of power during that time."
I was somewhat nonplussed. "More qualified than you? How? You're the most renowned traitor against God of all, formerly his most favored angel, and you've been talked up as the Prince of Darkness for generations."
Satan smiled. There was a vaguely reptilian quality to it. "I appreciate the flattery, but there's more to it than that. You're simply more evil than I am."
"Evil? How? Sure, the bleeding hearts had a lot to say about me, but that doesn't change the fact that my people have a better quality of life than ever, have been freed from foreign oppression, and are now protected by one of the finest militaries in the world. Even in my personal life, I was never unfaithful to my wife, I never beat my children, and I was generous with my friends."
Satan chuckled. "At what cost, though? Did you ever, even for a moment, hesitate before ordering the purges? Or feel even a hint of regret? No. You murdered your political opponents, your educated youth, and a few religious minority groups because it seemed *expedient.* You invaded your neighbors to rally your people and occupied them brutally to keep them from rebelling. You never even considered the possibility that you may have been morally in the wrong. Even Hitler woke up in a cold sweat occasionally. You can't even claim to have created something lasting with your atrocities. Your pampered brats are already squabbling with each other and your generals over your country, all while the UN has finally stopped dragging its feet and is beginning to put together a peacekeeping force."
I gritted my teeth. When my children died, I'd have stern words with them. "All I did, I did for my nation."
"Bullshit. You did it because you wanted to be a king. It was just convenient in getting there. And before you give me another justification or excuse, remember that I know literally everything about you. You're coming up with them on the spot. It never even occurred to you that you were doing anything wrong, or that it would be bad if you were!" His voice, having risen to a shriek of anger, softened immediately. "You're a sociopath, in the worst way and the truest sense of the word. And I respect that. Even I never got that bad."
I continued looking at him calmly. "I see your point. So, I'm the ruler of Hell now?" He nodded. "We're supposed to be the ultimate opponents of Heaven, right?" He nodded again. "Then let's start taking this seriously. You're right about how I wanted to be a king. Now I think it would be better to be a God." | "What the hell?"
A man looking like pure sinister evil appeared from the darkness.
"Yes, that would be correct"
Five seconds ago I was riding my car, and suddenly I was in this room, walls blacker than vantablack, and the putrid smell of sulfur and death made the hairs in my nose curl up. There was a reddish blue, like purple glow coming from somewhere lighting up the man in front of me, dressed in a slim fitted silk suit and combed back black hair.
"Say what?"
"This is hell", said the man without hesitation, "Your car was just hit front on by a truck and you died."
"I died?"
"Yes"
The man didn't move, he just stared at me, he didn't even appear to be breathing, he looked more like a wax figurine from Madame Tussauds cabinet.
"I died...?" I replied expecting the man to respond. He just stared back with his dead face, forcing me to say something else
"So, what is going on now, where am I?" I asked.
"This is hell, you are in hell" the man said.
"Hell?"
"Yes, I don't have an habit of repeating myself, but this is Hell. You died and now you are in Hell"
I pondered for a second and before I could say a word the man started circling around me at a slow pace.
"You died in a car crash, and now you are in Hell. Normally people going to hell are thrown right into the dungeons, depth depending of course of what monstrosities they have commited, but you..."
The man stopped right in front of me turned directly at me and gave me the coldest stare down I have ever seen
"for you we could not find a dungeon deep enough..."
He finally made an face expression; mixed, as if he waited for a reply he had waited for a very long time.
"Not deep enough? What the hell is this? Hidden camera or something?" I was getting slightly annoyed by this man, neither the sinister room I was in nor the putrid smell affected me the slightest. The man in front of me did.
"Ok, so, Why the hell am I in Hell??" I asked, not really expecting any aswer
"Because you are my replacement"
"Your replacement?"
"Yes"
"Why?"
"Because you are more evil than me, and I have been the most evil being for millennia, so.. you are pretty evil"
"What??" I yelled. "What the fuck are you talking about? I have never done anything wrong in my entire life! I've been in church every sunday since I was born, I help at the homeless shelter, I train a childrens baseball team. I haven't as much as gotten a speeding ticket my entire life!"
"Exactly" said the man
"What??"
"Listen, by now you must have figured out what is going on, but to make things clear to you; I am Satan, Beelzebub, The devil, what have you. This position in afterlife is always given to the currently most evil human there is. Dead of course, so the most evil dead human, to be technical."
I looked at the man, looked at the room I was in and could barley make out the contours of a doorway right behind the man... or Satan, I suppose.
"What is behind that door?"
"Hell"
I walked towards it, gave it a slight push and it swung open to reveal what looked exactly how I had always portrayed hell; black sharp rocks, like obsidian with some molten red glowing liquid running in between... And there were people everywhere, screaming and trying to crawl on top of the slippery razor sharp rocks to escape the heat. Many was burning, they had fires all over their naked bodies, but it didn't seem like they were damaged by the flames. But they were in pain. Extreme pain judging my the bone chilling screams.
I dragged the door closed, turned back to the suited man. He was grinning, like a lawyer who was bragging to his lawyer buddies on how he got a child murdering rapist off the hook by legal trickery.
"Well" said the man. "What do you think?"
"THINK", I replied, "This is horrible! What kind of place IS this? I don't belong here alt all! I was a good human being my entire life!"
"No, you were not."
"What?"
"This is what is going to happen now; I will go away, I am released because you came...."
I interrupted the man:
"But what did I do wrong??"
"That, my friend, you will only find out when your release comes.. It could take a day, or it could take hundreds of thousands of years, impossible to tell... but when he shows up, you will know your wrongdoings"
"What did you do wrong to get here?"
"Nothing." | 2016-12-19T16:30:22 | 2016-12-19T14:01:54 | 76 | 44 |
[WP] While taking a shower you think up the cure for cancer. A month later you figure out how to cure world hunger. The world reveres you and your "showerthoughts", but you know the truth. It's not you thinking up these miracles, it's the shower. | "Did you tell them?"
"I didn't" I replied, leaning against the doorway of the bathroom.
"Good. You did good."
"I can't..I can't keep this up. The medias watching me. The ceremonies are wearing me down. I keep getting questions that I can't even fake the answers to and-"
"Stop"
"I just can't keep doing this," I say as I turn my back. I walk to my bed and sit, letting my head fall into my palms - "I just can't"
"You can and you must."
I reply, 'but I-"
"Shut the fuck up."
I tense at the statement and peer over my fingers.
"You weak little man."
"I."
"You nothing. You are nothing. I am everything. I just ask that you have their eyes on you. Just take their eyes. You have to be kidding me. You take all the credit, all the praise. You have to contribute nothing."
"But the praise is just too much!," I'm standing now.
"The weight of the praise is a small price to pay for the life that you lead. You're mine. You're the microphone I use to shout my will at the world."
I sit back down on the bed, hands in my lap, head down.
"If they knew of me, they'd want to study me. They would poke. They would pry. They would destroy the greatest miracle the world has ever seen. Stop being weak, get your shit together, and be the fucking microphone you are."
My face meets my palms again. In a moment I get up, open the closet door, and decide what I am wearing tonight. | It's a nice feeling to be adored by billions. Everywhere I go people know me and I haven't had to pay for a meal in months. Yes, it is a feeling like no other.
This morning I felt a little more thankful of my luck. See 3 months ago I found my shower incepted in my brain the idea of curing cancer and the next month the knowledge to cure world hunger. In three months I became a God. No doubt I will be the most known man in human history. The perks of being a God you might ask. Well one is sleeping next to me. She is a scientist trying to cure diabetes, I think.. I could never really wrap my brain around science stuff anyways. Lucky for me no one cares too much about your background when you're giving them cures. This blonde beauty with looks and a brain is a nightly ritual for me. I usually send them packing in the morning after some breakfast and a round 2 under the sheets. However, this one I actually feel like seeing again.
Yes, today I am feeling extra thankful. I think I'll get up and make us some breakfast and coffee. I have to be quiet and surprise her before she wakes up. I've actually gotten good at sneaking out of bed and quietly preparing a healthy breakfast. Today was no different.
Ah, a full fridge. It's beautiful to see. I'll quickly prepare this and get it upstairs.
As John is preparing breakfast he hears the sound of running water. John had forgotten to tell her the upstairs bathroom was not to be used. John ran up the stairs to go check. As he opened the door he found the blonde scientist naked in the shower. She had an expression John knew all too well. She had an idea.
"John!" the blonde screamed. "I've figured out the cure to diabetes!"
I looked at the blonde with a smile. "Finish off your shower and I'll be right up with breakfast."
John walked down the stairs calmy. He walked into the kitchen and grabbed the sharpest knife he had. Walking upstairs, john could only think about how he was the chosen one to find cures for the world. Afterall it was his shower. He walked into the bathroom took off his clothes and hopped in behind her. The blonde had her eyes closed, but got excited that John had decided to enter the shower with her.
"Oh John, take me here" she said.
But before she could figure out what was about to happen, John slit her throat. He washed himself of the blood and hopped out.
I guess I have to find a different method to keeping this door locked. A wonderful day ruined. | 2017-05-08T17:41:25 | 2017-05-08T17:03:11 | 20 | 13 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | The cosmos is relatively easy to meddle with. A swipe of the finger, and you can toss around asteroids or zap a few nebulas into existence.
We set up some ground rules a long time ago. Galaxies have to stay in rough interstellar arrangements. Once you create a star, it has to die on its own. And most importantly, if any living species are discovered on a planet, let them live.
Archie changed the framework of a constellation or two, just to see if anyone would notice. Minerva decided to set Neptune on fire and then fizzle it out, on and off, like a light switch. It was funny for a while, but then it just became another distraction.
One day I caught Dave chuckling to himself. He's always been a bit of a lone wolf, but he knows a few good party tricks.
"What's so funny there, champ?"
Dave grinned. "Oh, you'll know soon enough."
"Come on. A little hint?"
He tilted his head back and cackled. "All right, all right. Let's just say I put the Sun in Galaxy 672B on its own little trajectory."
"What do you mean?"
"Check the map."
I ran back to the control center and pulled up the chart for 672B. The Sun appeared to be on track to hit the Earth, but not for a while - couple billion years, give or take a few million.
I hate to admit it, but I honestly forgot about it. That is, until I saw Dave muttering to himself at a galactic get-together.
"What's wrong, man?"
He curled his upper lip and polished off a glass of stardust. "The humans on Earth, 672B, are heating up their own planet. Driving vehicles around, spewing waste into the atmosphere. It'll be burned to a crisp in the blink of an eye."
"And what's the problem with that?"
Dave coughed. "Those fuckers ruined my joke."
***
/r/GigaWrites | Execution, that is the key to any good practical joke. When you're immortal, you're allotted all of the time in the world to develop a scheme so devious yet harmless that can make an impact on one of your friend's eternal lives. Yet it is so rare that our lives are affected by our friend's practical jokes. How is it so?
Memory. Something that is a mere hundred years for mortals expands into eons for us. Our brains simply do not have the capacity to hold all the small details that accompany these practical jokes. Many meticulously planned out jokes that had extreme potential such as "The Million Birthday Prank" a dozen millennia ago have been failures due to my friend forgetting key interactions.
I still remember it as I mapped out the plan for decades. Each step had to be followed perfectly in order to succeed. It was an operation that I was determined to succeed in. The first step took place on Serena's millionth birthday.
As usual, I arranged a cake for her. As cheesy as it may have sounded, she was my best friend for over 900,000 years and I still throw annual birthday parties for her. We use special kinds of candles,each representing a different multiple of 10. This one was a simple million candle, unlike last year's mess of 9 hundred thousand candles, 9 ten thousand candles, 9 thousand candles, well... you get the picture.
For each year following the millionth birthday, I arranged the other candles in familiar patterns, ones that I thought Serena would remember. The candles were dotted in our secret code, and knowing her, she should have cracked them and eagerly waited for her next birthday. The last coded message was given out on her 1,000,286th birthday.
1,000,287. This was the day that the final step will be executed. Inside, I was nervous. In my mind, I knew that she would arrive at the correct location, but I didn't specify a time. I was perfectly capable of waiting 24 hours though, we both knew that time didn't matter to immortals. That was my mistake, assuming that she would recognize my code when in reality it was forgotten long ago.
Over the next several centuries, I desperately thought of ways that I could make up for the failure of the previous practical joke. There was nothing so elaborately planned as that prank, I even took the time to program thousands of machines to carry out the prank on that last day. It took me time, but I finally thought of something, exactly in time for Serena's birthday.
"Happy Birthday Serena" I said as I slammed her face into the cake. As she recovered from the dive and started wiping frosting off her hair she sighed. "What was it this time, the 1,000,554th birthday?" I giggled. "Just came up with it today. Sometimes, you just have to act spontaneously" | 2017-06-22T19:53:14 | 2017-06-22T19:51:25 | 763 | 104 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | The last alien struggled to reach for its helmet as the soldier stood to block it's hand. The president stepped forward and spoke with an unnerving calmness.
"You know you're not going back."
The alien looked up, gasping. "How.."
"We were aware of your existence for decades. But we chose not to travel. We focused all of our technology on weapons and lured you here." He let out a laugh. "And here you are. We have our weapons, and now we have your space travel technology."
In a desperate attempt, the alien reached for something on its waist, but was stopped cold from a bullet to its head.
The president turned to the soldier. "Tear apart their ships. I want us on route to their planet in 3 months. I will announce that phase 1 has now been completed." | "Compared to AX-213? No, this is easy," the footsoldier relayed over the wavelength transmitter. Those pitiful beings weren't even at Stage 1 of the Rëitsig Scale of Development. It was the first in the AX galatic classification that bore such a terrible level of industrialization. One would think that the road was well paved, the instructions clear. To grow, to develop travel, to leave and learn from other colonies. It was such an obvious way forward, though the Xaxnar probably knew the best. Their leader had crafted success for many planets in the entire universe, so he knew the best way to develop a new planet. It was all in a handbook, *The Guide to the Galaxy*, a rather pompous title for an utterly boring story.
Even the footsoldiers had done up a couple of planets in their time. The build for it was easy. Develop the citizens, develop the buildings, develop the offence, then the defence. The rest was easy. Destroy any other planet or territory in the way. The aliens loved to do this; in fact, it was a fun pasttime to make planets and develop colonies, just for the main planet to destroy. It was funny, not just because the main planet benefitted, but because destruction and annihilation were tempting concepts to them.
The footsoldier smiled again, as he readied his invasion troops to a new place. Nothing of worth to invade here. Perhaps better resources and a stronger fight awaited somewhere else. Clash of Planets never got more fun that this.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-08-08T07:21:49 | 2017-08-08T05:28:12 | 41 | 16 |
[WP] "humans don't appear to be to advanced, they haven't even discovered intergalactic travel, should be a simple invasion." Said the alien cleaning his musket.
Edit: Seems someone has already written a piece perfect for this. Check it out, would highly recommend.
https://eyeofmidas.com/scifi/Turtledove_RoadNotTaken.pdf
Edit 2: Thank you all so much for your stories! im going to read all of them :) | Report 0001 of planetary body designated by natives as 'Earth'.
-----
First and foremost, I am of the opinion that we stay far and away from this world. High command has given me the most advanced ship and the most advanced musket weaponry to survey the world and I feel no more secure here than I would on the edge of a Singularity. We have not the military technology to compete with these so called primitives.
My reasoning is as followed. The speed and ferocity which the natives attack their problems is as terrifying as it is awe inspiring. In just one of their lifetimes, they went from being planetbound to growing spacebound and visiting their local orbiting planetoid. We are lucky that they soon grew disinterested in space travel or I fear we may already have been extinct.
I have been observing these 'Humans' and they are horrifying. They war. They don't just perform it, they revel in it. They grow in it. They crave it so badly that they have warred among themselves since their evolution from primitive life. Even now with the technology to take over the entire universe so close at hand, they are more interested in fighting themselves.
They not only love war, but they love documenting it and sharing particularly 'glorious', as they call it, war among other Humans. I have seen some of these documentaries. A great warrior known as William Smith has shown time and again the ability to overcome impossible odds to annihilate alien species with technology greater than theirs or ours. The depths of space only know the number of species that have fallen at their hand. They seem to make insanely destructive technologies at will and throw them away just as quickly. You will see when you watch the humans as I have.
I have attached a number of specific Human documentaries of particularly worrying content to this report.
I urge High Command. These humans are a sleeping glorpthal, waiting to rise up and devour us. They should not be interacted with. Set up a perimeter around their solar system. Let them think they are alone. Do not rouse their fury, for it will be great and unstoppable.
Attached: Pacific Rim.mp4, Independence Day.mp4, War of the Worlds.mp4, Full Metal Jacket.mp4.
-----
Response to Report 0001 of planetary body Earth.
High Command has received your report and we are in agreement. As such, our most intelligent scientists have come up with a weapon specifically tailored to the Humans. We believe it will cause stagnation in their society. It will remove the threat of Humans as a whole and you needn't stay near Earth any longer. We even believe it will be a kindness upon them as it will reduce their desire to fight among themselves as well. Deploy the weapon to their technological centers and leave.
Attached: "Project Netflix"
-----
Catch more of my work at r/RaistlinMajereWriting | When he finished he put it back into the display case full of his other trophies. He had taken it from the Grand Warlord of Nor IV, one of his easiest conquests.
"But you must agree Admiral that it is a waste of our resources. Why invade when they clearly are killing themselves? We don't even need to wait that long, maybe 200 years, before they have reached a point where we don't have send an entire fleet."
"Waste? The vast resources of this system make an invasion worth the effort. They don't know what lurks under the surface of their gas giant, or under the ice of double planetoids. Their probes are laughable in their tools, and they haven't even yet set up optics to spot our ships."
"But consider this, while they might not have space faring capabilities they do have weapons that they could point at us. There will be losses. Reports make it clear that they are highly tribal and pointing those weapons at each other at the moment. They are arguing with themselves, with tensions rising. They are on the verge of not just stopping and reversing the warming of their planet, but controlling their climate and weather. They are stumbling into artificial intelligence, and are showing the first signs of accidentally releasing an unbound AI upon their communication networks. They are showing signs of possible disease outbreaks, even after clearly having control for decades."
"Your point captain?"
"My point is that we don't need a fleet. We need patience. We could probably speed up the process a bit. Our medical technology would allow us to look like them. I know that chemical warfare is not honorable, but we could modify our technology to speed up the warming of their climate. We could sponsor one or more of the unstable nations to pose a threat. We could introduce our own AI into their system. On their own, we could see a collapse in 200 cylces. With some help we could see one in 50. They can't detect us right now, and we have full ability to monitor them. Small, subtle moves can create massive change. Unstablize the planet, help them destroy themselves, and we can swoop in once all their bombs are dropped. Teraforming technology has taken some great leaps in cleaning up our own radioactive messes, and what they can do is nothing compared to what we did."
"A little patience and we won't be risking anything?"
"Exactly."
"Any ideas on where to start?"
"Well, one of the more powerful nations is going to be holding elections soon. I think we can get one of our own in there to shake things up. It might take two of their election cycles to get someone into the top, but I think I have the perfect candidate."
A thin sheet of transparent glass like material was set on a desk in front of the admiral, reports and photos slowly cycled across from it.
"He looks... a bit like us. This is already someone on that planet?"
"The orange skin and yellow hair will save our medical professionals some work, and I can have a team ready to replace him as soon as we have his replacement ready."
The admiral considered it. He tapped his desk a few times as the idea rolled over in his head. "Are you also picking him because his name is similar to my ancestral clan's?"
"No sir, I wasn't aware you had that in common," the captain said with his best poker face.
"Very well," the admiral said with a slap on his desk. "I want this Trump replaced as soon as possible."
"We should be able to get it done soon. A window will open at what is called a White House Press Dinner I believe, if not then soon after." | 2017-08-08T08:36:06 | 2017-08-08T08:23:50 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | My eyes flitted over the crowd of people lining up. 26, 30, 14 - gonna have to turn her away - 22, 8988, 21, 43. I slowly looked back towards the big number. That's an 8, followed by a 9 and two more eights. I took a few steps to the left. It's all one number. That... shouldn't be right. It couldn't be right. But i was never wrong before, and i don't know why i'd be wrong now.
"I'm going to have to I.D. you sir." The man smirked.
"I don't look *that* young, do I?"
"Sir, i'm going to have to insist." I had to see it. I was sure that his I.D. would hold some clue.
"How young do I look? Take a guess."
I couldn't resist the urge as a smirk invaded my face. "Dunno. 17, 16, maybe 8988?"
For a brief moment, the man looked at me in shock. Then he burst out laughing. "You're a funny guy. I wanna buy you a drink, when does your shift end?" I looked towards the bar door as Leon - the other bouncer - stepped through. "Now."
We headed inside and sat down at the bar. I insisted that he just get me a beer. He had the hard stuff. We both sat silent for a few minutes. "So I suppose you know i'm immortal, then. I won't ask how. What you're probably wondering is why someone as old as me is in a bar drinking his liver to death." I arched an eyebrow and looked at him. "History repeats itself every few thousand years. On my first time I was in a bar like this. Tomorrow's special, y'know." He had a happy, yet tired look in his eyes. "It's my birthday tomorrow." I smiled, but his face became frustrated. He took a large swig of his drink and, with a roll of his eyes, said "Oh, and the world's ending." | "You, come with me please. Jim! I'll just have a chat with this guy, okay?" Jim, the closest thing to a neanderthal you could see outside of a museum of natural history, flashed a thumbs up before going back to checking ID's.
"So uh, like, what's the problem?" I glanced at the man beside me. He looked like your average guy, jeans, a white shirt, a healthy sunburn covering his face. In fact if I had been average as well, I'd probably never have picked him out in the first place.
"Just a routine, random pat-downs to make sure our guests aren't armed. You don't mind, right? It'll just take a minute".
"Ah". His face relaxed and his shoulders visibly untightened. "Yeah, sure, no problem, it's your job. Where to?"
I gestured for him to follow me and we started moving towards a room Jim and I got to use for our breaks.
"So, you been here long?"
"Nah, just arrived. Got tired of my job and went on a road trip with my savings. You know, new faces, new places..."
"Yeah, I hear ya." I unlocked the door and we walked inside.
It wasn't big, more of a closet than anything else, but there was enough room for a small plastic table, two foldable chairs, and an IKEA-shelf with a coffee pot and a cake Jim brought a few days ago.
"Sit down, you want some coffee?" I poured myself a cup and offered him one.
"No thanks uh, shouldn't we be standing up for the pat-down?"
"Yeah, there's not going to be a pat-down. I just needed to talk to you." His shoulders stiffened again, eyes wary.
"Yeah? About what?"
I sipped the coffee and made a disgusted face. It was cold.
"What do you want to talk about, man?" He tried faking a smile. "Do I look underage or something?"
I laughed. "Close, but no. See, I'm good at my job."
"Yeah?"
"Once I started working here, there's been a severe decrease in injured guests".
"That's great".
"There's also been no underage drinking at this club since I started working here. The local kids don't even try anymore, I'm that good at telling peoples _real_ age".
"Yeah?" He kept my gaze, looking increasingly like a deer cornered by a cougar.
"As in I can see exactly how old people are".
"You mean..."
"Yeah. I hate to paraphrase twilight on you, but you haven't been underage in a very long time, have you?"
He didn't move, shoulders still tense, eyes locked onto mine. The numbers above his head, the numbers indicating just how many years he had been alive, the numbers I had been able to see above everyones head since the day I was born, read 2709.
He breathed. "Fuck".
"Yeah. Now tell me: What. The fuck. Are you?" | 2017-09-01T23:50:27 | 2017-09-01T23:25:55 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | It had been a long and drawn out war. Centuries of warfare against the indomitable strength of the Offworlders had caused rapid technological advances on earth.
Automobiles were traded for frictionless hovercraft, ballistic weapons for energy propulsions systems, and quiet homesteads in the country for staggeringly large domiciles which stretched into the atmosphere, housing hundreds of thousands in only a city block, miles high.
Rather than living for things like love, peace, and family, society was fighting for its life against a Herculean opponent from the stars.
The people from earth detected the invading force about 20 years before they arrived, and they fortified everything they could.
The forces from earth had established AI manned military bases on the other planets in the solar system. They'd made defense mechanisms which could destroy an entire Otherworlder transport ship, and then use the wreckage to build more machines to fight against them.
The invading force held terrible power. They seemed to have no fear of death, no need to mourn their kin who had been incinerated before there eyes. They simply kept coming, kept going. Those who had been captured would not speak, and even when tortured simply begged for death until it was given. And they had strength in numbers. While one hundred might be killed, another thousand might be birthed in the mothership in only an hour. All they needed was energy. Every time they captured another base, they didn't man it, they just converted it to energy in their mothership. They would use anything, asteroids, shuttles, people. They converted it all. And from this energy, more of them came.
The people from earth fought like hell against the oppressors, but they were trapped in their solar system. They had no access to energy from other suns, no way of renewing their resources.
And so the two forces fought, locked in battle over the course of several hundred years. But as went time on, things became increasingly dismal for earth. Slowly, but surely, earth gave ground. By the time mars was taken, the people from earth were getting desperate. Looking for any answer, any ingenious realization which could save them. Many things were tried, and many things failed. They were losing this fight.
....
On the day the mothership landed in the Capitol, everyone was waiting with bated breath, hoping that the leader could come up with some compromise. Hoping for anything other than extinction. Anything other than a whole planet being extinguished.
The feed of the capitol building was live, all over the planet. Everyone watched as a force of invaders walked unresisted into the Oval Office. Everyone watched the Offworlder Queen stroll into an empty room.
What the world did not see on their livestream, thousands of miles away, was where the President was just finishing up the geometric symbols he'd drawn all over the room. Where he was pouring the fresh blood into the shallow maze carved into the floor. Everyone did not see the cavernous pit look open like the mouth of some subterranean behemoth. The world did not see him gaze longingly at the picture of his family, before setting it at the edge of the pit, before chanting the ancient words and casting himself into the pit. Nobody heard the dull thump of his body, as it was caught in a great cold hand, the size of a football field.
What everyone DID see, whether or not they were watching a broadcast, was what happened when the Old One woke.
They did see the laws of space and time break. They did see the distortions in reality. They saw as the skyscrapers and cities, curved in on themselves, crushed under their own weight. They saw, and felt all the space stations and aeroplanes being pulled inescapably to earth. They heard the screaming of lost ones, ones who had met this terrible force before. They felt themselves thrown into an infinite loop of being torn apart seam by seam, and then pieced together all wrong.
For the first time, the Offworlders felt fear. They became fear. They were not wanted here, and they knew it. They felt themselves become molten, melting in endless pain. They felt themselves glistening with immobile fragility, knowing that a single touch would shatter them.
They saw their Queen peel like an orange, then watched her insides decay like old fruit in the dark, in just a matter of seconds.
Everything pulsed. The hills rolled over each other like waves, while the buildings folded into each other, crushing everyone and everything inside.
After everything the Old One saw as unnatural was gone and buried beneath the mountains, it was time for growth. Trees sprang up wildly, covering the hills. Grass grew like fire on the the planes, and flowers and ivy crept over everything all in an instant, caressing the hillsides.
Somewhere, there were survivors. People had made it, and they would survive. They would repopulate, as they had before.
This was not the first time the Old One had to protect the people from earth, and it would not be the last. With his job done once more, he sunk back to the deep innards of the earth, and rested his eyes.
He would slumber here until he was needed again.
Edit: Many thanks for everyone's thoughts on this, and many thanks to whichever kind stranger gave me gold! | Half a pound of pressure. That’s all it would take to doom the world. My fingers trembled on the key, my wrist ready to turn it the final thirty degrees that would end humanity as we knew it.
“What are you waiting for?” General Hammill asked, his breath at the back of my neck.
The alien mothership had landed. Five years of war and they had at last declared victory. So humanity was about to unleash the nuclear option of nuclear options. When all our world ending devices and weapons had failed, we turned to Cthulhu.
“Lieutenant,” General Hammill said, his breath growing hotter, his voice louder. “The other nine have already given confirmation. Turn the key.”
His voice echoed through the steel hull of our nuclear submarine, each echo a gentle prod to my hand. Turn the key. Turn the key. But my wrist remained still. Nine others had already made the decision and now it was up to me. If I could go back in time, I would’ve had immediately turned the key. While the other nine only approved of Cthulhu’s release, the tenth would physically release the monster. And I couldn’t.
“Sir, this is the end game. If we do this, it’s all over,” I stammered.
General Hammill stood a whole head taller than me with a neck thicker than my arm. His dark eyes honed into mine like a Hawk eyeing its prey and his lips curled into a frown. “Lieutenant, you have been given a direct order. Release Cthulhu.”
Honestly, I had no idea why I was given such a responsibility. I was a navy grunt who had spent more time cleaning submarine bathrooms than fighting wars. I had family that I wrote to regularly and a girlfriend that dumped me as soon as I joined the navy. Somehow, in my Captain’s eyes, that had warranted me a promotion.
My wrist turned ever so slightly. What would Captain Monroe do? He was always a man of action, always knew exactly what to do and when to do it. Unfortunately, in wars like this, more extermination than war, men of action were the first to die.
“Lieutenant,” General Hammill spat. “Earth is lost. We lost it. Now there’s no way in hell I’m giving those alien bastards the satisfaction of walking on our land and swimming through our seas. This is humanity’s middle finger to them.”
“But maybe…”
“Maybe what? Maybe we haven’t tried everything? Maybe a hundred million soldiers haven’t already died fighting? Turn the key.”
I swallowed. Sweat dripped down my neck and my heart kicked against my chest. It wasn’t just the turning of a key, it was the destruction of humanity!
“Lieutenant!” General Hammill moved in front of me, his face flush and fists closed. “You have been given a direct order by the acting leader of the United States of America. Now I don’t know why Captain Monroe put a panzy who’s never even killed, but I do know that disobeying my orders is high treason. Do not test me!”
I stared at my feet. Every time I glanced up to see those dark eyes like bullets aimed at me, I darted my gaze back to the floor. “It’s because I’ve never killed,” I said, the words barely audible to myself.
General Hammill got right in my face so I couldn’t even stare at my feet anymore. “What did you say?” he demanded.
I looked up, swallowed, and said, “It’s because I’ve never killed, sir. Captain Monroe told me that’s why he needed me holding this key.”
The general’s face contorted into a snarl. “I don’t give a shit if Captain Monroe wiped your ass for you and tucked you into bed every night. You were never supposed to have that key. Turn it before I do it for you.”
“No.” The word left my mouth before I had even thought it, but as soon as it did, I felt a swell in my chest and my next words came louder. “To me, Captain Monroe is a god damn hero, sir, and he gave me a responsibility. I will not turn this key.” And I pulled the key out.
In a single motion, General Hammill pulled his pistol and aimed at my head, his finger twitching on the trigger. For the longest seconds, only the ship’s creaking hulls and whistling pipes resonated between us.
“Put that key back in, Lieutenant.”
“The key’s attached to my biometrics, general. Even if you have it, only I can turn it and I’d rather die before turning this key.”
“Don’t you understand the war is lost? Can’t you get it through that thick skull of yours?”
“But humanity hasn’t, sir.”
General Hammill stared at me, his jaw agape and eyes wide. “We lost with the war.”
If I knew anything, it was that Captain Monroe was a hero and that he died fighting until his last breath. Humanity would not die any other way. And so I inhaled a deep breath and for the first time, my voice boomed through the nuclear submarine.
“If you believe that, then you’re not fit to lead our army, *sir*.”
The general took a single step back, his mouth moving, but no words coming through. His gun dropped. Then, the first soldier of our nuclear submarine, a man that used to leave toilet paper on the floors so I could clean it, stamped his feet together and saluted. He wasn’t saluting our general, he was saluting me. Then, the second did. The third. Soon, every soldier around us stood, their backs perfectly straight, their hands stabbed into their foreheads as they stared at me with burning eyes.
I said to them, to the general, to humanity itself. “Heroes far greater than me have died so we could make it this far. Giving up now is a travesty to them and every hero who had ever lived. We might lose anyways. This might all be for not. But until then, humanity doesn’t need this monster to stick our middle fingers up to those alien scum. We can do that ourselves.”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 200+ stories | 2017-09-26T11:14:47 | 2017-09-26T10:31:41 | 4,269 | 132 |
[WP] "Fuck it." The General said, as the alien mother-ship came in to land. "Summon Cthulhu." | *translated into English for your consideration*
The alien commander sat in the control room of his flagship, eaglerly awaiting humanities surrender to his mighty alien fleet. The humans had been easily conquered, hardly putting up a fight. A glorious victory this would be, another planet conquered, its resident species soon to be exterminated, its minerals to be harvested. There would be parades and awards given out-
"Commander? We have a problem."
The commander broke out of his day dream. "Yeah? What is it? Just land the damn ship and we can begin invading."
"Well, sir, the humans have begun doing something... odd."
"Well what is it?"
"Outside every city, every capital, hundreds of humans are drawing this red circle onto the ground, and praying inside of it."
"Well? They're panicking. Let them. It'll all be over for them soon."
"Affirmative sir."
As the alien mothership touched down, the commander was giving out a order to release troop-
*and an siren wail screamed inside the control room, as the commander froze, and saw on all cameras a massive fog surrounding the ship, and all landmarks nearby disappeared into the mist, as something appeared to the cameras, and faintly the captain could hear the sound of laughter, whether or not it was the sound of insane colleagues or humans who just released their final card, that the captain would never know, for within the fog he saw something towering, mystical, and above all- ancient.*
| The fighting had raged for mere hours before everything came crashing down. Their forces were immeasurable, their weapons far beyond humanity's. It was hardly a valiant effort, anything any military tried met with catastrophic failure in minutes.
General Dillian stood on the bow of the ship, he couldn't find the answers for the hundreds of questions that ran by him from the group surrounding him. They were out of options, he knew it, but he refused to let humanity fall to an alien species, to be left at their mercy.
*"Fuck it."* The General said, as the alien mothership came in to land. *"Summon Cthulhu."*
Everyone around him went silent. Hairs stood on end from the mere mention of its name.
*"S-Sir..."*
One of them spoke, *"We won't be able to control-"*
*"I don't give a damn about control. We're on a losing battle, but the war isn't over."* The General snapped. He was well-aware of the consequences. Every treaty that had been formed around the subject stated that The Old Gods would only be used in catastrophic situations as a matter of self-destruction to defeat an enemy... this was such situation.
Everyone hesitated, their hearts were certainly full of fear. They collected their Old Ones manuals, flipping to the page of Cthulhu. In the distance, sirens could be heard. They had a matter of minutes before everything would be over.
*"Ph'nglui..."* The captain said in a shaken voice. Everyone repeated after him.
*"...mglw'nafh... Cthulhu... R'lyeh... wgah'nagl fhtagn!"*
They finished. Everyone went cold, nothing happened for a couple seconds. Just as they thought to start again, the waves parted, and the large, eldritch being had arrived.
Their worst fears, ones they didn't even know they bore, were instantly recognised. On the outside, Cthulhu raged, swiping, thrashing, attacking every ship. They opened fire, but the Old God stood strong.
On the inside, every man who found himself gazing upon Cthulhu had become an empty husk of their former selves.
Madness had fallen. | 2017-09-26T11:16:52 | 2017-09-26T11:13:03 | 42 | 16 |
[WP] Microsoft Water, Google Earth, Amazon Fire, Apple Air. Long ago, the four corporations lived together in harmony. Then, everything changed when Amazon attacked store-based retailers. Only the Avatar, master of all four elements, could stop them, but when the world needed him most, he vanished. |
They had come for Apple first. Few chose the Apple way of life, but those who did always seemed to have an air of peace and tranquility. Their isolation from the other corporations allowed them to live their lives without worry about which product was better, which product would be compatible with what, or even what features would be in their latest products. “Apple is best; Apple will set you free; Apple is all there is,” these were their mottos. It only made sense that they would be annihilated first.
The Amazons timed their attack perfectly: Black Friday, not just the day where everyone was making use of the great deals on Amazon.com but also the day where the Apple users where hurriedly rushing out to buy the latest Apple tech.
When they were at their weakest, Amazon struck. When they were at their weakest, Amazon killed. Some Apple users tried to escape the massacre by running to the protection of the Google Earth kingdom. Anticipating this ahead of time, Amazon had already put up ads advertising iPads 70% off. The survivors never stood a chance.
In just one day, every Apple user had been vanquished. iPads became Kindles, iPhones became Fire phones, and saying “Hey” to Siri was futile because Alexa was the only one listening.
The other corporations were in shock. The great Avatar had always maintained the balance between the 4 corporations, and yet now he was nowhere to be found. Knowing that there was no chance for peace, Microsoft and Google prepared for war. | The weather had finally calmed. Now, in the still of the night, it grew cold. The kind of cold that whispered and breathed; permeating the bones of the men with a brutal cruelty.
The men sat together around the fire, silent and somber.
"Brothers. Something must be done," one of the men said, finally breaking the silence.
"Shhh. You're going to get us all killed."
Alas, it was too late. The all too brief warning of an ominous growl gave them no time to react. In the shadows it worked, with blinding speed and vicious accuracy. It's eyes glowed red in the darkness, illuminating it's maw of dagger like teeth in a crimson light. The sound of screams pierced the air, and silence once again fell.
It wasn't always like this. There was a time before. A time of prosperity. Happiness.
But the Amazonian had turned evil. The control he sought was one of unparalleled power, and all who stood in his way did not live to tell the tale.
Decades passed, and the resistance, valiant though they were, had weakened to the point of extinction.
And then, one day, a hero emerged from the carnage. Battle weary and grim, the Avatar fought single handedly, a courageous warrior with nothing to spare. And finally, the Amazonian had been vanquished.
He turned to face the hushed crowd, his brethren, and with his mighty strength hurled his sword over the cliff's edge.
With bated breath they watched the Avatar as he began to speak.
"Brothers, sisters. We've lost many. For their sake I implore you! Technology must die. For though it may better our lives, the destruction it brings is a terrible one. I promise you this. If the technology survives, the Amazonian will survive, stronger than ever. And next time, I may not be around to save you."
He paused, pacing up and down, his breathing laboured and heavy. "It must be avoided. At all costs."
A pact was made, and for one million years, there was peace. As long as the pact was honoured, they would be safe. The story became a legend, the legend a myth, and then. It was simply forgotten.
Deep in the bowels of his prison, the Amazonian stirred for the first time in a thousand lifetimes. He chuckled.
| 2017-12-05T00:46:47 | 2017-12-04T23:56:49 | 244 | 32 |
[WP] A group of wealthy old men get tired of golf and hire you to DM a game of Dungeons and Dragons for them. | By the time I was born, my great-grandfather was already very old, rich, and mysterious. The tall-tale is that he made his money as a treasure-hunter, but whenever I’ve asked him about it, he changes the subject and talks about golf. “If I’d only hit a four-iron on hole two yesterday, I’d have been ten yards closer to the pin ,” he’d croak. “Study your clubs, my boy.” It’s frustrating, and my parents don’t know any more about it than I do.
I’m Jake, and I work at the clubhouse of the golf course where my grandfather and his friends play. His name is Maxell. I call him Grandpa Max, and his golf buddies, equally old, rich, and mysterious, are Louis and Theodore. They play every day, which is really impressive for guys in the 90s. When they come into the clubhouse, which is pretty often, I’ve overheard their conversations, and it’s always either about playing golf, or about the golf we’re showing on TV. They’re not the most fascinating people to listen to, if they ever were. So I was surprised when Grandpa Max asked me if I’d like to be the dungeon master for a game of D&D.
“Don’t you have you usual round, tomorrow?” I asked.
“We’ve had enough of this game,” he replied, with a strange finality. “It’s time for us to move on.”
“I see… Dungeons and Dragons, have you ever played that before, Grandpa Max?”
“We’re familiar,” he chuckled, and he said that strangely, too. But I didn’t think much of it. As I said, my great-grandfather and his friends tip generously, so I was eager to be hired. I hadn’t played D&D in several years, but I remembered it well enough. So I agreed to meet my grandfather at his house the following day.
His house is enormous, and even the doors are huge. You need to open them slowly, which has the effect of unveiling the grandiose entry room. I’m usually only at the house on holidays, during which he ostentatiously redecorates. So I’m used to being impressed as I walk in, but I hadn’t expected him to decorate that day. There were torches, swords, shields, and assorted weaponry on the walls. A thousand-candle chandelier hung from the ceiling. The carpet was covered with animal rugs, including bears and lions with their heads intact. A shimmering glass statue of a dragon with open wings stood in the center of the room.
Grandpa Max, Louis, and Theodore sat at a circular bronze table beside the dragon. They were looking intently at me as I made my way into the house.
“Where did you get that statue?” I asked in wonder.
“We’ve had it for some time,” said Grandpa Max. “We keep it in the basement.” It didn’t occur to me yet that this didn’t quite answer my question about its origin.
I noticed then that the old men were in costume. Theodore was in a thick, dark blue robe, and a staff adorned with an orb leaned against his chair. Louis wore light-weight lime-green robe, and he had a bow on his back. It looked heavy, and I didn’t think it could be very comfortable for the old man. Grandpa Max was dressed in an old-fashioned, tan shirt, and black pants. A sword, sheathed in its scabbard lay in front of him. And there was something to his side that I couldn’t quite make out, until I walked closer and saw… a dwarf! A short, stocky man stood beside him, peeking over the table, dressed in chain mail armor, and… chained up! He was chained to the table!
“Hello…” I stammered.
“Hello,” said the dwarf, in a deep, gravelly voice. He sounded somber to me. I looked at Grandpa Max for explanation, but he simply stared back into my eyes without expression. I looked back at the dwarf, who bowed his head and was silent.
Finally, I whispered in their general direction, “Who is this?”
There was silence for a few moments, then Grandpa Max said, in a reassuring voice, “That will become clear over the course of the game. We’d like to begin if you’re ready.” | You could tell life for Harold hadn't been the same since the accident. Ever since his company was bought out and his shares sold, he'd been spending all of his time at the County Country Club - at least after his daily triple-bacon-and-egg croissant. Pretty par for the course, so to speak, as with most ex-billionaires you'd met.
One stroke later, though, and he found himself in the Driftwood Tavern with the others, in command of a ranger that could move much more than he ever would, ever again. You almost felt sorry for him, sometimes.
 
"I roll to seduce the waitress!"
"Again?"
 
This was not one of those times.
 
Harold grinned lecherously. "What does a 12 get me?" No one in the campaign had the heart to tell him that his second tooth had finally turned for the worse, though this was in no part compounded by the fact that Reginald's second bypass surgery was due later this week.
You hope someone gets back on track soon. This session is almost over, though, so you suppose it doesn't matter much at this point. "A 12 will get you a grimace and a brush-off from the lady who has to deal with wandering hands and low pay literally every day she has worked in Neverwinter," you say flatly.
 
Harold moans in defeat.
"Serves you right, dummy," laughs Ken, looking over his paladin's spells that his librarian kindly printed in a very large font. "Sir Michael will grab a pint of whatever's local at the bar and ask the bartender about the disappearances in the Neverdeath Graveyard."
 
*Finally*, you think. You begin with the booming voice of a bellowing fantasy tavern owner, "AH, NEWBIES! WELCOME!" before leaning into the table and mimicking a loud whisper. "Are you guys the Adventurers of Leilon? Ma said you was here to help us. She's downstairs - I'll take you to meet 'er."
 
"Insight check!" yells Sheila of the gravelly voice.
 
Everyone groans. It was the eighth one today, and they hadn't even gotten to the main plot yet. "Sheila, you *always* insight check everyone," Reginald says. "Sometimes I think it's the only thing you remember how to do." It could've been funny if it didn't have a hint of truth to it. Sheila's doctor told you last week that these games are helping slow her Alzheimer's, but not by much. It's only a matter of time before you might have to have her character leave the party.
Sheila scoffs at him. "Just because none of y'all are paranoid doesn't mean Marion ain't. Besides, Dick, we can't all be Barbarians. *Some* of us have to have caution." He just rolls his eyes at her as she rolls the oversize d20 and adds her Rogue's wisdom bonus. "16?" she asks.
You think for a moment, and then say, "You're *fairly* confident he's not trying to lure you to death in the basement."
"Alright, let's go with him then," says Sheila. Everyone else nods. You hope it's not that easy to lure them to a basement in real life.
 
"The man gestures to his barback to keep the front running, and then leads you to the locked door on the side. When he opens it, you immediately smell the overpowering stench of unwashed clothes, beer, wine, you name it." You smile as you see their noses wrinkle - well, wrinkle more, anyway - and continue on. "You go down several creaky, wooden steps before it comes to an end in the stone basement. A woman is rocking in a chair by the fireplace. It's a wine cellar, but you can tell this is also where this woman has been living for the past few months at least. Her clothes are nothing but rags, and she is holding an empty bottle of unlabelled alcohol. She slurs out, 'Danny? Is that you?'"
 
A knock on the door, a real one. "Ken? It's time for your medicine," sounds the caretaker's voice from outside the rec room. He sighs.
"Guess this is me, lads and lasses. Sorry about that."
You shake your head. "We were just about to a stopping point anyway," you say, closing your binder of notes. "Same time again tomorrow?"
"Sure thing, kid," he says, before getting up, grabbing his cane, and hobbling over to the door. Everyone else shuffles out eventually as well, and you gather everyone's dice and character sheets as they make their way back to their rooms.
 
Not everyone could say they were on good terms with who, at one time, were the country's most powerful people. And maybe you couldn't either - You knew Ferris, Marion, Dick, and Sir Michael a lot better than the people behind them - but the Dungeon Master certainly could. | 2018-02-11T17:01:22 | 2018-02-11T16:10:59 | 45 | 12 |
[WP] It's 3 AM. An official phone alert wakes you up. It says "DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON". You have hundreds of notifications. Hundreds of random numbers are sending "It's a beautiful night tonight. Look outside." | I wake up to the sound of a familiar jingle coming from my phone. Groaning I turn over and turn it on. But then something grabs my interest, an official text, like the amber alerts you get sometimes, saying DO. NOT. LOOK.AT. THE. MOON. My screen then suddenly bursts up with hundreds of text messages saying the same thing, it’s a beautiful night tonight. Look outside.
I then see the time, 3:00 am. “Shit” I say, still half asleep, “ I have class at 7:30, ain’t nobody got time for trolls.” I then turn back over and have a wonderful nights rest and get to class just on time.
But no one is there. | The explosions had been rumbling off in the distance for hours as a young boy tried to drift off to sleep. The war might be raging, but the Allied Forces had deemed his village far enough away that an evacuation was only advised, not mandatory. With his mother the way that she was, the brunette knew that he would be sleeping in his own bed as soon as he heard those words. Still, the sounds persisted even as they faded into the background and then became an incorporated soundtrack to vague, shifty dreams.
A repetitive chirp woke him up as the witching hour drew to a close. Sitting up and rubbing his eyes in annoyance, he glanced at his blocky phone, the display lit up with hundreds of messages, all from unknown numbers, telling him to look at the moon. Above that, in bright red letters, scrolled a message “DO NOT LOOK AT THE MOON”. It all seemed so ridiculous, the boy thought as he lay back down, ignoring his phone. Still, curiosity gnawed at him. *What was so special about the moon tonight?*
10 minutes passed, then 15, and still the boy couldn’t shake his curiosity. Finally heeding the gnawing drive in his chest, the boy sat up again, this time turning to his window, barred tight against the October chill. Brushing aside his curtains, the boy was greeted by the sight of a blood red moon for almost an instant, marred by rings and three black tomoe, before he woke up again to spring birds chirping. | 2022-06-27T10:58:59 | 2018-04-06T18:58:31 | 103 | 12 |
[WP] France is now illegal | “Hon hon hon oui oui baguette,” I whispered the secret code in the ears of the man in front of me. He looked just like any proper Englishmen, being in a double-chested suit and holding an umbrella and all, but we both knew better. We both knew that in his heart, he would always be French.
“Hon hon hon oui oui baguette,” he replied. “What are you after?”
“Do you have a fresh stick?” I asked.
“Oui,” He looked both ways of the alley before pulling out the sacred stick of goodness from the body of his umbrella. He then ripped off a palm-sized bit and handed it to me. “This is all I can give you.”
“Are you joking me? I will pay for all of it!”
“This is my only supply left. It’s trying times, mon ami, and we need to share the resources out between everyone.”
I got a bit angry at that. What a lier, he just wanted it all for himself! I snatched he whole loads from his hand.
“You c-“
Suddenly there were shoutings and I realised a man in police uniform were running towards us, pointing at the stick of bread in my hand.
We both tried to leg it but the police were just too fast for us. The police was charging a me like a raging bull.
I panicked. I used only thing I had in hand as a weapon and started blinding thrashing around with the baguette.
When I finally opened my eyes, I was shocked. The police was down on the floor, a pool of blood spreading from his head. I looked at my hand and in it held a bloodstained stick. My gaze met the dealer’s, realisation slowly dawning on us of what happened.
I just beat a police to death with a baguette. | "You do understand that we have a long and storied history with the French? That we may not have won our independence without them?"
"We're not here to talk about the past, OK? They're losers, and we're winners."
The press conference was going much like a thousand before it: combative, unhelpful, and often embarrassing for everyone involved. But the news of this total ban was so jarring that the assembled reporters hoped against hope for some clarification, just this once.
"Have you considered what this means for global politics?"
"Listen, listen," the old politician croaked, "it's talk like that which got us in trouble in the first place. We tried to play nice with everyone -- and no one plays nice better than me, believe me -- but we're focusing on us now."
"But sir, the new G8..."
"G8? Did they come out with a new plane?" The man behind the podium leaned over and spoke softly to his assistant: "Look into getting me one of those G8s. The first one off the line. Or at least make sure it's bigger than everyone elses."
"France is one of our biggest partners in trade. How will this effect the economy?"
"It's going to be great for the economy! It's going to bring jobs back to our country. Are you saying our workers can't make baguettes? That we can't make a little more wine? If those sissies can do it, so can we!"
Then an aide leaned over the President's mic, "We have time for one more question."
A visibly emotional reporter up front spoke above the rest. "Sir, you were elected on promises to end these sorts of thoughtless policies and harmful rhetoric. It's 2025, and we thought we were done with this era..."
But the President cut him off. "I'll tell you this right now: America is never done winning!" And with that, he marched off stage, ignoring the outcry of furious press who hadn't learned a single thing.
At the same moment, a television in Florida clicked off. The Tang-colored retiree smiled as he walked towards the closet to grab his golf clubs. He didn't need to check the poll numbers to know this move would only help his successor's popularity. This was his legacy.
*America is never done winning*, he thought. Not a bad line. He wondered how it would look on a cheap hat.
\--------------------
37/365
one story per day for a year. read them all at [r/babyshoesalesman](https://www.reddit.com/r/babyshoesalesman)
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edit: grammar. also realized that the g8 isn't a thing these days but leaving it anyway. | 2018-07-27T10:14:23 | 2018-07-27T09:16:24 | 563 | 91 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | The man led them through the gallery at a brisk pace. He was dressed sharply, suited with an impeccable mauve tie and tailored waistcoat. The corridors they walked through were carved from pristine, white marble – their footsteps echoed loudly as they traversed the wing of the museum.
Without a moment’s warning, he stopped and smiled at the group struggling to keep up. He showed them a mouth resplendent with polished, white teeth, drawing his arm up like a magician would as part of a great reveal in a magic show.
“If you look to your left you will see the finest collection of modern sculpture since the Hellenic period of Greece. You may look but not touch.”
A few members of the group approached the tableau which the man was pointing too – seven realistic statues of humans. There were gasps of astonishment as the visitors to the gallery got close up to each work of art.
A woman in a canary yellow hat, wearing a pearl necklace tilted her sunglasses down to inspect a man lying down upon the floor, holding his hand up in front of his eyes as if trying to shield them.
“The level of detail… such fine touches,” she murmured, tracing her fingers over the stone surface. Each individual hair has been chiselled so finely.”
“Ahem.”
She swivelled at the abrupt sound the guide made.
She looked confused until he pointed at her hand.
“Oh, that’s right – not touching.”
He made a smile, a perfunctory curling of the lips which did not reach his eyes. “May I also ask for your glasses, Madame?”
The woman looked perturbed.
“Well, I really see no reason why…”
“Please, I must insist,” the man said, walking up and snatching the pair from her head. “The stone mason who created these masterpieces is very clear on the guidelines of visitors. You may have them back at the end of the tour.”
“Well, I never, so rude…” the woman muttered to herself as she stepped away.
They walked through another corridor and saw similar scenes. Statues of men and women cowering, looks of terror on their face, their mouths wide open. The craftsmanship of each was also a constant feature. Looking down the throat of one statue that appeared to be frozen in a bloodcurdling scream, one could even see the uvula at the back of the throat.
“Prices for each range from sixty thousand to one hundred thousand,” the guide mentioned, as if for that price they were a steal. “They are the perfect gothic addition to a mansion or villa.”
A businessman, astute and no nonsense looking, was holding the price tag on a dog which was caught in a ferocious bark. He blew his cheeks out and whistled when he saw the six-digit figure on the card.
“I notice there is a bit of a theme going on here,” he said. “Do any of these guys here look like they aren’t just about to get crucified?”
He had said it as a joke but the guide was not smiling. His pale face showed no emotion but his eyes were hard little beads. He had his hands clenched into one another. It struck the guests then just how quiet the building was.
They followed the suited man in silence until they reached a circular room. There was a podium in the centre, at least fifteen feet high, with an old man standing on top who looked to be blind.
“Thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen. I have enjoyed showing you around our grounds,” their guide told them through a mouth barely open.
“Albert here will deal with prices and sales. I hope you have fallen as much in love with our statues here as we do in making them. Adieu, I am sure I will see some of you again.”
Still facing them, he stepped out of the room backwards.
The ancient man in the middle of the room coughed loudly, getting the visitors attention.
“Our cheapest statue is £55,000,” he announced. “It is the woman in white.”
The businessman stepped forward. He looked around at the rest of the group, judging them by their expressions, and decided they were all thinking what he was thinking.
“Listen, fella,” he said impatiently. “We all agree that the statues are lifelike and all, but we think their price is a bit steep.”
The old man called Albert twitched his moustaches.
“The cheapest statue is £55,000. It is the woman in white.”
The woman in yellow, who was scowling – she had forgotten to ask for her glasses back, stepped forward.
“I don’t think any of us is interested in buying. Please show us the way out.”
The man on the podium stared blindly over them.
“No sales? I will show you the exit then.”
His scaly hand pressed a button in front of him, causing a door at the front of the room to begin to rise.
The group started to walk towards the exit when they noticed a pair of sandaled feet blocking their way.
“I hope this is the owner,” the woman commented. “I would like to make a complaint. This place is…”
Her voiced faded as the sound of hissing rose through the air.
The group stepped back as the barrier lifted completely, revealing a woman with snakes writhing over her scalp. Even as they lifted their hands to their eyes and screamed, their skin began to mineralise, hardening until the limbs of their bodies became frigid.
\*\*\*
The man led them through the gallery at a brisk pace. He was dressed sharply, suited with an impeccable mauve tie and tailored waistcoat. The corridors they walked through were carved from pristine, white marble – their footsteps echoed loudly as they traversed the wing of the museum.
Without a moment’s warning, he stopped and smiled at the group struggling to keep up. He showed them a mouth resplendent with polished, white teeth, drawing his arm up like a magician would as part of a great reveal in a magic show.
“If you look to your left you will see the finest collection of modern sculpture since the Hellenic period of Greece. You may look but not touch.”
A few members of the group approached the tableau which the man was pointing too – seven realistic statues of humans. There were gasps of astonishment as the visitors to the gallery got close up to each work of art.
“The level of detail… look at this one in the hat,” one of them murmured as she traced her fingers over the pearl necklace of a woman screaming endlessly.”
The guide turned and showed a smile curved like a scythe.
“That is one of our new additions. Please, do not touch. They are all very fragile and it would be a shame to break one."
It was too late. The stone toppled and an arm broke off as it hit the floor.
"Jesus," someone said in the crowd. "The sculptor even included bones, you can see them. Why did they bother to do that?" | A vast landscape of red and orange sand, sparsely dotted with small withering shrubs was all you could see for miles. Except for the road and the reason I had arrived here. I looked towards the heavily secured building with electrified fences. Guards with strange weapons which made a thunderous sound before seemingly striking a target from half a mile away were posted on every tower and entrance to the facility.
As I walked up to the entrance, the guards never lowered their weapons pointed at my head. When I was about 100 steps away from the gate, I was told to halt and place my hands on my head by a booming voice. Maybe a spell that amplified sound was used to produce this effect. Being new to this 'modern' world gave me many questions for my inquisitive mind. Moments later 6 armed guards in full armor cautiously approached me.
Fear, curiosity, deception, and iron will were the emotions that assaulted my mind as they moved closer.
"If it moves quickly I'll shoot" one man thought. "Is this the guy the inquisitor hired? How did he walk 40 miles in this heat?" Another man pondered. All of their thoughts entered my mind and let me grasp the inner workings of their brains.
"Professor Diht-" one man said before being interrupted by me. "De-ti-ll-e it is pronounced. Not that abomination of pronunciation you were about to sputter from your mouth." The guard's mind sparked with anger but I did not care, I had a job to do and these guards were slowing me down. I scanned each of their minds at once to get a layout of the facility, where this inquisitor was located and any locked doors or traps in place for intruders, or in this case: people trying to escape. Their mouths moved telling me to follow them but in my meditative state they might as well me talking to a wall. If that wall could read minds of course.
After much walking and passing through at least 10 different doors and barricades, all guarded by heavily armed humans, I arrived in a very opulent office with many books lining the wall in phenomenally crafted rare black mahogany bookcases. "I like this human's style." I said aloud.
"Thank you" came from the end of the long table in the center of the room. The voice was slightly sly but had an air of arrogance and confidence in it. "Knowing of your work and your talent I'm sure you've already scanned my mind and know what to do Professor Dihtilli. The prisoner is in the other room the guards will escort you to."
This man was the most interesting of any of the others and he seemed to be completely unarmed compared to the 50+ I passed by on the way in. All of them had a very dark side to them. Almost all the guards had killed many people, the scenes they had in their memory played in my mind. Some stood shoulder to shoulder with their 'brothers' and opened fire with their loud weapons pointed at a horde of sick and disheveled people. The people most of these men killed looked innocent or unarmed. Truly terrible people, but I cared not for morality.
From the few minds I've plumbed in this world I gathered that most of the world was in ruin for common folk. Justice was harsh and swift and those with power held truth and honor among themselves above all else. How much they lied to the poor and unprivileged below them was a different story.
This man before me called the Inquisitor had even more terrible memories. He liked to kill and torture up close. Most of his victims were bound and restrained. After only 5 seconds of picking apart his brain I had witnessed over 200 memories of him killing indiscriminately. I also found that he was truthful and would not skimp me of my pay. He had no thought in his mind to betray me.
After being escorted to yet another room, I finally ended up across a smaller simple table with a man in handcuffs dressed very well on the other side of the table. Also in the room were 6 more guards armed with even more menacing weapons not moving an inch with the minds racing of thoughts of maintaining order in this room at any cost. The last person in the room looked to be a sort of reporter, with their hands poised above a machine with multiple keys with a different inscription on each button.
"I've told them everything already, why do they need to send more interrogators?" The man in the suit said while slowly raising his face up to me. The sight of his face was horrible compared to other humans I've seen. Scars and burns covered almost every inch of his face and his left eye was completely swollen shut with the other barely open to see out of.
Only a few seconds of scouring the depths of his mind and I was already done with the job. I compared the evidence that his captors had against him and of what memories he had in his mind.
"June third you handed off a sort of memory stick containing information about the procedures and workings of your superiors at Elysian Survellience Corp to another man who planned to use it to sabotage the company by another competing company. You were offered 20 million dollars for this top secret information." I started. The reporter started moving their hands furiously, thinking in their mind exactly what I had just said. "You also were the murderer of Henry Wallin; a man who planned to blackmail you if you did not give him half of your pay from the rival corpration." I continued.
As I said aloud this human's every thought and memory, the reporter kept working. This went on for about thirty minutes before a loud voice came from someone not in the room, but out of a sort of machine in the corner of the room. "Professor your work is done. Please follow the guards to your next destination for your reward."
The man in the suit held his face completely still the whole time I had explained to him but his thoughts were of complete perplexion. He thought that it was impossible as some of the things I explained to him were of events that he had done in complete secrecy in the middle of the woods or an abandoned warehouse where no tracking technology was present.
I wasn't done having my fun and as I waved my hand the guards' and reporter's minds went completely blank. They had already been completely still standing so nothing looked amiss from them being completely paralysed. I then placed my hand on my necklace and spoke words in a language that made the man in the suit finally show some emotion on his fearful face. Complete darkness enveloped the room except for a pocket that contained me and the main in the suit across the table. My amulet lit this area with a magical flow so I could show him my face.
His mind thought of escape but he could not do anything but struggle against the manacles that bound him.
Finally as I ran my hand across my face my disguise vanished. I had took the form of a human to not give away my identity but I thought I would have fun with this guilty sinner in his last moments.
"Help! Help! Holy shit what are you!? Don't kill me please!" The man screamed as he saw my true visage.
My pale purple skin shined in the light of my amulet as my hungry tentacles moved toward his face as I leaned over the table. My oriface opened, ready for a succulent meal I had been so patiently waiting for. As my mouth covered the top half of the man's head with screams coming from the completely horrified human, I whispered in his mind one final thought.
"I will be your executioner right here as my rightful payment. Any human who has seen my true form has only given me one name: Mind Flayer."
The screams ended as an audible cracking of his skull originated from inside my maw. | 2018-08-27T17:05:28 | 2018-08-27T16:01:07 | 38 | 17 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | It had been the werewolves, unsurprisingly, that had ended up testing hair conditioners. They sported thick coats that were both coarse and tough enough to turn away a steel blade, so anything that could make their pelts luxuriously soft and sleek would become the next luxury conditioner overnight.
Furthermore, they were the perfect test subjects.
They could consent to the testing, which stopped all the animal cruelty complaints. Even better, their rights as humans and sapient beings were still being debated. While this would generally be a bad thing, the laws regarding human testing conveniently didn't apply to them. As long as the werewolf consented, they could test whatever weird formula they wanted.
That wasn't all though. Any damage from weird formulas would disappear when the transformation reversed in the morning. Next full moon, the werewolves had the exact same coat they did before the testing was performed. Every weird factor that might cause the hair to react in a different way was eliminated in one convenient stroke.
Lastly, it was actually a surprisingly lucrative job for any werewolf to have. Photos of werewolves sexily posed and covered in suds sold really, really well online. One particularly svelte werewolf made upwards of $10,000 a month through their private website.
While it might seem easy to replicate photos of werewolves posing sexily, it was extraordinarily difficult and costly to contain and placate a werewolf during their transformation. The only reason it worked for the hair conditioning companies was that they got much more out of the deal in terms of new products and endorsement deals than it cost them to restrain the werewolf in the first place.
Funnily enough, the vampires had met with much less success in their attempts to find employment. They had tried working with sunscreen manufacturers, but in the end... they got burned. | This is the third time this week. After all the unanswered letters, the messages, the unanswered phone calls. They've actually come knocking on my door.
I refuse to answer. If I just wait they'll leave. If I...
"Mr. Wyatt, we know you're in there. Please open the door. We just want to talk to you."
The hell you do, I thought bitterly. They're just baiting me to call back, they don't really know I'm in. The lights are all off for a reason!
"Mr. Wyatt. Please be reasonable. You're only delaying the inevitable."
I'd call the cops but after that stupid supernatural integration program they'll just call me a specist and put the call on youtube or something.
God! If it wasn't so dangerous outside after curfew I'd make a run for it. But it is, I just have to wait it out here. They can't break in, even for them it's a felony.
"Mr. Wyatt this is your last warning. You have until the count of three to open this door. ONE!"
I feel my heart pounding and attempting to leap out of my chest. No way, they wouldn't...
"TWO!"
Fuck! Monsters! They totally would! My gun, I need my gun!
"TREE!"
The door flew open, the solid wood dresser I broke my back pushing to block it was tossed to the side like a flimsy IKEA piece.
I closed my eyes and shot blindly. The noise was deafening and I think I broke something on the recoil.
"Mr. Wyatt. Please, shooting in residential areas are discouraged. Please come, we are all waiting for you outside in the van."
I opened my eyes, I can clearly see the light from the hallway through the hole in his shoulder yet his face just looks annoyed.
"Monster! Stay away from me! You can't do this to me. FREAK! GET AWAY!" My voice gets shriller and I raise my gun again.
I didn't even see him move. He was besides me and with one swift movement my gun clattered to the floor. The metallic sound ringing the end.
"Mr. Wyatt do refine from ruining my suit any further. Really now, must we go through this every single time? It's just the mandory blood tax. It's not like we'll suck you dry."
He smiled baring his fangs. That joke wasn't funny the first time, it's not going to be now. I scream and they drag me to the blood tax collection van kicking all the way... same as the previous time, and the time before that, and the time before that.
God damn the IRS!!! | 2018-08-27T17:13:23 | 2018-08-27T14:46:19 | 33 | 12 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | I was nervous. For a long time, I was thinking my nerves wouldn't let me try and get a job again. I tried, but something felt wrong, so I quit quickly. Doesn't help that for the longest time, I was trying to keep my secret well, a secret.
I take a deep breath before I wander into the police station. The moment I walk in, the police chief, at least, who I think is the police chief, greets me, shaking my hand, though I softly push it off out of nervousness.
"Nice to see you! You're the guy that got on the news, right?" he asks, and I blush. Yes, I had gotten on the news. Live in a little town nearby, but I had visited this city for the science convention, but there was an attempt robbery during late hours, only figured out by...
My train of thought gets interrupted by the chief, now touching my nose, leading me to jolt back in a quick reaction. "Please sir, don't touch me." I quietly ask, and he nods. "Sorry, it's just that, you know. Your nose made sure those crooks didn't get away, so I was thinking for a few easy bucks, you could use that nose some more!"
I did want to tell him how it only works at night, but I felt that'd be too obvious to tell him. He just saw an opportunity to get a poor...thing like me out of my house more, thanks to my friend making it sound like I barely leave because I don't want to, instead of all my worries.
Before I can even mutter a word, the chief tells me to follow him, for he had a suit for me. A suit? Why? And god knows if I'd even fit, knowing me, but he throws it onto me and tells me to get changed, as my first job was going to be soon.
I sort and get it on. It was big, a good kind of big. A few minutes later, I glanced outside to see the sun setting, as I notice my muscles expanding and parts of my face merging together. It has been a year since I got effected myself, it doesn't feel like much of anything anymore. Less of a "feel it" and more of a "see it" experience now. It's more of a relief than anything.
About an hour later and we were off. Being led to a museum by some officiers, they told me some bones had been recently stolen from an exhibit. I don't know how they thought I'd be able to find them, unless they were thinking I could smell a certain person, but then they showed me a piece of cloth, and I understood. They thought I could be like those trained dogs, but with more brains. I felt offended, but it was like they said, easy money.
To my surprise, it didn't take long. The cloth actually had a distinct smell of pizza and split chocolate, which led me to an apartment. I wanted to report it, but instead I decided to follow it more. Into the apartment, into an elevator, to the entrance of the room. With a key I had convinced the front desk to give me, I opened the door and slowly wandered in.
First thing I saw were the bones. Quickly, temptation to nibble lightly on the bones went through me, and I rushed to the edge of the room, trying to not alert the resident that I was in the room. I called the squadron and sat down to wait, slowly falling asleep.
When I woke up, the job was mostly done, I heard the police mentioning moving the bones and arresting the thief, but as I opened my eyes, I noticed one of them right in from of my face...trying to pull a bone out of my mouth. Embarrassingly, I opened up my jaw to release it, and he giggled slightly. Not the best experience, but I mean, it was something to do at the very least. | In the beginning finding them jobs other than "executioner" or "bounty hunter" was difficult. Many of em complained that these jobs we're demoralizing and that they "reinforced negative stereotypes" whatever that meant. Eventually the guys at the workforce commission bent and found them new jobs. Now you could have a silk tongued vampire as your lawyer, or a fearsome warewolf on your security detail.
I can't imagine entrusting my life to such an abomination. Monsters like this should've stay in their own realm. Many have not even taken the time to learn our language, and I'll be damned if im expected to learn theirs. The thought of these...things being around my family, around my children, it makes me sick.
A pale, sharp faced man stood at the counter, waiting for me to acknowledge his presence. The words from the sign reading "Career Placement" reflected off of the man's black eyes. His garb devoid of any imperfection. I'm sure he thought himself to good for us mortals.
"Excuse me good sir. I was under the impression that this is where I should go for career placement. Would you be so kind as to assist me?" The vampires words flowed through the air crisply, like an autumn breeze.
My response was simply pointing to the sign posted on the glass.
*Please wait to be assisted, Thank you*
The vampire read it carefully before replying. "Terribly sorry, take your time"
Damn right I would. My eyes shifted back down to the article in my favorite newpaper *Faux News*
*Are warewolves commiting tax fraud with the help of dwarf financial advisors?* The article read.
The vampire stood, waiting patiently until I had finished skimming the text. The atmosphere in the room had grown unpleasant. I didn't want to speak with him; however, the sooner I did the sooner he'd leave.
I glanced up from the paper to the thing on the other side of the counter. "Ok. How can I help you?"
"Yes, well I was looking into career placement opportunities. I would like to go into paralegal work with the disclaimer that I dont possess much willing experience in the mortals realm"
"So. You want a job in law, but you don't have any experience with mortal law?" I cracked a smile at the Vampire.
"Indeed, but I'd like to make myself transparent by stating my class of supernatural being. I am in fact a-"
"Yes a vampire I know. I can tell"
The Vampires deep black eyes stared into mine for a moment. Gears turned in his head as he formulated a response. " You're not a fan of supernaturals, are you?"
"Me? Look I'm not here to judge, I'm here to do a job, but in my free time I can be prejudice towards who I please. None of *your* business"
The man stared for a moment before pulling back his long, dark hair to reveal a pair of pointed ears.
"Not a vampire. Not even the same genus." The atmosphere grew tense
"All the same to me. Now I can offer you a job as a teacher for the supernatural, or population control."
Popluatiom control was the shittiest job we had to offer, and I was sure to pitch it to anyone who came through the doors.
The elf stared in disbelief for a moment before silently turning around and exiting the glass doors. I loved my job. Seeing the misery on their faces when they couldn't steal another job from a hard working human.
I sat reading my paper until my boss entered the building, a burly, stern faced man in tow.
"Hey Jerr, whose this? New guy?"
"Yeah...you could say that. He's here to fill your position" Jerry glanced around the room awkwardly.
"My position? But I already work full shift? Where are ya trying to squeeze him in?"
"You don't understand. This is your replacement Donny, we just received another complaint and this can't continue"
"What?! I've been here 3 years and you're gunna just flat out replace me with an outworlder? Im the best damn worker you've got!"
"All you do is complain and read the paper. Your station generates the least traffic because you have yet to help a single person."
The warewolf by Jerr stared at me, hatred in his eyes.
"It's time to go Donny."
I angrily packed my few possessions and stormed out of the office. This wasn't over. I had a plan. Soon they'd all see that humans could not be pushed around by outworlders.
| 2018-08-27T16:25:44 | 2018-08-27T15:01:41 | 33 | 24 |
[WP] Humanity discovers that supernatural creatures such as vampires and werewolves exist. Instead of attempting to exterminate them, some countries attempt to offer them lucrative jobs that they could do better than a human. | I looked up as the man came in to the pet shop through the door. Along with him was his teenage son and young daughter, curiously looking around the room. The room had several indents in the walls, which contained all sorts of animals. Dogs, cats, bunnies, and rodents of all kinds.
I finished cleaning the mess in the cage I was working on and walked up to him.
"How can I help you today?" I asked.
The man replied, "I'm just looking at dogs today, it's my little girl's birthday and we wanted to give her something special."
"I have someone you may be interested in." I motioned for them to follow and lead them to the right cage," She is very friendly and gentle. Would you like to meet her?"
The little girl immediately ran up to the glass door that contained the friendly poodle and pressed her face up to it. The poodle barked, and I translated for them, "She's saying hi, I would like to play with you." The little girl jumped in excitement.
I looked at the father and he nodded his approval, so I opened the door and grabbed the poodle and took her to the play room. As the the girl and the poodle got acquainted, talked to the father about all the logistics of purchasing the dog.
Occasionally, I catch the dog saying how much he loved this new human and how good they smelled. Just normal dog things. As the conversation wrapped up, the man decided to go through with the purchase.
That night as I walked home, I enjoyed a beautiful full moon and revelled at a day of good sells. My tail grew out and I started wagging it happily. From dog house to dog food, toys and leashes, the man had purchased the whole deal! I knew I would celebrate well tonight. | This is the third time this week. After all the unanswered letters, the messages, the unanswered phone calls. They've actually come knocking on my door.
I refuse to answer. If I just wait they'll leave. If I...
"Mr. Wyatt, we know you're in there. Please open the door. We just want to talk to you."
The hell you do, I thought bitterly. They're just baiting me to call back, they don't really know I'm in. The lights are all off for a reason!
"Mr. Wyatt. Please be reasonable. You're only delaying the inevitable."
I'd call the cops but after that stupid supernatural integration program they'll just call me a specist and put the call on youtube or something.
God! If it wasn't so dangerous outside after curfew I'd make a run for it. But it is, I just have to wait it out here. They can't break in, even for them it's a felony.
"Mr. Wyatt this is your last warning. You have until the count of three to open this door. ONE!"
I feel my heart pounding and attempting to leap out of my chest. No way, they wouldn't...
"TWO!"
Fuck! Monsters! They totally would! My gun, I need my gun!
"TREE!"
The door flew open, the solid wood dresser I broke my back pushing to block it was tossed to the side like a flimsy IKEA piece.
I closed my eyes and shot blindly. The noise was deafening and I think I broke something on the recoil.
"Mr. Wyatt. Please, shooting in residential areas are discouraged. Please come, we are all waiting for you outside in the van."
I opened my eyes, I can clearly see the light from the hallway through the hole in his shoulder yet his face just looks annoyed.
"Monster! Stay away from me! You can't do this to me. FREAK! GET AWAY!" My voice gets shriller and I raise my gun again.
I didn't even see him move. He was besides me and with one swift movement my gun clattered to the floor. The metallic sound ringing the end.
"Mr. Wyatt do refine from ruining my suit any further. Really now, must we go through this every single time? It's just the mandory blood tax. It's not like we'll suck you dry."
He smiled baring his fangs. That joke wasn't funny the first time, it's not going to be now. I scream and they drag me to the blood tax collection van kicking all the way... same as the previous time, and the time before that, and the time before that.
God damn the IRS!!! | 2018-08-27T18:56:29 | 2018-08-27T14:46:19 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] 99.9% of the universe is filled with magic. Sentient races believe that life cannot be started or sustained without magic, and it just so happens that Earth lies in a giant void of magic. One day, you accidentally use magic, suddenly attracting the attention of the rest of the universe. | "...Did you add Magic to Earth lately?" the acountant asked. He was reading over reports from Earth's progress and something... wasn't quite adding up.
"No. Why?" The writer didn't even look up from their papers. Until the silence dragged on. "Why?" he pressed.
The accountant was biting his thumbnail, re-reading a particular passage. "It seems..." he gulped. "It seems that there are two people who figured out how to tap into ambient energy and turn it into magic."
The writer lept up. "No way!" He began to pace. "Oh, this is *good*, the Fernebian race never even got far enough to transform magic from thin air like that." He leaned over the accountant. "Are you sure?"
"Well I can't imagine how else to interpret these lines, here," he handed over the papers, "two teenagers just shot an energy beam from their palms. And if you didn't give them magic, then... they just... shouldn't have magic." He waved his hands around, distressed. He just knew this was going to cause paperwork to pile up.
The writer frowned. "No, it's not ambient magic..." He paused, then raced back to his notes. "Those two..." he said, "they read fantasy novels, don't they?"
"Fantasy what now?"
"Novels. The humans developed the capacity for writing literature."
The accountant shivered. "But that's high-level magic," he whispered in fear.
"It wasn't at first," the writer muttered grimly. He stared back down at his notes. "Call a council meeting. This goes beyond us. If the humans have started harnessing a magic they're creating themselves, it's going to mean trouble, and fast." | I didn't expect a lot this evening. A bit of TV, fix some dinner, maybe even manage to work on the growing pile of paper work on my desk. You know, just the normal night of every person with a stable enough life.
Of course it all went out the window when a giant thunderbird teleported into my living room and a bunch of gelatinous levitating squids appeared and took me to there home planet to introduce me to their ruler.
I know what you're thinking. Floating jelly calamari wasn't how I imagined my first alien encounter.
Then again, the feeling is both ways. They didn't expect that my species would be the first to have access to magic.
I realized this isn't making any sense so I'll back track a bit.
From what I could over hear (fun fact: they don't talk with mouths so I have no idea how it worked) , I was the first living creature in the region of space they called "the nether zone" to develop magic.
Yes they call it nether zone. I'm trying to not get weirded out to be honest. And yes magic. Like Harry Potter, Doctor Strange, Sabrina Spellman magic. All the variants that we consider as magic, and those that we don't, are real.
Almost all creatures in the universe are capable of using it. Of course, humanity wasn't so lucky with the magic lottery, and we somehow managed to thrive without magic.
They called species like us an "anomaly" since we managed to not kill ourselves in our pursuit to advance our technology. That's what happened to Mars apparently. I didn't mention that we were already killing the planet so maybe not that much of an anomaly.
Anyways, they considered us as the missing link or something that was gonna explain why we weren't dead without magic. But they thought that we were the least likely to develop magic because we were the most technologically behind species.
Yeah, that stung to be honest.
But then I came along. A journalist who managed to summon a thunderbird after watching an episode of Pokemon.
And yes it was Zapdos.
Now I'm here, who knows how far away from home, surrounded by other gelatin squids as they circle me and point their tentacles at random points on my body and at the symbols that surrounded me. I kinda understand how lab animals feel.
Long story short: I summoned a Pokemon, jelly squids took me, I learned the secrets of the universe, and am now considered the greatest scientific discovery of the known universe.
Not how I planned my evening. | 2018-12-10T08:48:20 | 2018-12-10T07:52:56 | 99 | 37 |
[WP] You're a supervillian. Your power? Making anybody and everybody nearby feel the same emotion you feel except 100x stronger. Mostly you've been using it to force people to donate absolutely all their life's savings into charities. Superheros aren't quite sure how to deal with you. | Here they were, looking around my apartment.
“This is your lair?”
“I mean, I wouldn’t say it’s a lair. I don’t really go anywhere else.”
WingMan flutters around, taking books out of bookcases and looking behind the pictures on the walls.
“You won’t find anything,” I say. “It’s really just an apartment.”“Where are all your costumes? Your assistant?” Hercules says.
“I don’t…have any of that.”
“You are a most unusual villain.”
On the TV, the game is still going on. Even with all these beings that could snap my neck in the blink of an eye, I wonder if it should be turned off. Sure enough, PyroGirl shuts it off, singing the remote in the process.
“We’ve gone too far letting you operate, Heartbeat.”
“I didn’t pick that name, again. You did.”
“We understand what it’s like to believe you are doing right. But what you’re doing is wrong.”
“How?”
They look flustered, just for a moment. Hercules’ stern, set face melts, just for a moment, into one of slack confusion.
“Because…”“It’s wrong of you to assume what you feel is right is what others feel is right.”
“Like how you guys have made the police a laughing stock, and taken the law into your own hands?”
IceMan roars in anger, and throws a gnarly icicle through the wall behind me.
“That’s nothing like what we do! What we do is necessary!”
“That’s what they all say.”
“It’s wrong of you to force others to do what you want and sacrifice their livelihoods just for your cause!”
“Just like how all of you take young, bright kids with futures and force them to be your sidekicks, abandoning those futures for your causes?”
“That’s nothing like what we do! They want to join our cause.”"That also sounds like what they all say!”
Hercules loses it, and slams the wall, opening a hole into the world outside. He grabs me, and pulls me to the edge. I am ten floors above the street.
“This must end! You don’t get to…you don’t get to-“
“Help? That’s all I ever wanted to do!”
“We don’t need your help!”
I don’t know what to say. For some reason, this hurts the most. I remember reading the comics, seeing them in moments like this, when they couldn’t help, when nothing they did worked, and somehow they still found a reason to believe. In themselves, in what they do. I look inside, and I can't find it in all the panic and fear.
Suddenly, I feel myself pulled inside, and laid down gently on the carpet.
Hercules wipes a tear from his eyes. “He’s for real, guys. Just give me a moment. God, your power is strong.”
Applause. They all start clapping, and crowd me. I don’t know what’s going on.
“Welcome to the team, man!”
“I knew you would pass.”
They’re all smiling, and it’s hard not to feel a sense of pride, especially with the shock of surviving. But deep down, I realize I don’t know if I believe in what they believe anymore. Perhaps it is time for a new breed of hero, one who doesn’t do it for show…
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Thanks for reading! I don't think this is my best, but if you want to read more by me, I started a subreddit, [r/penguin347](https://www.reddit.com/r/penguin347), and I will be posting some stuff there! Thanks for reading. | “You’re definitely getting better at portraying your emotions. What are you doing to get better at crying on stage?”
I thought back to my first encounter with my... quirk. I had just gotten off of a 10 hour shift at work. Stressed as all hell, someone shoulder checked me walking down the street. I’ll admit, after the long day, I kind of just lost it. I screamed at the guy; just unloaded all of my frustration and stress and rage on him. Childish I know. Then the strangest thing happened.
He just jumped on top of me from behind, knocking me to the ground. When I looked up at him, his pupils had dilated like he had just done a couple line of coke at once. His veins were bulging, nostrils flared, it looked like he had just hulked out without warning. My anger suddenly turned to fear for my life. My heart felt like it was a frantic creature trying to break free from the cage that was my chest. I made a frantic little prayer to no one in particular,
“Please please please don’t let me die now.”
The guy’s eyes rolled back into his head as he collapsed beside me. Still terrified, I got up and ran home, not even looking back. Later on, after I had had a couple of drinks to help me calm down, Drink in hand, I turned on the news. The face of my attacker greeted me as a news reporter recited her prompt about how a man had died suddenly of a fear-induced heart attack. With alcohol as my shield against common senses and the otherwise crippling moral ramifications of what had happened, I put two and two together and decided that I had somehow made the man both angry and frightened when I was angry or frightened. Weird.
The next day I woke up hungover as all hell, the memory of my drunken idea pounding in my head along with my heartbeat. I decided I was either crazy, experienced a truly preposterous coincidence, or I was right about what had happened. I decided to start experimenting with a friend of mine who I didn’t mind losing. We went out clubbing Friday night after work when I spotted a cute girl sitting with a group at a table near the dance floor. Curiosity ran parallel with my attraction as I tried mentally projecting my attraction onto my friend. Almost immediately, she started playing with her hair and started chatting up a guy at the bar. Her voice had gone up almost a full octave and she was giggling like mad. A mixture of awe and fear started churning in my stomach, which I kept to myself to keep anyone from experiencing a rapturous insight on the dance floor. I could actually change people’s feelings. Not only that, but others would feel what I felt more powerfully then I did. And that would explain why the guy who attacked me had a heart attack while I stayed safe.
“My first time getting rejected.” Lying had become easier to me since I my realization of my quirk. Unfortunately, this meant it was harder to genuinely feel any emotions worth the name, which was why I started taking acting classes. Sean was a well known method actor in our city, and I capitalized on that. If I could get my feelings to follow the any narrative I made up, I could make anybody feel anything on command while never being in any danger myself.
Sean nodded encouragingly. “Rejection is such a powerful experience everyone goes through. That definitely is a good starting place. How did it make you feel when it happened?”
“Like my world was falling apart around me and I was falling with it. I didn’t know what to do or how to stop it. I liked him a lot. Maybe more than I should have.”
I had found that compassion and pity were good emotions to have people experience when I needed something. You’d be surprised what can happen when a district manager truly feels bad for your predicament with your asshole coworker and pay.
“That’s good! Next time you have to cry, I want you to really lean into that feeling of your world crashing down. Imagine that your world is crashing down around and nobody can see it. I think being lonely makes that feeling that much worse, which will make your acting so much more relatable and realistic.”
“I’m not sure if you could handle that Sean.”
“What?”
“I’m playing around. Next week at six?”
Sean looked at me funny, but nodded and got back into that wide smile that I was accustomed to. The kind of smile when his gums got in on the action.
“Yeah! Next week at six. And you really are doing great.”
“Thank you. See you then!”
As I walked home, I thought about how to deal with my landlord. She had started to act very bitchy about the appearance of all of her properties and had started charging more to help pay for cleaning services and landscapers and what not. Maybe some suicidal feelings would be in order soon.
Edit: spelling | 2018-12-17T13:55:04 | 2018-12-17T13:43:40 | 2,397 | 797 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | Eyes shutting around me. Friends, family, all of them drifting into a long sleep. 100 years shrunk into the blink of an eye.
Soon, the soft whirring of the cryogenic generators kick in. The whirring... wait, why am I still awake?
I looked around frantically, as those around me got frozen, stopping their body processes, effectively dead for a century. But this wasn't happening to me. As this began to sink in, the lights shut off. And I was alone.
I began pounding on the window of the pod, hoping that someone would hear me. I don't know who I thought would hear me, maybe a maintenance crew? I heard they have those.
I started feeling around, searching for something I could press, an emergency button, or something! I felt a long array of bumpy objects, but they did nothing when I tried to press them. What about this squishy thing? Is this a lever?
Eventually, I fell into silence. And I waited. Hours, days, years, I don't know (well probably not years).
And finally, something happened. The bottom of my pod suddenly dropped away and I started falling. I slid along rough metal, reminding me of a water slide (but more painful). And at last, I landed on hard ground.
I looked up and was immediately blinded by a bright white light. I covered my eyes and looked up. They looked... human? Is that a torch?
"Hey, sorry that took so long. Welcome to the maintenance team!" | At about the thirty year point I suddenly turned grey. The colour fell out of my hair overnight. I think it was the trauma, it's reach extending from that very first moment when Miss. Dawson pressed the button on my pod and the glass reeled back.
She smiled. I saw red lipstick bonded to the gaps between her teeth. Slate grey eyes peering down at me. My head was still restrained. I flickered my eyes away but she bobbed her head in the same direction so that she filled my vision.
'Welcome to The Advancement. It's morning, Julia. Time to get up.'
Thirty years later, it's morning again. It always feel like it's morning. The day is beginning. I'm exiting the pod to an empty world.
I logged on to the federal system to retrieve my mail. It loaded instantly. There was no other traffic to clog the fibre optics.
'Good morning, Julia.'
She hadn't changed. Her face filled the computer screen.
'Rough night?'
I reached up and touched my hair, pushing it flat to my head. I should have worn a hat or pulled it into a pony tail so it was less noticeable.
'Something like that.'
'Oh dear. It hits them all at some point.' I wasn't entirely sure she was addressing me, or if we were suddenly co-conspirators in something I still didn't understand.
'Seth is fine. He's passed all respiratory checks. He's currently dreaming of a cartoon dog.'
My heart pumelled. He's dreaming about Scruffy. He's still in there. I thought of my baby; still my baby, held in stasis without me. When he woke, I'd be long dead. Dust in the ground. Who would look after him? Who would-
'Julia?' Miss. Dawson was snapping through the screen. Her mouth had drawn together in an ugly pucker. Of course she was mad at me. She always had reason to be mad at me.
'I'm with you.'
'Good. There's a car on its way to you. Be ready in half an hour. Do something with your hair, for God's sake,' she said, before the screen went black.
| 2018-12-29T02:06:11 | 2018-12-29T01:58:51 | 1,838 | 88 |
[WP] You invent time-travel, but it's more like time-observation: you can't affect the past, you can only observe what happened. You decide to go back and witness your favourite historical event, but soon realize everything you were taught was so very wrong... | Ethereal time manipulation, or ETM, as I had dubbed it upon my discovery of how to project myself through time. Though I couldn't physically go to that time, I could 'witness' it through the ETM. I spent the last several days locked away in my study trying to determine the best way to go about using it, or even if I should release this to the world. What implications could something like this have on humanity?
I was always curious, as a scientist, about religion and its impact upon society. How some were devout, god fearing people and others were zealots that spout nonsense and incoherent babble. Was it even a real thing or something someone cooked up to enthrall the masses.
Over the course of the next few days, I jumped around to various events in history, the birth and crucifixion of Jesus, the plagues of Egypt and Moses. I'd say at the least many of the stories were quite embellished.
But nothing was quite confirmed. Witnessing a prophet speak to himself didn't confirm if he was one, or if he was crazy. As a scientist, it was such a terrible letdown as the ETM limits my projection to what my own senses can determine. Hearing someone else hear voices didn't seem to be a part of that equation.
However, upon one of my travels, I happen across the Holy Crusades, and a peculiar tablet that read off a date too far old to determine based on mankind's calculations of time. Dating back to the around 5000 BC til now, I calculated that this date was roughly 4.543 Billion years ago.
I quickly began research and deduced that this was one of the oldest known time-frames of the existence of Earth. I sat and pondered a moment about the implications and what it could mean. I've gone back many years and witnessed many things, but could I go back 4.5 billion years?
I grabbed the ETM device and slid the bracelet like mechanism over my wrist and fastened it. The ETM blipped and churned a few electronic noises as I powered it up and prepared myself as I entered in the time and date from the old tablet. As normal, my body fell limp and I experienced this 'lifted' feeling as if my soul had left my body. Everything around me moved as if it flowed in reverse, but quicker and quicker as each millisecond passed.
Within a flash, I had arrived in a strange area, one that was educated to be what earth looked like in ancient times. The land was lush with greenery and the water was as blue and clear as the sky. The atmosphere was cool and brisk yet the fields and forest were massive and dense. I took a deep breath in and sensed no harmful particulates like you would in a populated city. It seemed like a wonderful dream... a Paradise.
CONTINUED... | It's not a machine, it's a formula. And I have the Deep Ken to thank for it, really, they were the first to show me the deeper ways and consequences governed by the Universal Secrets. They taught me the power and application of True Comprehension, of knowing how everything fits together. The equations and functions that let our Fellowship see far and profoundly, move and see through the Hidden Spaces, entice our whole species toward a more promising future.
Of course, time isn't quite like space. It's a cousin, to be sure, closely-entangled but of distant relation. With the Formulae, the ones I have been taught as I moved through the Stations of Understanding, with them a Reckoner can pass from place to place as well as see them, outside of the Forbidden Places of course.
Whereas with my new formula, it's possible to see the past, but not to go there, as that entire realm is set like the burial-crystals in which we entomb our minds after we have passed on—one of the many reasons it is imperative for each of our Members to avoid all autopsies by outsiders. So far I cannot see *too* far into what has been, the calculations are too difficult, becoming exponentially more fraught with every added millennium.
But it was still enough to see what is, for we of the Deep Ken, the most important thing that has ever happened in the history of this insignificant cosmic rock. The Discovery, that great Eureka of the Original Master. The moment I had refined my formula to the point where I could reach that portentous moment, I knew I must observe it. What great new insight might I learn by not just reading what the Original Master wrote about the experience, but seeing it at something approaching first-hand?
I could barely contain my excitement as I scrawled the proper guiding lines and holding-symbols on the carefully-prepared floor. I set the burial-crystals at each corner, knowing how glad my predecessors must be to participate in such a grand venture, savoring the psychic shrieks that sounded like agony to a lesser mind like mine which could not comprehend the high state of being to which their refined consciousness had ascended.
As the crystals achieved their maximum harmony, I conceptualized the deep meaning of the circling-diagram I had carefully etched into the floor, and the Folding Aside was achieved, a membrane in time and space letting me catch the echo of sight and sound from more than twenty-five hundred years ago.
And yes! There was the Original Master, younger perhaps than usually depicted in the few depictions that have been passed down to us, the ones that escaped burning by narrow, fearful minds. There was the Great Wax Table on which he had recorded his ruminations, time and again, scribing and smoothing with every new frustration until finally The Discovery had been granted to him by the Benevolent Minds Beyond.
For a long time I watched him work, entranced at first, then gradually becoming...puzzled. I had not expected to fully understand such a profound moment, of course, but what the Original Master wrote was...elementary. No, not even that, there were what we would now consider to be basic mistakes, fundamental misunderstandings of how True Knowledge fit together. All he seemed to understand was the existence of the Beyond, but no, this was represented by different formulae than the purely-ceremonial ones we used to speak of a place that could not be reached by mortal minds.
No, his formulae were clearly meant to be practical. And he was using them.
And they worked, and I nearly fell to my knees. No. What was this? This was forbidden even to try.
But the Thing that hung in the air above the wax table could not be denied.
<continued below> | 2019-05-19T10:29:24 | 2019-05-19T09:21:39 | 74 | 17 |
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