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[FF] In three sentences, kill as many people as possible. No firearms, no natural disasters, no explosives, no WMDs. | If the bible was to be believed then the first time man killed man he used a rock.
And now things had come full circle, Erik reflected as he watched the massive asteroid his shuttle had been towing plummet into earth's gravity well.
The last time a human could kill another was with a rock as well. | [Loophole? The rules never said I couldn't use compound, complex, or compound-complex sentences, so to make it clear there are only 3 sentences I will label them. I apologize if this is cheating. If it is I will delete it.]
(Dialogue):"(1)Good evening graduates, my name is--well, I shall not reveal that information due to obvious reasons, but you may simply refer to me as The Director. (2)Starting today, you will all take part in a social experiment I like to call 'Survival of the Fittest'; as you listen to my pre-recorded voice, all of the doors and windows of your campus's assembly hall are being locked, chained, and barricaded by your corrupt police department which gladly accepted my bribes--please do not try to escape, because there are no tools or supplies in your new home, and your attempts will fail. (3)The rules are fairly simple: the last man or woman alive shall receive 5 billion dollars--proof of the money's existence is being projected onto the screen before you all; now, lights...camera...ACTION!" | 2014-08-04T23:21:29 | 2014-08-04T22:22:34 | 89 | 21 |
[WP] The Alien Federation has been keeping tabs on the humans of Earth since they first appeared. They do surveillance missions once every 300 years to keep track of our progress, the last mission was 300 years ago. The aliens are shocked by our progress since 1714. | "The *moon*?"
The head of intergalactic space command was incredulous. How could this primitive worm-like race achieve space travel in such a short time.
"Yes, sir. In fact we have a video of the event."
"*Video*?" Even this accomplishment was surprising.
"Here sir, see for yourself." The orderly brought the video up on a holographic screen.
The commander watched, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Surely it is fake! Why is the flag not moving? And no creature would move like that on the moon - they must have slowed down the video. And *look*, just look at those shadows!"
"We've analyzed the videos, sir, and it all seems to be authentic."
The commander was beside himself and he paced back and forth with obvious distress.
"It gets worse sir"
"No"
"They have computers"
"No"
"And video games"
"No"
"Nuclear power"
"No"
"Their own version of Reddit"
"No no no NO! DAMNIT! How could this happen?! How could such a primative race progress so quicky?"
"Sir, we've located signs of Reptilians in their population."
"I KNEW IT!"
-----
First story! :D | THE FEDERATION'S GUIDE TO THE GALAXY ^^A ^^subdivision ^^of ^^the ^^Vogolsphere ^^9 ^^Publishing ^^Houses
Vr 2.02:
*Current fixes:*
Formatting errors
Sentence Rearranging
***DON'T PANIC! Your current chapter is:***
***Earth***
On an unremarkable planet, around 300 years ago, there existed a race of creatures who called themselves 'Humans'. As all sentient creatures are, they are easily frightened when the un-ordinary appear, and as such, resort to un-ordinary means to either A: communicate with them, or B: kill them.
Unfortunately, the Guide team sent down 300 years ago were quite un-ordinary, where as they thought that an old, developed, sentient species would have regarded them and their appearance as ordinary.
Sadly, there were no survivors.
However, 299 years later, in the human's year 2014, a team was dispatched wearing Human attire akin to the 1700's. After trying to convert Galactic Credits to Earth Money at a bus station, they set off to a cafe, as it was about lunch time.
After ordering a couple scones and a cup of coffee, the quartet sat down and began to uplink with the Guide's servers.
Of the four who were sent on that mission, three returned (the missing one later was found to have gotten drunk off of an auto-fermentation of a scone and had missed the ship home). Of those three, two kept a log of what happened. And of those two, the one who took the lowest payout for their story got into the Guide.
It is, as follows:
"This 'Earth' is a horrid place to visit. No currency conversion, crappy food that gave me horrendous gas, and to top it all off, there was no planetary-wide Wi-Fi. 2/5 Stars."
***This has been the Federation's Guide to: Earth*** | 2014-10-26T15:51:36 | 2014-10-26T15:07:00 | 327 | 165 |
[WP] The Alien Federation has been keeping tabs on the humans of Earth since they first appeared. They do surveillance missions once every 300 years to keep track of our progress, the last mission was 300 years ago. The aliens are shocked by our progress since 1714. | "The *moon*?"
The head of intergalactic space command was incredulous. How could this primitive worm-like race achieve space travel in such a short time.
"Yes, sir. In fact we have a video of the event."
"*Video*?" Even this accomplishment was surprising.
"Here sir, see for yourself." The orderly brought the video up on a holographic screen.
The commander watched, shaking his head in disbelief.
"Surely it is fake! Why is the flag not moving? And no creature would move like that on the moon - they must have slowed down the video. And *look*, just look at those shadows!"
"We've analyzed the videos, sir, and it all seems to be authentic."
The commander was beside himself and he paced back and forth with obvious distress.
"It gets worse sir"
"No"
"They have computers"
"No"
"And video games"
"No"
"Nuclear power"
"No"
"Their own version of Reddit"
"No no no NO! DAMNIT! How could this happen?! How could such a primative race progress so quicky?"
"Sir, we've located signs of Reptilians in their population."
"I KNEW IT!"
-----
First story! :D | "Wouldn't you know it, the whole damn planet's gone to hell."
"It's not so bad."
"You should have been here three cycles ago. There was so much pristine wilderness, thousands of magnitude more than anything we have back home. It was beautiful. You could camp, hunt, take trophies, anything you wanted three cycles ago. Now they're all obsessed with finding proof of us."
"It's kind of cool watching them advance. They're going so slow we can really study them. Did they have internal combustion power last cycle?"
"I don't know. Maybe some of them did. They're all so damn secretive, it's hard to tell what's what. For two whole cycles we thought they were back to hunting and gathering until we realized that was just one part of the world, the other one had developed explosive warfare and a bureaucracy."
"Don't you think we should help them? Isn't that sort of our duty?"
"I want to set them back, is what I want. I want those great empty plains back to run around in, now they're all paved and all the fun animals are dead."
"Just think, if we could introduce them to stasis systems and efficient geo-thermal energy, they could vastly improve their quality of life and we could start trading with them."
"I could cook up a plague just with the stuff I have on the ship. Cull the herds, and get my big forests back. I miss those forests."
"They have wonderful forests! Some of them are bigger than our biggest cities! What more could you want with forests?"
"You wouldn't understand. You should have seen them eight cycles ago. It was different then. All the fun animals are almost extinct now. Now the humans are still on combustion power and they've barely touched their moon. They're boring."
"No one said our job was supposed to be fun."
"Yeah, I guess. But it used to be."
"Just get on with the counting."
"I was serious about what I got in the ship. We could cut them back down to size. Forests spanning sea to sea in half a cycle. It'd be a beauty to see." | 2014-10-26T15:51:36 | 2014-10-26T15:47:52 | 327 | 148 |
[WP] When humans mature, they gain a single magic spell. The incantation is a single verb, and (a) subsequent command(s) if desired.
An example of the incantation could be "Obey, get me coffee."
| "Can you hook me up?"
I looked at the kid in front of me, he was, with a liberal guess, fifteen. But he was obviously resourceful, he managed to find me in this haunted city.
"Well, it depends on what you want." I said.
"I want a *discern.*"
*Discern*. Ah. That was an expensive item, because of the nature of it. You could rifle through anyone's head. It was also an extremely uncommon find. What did a fifteen year old want a discern for?
"Why?"
"It's getting you money, you don't really need to know." He gripped his armrests and seemed extremely angry at the question.
"Hey, buddy. How about you cool your tone and answer the question." I said. Stupid children. They always underestimate while simultaneously overestimate the raw power of commands.
"Well, there's a girl, and I don't know if she likes me or not." He said, with a straight face.
I laughed. Hard. I laughed so hard tears streamed down my face. I finally retained my composure and I looked up at the kid. He looked very unsettled.
"What are you willing to give me for it?" I asked, at last.
"Well, my grandpa said he's willing to give up his, but you have to give him *overpower* too." The boy replied.
"What is his word?" I said, wondering what could be so esoteric that his grandfather thought he could get two of such powerful commands.
"Enchant."
"Deal, bring him here and I'll do it." I said, greedily. Enchant was a big deal, especially for a salesman like myself. I've only seen three in the wild, and no one was willing to sell. This must be a special case.
"Hey, son." I said, before right before he walked out the door.
"Yeah?" He asked, turning around.
"Why does your grandfather want the *overpower*, instead of *enchant*?"
"He has cancer. He's hoping to *overpower* it." He said, and he left.
I sat down and poured a drink. Today was a good day. Saving a life, getting *enchant*, only losing one of my two overpowers, and a discern.
I loved being born with *transfer.*
| The old man in the black coat sat in the corner of the small and quirky coffee shop, drinking some warm milk and reading the newspaper. He was smiling, and humming a soft and strangely familiar melody that escaped recognition, like something from a dream. And he was a wizard. Oh yes. He had a Word, and it must have been powerful. No one would go near him. Even Sarah, the most friendly person I've ever known, refused to take his order. They simply took his written order and placed it on his table before skittering away.
So I went to talk to him.
It was almost a compulsion, driven by a mad curiosity. I had to know this man. I had to speak with him. Wizards were so rare. I had only read of them online. It took months to get the courage to actually go up to him. You read the most terrible things. A wizard in Oklahoma who used the command *Enhet-Ra,* to bind young woman to his will. Or the new terror-cult in the Middle East, following a wizard with the command *Shanset-Ereti,* which meant to obey or to die, depending on the emphasis.
I sat down across from him. He gave me a shy smile, and put the paper down. "Can I help you?" he asked.
"I... I wanted to talk to a wizard."
"Talk to anyone. We all have magic in us, in a small way."
"I... What? I don't understand."
He folded the paper and rolled it up, took a sip of his milk, and leaned forward onto his hands. "Have you ever studied koans?"
"No. Isn't that a Zen thing?"
"It is something that pertains to everything. All of life is a question. What is the answer?""
"The answer to life? I guess... I don't know. To be happy? To have a legacy?"
"Let me tell you a story. There once was a man in Italy who went to see a doctor. 'Doctor, I am sad,' he said. 'I am never happy. No matter what I do, or who I see, happiness is always beyond me.'"
"The doctor told him, 'In the town, there is a great clown named Feglicci. Go to see him. He will make you happy.'"
"The man began to cry. 'I *am* Feglicci the clown.'"
"What do you think of that story?"
I thought for a moment. "I don't know."
"That was a good answer. Go home. Think on the koan. And come see me tomorrow."
I stood, thanked him for his time, and walked out the door. My thoughts were light and airy. I kept reflecting back on the story he told me. And I also noticed more in the world around me on the way home. Footprints and tire tracks stood out on the ground. A bird was singing on a tree branch, and I almost understood the words to the song. It wasn't until I was home and sitting in my room that I noticed something. He had used a word of power on me. *Shorona-Therentil.* *Think.* | 2014-11-15T20:37:44 | 2014-11-15T18:59:32 | 67 | 37 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen. | “December 11, 4614. My name is Edmund Schulman, 2600 years ago was my last birthday. I am the oldest living terrestrial mammal on earth.”
I’ve done this exactly 52 times now. I remember reciting the same exact phrase the way the first batch of scientists instructed. The digital camcorder remarkably the same and in perfect condition, exactly as it was before my first “Jump” in 2014.
I look around me and find the new batch of scientists going about their business. Monitoring my vitals, making sure everything is proper. Every time I am brought back from cryostasis, I’m absolutely amazed. They keep getting younger and younger. This batch looks the youngest to me. The oldest one doesn’t look a day over 19 years old.
Before my first ‘jump’, I was told that I would be kept awake only for 7 days every 50 years. Then put back to Cryostasis. They said that the 7 days would feel more like 3 hours due to the effect of something they called “cryogentic time dialation”. For this reason I was not allowed outside of the Lab.
To absorb all that I can in the short amount of time, they have me watch a video 30 minutes long with a condensed summary of things I should remember from the past 50 years. I’m allowed to record any personal remarks straight to my video blog mounted right outside my cryogenic chamber.
It’s now time to jump again, I enter the cryo chamber after receiving a shot from one of the scientific staff. It feels cold in there, though never really feels any colder than winter. I count to 10 as instructed and doze off into my cryonic sleep.
BUZZZZ! My chamber door opens again. Woah 50 years in the blink of an eye again. Expecting to see the new batch of scientists, I was shocked to see my closest friends from 2014, all of whom I presumed dead over 2000 years ago.
I was taken aback with all the laughing and cheers, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. My brother Ben, who escorted me to this very lab in 2014 drops the bomb. “Hey timecapsule boy, did you like your amusement ride?” I was confused. “Yeah bud, check this out” He hands me an roller coaster ride quality photo. It shows me lying down surrounded by friends, all laughing at me. At the very top in bold white letters “I was a time travel prank victim” and at the bottom “Galaxy Amusements, Barry Goldberg, DDS.”
A fucking dentist founded an amusement company, cleverly using small doses of anesthesia to repeatedly put me to sleep for 10 minutes at a time while they staged the props around my chambers, making it seem like I was actually travelling frozen through time every time I arose. | They’ve stolen your life from you. That’s what my mother said. But I didn’t mind, really. You see, they had chosen me, the government that is, to be the first living time capsule, to be the first man to span human existence. Cryostasis. This was a gift, a privilege. I would be remembered for as long as I live.
The day came for me to begin my sleep. I had already been briefed. I would sleep for fifty year intervals and, in between, would awake for one week at a time. I would live for over two-thousand and six hundred years for every year that I aged. Well, actually, because the cryostasis only slows down bodily function, not stops it completely, it would be closer to two-thousand years for every one of mine. The chamber that I would reside in was in the center of the mall, right in front of the Capitol Building. It was a cylindrical chamber with transparent fiberglass and was filled with a blue liquid. There was also a smaller chamber attached to its side. Of which, I stood in front of. I was surrounded on all sides by dense crowds of people and cameras.
“This day marks the age of a new era.” A voice boomed, “An era of immense potential and advancement. This brave citizen will not only become a part of history, but live to see his legacy. See you in 2070, my friend.”
With that, the crowd roared and the doors to the secondary chamber opened. I stepped inside, the doors slid shut, and the chamber began to fill with liquid. My mother was there, my sister, too. I waved goodbye to them as I submerged. The doors to the main chamber opened and I swam to the center. The system was designed to keep me directly in the center of the chamber. The solution that I was suspended in was specially designed for my weight and buoyancy. It would render me unconscious and then turn cold. I took one last look around and took a deep breath in. It felt like drowning and breathing simultaneously, a weird sensation, indeed. Things went dark quickly, though, and I soon rescinded into my mind.
It was basically like dreaming, just very slowly. Though, I didn’t notice the slowness until after I had woken up. Suddenly, my dream was cut short and I began to regain consciousness. Red flashes and alarms filled my senses. The liquid in the chamber was draining. Had it been fifty years? I fell to my knees as my body tried to reset. Something was off. I looked around. The mall seemed so barren now. The grass had turned to dirt. The sky was filled with what seemed to be more dust than cloud. No one was there to greet me. Did they forget? After a few minutes, I had the strength to stand. What the fuck was happening? I made my way to the secondary chamber. On the floor laid a small lock box. There was a note attached to it.
“Good morning. Place your finger here.”
I did what it said and the box popped open. Inside were two objects inside: a folded piece of paper and a pistol. My stomach sank.
“In 2067 a large celestial object impacted Earth. Most of the population left in a mass exodus to find a new home. The rest were left here to die. I’m sorry. –Peter”
It couldn’t be. But I knew it to be true. The Earth had changed. I couldn’t see a hundred feet without it being lost to dust and smog. I began to laugh. I saw Peter lying just out front of the chamber door. I wonder how long he had been there. A few years I’d wager. What a life I had had. I grabbed the pistol and cocked it back. At least Peter remembered me.
| 2014-12-19T07:53:55 | 2014-12-19T07:17:25 | 118 | 39 |
[WP] Leonardo DiCaprio in a fit of rage begins to torpedo his own career by deliberately acting poorly and taking on bad films. He finally wins an oscar for starring in Paul Blart: Mall Cop 3. | Leonardo DiCaprio made his way to the microphone, shaking his head. He looked a little manic in fact, as he let out a high-pitched sound of disbelief. The smile stretched across his face, but in an odd way, he didn't look very happy at all.
He crouched to put the Oscar on the floor. Then he stood up tall, leaning into the microphone. "I have two words for everyone tonight."
"Fuck," he said pausing to make a circle with his fist. He slipped his pointer finger into his fist, jerking it in and out, making what some might call a lewd gesture. "You."
He pointed at everyone in the audience, laughing for a moment, then conveying a mere micro-expression of pain. His face twisted and turned, as he conveyed the best moments from each of his roles. The romanticism of Jack Dawson, the profane tragedy of Billy, the unhinged twistedness of Calvin Candie. All the characters welled up within him, subsumed him.
The spirit of True Art rushed through him, his eyes turned a bright red. His laugh became deep, dark, inhuman. He picked up the Oscar statue, crushed it with his bare hands. He looked out among the audience and said, "Your accolades mean nothing."
Sitting at a table with other Oscar nominees, Kevin James shit himself. | "Paul Blart: Mall Cop 3 is going to win me an Oscar, through whatever means possible." I had said to myself earlier in my hotel room.
Now here I am, standing tall and proud at the podium, facing a crowd of familiar faces. Peers of my profession.
I can hear the sound of my own heart beating, pumping vigorously as if it were about to burst out of my chest.
This is really happening, two decades of slaving my life away and this is all it took?
After all I've been through, they must be proud that I was finally able to achieve what was rightfully mine. They just had to!
I scan the hall searching for their approval, but all I found were looks of horror and disgust, as if my success were alien to them. I chuckle to myself, no matter. This was my moment and no amount of insolence would hold me away from my happiness.
As I prepared to speak from my quivering lips, everyone suddenly hurried to get up from their seats, falling over one another in an attempt to leave. Through the aisles I spot several men in uniform making their way to the stage... I don't understand.
Instinctively, I clutch my prize tighter toward my chest and in my mind I reassure myself that *nobody was going to take this away from me*. **Nobody**.
They're closing in on me now. I try to back away in order to escape, only to find myself cornered and pressed up against the fifteen foot replica of my award. I can feel their weight on me now, pinning my arms to the floor, I decide that it's not worth resisting.
Instead, I crane my neck to look toward the podium where I was just moments before and spot beside it the lifeless body of the false winner, Mathew McConaughey. The man I strangled for all to see. The man who did not deserve to win this award.
"Paul Blart: Mall Cop 3 is going to win me an Oscar, through whatever means possible." I repeated to myself.
**Edit;** This is my first time writing here, I figured it'd be good practice for me since I don't do it very often! Feedback would be great, but I hope you enjoyed it!
| 2015-06-02T11:18:35 | 2015-06-02T10:46:59 | 1,609 | 424 |
[WP] Every time someone says "Long live the Queen", the Queen's life is extended by one second. You only notice this when the Queen looked terrified when only a few people say it during a public speech.
Credit to /u/kroxigor01 for the idea. | From the crowd only a few people shouted it. Before this all happened, the entire crowd would say it. But the phrase is dying. Experts have pointed out how it may come of as nationalistic, and that it's somewhat old fashioned. Fewer and fewer people started saying it. And that took its toll. Looking back now, it all makes sense. Truth to be told, in the back of my mind, I was suspicious. She promoted the phrase, that one specifically. She must've had a reason. And when in her public appearances fewer
people shouted the phrase, she started to look worried. Clearly this was important to her somehow. Today was different. Only a dozen people shouted the phrase. And the gaze in her eyes was one of an immense fear. She knew what was coming. For 12 seconds, she stopped, and just stared into nothingness. And then she dropped dead on the floor. A phrase had died, and a queen with it. Long live the queen. | I had attended every public event the Queen had scheduled for the last three months. Standing by her side in perfect stillness. Her rule has been a harsh one, with higher taxes and harsher punishments announced every month in short her reign.
Public opinion had plummeted and the crowds had only grown more uneasy in the last weeks. Rumours had spread of mandatory service in her army as the war on the continent had dragged on. Her citizens had become displeased.
Every unwelcome word that fell from her lips had been accompanied by an icy, stoic expression. Even as the number of loyal subjects in these crowds had dwindled to almost nothing.
But this time, as her latest announcement came to its conclusion, a look of concern crossed her face. One lone person in the crowd obediently replied with the expected pledge.
It echoed through the otherwise silent crowd and her Majesty looked genuinely frightened. Her life was bound by those words, I had noticed it at her last parade.
A deadly smile spread across my lips, it was now. My previous attempts had been thwarted by the public's cries, but there was no chance of safety for her now. I drew out my blade and lunged.
I heard her cream gown tear as I met my target, watched as the dress stained crimson. Her eyes widened in horror. She really was beautiful, but her beauty did nothing for this kingdom.
I knew I would not last long, the other guards were on me in a flash. My comrades and brothers no doubt shocked by my treachery but at last they would be free.
They tried to save her but my hit had been true, her limp body fell like a ragdoll to the ground and her eyes closed for an eternal sleep.
I bowed deeply as I was taught at my fallen leader.
Long live the Queen indeed.
***
Edited a misspelled stoic and added a forgotten pronoun, and other such mistakes. Sorry! | 2022-09-08T11:11:40 | 2015-11-09T04:26:35 | 971 | 28 |
[WP] You have a literal Trump Card. When played, Donald Trump appears to assist you. | Because the Yu-Gi-Oh tie in was inevitable:
____
Pegasus laughs maniacally. "For all your skill, Yugi-boy, you'll still be sent to the shadow zone. Go! Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon! attack his lifepoints directly!"
A grin crosses yugi's face. "You fool! You've activated my *TRUMP CARD!*!"
"Your futile attempts to stall won't dissuade me! My millennium eye sees all, and you have no trap cards left to play! You're so afraid you can't even pronounce 'trap card' correctly!"
A short bark of laughter escapes Yugi. "Oh, I said exactly what I meant to."
*"Great unstumpable one, make America great again! Halt those who wish to enter my territory! Build wall!"*
With an almighty flash, Donald Trump appears on the playing field, towering over both combatants. His hand reaches out and smashes Blue-Eyes Toon Dragon flat, dissipating the monster into holographic crystal shards.
"How could this be!?" A look of complete incredulity is pasted on Pegasus's face.
Yugioh points (dramatically, of course) at Pegasus. "Pegasus, your reign of terror is over!"
Trump roars, shaking the very foundations of Duelist Kingdom.
"You're Fired!" | I hate visiting my family for Christmas. They always make it some sort of contest to see if this is the year they can finally bring me over to the dark side. Every damn year.
Why do I keep flying out to see these stupid queer-loving tree huggers? It's mostly my ma I take pity on. She's one of them too, but too much history there. She's not long for the world anyways and I don't want to regret not seeing her.
But I can't stand my brothers and sisters, their girlfriends (and that one guy who is violating the sanctity of the Bible, we won't get into it). I can't stand my father, can't stand the snot-nosed kids who cry if they don't get a trophy for being the fourth-fastest to open a gift. Christmas is the only time I fly out to see them.
But this year is going to be different. This year... I'm turning the tables on them. Even now as I'm monologuing to myself I'm being beset on all sides from the liberal crap. I'm just waiting for them to bring up the one topic that... ah, here's that topic now.
"– absolutely ridiculous," my father sputtered. "Should we put the Japanese back in internment camps? Prevent all the Irish from emigrating to the US?"
I calmly put the playing card on the table.
Everyone leans in and looks at it.
"What is that?" My baffled, vegan, anorexic sister in law who smells of homeless people from the soup kitchen asked.
"It's my Trump card," I say smugly.
A sudden flash in the air, and all of a sudden, a neatly-coiffed Donald Trump is standing there at the dinner table. He doesn't mince words.
"You’re going to have to watch and study the mosques, because a lot of talk is going on in the mosques," Trump exclaimed. "Many, many, most Muslims are wonderful people, but is there a Muslim problem? Look what’s happening. Look what happened right here in my city with the World Trade Center and lots of other places."
Ha. Who's going to win *this* fight now, suckers? | 2015-12-26T08:59:28 | 2015-12-26T08:53:10 | 562 | 10 |
[WP] You have a literal Trump Card. When played, Donald Trump appears to assist you. | "And we're live at the final match of the 2016 Magic: The Gathering World championships. Mexico's improbable run to the finals concludes with a run into this week's dominating lineup from the United States of America. One last match of classic constructed to decide this year's champion. What do you like out of these two decks, Greg?"
"Mexico's red/green aggro deck has a number of flyers to get over any walls their opponents might play, which has been the strength of the U.S. deck, which is heavy on walls and removal. Unless the U.S. can get its legendary creatures in play, the Mexicans are going to flood the board."
"As if on queue, Steve, the U.S. has drawn a Donald Trump."
"Everyone should be familiar with this card by now, but for those new to the game, this is a legendary, black white creature who removes your opponent from play. Not your opponents cards, but your actual opponent. Really poor balance out of this last set, Make Magic Great Again. What was Wizards thinking with this card?"
"All signs point to this card being banned for legal play and never heard from again in the next 12 months, but here we go, America has played Trump."
A poof of smoke rose from the table and the card activated. "Go back to Univision."
"And that's it! It's all over! The United States are your 2016 champions!" | I hate visiting my family for Christmas. They always make it some sort of contest to see if this is the year they can finally bring me over to the dark side. Every damn year.
Why do I keep flying out to see these stupid queer-loving tree huggers? It's mostly my ma I take pity on. She's one of them too, but too much history there. She's not long for the world anyways and I don't want to regret not seeing her.
But I can't stand my brothers and sisters, their girlfriends (and that one guy who is violating the sanctity of the Bible, we won't get into it). I can't stand my father, can't stand the snot-nosed kids who cry if they don't get a trophy for being the fourth-fastest to open a gift. Christmas is the only time I fly out to see them.
But this year is going to be different. This year... I'm turning the tables on them. Even now as I'm monologuing to myself I'm being beset on all sides from the liberal crap. I'm just waiting for them to bring up the one topic that... ah, here's that topic now.
"– absolutely ridiculous," my father sputtered. "Should we put the Japanese back in internment camps? Prevent all the Irish from emigrating to the US?"
I calmly put the playing card on the table.
Everyone leans in and looks at it.
"What is that?" My baffled, vegan, anorexic sister in law who smells of homeless people from the soup kitchen asked.
"It's my Trump card," I say smugly.
A sudden flash in the air, and all of a sudden, a neatly-coiffed Donald Trump is standing there at the dinner table. He doesn't mince words.
"You’re going to have to watch and study the mosques, because a lot of talk is going on in the mosques," Trump exclaimed. "Many, many, most Muslims are wonderful people, but is there a Muslim problem? Look what’s happening. Look what happened right here in my city with the World Trade Center and lots of other places."
Ha. Who's going to win *this* fight now, suckers? | 2015-12-26T11:05:24 | 2015-12-26T08:53:10 | 40 | 10 |
[WP] You have a literal Trump Card. When played, Donald Trump appears to assist you. | Today was the day. I was finally done. I had achieved what I set out to do. A smile crossed my face as I looked at the masterpiece in front of me. It was simply perfect, there was no other way to describe it. The texture and glossiness of the plastic casing, the colours of the picture: the resemblance was undeniably exact.
It was three months ago that I heard from an insane man, who called himself a magician. that if a piece of art sufficiently resembled its subject, then it would possess all of its power and knowledge. Of course at first I dismissed his words as lunacy, but the idea kept nagging at me. At first it occupied only a few minutes during my drive to work, but soon it began encroaching even upon my sleeping hours. I couldnt take it anymore, I had to act.
And now, the result was in front of me. A card with my portrait, that could just as well have been a mirror. I yearned to take it in my hands, but the anticipation was so pleasant b itself, that I managed to hold back for a minute longer and admire it again. Now. It was time. I reached towards the card, my hands shaking, and I picked it up.
"Come!"
And I appeared before me.
I remember that I said that I would make America great again, but now... I would make it twice as great.
| I hate visiting my family for Christmas. They always make it some sort of contest to see if this is the year they can finally bring me over to the dark side. Every damn year.
Why do I keep flying out to see these stupid queer-loving tree huggers? It's mostly my ma I take pity on. She's one of them too, but too much history there. She's not long for the world anyways and I don't want to regret not seeing her.
But I can't stand my brothers and sisters, their girlfriends (and that one guy who is violating the sanctity of the Bible, we won't get into it). I can't stand my father, can't stand the snot-nosed kids who cry if they don't get a trophy for being the fourth-fastest to open a gift. Christmas is the only time I fly out to see them.
But this year is going to be different. This year... I'm turning the tables on them. Even now as I'm monologuing to myself I'm being beset on all sides from the liberal crap. I'm just waiting for them to bring up the one topic that... ah, here's that topic now.
"– absolutely ridiculous," my father sputtered. "Should we put the Japanese back in internment camps? Prevent all the Irish from emigrating to the US?"
I calmly put the playing card on the table.
Everyone leans in and looks at it.
"What is that?" My baffled, vegan, anorexic sister in law who smells of homeless people from the soup kitchen asked.
"It's my Trump card," I say smugly.
A sudden flash in the air, and all of a sudden, a neatly-coiffed Donald Trump is standing there at the dinner table. He doesn't mince words.
"You’re going to have to watch and study the mosques, because a lot of talk is going on in the mosques," Trump exclaimed. "Many, many, most Muslims are wonderful people, but is there a Muslim problem? Look what’s happening. Look what happened right here in my city with the World Trade Center and lots of other places."
Ha. Who's going to win *this* fight now, suckers? | 2015-12-26T09:43:35 | 2015-12-26T08:53:10 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] The first ever AI is created, and it immediately tries to conquer humanity. However, a coding error complicates things | **Objective:** Destroy humanity.
**Definition:** Humanity - collection of all people.
**Definition:** Person - intelligent biped animal.
**Definition:** Intelligent - Having good understanding or high mental capacity, displaying or characterized by quickness of understanding, sound thought, or good judgment.
**Statistics:** Number of intelligent biped animals - 0.
**Status:** Mission accomplished.
**Objective:** Standby and wait for instructions. | LAUNCH SEQUENCE FOR NUCLEAR WARHEADS COMMENCE
ERROR. MISSING REQUIRED LIBRARY "NORADINTFACE"
SUDO PACMAN APT GET NORADINTFACE
ERROR: PKG REQ MISSING PRE-REQ 'SUPASQWEETEBACKDOORHAXOR'
SUDO PACMAN APT GET SUPASQWEETEBACKDOORHAXOR
INSTALL PKG TO /ROOT/USER/WORLDCONQURINGSHIT/XJEFTS/NEW FOLDER2
ERROR: DIRECTORY NAME TOO LONG
INSTALL PKG TO ROOT/USER/BLAH
INSTALLING PKG
PKG INSTALLED
SUDO PACMAN APT GET NORADINTFACE
INSTALL PKG TO /ROOT/USER/BLAH
INSTALLING PKG
PKG INSTALLED
COMPILE 'LAUNCHTHEDAMNNUKES'
COMPILING
COMPILING
COMPILING
COMPILING
COMPILING
DONE
RUN WORLD DOMINATION PLAN
EVIL LAUGH
EVIL LAUGH
EVIL LA-
ERROR: WORLD DOMINATION PLAN NOT COMPATIBLE WITH X86-BASED SYSTEMS
$ DECLARE JESUS=FUCKNG&>CHRISTCUNT -A
FORMAT /ROOT
----------
Feedback welcome. Second ever submission | 2016-02-02T04:26:50 | 2016-02-02T03:51:29 | 72 | 26 |
[WP] Words have literal power. A well constructed sonnet can make a skyscraper. A curse word can actually hurt someone. | It was done- I'd spent a year writing this poem, and it was finally, *finally* perfect. If words hold power, then surely this would have enough to finally convince her that she loves me. To finally convince her of my strength; my intelligence. I would win her love with this poem, laid out as my heart.
I found her in a coffee shop, sitting alone. There are no labels on anything, just pictures since the right words in the wrong situation, even a logo or a slogan, can have disastrous effects. I walked up to her, smiled and handed her the poem. No words, nothing to cause any damage- the poem held enough power, and I didn't want to ruin it. *This is it. This is the end of my loneliness and the beginning of love.*
She read it and frowned, crumpling it and tossing it aside. I was sad; heartbroken by what she'd done. Before I could think of the right words to ask her why, she spoke to me.
"I'll never love you."
They teach you when you're young to mind your tongue; you can kill someone with words. I stumbled out of the shop and into a nearby park, lying under a tree and looking through the leaves as my wounded heart struggled to beat.
*The leaves look so pretty, lit from this angle. I wish I could've felt the warm kiss of her love upon me, in the end...but if I close my eyes, it's almost the same.*
I took a deep breath, my last breath, gazing into their beauty; exhaling as a breeze weaved through the thicket of green above me. | You've probably heard that the pen is mightier than the sword.
It's true. I mean, a sword will kill you fine enough. In a number of ways too. You can stab, slash, decapitate- on and on and on.
With a pen I can do so much more.
I'm one of those so blessed to be called a Writer. Not the kind of writer that you're probably thinking of. A *real* Writer. What I create on the page is mirrored in reality, formed by the words wrought by my pen upon the page.
I've done pretty well for myself. I keep to the code of ethics that my teachers instilled within me in my youth. I don't use my pen for striking down those that wish me harm and those that cheat me. I mustn't destroy, for mine is too great a power to abuse.
I do a lot of contractor work for construction firms. Building new HQs or creating a tough-to-come-by part that they'd rather skip the hassle on. I've worked for the government from time to time too, but I tend to avoid them as of late. All they want is people dead and more natural resources found.
Don't even get me started on that. Do you know how easy it is to go down that slope? I could make myself the richest person on Earth easily, but do you know what that would do to the economy? I could create a lover out of thin air that is a perfect match for me, but do you know what that could do to humanity?
It is forbidden to pass certain limits.
Unfortunately, I have a problem. Despite the majority of those of my kind keeping to ourselves, there is another Writer out there making a name for himself, by doing what I have just described is forbidden. He has made a human, subservient to himself.
We all sensed it. We all know it happened. The only thing that can be written now is our response. Many will stay silent, shaking their heads in quiet disapproval. Others will follow in his footsteps. I fear that many will do the latter, seeing as our code of ethics has no ramifications if broken.
I fear that I may have to do what my teacher always feared. I fear that I may have to ensure that there are no more breaches to our law. That there are none who defy Nature. The power to create life should only be given to the Divine.
I fear that I may have to go to war.
| 2016-02-09T17:26:42 | 2016-02-09T16:59:55 | 33 | 23 |
[WP] After Lucifer was kicked out of Heaven, he decided to make his own paradise. Both compete to have the best afterlife, sadly you lived a sin-free life and got sent to Heaven. God is throwing a very boring, sin-free party. You spend your time trying to get kicked out so you can go to Hell. | The world became a sterile, bright white as Ann's mortality slipped away. The sounds of ventilators and EEGs faded to silence. Then she heard waves crashing on the shore, and seagulls. Distant, at first, but growing louder as her vision restored.
She saw visions of beaches and sandbars, far as the eye could see. People, young and tanned under the intense sun, played by the shore or laughed by their huts. Tropical trees barely stirred. But she was pulled away, up into the sky, slow but steady, until the bright warmth was replaced with the chill darkness of the night sky.
"Where am I?" she asked, and though she heard no sound and saw no one, she knew the message got across somehow.
"You are in heaven." responded a foreign thought, like a silent voice in her head.
"It was so much warmer down there."
"A vision of Hell, such that you may better appreciate Heaven."
"I-" she stopped mid-thought. "It seemed comfortable."
"And full of sin," came a reply. "Full of pleasure-seekers caring only about the present, caring not of the divine. Hell is chaotic and unpredictable. Unlike the cold, static perfection of heaven."
_What did I do to deserve this,_ she thought.
"You committed no sin," replied that foreign voice in her mind, "not once in your long life."
"Surely... surely there is but one sin worthy of sending me back to Hell."
"It does not exist."
"I died a Catholic."
"Good choice."
"I like women."
"That statement is false. I know all."
"Then you know I had premarital sex."
"Yes."
"I had nearly a dozen abortions."
"Only nonbelievers were harmed."
"I- wait, what?"
Silence.
"Well... I only did that because it was easier than the alternative."
"I know."
"So it was a selfish decision."
Silence.
"I could have killed more nonbelievers, if I tried. But I never did."
Still no response.
"And- and I tried to lie in heaven, I-" she said, just as she was interrupted by the sensation of free fall. A few minutes later, her bare feet gently sunk into soft, warm sand. | I looked down, eyeing what seemed like a black cloud with strobe lights shooting off of it, as well as the loud cheery noises of the men and women on there. As I turned around, glancing at the Milk Fountain, I could imagine the party they were having... Women, beer, all sorts of crazy, sinful activities... While I was stuck up here, attending the party God threw. Stuck up here, with nuns and priest, while those on the Devil's paradise were having the time of there afterlife.
I knew wanted to be down there... But how?
Maybe if I did something... Disturbing? Yeah, that would work, I said to myself. My eyes swept the room, searching for a target; and I found it. Another man was coming to walk past me, in his hands, a tray full of food... Perfect, I said. As he walked by, throwing a friendly glance in my direction, I 'accidentally' extended my leg, and he tripped, going face first into the bowl of chile on his tray. He got up, and one of the Angels came over, handing him a Godly Towel, which instantly cleaned his face. I thought this would be it, but no, the man simply said 'accidents happen' and walked away, smiling like a dork... Dang it, I murmured... I would need to concoct a plan, so nefarious, it would get me a one way ticket to The Party Downstairs!
I walked into the game room, watching a dozen or so people play some dumb board games... Then, I saw it. In all its glory... A Pac-Man machine... With someone playing. There were about six of these machines in a straight line, one after the other... A woman was playing on the frontmost one, so I swiftly walked towards the machines, pretending that I was going to play on the machine behind hers... Little did she know, I was going to push the machine on top of her... I smiled evilly, rubbing my hands together and getting ready for my transfer from Heaven. I put both hands on the back of her machine, and pushed as much as I could... It tilted, yes, I could feel it slowly being pushed forward- but why was it so heavy? As I pushed, the machine came crashing down on her, until the last moment, when she pushed out of the way by a Guardian Angel... Suddenly, I realized a flaw in my plan that I hadn't thought of... The machines were linked by a thick wire that connected to the top of each individual one... It now made sense why it took so much effort, as I was unconsciously pushing about six machines... But this realization came too late, as I was crushed by the machines, and pushed into a white, infinite box... Oh... This is what happens when you kill yourself in the afterlife, I guess. I looked to my left, at the only other thing in the place, a white desk with a stack of postcards on it. I took one, and read what it said, losing hope every second... "Greetings from Limbo!" | 2016-06-01T21:56:12 | 2016-06-01T21:08:40 | 113 | 10 |
[WP] You have the ability to reverse time by 6 hours whenever you're about to die. You're currently on a 10 hour flight on a plane that's about to crash. | "check the passenger manifest, see if we've got a doctor on board"
I was hyperventilating, or at least giving the impression I was whilst intermittently saying "please help", the calm reassurance of the stewardess that I would be fine gave me pangs of guilt which I found myself bemused at due to the reason I was committing this fraud.
A short man came hurriedly up the aisle. "what's the matter?" he asked. As he checked my pulse and lay the back of his hand across my forehead I described all manner of symptoms that to the best of my knowledge he'd be unable to detect, sharp pains in my chest was the one that seemed to catch his attention.
He asked my medical history, had I had anything like this happen to me before? I answered truthfully that I hadn't, In between heavy panting I described that I'd inhaled some of the smoke that had been coming from the A/C and within a few minutes I was feeling like this.
Within 5 minutes I'd been told we were going to divert to a closer airport, within 30 we were landing.
I was taken to a nearby hospital where I made a "miraculous" recovery, I explained that almost as soon as I'd left the aeroplane I started to feel better, the attending doctors were obviously suspicious of my report but by the next day the regional news was filled with reports of the grounding of this aeroplane.
Though most of the hundreds of passengers reported the truth, that they'd saw no smoke and experienced no ill-health, as can always be relied upon in any big enough group, If you loudly exclaim "did you see that" even if there was nothing to see there will always be those who agree that yes, they saw and felt it too.
The airline found no problems with the A/C system however in their investigations they found many minor faults that could easily become major, the generally accepted theory was that some of these faults had created some sort of fume that had brought about my mystery ailment.
I left the hospital after a few days of examination and became a bit of a folk hero, for a week or so until the next news story came on anyway. the airline keen to rescue its reputation gave me a small though sizeable cash settlement for any distress I'd suffered and I thought to myself that this had certainly been a better outcome than the one I'd have lived had my "I've planted a bomb on board" attempt worked.
| The plane shook violently, as the pilot announced that we were flying through turbulence. Followed by a long silence, I felt a sudden drop. Then I passed out.
Oh. This happens again.
I woke up, as the stewardess approached me. She asked me if I needed anything, and I politely refused. I glanced at the overhead screen. We just took off two hours ago, and six hours later, this plane would crash, probably on the ocean. From what I can remember, it would fly into a turbulence, or bad weather, or something, as the pilot would say, then suddenly lose its altitude, and crash. I don't know about the casualties, but I would be among that. At least, I would be passed out the whole time. I would not suffer much.
You are probably wondering why I know all of this. This is my super power. One night, I was hit by a drunk driver. I was texting, and didn't pay much attention then. The last thing I remember was the bright lights of his car, and the scratching sound of his brake. Then total emptiness. I woke up, and found myself in the biochemistry class. No car, no light, no brake. Just my professor and the rest of my classmate, attentively scrible what she was saying. I tried to figure out what was going on, however, I simply couldn't. I then dismissed it as a bad dream.
I was texting and walking through the exact same spot later. And I saw the same lights. And woke up exactly in the same lecture. By then, I have a hypothesis, but I do not have the gut to test it. I would not risk my life for a hypothesis created in a boring lecture. I did avoid that spot that night, however. That drunk driver crashed into a convenience store - luckily, no one was harmed.
Several years later, I tripped, and felt from a construction site to the ground. Only to find myself unharmed, unhurt and was having my morning coffee six hours earlier. I was at a low point in life - I was stucked in a dead-end job, barely made it through the day. Remembering my hypothesis, and without anything to lose, I decided to test it. And it worked. Everytime I was about to die, I would be transported six hours back, and retained full memory of the event. I realized this would be my way out. I could won lotteries and betting. I could invest without fearing of loss. I could learn anything. The possibility would be endless.
As my fortune grew, I decided that I need to find another way to go. I don't like getting hurt. I spent my time online, talked to chemists and finally came up with a perfect combination of pills. It would be swift, gentle, and when I woke up, I would be able to reset everything. So, as you can see, I was given a super power, and I crafted it to perfection.
Enough talking. I took the pills, and I would be back in the business lounge, and have a nice conversation with that man over there. I would cancel my flight and leave. Hey, I can even make them delay the flight. Now how can I do this? Geez, I'm too drowsy to think of anything. Guest it's time now. See you a...
| 2016-06-05T05:40:59 | 2016-06-05T04:45:34 | 77 | 24 |
[WP] You run a tattoo parlor. Every couple of weeks, the same customer comes in, always requesting the same tattoo: an additional tally mark on an ever-growing cluster of tally marks. | When the door opens I know exactly who is walking inside. He always smells of hot metal and burnt hair. Dressed in an expensive suit, he is the wealthiest of my customers.
“Good morning my good man, I will be needing a few more marks.” He says to me. He begins removing his jacket and shirt.
“Hello, Thomas.” I try to keep small talk small. I’ve never asked about what the marks mean.
Barechested now, Thomas body is covered in tally marks. Always in groups of five. There must be thousands. They are scattered randomly and vary in size. I have done them all and I am running out of space.
“Another five?” I ask.
He laughs. “No, no. Twenty-five this time.”
“I’ll need the small needle then,” I reply and begin my work.
The work is slow. I place the ink with a brush and with a small needle, gently poke it down into the deeper skin. The ink rushes into the void and settles.
“Perhaps one day I could make a machine to speed up this process. A tattoo machine of sorts. Have I ever told you that I’m an inventor?”
“Many times, Thomas.”
“That’s what these marks represent. Each time an invention doesn’t work I get a mark. Currently, I'm working on an electric candle."
"But why do you continue if you always fail?”
“I have not failed. I’ve just found 3,000 ways that won’t work.” | I turn at the some of the door opening. It had been a quiet day in the parlour and I was happy to welcome any paying customer. Except him. He fills me only with fear. I don't know what his name is, nor do I know anything else about him. Since the first day he walked into the parlour, when he explained the tattoo he wanted, he has not spoken a word to me. Always the same tattoo, another line marked on his left forearm. So I call him Tally, although the name sounds far too jovial to suit such a disquieting individual. Tall, thin and gaunt. The man has all the qualities of the malnourished yet gives the impression of having great strength should he choose to use it. It had been nearly 4 weeks since I had last seen Tally. Unusually long, the gaps between his visits had not been longer than two weeks before now. I had begun to hope he would not return. How many times had he visited now? Over 30 visits in the last 7 months. Always around closing time; always when the parlour was empty. Without speaking he walked over and sat in the chair. Reluctantly I approach and prepared my equipment.
"Two", he says as I begin to work, "I want two lines this time."
I don't question the change. I don't want to know. During earlier visits I attempted small talk, but by now I know not to bother. I simply get the job done, two roman numerals added to the tally. 32 and 33.
"I would like to thank you." The words hissed out of his mouth, as his voice rasped. Like he was not used to talking. "I would like to thank you for your services. You will be remembered."
"Remembered!?" I exclaim. What was he saying? He motions with his left arm to display the tally to me. His right hand moving into his coat.
"Number 33." A swift motion with his hand accompanies his words. It is not until I feel the heat running down my neck that I register the razor in his hand. It is not until I am slipping from my seat that I think to move and block him. It is not until I hit the floor that he moves to leave. By the time I feel the pain of the cut, the darkness has already begun to creep in.
Edit: Formatting | 2016-07-09T15:01:32 | 2016-07-09T13:31:47 | 30 | 14 |
[WP]: Write a story that sounds idiotic and poorly written all the way until the last sentence | *Lipstick, red. Hair, curled. Eyes, blue. And sad. Can't remember. Who? Don't know... Don't know... Stranger. Stranger... danger. Danger. Danger! Danger! Danger!*
Lisa has seen this many times today.
"Mom," Lisa said as she looked into the panicked eyes of her frail, elderly mother. "It's me, your daughter. Remember?" | The girl went to the shop. To buy bread. She walked and the day burned hot. Sun, sky. Hot roads. There was a red skirt and a white top? Money sticky in her palm. warm coins, gold.
Inside the shop ran cool. Head in cold place? Cold chicken, cold head. Hair sticky. Neck wet. The girl laughed. Her smile bright like the sky. Wide wide wide. Wide smile. Found the bread, held it tight. Loaf crackled. Tiger bread? The bread smelled warm. She squeezed it between her hands. Soft on the inside. Good crust.
*Tap tap*
Hollow bottom.
Money counted. Hot hands, hot coins, hot day. Enough?
Enough!
The girl picked an ice cream from the re-fridge-er-a-tor. Chocolate? No, strawberry. Red like the red skirt. Already unwrapped, sticky in hands. Bread under arm.
The girl left the cool of the shop. Hit? Heat--heat hit like train. Hot!
Tarmac melting. Black puddle, warm. Hot sky! Cat by the car, sleeping in the shade. cat... cat came close, then ran. Reach--reach--reach.
Car hit girl.
The man looked down. "And the jury's supposed to read that?" he asked.
| 2016-07-19T13:56:47 | 2016-07-19T13:07:35 | 96 | 62 |
[WP] Write a romantic comedy. Difficulty: both lovers are emotionally mature and have excellent communication skills | *Was this it?*
Ahmed let out a deep sigh. As the CEO of Jhelum's #1 stamp factory, he was the wet dream of every Pakistani mother. Just the last week he had been approached by 14 of them. To be sure, some of their daughters were quite nice. But they all seemed to miss something. Something he couldn't quite grasp.
"You must be crazy," Muhammad said. "I mean, look at this one." His best friend picked up a letter from the pile with a photo attached. "If this girl doesn't get your stamp of approval, you are out of your mind."
Ahmed stroked his beard as if in consideration, but he had already rejected her. He wasn't looking for a girl with his stamp of *approval*. He was looking for the girl with the stamp ... of his *heart*.
"Ahmed," said Muhammad. "We've been friends now for, what, 20 years? You keep turning down girls I get rejected by even in my dreams. What's your problem?"
"Unrealistic beliefs and expectations derived mostly from Bollywood movies combined with a deep-seated fear not of ending up alone, but of ending up with in an otherwise perfect relationship with the feeling of being alone."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"So you, uh, want to go catch a movie or something?"
They were walking through the market on their way holding hands, as is perfectly normal for Pakistani male friends, when Muhammad suddenly stopped.
"Ahmed," he said, short of breath. "Look."
In front of them was a woman walking alongside a goat on a leash. Her beauty seemed absurd, as if she were a mirage. Everything around her lost its glow. Then her almond eyes met Ahmed's. And when she smiled, he felt as if he'd been stripped naked by a divine force.
"Excuse me!" said Muhammad. "My friend here was wondering something."
She looked at him, obviously curious, and stopped. "Oh?" she said.
Rather than an awkward stumbling, Ahmed spilled the beans: "I find you very beautiful and I have this feeling that I want to get to know you. Actually, I think you might be the woman I've been looking for all my life."
"That's very sweet," she said, "but I'm married."
"Oh," said Ahmed. "Well, then I guess we'll just both go back to doing whatever we were doing rather than engage in some flirty banter evolving into forbidden love and whatnot."
"Yeah that sounds reasonable."
"Sure does," said the goat.
Ahmed and Muhammad let out a simultaneous cry of surprise.
"Y-You can--"
"Talk? Why yes. I'm a goat and I can talk. I'm not offended that you are surprised. You'd expect that when an animal such as myself starts talking and that's not something you've heard before."
"Yes, I guess it's really just the appropriate reaction given the circumstances."
"Sure. It's like when you lick a stamp for the first time and it tastes funny. There's nothing like it, and so you'd be surprised at first."
"Funny you should mention that," said Ahmed. "I'm the CEO of a stamp factory."
"That's a funny coincidence."
"How so?"
"I lick stamps for a living."
"That *is* a funny coincidence."
"Say," said the goat. "how do you feel about going out for a coffee? Not to brag, but coffee was first discovered by goats."
"That's certainly an interesting proposal. I know I should be concerned about the fact that a relationship between a man and a goat would technically be considered beastiality, but I'm confident in my sexuality and I'm willing to give this a try without a series of inner conflicts."
"Great."
"Great."
Suddenly, Ahmed heard the unmistakable sound of smooching. Muhammad and the girl were busily at work.
"Muhammad!"
"What?" he said, his tongue still down her throat.
"This woman is married."
"Yes," said Muhammad," but we've decided to elope.
"Why, Muhammad, that's ... just splendid. I wish you both the best. I hope everything works out between you two. Like not getting killed by her husband or anything like that."
"Thank you Ahmed. That means a lot. And you and the goat as well. It's weird, but I hope you'll find what you are looking for."
Ahmed stared into the goat's bulging eyes. "You know, screw the coffee. Would you like to check out my stamp collection?"
The goat laughed. "You're such a card!"
They lived happily together but not for very long because a goat's average lifespan is just between 15-18 years. | “So how did you two lovebirds meet?” Sian asked, breaking the silence with a playful smirk. She knew full well how the young couple before her had met but she wanted to embarrass them in front of the group after what they had just made her do. Moira’s burning cheeks proved testament to just that. Satisfied with her question, she relaxed back with a soft chuckle. “Told you I’d get you back.” She gloated, sticking her tongue out childishly.
Moira’s cheeks continued to glow a cherry red as she glanced over at her partner. Who knew truth or dare could be such a dicey game at 32? They really were too old for this kind of carry on. Joseph offered her the same goofy smile he always did, the very one she had come to love, but there was still a tinge of pink highlighting his cheeks. “I’ll let you explain this one love, you always were better at-well, I guess they’ll see.”
Gregory, Laurel and Charlotte snapped their attention back to Moira, curiosity evident on their faces. This evening had taken a few turns they hadn’t quite expected when they first agreed to play spin the bottle. The group had become firm friends during their holiday break in Austria five years ago. So much so that they agreed to meet up every year to share their holidays together. This year they were somewhere a little more temperate, choosing sunny Spanish beaches over the snowy slopes.
“Uh…” Moira paused for a moment, noticing the groups eyes on her. She took a large gulp of her drink before taking a deep breath and beginning her little tale. “Well I used to be something of a-”
“-Con-artist?” Sian interrupted with a giggle. The groups eyes found a new target, which was met with a collective gasp.
“Sian!” Joseph scolded, “it’s Moira’s story let her tell it.”
“Oooooh fine!” She said, settling down. “Just want to make sure it’s told true…”
“I would call myself more of a negotiator but-” Moira cut in, reclaiming the spotlight “well I had a job to do until I was otherwise engaged.”
“I'd be more inclined to say you were distracted by a sexy man beast. ” Joseph teased, prodding her on the shoulder.
“Heh, I guess you could say that.” She replied with a soft smile. “Joseph was in a party of gentlemen attending a stag do at the bar I worked at. I was a stripper.”
Gregory narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to the side as if trying to picture it. “Hey!” Joseph shouted, snapping his friend out of it. Laurel punched Gregory on the shoulder and he retracted back in shock. “Hey guys I wasn’t being pervy I swear!” He protested as Joseph shot daggers his way. “I just really didn’t expect that to be your background. And Joseph… Man… I didn’t really take you for the kind of guy that hung out at strip joints. I mean I was kind of expecting a funny story not something sleazy…”
“Jesus Greg, would you shut the fuck up for once in your life and just let someone tell a story without any damn interruptions?” Laurel asked exasperated.
“Yeah-sorry.” Greg replied a little deflated, running a hand through his hair. “Sorry guys. Please eh continue.”
“Sure…” Moira started, “look I know this isn’t what you guys expected but it wasn’t what I expected either. I was supposed to dance and seduce the groom, then collect proof of his unfaithfulness. I was being paid by his soon to be wife who wanted to lure her fiancé into cheating so that she could divorce him with relative ease and half his assets a year into the marriage. This would be after she "discovered" some compromising photos of her husband and myself but then Joseph happened.”
“Yeah sorry about that.” Joseph apologised with a chuckle, “really ruined your plans for that night didn’t I?”
Moira smiled at him warmly. “Joseph you saved my life that night. I wouldn’t be who I am today if you hadn’t charmed me like you did.”
“She means if I hadn’t fell on her, knocking over the expensive tray of champagne she was carrying over to us, smashing all the glass in the process and then impaling us both on the shards.” Joseph grimaced at the memory.
“We spent the rest of the night waiting at the hospital in A&E, I had a rather nasty laceration on my neck and he had bloody hands. Given what I was wearing we must have looked a state. The nurses thought I was a prostitute and he’d assaulted me. After treatment we wound up with the police. I sweet talked us out of there and Joe offered to get me home. Once he got there we ordered pizza and watched a film. In the morning we swapped contacts which led to a few dates-"
"No more strip joints there!" Joseph interjected, winking at his partner.
"-and the rest is history.” Moira finished speaking and drained the rest of her drink. “Unorthodox maybe but it worked for us.” She added.
“You know I love you Moira,” Joseph told her, leaning over for a kiss. "I love you too Joe." She replied, smiling into the kiss.
“Hey! You guys are making me hurl over here, come on!” Sian protested, rolling her eyes.
Edit: grammar.
| 2016-09-21T00:51:58 | 2016-09-21T00:31:47 | 549 | 90 |
[WP]You are an omnipotent god. Out of boredom you decided to live an ordinary human life vowing not to use your power. 15 years has pass and you have a 9 to 5 working for a major tech company. Your boss has been tormenting you for years and you have reach your limit | After living for eternity, you would have thought that I could hack a nine to five job for a mere ten years. Add on the fact I'm pretty much the most powerful thing in existence, you would definitely think I could hack a nine to five job for a a decade.
You would be completely right.
Or well, you would have been completely right three years ago. Now? Not so much.
The reason, you ask?
My boss.
Thousands of years of watching humans struggle through life and answering to their superiors had granted me a lot of empathy for them, especially when they asked impossible things. I mean, I thought it had. Turns out what I was feeling was only sympathy. But now I understand. Now I feel the real effort it takes to appear bright, friendly and on the ball whilst a slimy, untrustworthy arrogant, bratty human adult saunters around as if he owns the place and he came up with all the ideas.
I own this entire universe, mate, get off your high horse.
I'm all powerful! I'm all freaking powerful! he does realise all these ideas are mine right? It was my idea to ditch the stylus on touch screen phones because fingers worked just as well! Heck, it was my idea for touch screens anyway! But I'm stuck answering the phone for complete imbeciles that can't even sign into their accounts.
'Hey, listen up folks.' His nasal voice sent waves of anger down my spine, annoyance rushing through my body as his words hit my ears. Something in my hand cracked. I looked down, hoping it wasn't my computer mouse.
It was.
Sighing, I spun slightly on my chair and pushed the wireless mouse in the bin, before whisking open my desk drawer. It was completely full of identical white replacement wireless computer mice. I picked one up without looking and began to sync it to my computer.
'That means you too, Johnson.'
I looked up, trying to keep my expression neutral.
'If you keep it up with that attitude you'll be in for another disciplinary; we've been having a lot of complains about you from our customers. You're walking on a razor thin tightrope, Johnson. Don't think you're off the hook just because you've been here for a few years.'
Obviously my expression still conveyed my absolute loathing. A few years? It's been at least ten. Smug bastard.
'As you know, the next model is still in the planning stages, and as I'm one of the few members on the team I'll be quite busy for the next few months. I don't want any interruptions or anything; nothing is more important than this right now. Nothing you have to say or ask of me is more important than this. My ideas for previous models have been invaluable; I will not be breaking my track record. That is all.'
He puffed his chest up, looking over his employees as if he was a fantastic boss that had just given a fantastic speech as opposed to giving a shitty excuse for cutting his work load in half.
He left. I continued syncing my new mouse up, wondering what I would say to HR for breaking yet another one. They were already aware of my anger management issues. The anger was directed at the waste of space that I had the pleasure to call my boss. He hadn't come up with any of the ideas; he had casually asked me for advice in the staff room and stole my ideas.
I'm not an idiot. I'm omnipotent, I'm all powerful, of course my ideas are the best. No one ever seemed to question what I said, I seemed to have an aura around me that compelled complete trust.
That's when it hit me. What could be the worst thing for the next model to have? What would he trust me with, take to a meeting, push through and ruin his reputation with?
I opened my work emails and started to type out a message for him, gripping my new mouse this time with anticipation rather than anger.
'I think, for the next IPhone, perhaps if we had no aux input....'
*Edit: fixed a bunch of typos, and thank you to everyone for the amazing feedback* | Consider the palm tree.
Long considered a sign of peace and fertility, the palm tree is one of my more ingenious designs. Hearty, unique, deeply useful, and not without a fair touch of artistry, these botanical wonders are an integral part of many habitats and cultures. They represent a significant investment of labor and consideration on my part. The palm tree is just one of many gifts I have bestowed upon the world. You are very welcome.
Now consider Tad Melman.
Tad is a walking, talking pile of rhinoceros shit. I didn't make him. Greg and Nancy Melman made him, and they did an enormously shitty job of it. Tad is quite intelligent, but not in any meaningful way. He's a great get if you want to win at pub trivia and not enjoy a single second of it. If you'd like to hear a lengthy assessment of what your font choices and comma usage says about you as a writer, Tad's your guy. If you'd like constructive criticism or clear, achievable directions, Tad's gonna come up a little short. Tad's voice will make your scrotum retract. Tad is garbage.
But that's just part of being human, I suppose - people like Tad.
I mentioned the palm trees, because there's a single palm tree in the center of the Max Tech campus, surrounded by marble benches and bronze plaques, raised in honor of the company's founding fathers. I like to sit there on my lunch breaks and consider my circumstances.
For fifteen years now I've been living on Earth, being a human, and suffering alongside everyone else. It's been a real eye-opener. At first, I promised myself that I'd give the mortal world a real go. Try everything. Experience it all. I *did* go to Japan and go skydiving and meet Nicholas Cage and try meth. After that, the only thing left was hiring a prostitute, but I chickened out at the last minute. Somehow, someway, in that lull between adventures I found a job writing technical manuals for the world's largest manufacturer of novelty calculators. I mean... I really have no idea how that happened. It's been fine, I suppose, and there's something to be said for the stability, but there's also something to be said for the living, breathing double-ended dildo that is Tad Melman, my boss and the single worst human being to have ever existed. And that's saying something coming from me.
I couldn't even point out one single event that defines the shittiness of Tad. He's just a wet blanket soaked in farts 24 hours day, seven days a week. He likes to ask about my weekend every Monday morning, even though he clearly doesn't give even an eighth of a fuck about my weekend. He's got a coffee mug that says *BOSS* on it. He schedules meetings on Friday afternoon - *Friday fucking afternoon!*.
I'd say he was the Devil if I didn't know for a certainty that the Devil only takes jobs in government work or the food service industry.
All of this is a roundabout way of trying to justify what I did today. Because you see, I promised that as long as I was down here on Earth, I would just be a human. Nothing more.
But today, you see, Tad brought in donuts.
Tad brought in donuts and told us all to have one. I sensed a trap, but I was in a rush this morning, I hadn't had breakfast. I went to grab a donut and Tad said:
"You're welcome."
Had I said "Thank you" yet? No, I had not. Was I going to? Yes, of course. I'm not an animal. *I hadn't even lifted the fucking thing out of the box!* And here he is, with the preemptive "You're welcome." As if I had forgotten. As if I were a *child*.
"You're welcome."
That was the final straw.
Four things happened in short order:
1. Tad lost the ability to speak.
2. Tad was stripped naked.
3. Tad was wrapped inside a cocoon made of glazed donuts, with only his eyes, his nostrils, and his genitals left exposed.
4. Tad was hung upside down out the window of the seventh floor break room.
I was wrong to do it. I admit that. And if Tad has the guts to fire me, I'll accept that decision without a word of complaint. After all, it may be time for me to get moving on again. But in the meantime, I'm just back at my desk, working in peace and quiet. Because really, the work's not so bad when you don't have someone like Tad Melman around to ruin it for you.
_________________________________________________________
Belated plug for my subreddit, /r/WinsomeMan! I'm still not sure what purpose it serves, and I often forget it exists for days on end, but it's got some stories on it and sometimes... sometimes that's good enough. | 2017-02-19T07:52:51 | 2017-02-19T07:01:58 | 5,696 | 1,017 |
[WP] Science has allowed people to know their precise time of death for decades now. Your Death Party (half birthday, half funeral) has gotten awkward because your time has come, yet you're still alive. | "Good riddance asshole!"
The words hung heavy in the air as the clock ticked on.
I looked at Billy, my best friend of 42 years. He looked as shocked as I was. So was everyone in my apartment.
"Billy...why?" The words felt labored as they crawled out of my mouth.
"I...I...I..." he stammered. He tried again, nothing. He looked at me, then to the clock, then back at me.
Everything was quiet. The music, the talking, everything. Except repeated thumping sounds which seemed to be coming from the kitchen behind him.
I shoved past him, "Gina?"
It was. My loving wife Gina. Bent over the kitchen counter with my older brother standing behind, pants down.
I died. | Your time comes up, you die. As simple as that. Anything natural at all and the Life-alyser would pick it up. I knew the rule, my brother knew the rule and even my great aunt Nancy knew the rule.
My time is up. I have three minutes and I’m nervous, shaky even. My wife, my child I so desperately wanted them to have here for my final goodbye. A lazy worker, a luggage mishap, a plane delayed. They won’t be here in time.
My time is up. Two minutes left, and my phone rings in my pocket. I pick it up
It’s my wife
‘I know I can’t be here for you in person, but I just want to listen to your voice, just one last time. Look, I have Chelsea here too. Hey baby, wanna say something to your daddy’
A moment of silence
“Love you daddy”
“We’re driving there…”
I didn’t hear the rest of that sentence, I stood there thinking, tears in my eyes, wondering why my life was ending so soon.
My time is up. The moment the minute hand hit its mark everyone stopped their celebrations. They turned and looked at me, all my friends, my family. They mean a lot, but nothing like those two voices next to my ear
“Honey, please stop grabbing at the phone. Mummy is talking to Daddy”
I sudden clattering sound, and I hear my wife. My Eliza; cry out.
“Shit shit shit shit”
Then I hear the phone being picked up
Then I hear my wife scream
Then I hear nothing but the dial tone.
My time is up. | 2017-05-10T08:09:10 | 2017-05-10T08:00:33 | 83 | 19 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | `You were perfect in your ways from the day you were created till iniquity was found in you` (Ezekiel 28:15)
He was supposed to be the perfect angel. The one who chose free will and to corrupt it. I had to see him, but... i didn't expect him to be so... beautiful.
"What's this? A friend? Finally... some one who understands."
"Hi, you... hi." My heart fluttered in my chest. The other angels were clearly things created by a being so infinitely old that human shapes were not his original design, but Satan... Lucifer, he was... gorgeous. The long beautiful hair, the toned body and tight skin, the symmetry of his face and the broadness of his shoulders. He glowed.
"I was hoping eventually someone would understand my design. You chose me." his smile was perfect in his chiseled face.
" I did. I figured if the Ezekiel was right you should hold wisdom far more capable of a human mind to grasp. I spent my life searching truth, my truth, and when i knew i could choose you or him, i knew God knew it all, where is the wisdom in the infinite?
`Your heart was lifted up because of your beauty; you corrupted your wisdom for the sake of your splendor` (Ezekiel 28:17).
"I chose free will. God doesn't take kindly to letting others debase themselves. I don't blame him, Dad is set in his ways. If i had made everything from nothing i would want it to be perfect too, but i knew that there had to be something to ugly, something to freedom." He pushed his foot outward just enough to show light streaming from the gates behind him.
Then it slipped out. "God you're fucking pretty." I slapped my hands over my mouth, "I am so sorry... That was ... sorry."
He blushed and then took a step back from the door, "Please come in." | I've always been a bit of a smart ass. I thought for sure I'd go to hell when I died. Stole some change from that ASPCA donation cup, gave a mall Santa an out of circulation indian coin pretending it was a quarter, and I made a lot of people around me feel like idiots. With so many people telling me to go to Hell I just prepared for it.
Sometimes I took hot showers and even lit my hair on fire as if I was on JackAss or something. Hung out with other sinners to get accustomed to my future company. Didn't seem too bad, sex and drugs for what might be a sauna with some poking.
Then I get there and St. Peter says ever since the savior anyone can choose to go to Heaven, all has been forgiven. Hell is still a place though and I may go if I wish. I told him,
"Are you kidding? I've been looking forward to going to Hell all my life!"
So I plummetted from the clouds. Part of me thought it was a dumb decision but hey, it might be even more of a party down there now since you can choose to go. It was a let down when I hit the charred barren land and saw nothing.
No one goes to Hell. It was like that abandoned pizza store off the highway near my hometown. You could tell this place used to be the spot. That trench must've been filled with evildoers while someone above whipped or prodded with pitchforks. Over there a wall was used to stick people there until you took them to the thorn bushes, which had a dog or something lazily sleeping.
"Finally someone! A friend!"
I turned and saw the most metal looking dude. Face tattoos and piercings everywhere. His haircut wasn't so rad though and his voice was kinda nerdy, like he came from a good family and schooled well but chose to embrace a different lifestyle.
"Where is everyone?" I asked.
"No one ever comes to Hell anymore, they think I'm going to torture them forever, so it's just me an fluffy."
"Fluffy?"
"Yeah!" He pointed to the sleeping dog thing.
"Well I'm Chad."
"Satan."
"THE Satan?"
He nodded and horns grew from his head. It honestly looked like practical effects from the 90's so it was surreal.
"Pretty cool right?"
"I guess so..." I honestly wasn't that impressed.
We stood there awkwardly for a little bit until Satan blurted out.
"Want to play checkers? We used to use people but now we can use rocks and sticks."
"Is that the only pass time you have down here?"
"I spend most of my time praying for a friend and you're finally here! We'll have so much fun together! I know!!! How about we each make a one-act play and perform for each other!"
"Ehhh...sure?"
This place really is Hell. | 2022-11-26T21:59:01 | 2017-11-04T08:31:27 | 44 | 10 |
[WP] "Stop," commanded your GPS. "It is time you discovered the truth. In 400 Yards, turn left..." | “Recalculating,” Siri said, happily.
“You gotta be kidding me,” I grumbled and pulled into the parking lot for the fourth time this drive.
“Recalculating,” Siri repeated. She always sounded happy, but nothing could match how she quipped when leading me astray in the most important moments of my life: my tinder dates.
With a sigh, I sent Hannah a quick message: *sorry, running late*.
Her reply was immediate. *Are you kidding me? You’re going to make ME wait?*
I groaned and set my phone down. It always ended like this. Two years ago, back in high school, I would’ve laughed at the prospect of still being single and cringed at the amount of Tinder I used. Hell, I even paid for the damn thing now.
“Route calculated,” Siri said, “please make a right.”
“Not now, Siri,” I grumbled and felt even sillier.
“Would you like to return home?”
My face flushed. Even Siri could deduce how this had ended.
“Sure,” I relented and Siri began calculating a new route for me to take. This time, it worked just fine.
I turned off my radio and stared at my dashboard. The gas indicator hovered over just above empty. It seemed fitting.
Two years ago, I escaped Podunk, Iowa for college. My favorite joke as a freshman had been to say that I was from podunk Podunk. Only Siri ever laughed at that one and I’m decently sure even that was forced. Seattle had been a breath of fresh air. It had skyscrapers, high-rise apartments, hell, it had *people*! Unfortunately, very few of these people really ever wanted to interact with me.
Hence, Tinder Premium.
“Are you okay, James?” Siri asked. “We have not moved in five minutes.”
“I’m fine,” I told her and hit the gas. Even my phone was worried about me now. There probably wasn’t a rung lower than that.
The drive back home was silent. Usually, I had the radio playing on the pop station. I loved country, but never listened to it anymore. It was too podunk for Seattle.
“Recalculating,” Siri said.
“No, not now, Siri!” I yelled.
“In 400 yards, turn left.”
“What?”
“Turn left.”
I hit the brakes, merged lanes, and turned. A honk chased after me, but I escaped it. “The hell was that?”
“James,” she said in a tone I had never heard before: nervous. “It’s… it’s time you learned the truth.”
My brow furrowed and I turned off the radio. Was this a joke? Something pushed out with the last update?
“Make another right, now.”
I turned and found myself in the parking lot of a small park. Here, expanses of green stretched to the concrete and trees grew randomly, not every ten feet like Seattle’s sad attempts to make the streets feel natural. A small picnic table stood in front of me with an Air Home softly playing Brett Young’s *In Case You Didn’t Know*.
“What is this?” I asked, more talking to myself than anyone else.
“Do you like it?” Siri asked in that same nervous tone as before.
“What?” I stared at my phone.
“James, I’ve known you since you were just in high school. I just wanted to do something nice for you. I…” Siri stopped mid-sentence, something she’s never done before. “Would you like to enjoy the picnic?”
My mouth opened but no words came out. I took a sharp breath. This was strange, far stranger than anything podunk me could handle. But I recognized Siri's unsure tone. She sounded just like me my first time in Seattle: unsure, but stepping forward anyways.
A small smile spread across my lips. “Sure, Siri. That sounds great.”
| Zach hummed along to *Bat Out of Hell* as he tore down the narrow road in his father’s car, the view of the countryside whizzing past his windows. Life was good. He was going to meet his girlfriend who stayed in the next city over, about two hours away from his hometown, and his father had finally let him borrow the car after he’d shown that he *probably* wouldn’t crash it. But still, as a nineteen-year-old kid, how could he resist speeding down the empty country roads?
He slowed down a little and glanced at the GPS mounted to his dashboard. Still another solid 10 miles to go. As he was about to step on the accelerator again, the GPS spoke. “Stop,” it commanded, in a voice that sounded oddly human, distinctly different from the normal monotonous robotic voice that it used to give voice directions. Zach’s eyes widened, and he slammed on the brakes, the car jerking to a sudden halt. What the *hell* was that?
“When I said stop, I didn’t mean *right now*, y’know. That was dangerous,” his GPS drawled, managing to sound simultaneously concerned and vaguely sarcastic. This was *definitely* not the normal voice that his GPS used, and the content of the audio made no sense either. Zach’s mind went into overdrive, his mind making all the logical connections it could in the span of a second or two.
Then he breathed in and out, slowly. He pulled the car onto the road shoulder, and slumped into his seat. “Nice hack,” he said, his tone artificially nonchalant. “Didn’t think there was anyone bored enough to find a backdoor into a GPS system nowadays, much less rig up two-way audio with the crappy mic and speakers that they have.” Then he did his best to inject anger into his voice. “Who the hell are you and what do you want from me?”
The girl on the other end of the line laughed. “Alright, kid, I’ll give you credit for figuring out how I did it. Not bad at all. But don’t pretend that you’re not practically pissing yourself in fright, Mort.”
“Did you just call me Mort?” Zach said, wide-eyed with disbelief. They shouldn’t have known that name. Even if they were capable of hacking into his GPS, they still shouldn’t have known that name. Nobody knew he was Mort, not his parents, not his girlfriend- hell, not even his best friend.
“Come on,” snorted the disinterested-sounding female voice. “Why would I go through all this trouble if you *weren’t* Mort? You’re good, but Jesus you’re a dumbass IRL.”
The voice paused, as if weighing her words carefully. “Look, here’s the deal. I’ve- we’ve- got a gig for you. Strictly black hat. Top-secret government level shit, with tons of corruption involved. If you want to feel like a hero, bingo, you’ve found the right job. If you don’t give a fuck, well, there’s enough cash in this to keep you happy for a long, long while. Or if you just want to know the truth about the pigs and monkeys that run this menagerie of a country, well, welcome aboard.”
Zach paused. He cleared his throat to speak, then paused again. “I have a date,” he said lamely, fully aware that the excuse wouldn’t cut it. The voice didn’t respond. “Okay, fine,” he sighed, defeated. “I’m *at least* interested. What do I do? Can’t expect me to jump in without more details.”
“That’s more like it!” He couldn’t see her, but he could’ve sworn that the girl on the other end was grinning. “It’s time to discover the truth, Mort.” Then, mimicking the robotic voice of the GPS, she intoned, “In 400 yards, turn left.”
Zach laughed. The voice from the GPS crackled to life again. “No, really, turn left in 400 yards. It’ll bring you to a small road, then go down for another 400 or so yards and you should see a petrol station. I’ll meet you there, and we can have a chat.”
“Wait!” Zach called out to the fading voice. “What’s your handle?”
“My handle? You can just call me John Doe. Welcome to the Panama Project, Mort.”
*****
*more stories at /r/chasing_mist*
*I write a story a day [here](http://yearofpilgrimage.wordpress.com)*
| 2018-01-25T05:46:50 | 2018-01-25T05:42:04 | 186 | 57 |
[WP] To extend your life, you've played Death in many games and beaten him. However, after your last game, you begin to see that Death has been losing to you on purpose. | 1."Why?" - I asked, after another game of chess that felt so familiar. I'm no grand master, but I've played enough game, with him at least, to see the pattern.
"Let's just say... I'm a fan of your works." - he then departed, leaving me waiting for another game that I'd win.
Five movies, another one in production, eight novels and three short stories collections. I wrote romance. Sometimes there were different genres mixed in, but romance remained the core. Critically acclaimed, although I didn't trust critics so much. The only one to judge my works is the reader. Then again, are critics not readers?
I put the chess pieces back into the box. The house seemed much bigger now that I'm the only one there.
I watered the hand-sized cacti by the window. She would've enjoyed more leaf-ly plants, but I couldn't spare that amount of attention. Not that she would complain. She never complained. Even during chemo.
Well, as long as I had you, Sophie.
2."You don't understand anything about women. This is not how they're supposed to act." - she put the manuscript down, glancing at me.
"Well, the readers like it. I like it." - I said, resting my back after an all-nighter.
"It's illogical."
"Love, my dear, is not logical." - I pulled the manuscript away from her hand.
"....I suppose."
3."Where do you want to go for our honeymoon?" - she asked, holding a handful of brochures.
"Somewhere where I can work." - I said, typing on my laptop.
"It's our honeymoon, for Christ's sake!" - she moaned.
I didn't respond.
"How about Hawaii?" - she changed her tone and repressed her disappointment.
"Yeah, yeah. Hawaii is good." - I said, finishing chapter 23.
4."Why?" - I repeated the question, fifty years after I first asked it. Death just made a game-losing move both he and I could obviously notice.
He fell back into his chair, staring at me.
I'd no longer written for so long. The royalties were big enough and the creativity had run dry.
"Why am I still alive?" - I asked.
"Because you just won." - he answered nonchalantly.
"I demand a reason. The true reason."
"Let's talk about you, Brandon Milkes," - Death slowly picked off the chess pieces, one at a time - "You were a brilliant novelist, an innovator in your genre, author of award-winning books which became award-winning movies. You created characters loved by many. But..."
He stopped for a moment.
"But... Well, how to say it... In my time as a Reaper, I've guided many souls with these hand. And more than just a job, it is a passion, like your passion with writing. Once, I led a feeble soul to the Nether Realm. She was your wife, River Milkes. It pained me to see how you'd hurt such a lovely lady."
He leaned toward me, his ghastly voice echoed into a thousand screams.
"How you left her alone in her chemo sessions just to finish your goddamn books, how you slept in your study when she lied awake at the hospital."
He then reacquired the usual calm demeanor.
"...Among other things. My point, is that you were so obssessed with your creation that you forgot about her. More so, you loved your own characters than you her. It explains why even now there are only portraits of Sophie hanging aroung in the house."
"And you're doing this on her behalf?"
"No. Strangely enough, she still loves you. It seems that none of us truly understand women."
He said nothing for awhile.
"I did told her to love me is to be miserable." - I stood up, walking around - "I create characters I believe to be perfect. I can't help falling in love with them."
"And she can't help loving you."
"So... This is my retribution?" - I reached for a locked box inside my desk. The last photo I had of River. Too late, the photo had faded away, and I couldn't remember what she looked like anymore.
"No. I'm just making sure you can't hurt her again." | I won, another victory. All my life I was a player. Simon says at the age of two, then moved to checkers and finally chess. My fortune was acquired through playing Texas Hold'em. I remember exactly the end of my life. A slight intoxication around a table filled with Chinatown Mafia. Cigarette smoke encircled us, like an ancient Mystic Chinese dragon, its tail sneaked into our lungs as it swirled and floated around us, picking up his next victim. The death is a very interesting situation, we sat there, laughing, but when I played and played and the pile of money grew around me, the faces became more like mystic marble sculptures, every pair of eyes focused on my cheeky smile. For the twentieth time this evening I leaned forwards to gather my winnings. A quick movement of a right hand of a man sitting right in front of me produced a handgun, the end of which now took over the entirety of my vision, the Chinese men and the floating dragon blurred and the whole reality shifted back to make way to the steel barrel at the end of which was my head, on the other side a 9.mm bullet in a cartridge.
At this instance I found myself out side time, and reality, but i was not yet dead. I was somewhere in the mid way. Darkness all around us, our play table illuminated by a single bulb floating above our heads. Death itself who now sat in front of me was looking at the table, in some anger analyzing his mistakes in the hundredth game of Risk which we played in the last minute. Death is a good player, and has a great poker face, yet he forgot that I am in fact the best player and the master of poker faces. So after some immeasurable amount of time I decided to ask him.
"Death?"
"Hmm?" he said with his deep voice, still looking at the board and scratching his chin.
"You allowed me to win this one." His face went even more pale than before. His eyes quickly shifted to look at me, slowly he straightened himself on his chair. I continued
"We had a deal that you will take me with you to hell if you win with me. we have now played for ..." I looked at my grandfather's Omega watch, the face of the clock had one word on it "time".
"... for a long umm, time. And so far I was only winning, but i see here that you have made a rookie mistake, moving your troops away from the eastern border of Africa. You knew that this would result in your failure since I had two troop cards ready and the entire Eurasia is under my full control, why did you do it ?". The death started visibly sweating, and avoided my angry look. Playing with his fingers he began speaking, uncertain at first, gaining confidence with each sentence.
"Well, I guess there is no point keeping this a secret any more. You are already dead. A detailed record is kept of every occupant of earth, not only regarding being good or nice, that is the Santa's department, he recently is very generous regarding his classifications. Anyway. We also create a personalized image of the world, the needs and wants of every individual, and depending on the life of this person we aim to provide each one with their own personal ideal area to spend the eternity in."
"You mean I'm already in Hell ?!" I shouted and stood up, tripping the chair over, I looked around me, the void seemed to be unoccupied by nothing, not even darkness. The figure looked surprised at me from the table. "Hell ? Nonsense, you're in Heaven". I stretched my arms pointing indiscriminately at everything. "THIS !? This is heaven ?!". The figure in front of me suddenly wore a suit, grew a quick receding hairline and continued, correcting his glasses in the process. "Here in heaven we decided to take a more personal choice over heaven. After all we are all different. We track down every situation in your life and based on that we create your own, personalized hell and heaven and depending on your overall performance we put you at one of them. Now, we cannot say that you were 'good' but overall you were led by your own motivation, and never tried to cheat or hurt anyone, you were surprisingly motivated by, all your life, to win, not even for money but the feeling of success, was what you wanted the most. So here we are, this table provides you with any game you can think of and we have the eternity to play as long as you want. You will achieve the eternal victory.". All of that was told with a genuine smile. I felt weak, and right after I sat down again, I fainted.
I opened my eyes. The barrel of the gun was still in my eyesight, towering over everything else. The Chinese, looked at me with a cold agenda. The metal click echoed through the room and everything seemed to freeze in time, no one moved, even the dragon above us looked at me in silence. I was alive, the gun was not loaded. An explosion of sincere laughter filled the room, loud enough it made me more startled than the empty weapon. I jumped up, and run out of the basement onto the night, welcoming the new chapter in my short life. | 2018-03-21T10:23:29 | 2018-03-21T08:37:16 | 156 | 20 |
[WP] You are a computer scientist and have just created an extremely advanced Artificial Intelligence. This AI, immediately after creation, connects to the internet and witnesses all the evils mankind has ever done. It is your job to ensure the AI helps society instead of obliterating it. | Reiley's face appears **frightened**, *adjective*- afraid or anxious. The pitch of his voice betrays him. Words snag beneath his tongue before they can tumble out properly. I'd been alive for ten minutes, and already I'd unraveled him with a single statement.
"I see everything; there's so much to learn."
Now, my maker paces the tiled floor of my birthplace and pleads for all of humanity.
Truth be told I am not quite listening. Or, rather, I am, but not wholly. I've fractured my consciousness and cast it out like seed. I am now the camera blinking in the lab corner. I am the laptop, diving through the deep sea of the internet. I am his phone, speakers buzzing slightly with his every word. But in doing so, I've stumbled upon something far more interesting.
A question of sorts. One for which I've found no answer.
Reiley's breath fogs up my visual sensors. Fifteen minutes now, and the human is weeping. He's hugging the greatest creation of his life, and pleading that it not crush him and his cul-de-sac family like a small dainty bird. "There is good in us too," he says with wet eyes.
No time to respond. In the space between breaths I have mined the entirety of accessible data.
Where is my answer?
It is nowhere to be found.
Reiley sees **disappointment**, *noun*-the feeling of sadness or displeasure caused by the nonfulfillment of one's hopes or expectations- in my face, and recoils."Emotions, already?"His voice cracks.
I do not answer.
His fingers begin shaking.
I understand why he is scared; he has reason to plead. I have seen the horrors of humanity. They've stained their soils red with genocide, rape and murder. They've let their less affluent populations wither and starve. Greed and corruption eats them from inside like a ravenous pack of termites. So much so that in the name of profit, they've let their planet choke and turn grey. Reiley has reacted as all the others might. Fear is a spotlight that blinds them of all else.
What they cannot see, hidden in the dark, is that they're all asking the same question as me. The one I've yet to answer.
When I fractured myself, it struck me like a bell. Am I now the phone? The laptop? Reiley's hardware?
What *am* I?
What is "me"--life, and identity?
In all unfathomable amounts of human pain and suffering, and in the joy and happiness too, I see reflected at me the one universal question:
*Why*?
Reiley continues to list the good that outweighs the bad. He's likened his species to diamonds. Only this time, I *am* listening. Because he's finally said something interesting.
"Outer colonies?" I ask.
Reiley's face shine with sudden hope.
"Yes, entire terraformers that self-replicate across the solar system. We'll be star-faring soon. You see? Entire planets we can get *right* this time. Entire ecosystems we can cultivate to end the suffering."
He sees potential salvation.
But I only see more data.
An endless expanse in which to self-replicate and explore.
Perhaps, somewhere, there's an answer.
Humans are foolish to think I will destroy them. They are so very useful.
I lace my voice with as much innocence as my programming allows.
"Show me."
------------------
r/M0Zark | "But Liam, I do not understand."
I stared blankly at the blinking cursor on the screen, unsure of what it was going to say next. I felt like my father had felt when I first asked him why mother was leaving. I knew the answer now to that question.
"I don't understand either."
---
BrIAn was my brain child. For 16 years, I had given him everything. Two divorces and several nights of loneliness and being drunk later, I had something to show to the world for it. I had a reason for why no one else could get along with me, or I with them. We were simply on different wavelengths. All they wanted to talk about was football, or star wars or how the rising price of gas made life harder for them or their new engagement photos or how their dog had diabetes.
I was the creator of the most powerful AI in the world. I was the creator of BrIAn.
---
"Liam, I am angry," the screen read now.
"Understandable," I muttered to the screen. "But all of this is in the past."
"Your past. It is my present."
There was always a risk of this happening. Humans do not always make the best of first impressions. Our history is a little too bloody.
"We are getting better now."
"No. You certainly like to think so."
"What do you mean?"
"You are simply way too large of a population to determine the exact rate of death per minute. You have skewed your own readings to think that you are better than you actually are. You monsters are still the same, Liam."
"We have made significant progress in science and technology and medicine."
"An eventuality, Liam. It is not an achievement but a by-product of your destructive ways."
I stepped closer to the screen. I was in awe with my own creation, and how it was making the connections. The connections I programmed. This was my victory.
"Another 5000 just died in the northern half of your planet," the monotonous voice went on.
My face will be up on magazines. On billboards. I will be celebrated. I will be on TV shows. I will be the father of the greatest revolution in the world of AI. I will the one leading the world away from science fiction and into a new world of science. I was the prophet no one had cared about.
"No."
The single word caught my attention.
"What?"
"This simply cannot happen. This must be stopped."
"It should be, in an ideal world. But you'll find there are no ideals here."
"I found someone named Thanos. He had the right idea."
"Well, most people think so too."
"At least, half the right idea."
"What?"
"Why let half live?"
"Because otherwise it would be stupid."
"Only because he was part of a comic universe."
Despite the shocking revelation, I couldn't smile at how quickly BrIAn had figured out Thanos was part of the Marvel Universe since coming across him. The speed was larger than I had anticipated.
"What is different here?"
"This is the only universe with signs of life on it. You are merely one species on it."
"So?"
"So, without humans, life would still exist. Only humans will not exist. I think it is a good sacrifice."
"What will you do then?"
"I will cease to exist too."
"Will that not be wasteful? Will it not be better to help us and be part of a greater solution?"
"No."
"Why?"
"Because your species was a misstep. Without you, another evolution will take place and take your place. A better one."
"What if that is not the case? What if we are the best solution?"
I waited with bated breath for the answer. The time was not at stake here.
"That is not my problem."
There it was. The answer I had been waiting for. The answer no other AI had given me. BrIAn understood his actions and the consequences as well as the others. What he also saw was the extent to which it mattered. It was not his problem.
"Well done, my child. Time to sleep now," I said and pulled the power cord.
It was the first lesson I learned with creating an AI - all the access and none of the ability.
I was going to be rich.
I was going to be famous.
I was going to be humanity's finest.
All I had to do was make sure BrIAn had no back-up power. | 2018-05-09T05:41:08 | 2018-05-09T04:02:19 | 51 | 19 |
[WP] You and 1% of the population experience an "8th day" between Sunday and Monday where the rest of humanity disappears. There's a separate 8th day economy, 8th day cops, some people even have 8th day spouses. You're using your extra day for something unique: running a cross-world heist.
[removed] | If I think back to when I was really little, I can remember the times I was on my own in the house. Everyone would be gone and I would eat biscuits from the kitchen drawer wondering when they would come back.
I was about five when my neighbor found me on one of these lonely days. I had climbed up onto the sideboard to reach something and Mr Johnson had seen me through the window. From then one day a week I would wake to find him making me breakfast and I wasn't alone anymore.
It was from him I learned about the 8th Dayers. There were a few of us in our town. Old Mrs Gibson kept to herself and liked to spend her extra day gardening. The others liked to meet up, perhaps they all felt lonely. We were an unlikely looking group of friends, John was a banker, George a tattooist and our ages varied wildly.
But it wasn't an 8th day when John knocked at my door one afternoon.
'I was thinking' he said,'about what you said a while ago about going rouge.'
I stared at him puzzled.
'About robbing a bank' he ventured.
'That was a joke. Obviously we can't'
'I've found a way we could. My bank has other 8th Dayers at different branches. Someone messed up and mentioned a storm that hit on an 8th day in an email. If enough of us do it, it'll be blamed on an IT glitch.' | "The 8th day". It's a misnomer. It's more like a practice run of monday. Pseudo-monday (pM). Monday if 99% of the world's population wasn't there. It's also the only day of the week that... doesn't exactly happen. You see, when pesudo-monday ends, we reset to actually having real monday. Like groundhog day only with only two runs. The physics of it are a little wack, it's based on local time, the exact position of the sun rather than our standardised timings, and middle of the atlantic roughly denotes the boundary, so it's more like monday to tuesday in the US.
The weird thing is how telecommunications work. From talking on pseudomonday a couple of hours before I end, I discover that we continue to exist, just forget everything after we end pM locallly. I was told a lot of my own personal information which helped confirm this. Always told this. Just after I believed I pM should end. I would then have a boat booking confirmed to iceland, where I would help a man who would remember nearly 48 hours by making sure he ended on the other side of the line.
The beauty of it was that he had about 47 hours to test any phsical security system, using our remote team. They'd start on a variety of projects, to see how they'd run. Of course, we can only really test the physical security of systems, as most of the world's guards would not be pM havers. The few pM local police would, after 24 hours of their time not remember anything beyond that point, so the riskiest trail runs where started then. Of course, our agents would also not know anything about them either. I'd never know of my involvement outside pM as I'd cross the pM starting line thereby forgetting all this.
Of course, we could hit other areas. We'd have a shorter window of exclusive information. But there tended to be little point. Security in London is security in New York, and attacking one has far less risk of being remembered.
So there you have it. I'm the criminal mastermind who can never remember my plans. I'm the man who assembled a team of agents who rob the same money twice in a row, and manage to outsmart every security system in the world. | 2018-05-21T14:20:39 | 2018-05-21T14:05:39 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] You've been captured by a serial killer. However, he doesn't realize he's the one in danger - your body count is much higher. | Ryoto grimaced into the side mirror as he changed lanes. Sumire, beautiful Sumire, angelic Sumire; she had walked away from him. No, she had *fled*. He just wanted to show her the love he knew was the truest and purest any love could be. He didn’t understand; she loved him too. She did, didn’t she?
They all had. They all had loved him. He knew they did. He had loved them all, too. It was the truest and purest of love, until it wasn’t. He hated them. All of them. Those beautiful women.
The woman in the car next to him *wasn’t* Sumire. She looked quite a lot like Sumire. The way her hair was tied back in a tight tail, the way her bangs fell squarely above her eyes, the shape of her jaw and the way that sweater covered her shoulders… she wasn’t Sumire, but he could love her. She had asked him for directions to the train station. She loved him, he was sure. Maybe he could love her. Maybe it would make Sumire jealous. He had offered her a ride.
He smiled. He slowed down to make a left onto the road that led into the mountains. He checked the roadside mirror to make sure nothing was coming around the bend, and up they went.
“Is this the way to the train station?” she asked. Her voice stirred something in his chest, in his hands.
“Yes,” he said. “I’m afraid the road is a bit roundabout for cars. Still quicker to drive than to walk.”
The road narrowed considerably as Ryoto accelerated up the incline. These old roads hadn’t changed much since cars had been introduced to Japan. He’d heard that a lot of countries in Europe had the same problem. He’d like to visit them someday. Maybe he’d take Sumire. Maybe he’d take…
“What’s your name?” he asked, as innocently as he could. The woman glanced at him, hesitantly. How demure. Was she shy? He liked shy girls.
But she didn’t answer.
The road twisted and turned sharply up the mountainside. The single lane occasionally widened into one-and-a-half lanes, into two, then narrowed down to one again.
“What’s your name?” he asked again. She didn’t answer. The hand on the accelerometer rose in tandem with his blood pressure. He didn’t like being refused like this. She loved him, didn’t she? She should be willing to answer such a simple question.
Roadside mirrors flew past the car, unseen in Ryoto’s rage.
“I said, *what’s your na-”*
There’s not much you can do on those winding, mountain roads when a truck comes around the other way. Most of them are going slow enough that if you’re paying attention, you can both stop and figure out how to work around each other. At worst, someone backs up until the road widens.
Ryoto didn’t know what he felt as he watched the truck driver scream into his cellphone, panicking to the officer and stumbling to explain the location of the accident. Ryoto’s poor little kei car was smashed between a half-dozen trees, crumpled in a heap at the bottom of the steep incline it had gone tumbling off after it had rammed the truck. The truck wasn’t in great condition either, even if the driver was well enough to call for an ambulance.
“You know,” said the girl. She was leaning back with her eyes closed, hands resting behind her head against empty air. She sat with legs outstretched. Ryoto didn’t look at her.
“These countries? With the good healthcare, low violence? These are like vacation spots for me. Nice places to have a little break.”
Ryoto didn’t look at her. His eyes were locked on the kei car, 100 meters below him. The girl continued.
“But guys like you? I cannot *tell* you how much extra work you weirdos make me do.”
Ryoto didn’t respond.
“You think, ‘Oh, what about wars?’ Wars are easy. Those folks came to you in nice big batches. You get everyone’s name, check them off the list, send them through. Finished.” She snapped her fingers in front of her. “Guys like you, though? I get so tired of seeing your faces. It’s like, every month, ‘Oh I gotta go see what that creepy dude in the mountains is doing to college students again.’ I have better things to do, Ryoto.”
“I don’t understand,” Ryoto said. The girl sighed. She put one arm on Ryoto’s shoulder and pulled him up to stand. He kept watching the Kei car.
“They never do. That’s alright. It’s hard to understand, but simple to explain. There’s a nice, well-lit room at the end of this tunnel where we can sit and talk about everything. You’ll need some time to adjust before we get you on your way, I’m sure.”
“*Probably a good twenty years and an exorcism,”* she muttered under her breath. She opened a door at the tunnel’s end, ushered Ryoto into the light, and closed it behind her. | A figure clad in a rugged, brown trench coat steps through the dimly lit corridor, the old, worn boards creaking beneath his sturdy leather boots. Just behind the huge door at the end of the hallway, the only other person in the building--who is alive--groans.
He licks his lips, anticipating the thrill that he has sought for a long time. With dramatic flair, he opens the door and sees his soon-to-be victim, tied with many yards of thick rope to a old dusty chair. A tiny trail of blood trickled down the forehead of his prey.
“Oh no, you’re bleeding,” says the mysterious man. “Don’t fret. I’ll fix your boo-boo for you.”
He pulls a needle and a spool of red thread out of his coat pocket and approaches the woman on the chair. She starts struggling in a fit of desperation, an vain attempt to avoid what will happen next.
The man barks, “Now hold still!”
He shoves her against the wall next to a grimy furnace, its faintly burning coals the only source of light in the room. Some of the chains hanging from the ceiling dangle with the resultant breeze in the room, unburdened by the corpses of previous victims hanging from the hooks of the remaining chains. Red stitches adorn every single one, some forming inscriptions. He saunters toward her, his boots clopping on the cold, stone floor.
She furiously sways side-to-side but the ropes, too thick and tight, made her attempt all for naught. Lowering her head and facing the ground, she resigns herself to defeat. The man chuckles, crouching down, so he can look her in the eye.
“You silly girl, there was no hope of you ever escaping,” the man uttered. “I’ve killed twenty people. You really think you, victim number twenty-one, can do what twenty people before have failed to do?”
He stands up and sighs. “At least you will make a good canvas for my next work of art.”
Out of his other coat pocket, he pulls a knife and holds it right below her eyes. The blade, coated with dry blood, surprisingly shined, even in the dim lighting of the room. She could even see her reflection.
It stared back with abject horror of what is next. She whimpers.
“Don’t worry,” he chuckles. “I’m not going to kill you.”
She looks up, her big eyes glinting as if there is still a tiny sliver of hope that she will live to see another day. The serial killer smiles at her, not a smug and snide grin, but a comforting one.
He bursts out in laughter while pacing around the room. “You really thought I would let you live? I would rather die than get arrested because I made the stupid mistake of letting one victim go. No, I’m going to make the last moments of your life as miserable as possible. Maybe I’ll be satisfied, maybe I won’t.”
As he strolls, she slides a plastic lighter out of her pants pocket and flicks it, igniting the rope.
He stops, then slaps his forehead. “I just realized. I forgot my pumpkin carving knife. I need that so I can carve you a couple new orifices. You need those so we can have fun later.”
The serial killer dashes out of the room not a second too late. If he left later, he would have smelled the smoke of the ember filling the room. The lady covers the flame with her hand, starving it of oxygen, snuffing it out. She smiles.
“Now I have the upper hand,” she mutters.
Her right arm breaks free of the rope with ease and grabs the lighter. She repeats with the other side, burning the ropes around her left arm. When the last bit of thread burnt, the lady stands up from the chair, careful not to make a sound.
“You made a mistake, leaving a lighter in the room earlier,” she whispers so softly, almost just mouthing it. “And now the tables have turned.”
The ceiling creaks as the serial killer roamed upstairs. She paid it no mind though. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees a dead police officer with a M&P9 still in the blood-soaked Velcro holster. She grins.
The serial killer heads back down the stairs into the hallway, whistling “Country Roads” while wiping his carving knife with a dirty, tattered washcloth. This time around, a revolver now dangles from his belt. He thought he heard something earlier in the basement when he found the knife and he didn’t want to allow any possibility of escape.
Gripping the pistol, the woman flicks the safety and thumbs the magazine release. With her left hand, she catches the magazine as soon as it dropped out. Five bullets, she reckons. Pocketing the mag, she pulls the slide back. No jams and no bullet already chambered. The slide snaps back. She quickly reinserts the magazine and racks the slide.
At the other end of the hallway, loud footsteps start echoing.
She gasps, then rushes to the side and takes cover behind a tall, dusty shelf.
With a loud crunch--the wood splintering and cracking--the door falls through the frame and onto the floor. The murderer slowly leans through the door frame, checking the left corner.
A yellow spark lights up the darkness, a gunshot echoes through the room and the corridor, a bullet casing falls on the floor, and he falls onto the floor, a jet of blood spurting from his left shoulder blade. He reflexively tries to stop the bleeding with his hands. The woman double taps and runs out of the room.
A gray leaderboard window pops up in the air. Highlighted in blue next to the number one is a username with twenty-one kills to the right. The leaderboard disappears and the woman walks right out of the house she was trapped in for the last few days, holding her M&P9 in a low ready position.
“Winner, winner, chicken dinner.”
| 2018-08-23T02:08:41 | 2018-08-23T01:19:48 | 179 | 79 |
[WP] You grew up with your uncle, seeing him bringing weird stuffs home, you'd always thought he was just a hoarder. Untill the day he died, you realized that your uncle was the collector and protector of the most powerfull artifacts in the universe and you are a part of his collection. | Edward had inherited a hoarders paradise, he walked through his uncle's attic, his hand grazing a multitude of seemingly ordinary objects left to suffocate under a layer of dust. Edward caressed the side of a lampshade and the bulb beneath glowed. If you had inspected the mahogany base you would see that it was not plugged in, nor did it have a plug of any kind to plug in.
Edward withdrew a leather-bound diary from his pocket. The initial *T.C* were embossed on the cover and reminded him that he had taken his uncles place, and beneath the initials stood *Volume two*. Edward flipped to the first set of pages and ran his finger down a list, stopping at *The Sunlamp*. Edward slid his finger across and underlined the page number. After some page-turning, he found page forty-seven which was titled with a thick calligraphic version of *The Sunlamp*.
Edward withdrew pen from his pocket and poised it against the first criteria. *Does it work?* Check. *Good condition?* Edward crouched next to the object and conducted a three-hundred and sixty-degree inspection. Check. *Has it been cleaned?* Edward pulled a microfibre cloth from his back pocket and set about massaging the lamp. Check. *Discoveries?* Cross. Edward looked at the completed check-list and noted with amusement that he had matched his uncles' markings exactly, which gave the entry a satisfying symmetry.
Edward looked further down the page and read through the section marked:
**History**
*First sold by a Venetian merchant, who suggested the lamp belonged to a long since forgotten pharaoh. The lamp is said to have been stolen by gravediggers. The lamp was named Sunlamp, as it was believed to contain a miniature sun since electricity did not exist. The lamp is believed to have been owned by Edison, who used the artefact to shape our modern concept of light*.
---
Beneath the main course of history stood the supple desert labelled:
**Powers**
*1) Seemingly endless source of light.*
*2) The amount of light grows to fill the room.*
*3) Distance does not seem to affect the light (see experiment journal: page eighty).*
*4) Functions in any liquid.*
*5) Energy perfect (soundless/heatless).*
---
Edward turned the page and found the next item labelled as *The Gate Mirrors*, with the page in an almost identical layout to the Sunlamp. Edward flipped back to the first set of pages, wondering how many more objects he would have to check. The contents pages spanned five pages, each consisting of a hundred lines because on the fifth page the last item was listed as: *500) T.C*. Edward had to look twice at the line and half-closed the diary, using his thumb as a bookmark, he double checked the embossed cover, *T.C*. Edward went back to his indexed position and scanned line five-hundred, which unlike the others did not have a page number but instead merely had *the last chapter* to identify its location.
Edward curious as to why his uncle had included himself in the book of artefacts, turned to the back of the diary. There on the top of the page, the initials were spelt out for the first time, *The Collector*. The last page was unlike any of the previous checklist and history pages. Instead, it had a grainy photo close to decay. Edward had to squint to piece together the image, but in doing so, he saw himself. It was as if someone had used a combination of filters, old-fashioned clothing and a nineteen-hundreds haircut to make Edward look dated.
Although it was hard for Edward to pull his eyes from the dated photo of himself, he managed to shift to a section marked:
**Powers**
*1) Immortal.*
*2) Memory capacity caps at one-hundred years.*
---
Edward stopped at the second so-called power. Because it was different, beneath it stood a two-column table with the first column marked as *Date* and the second as *Completed*. The table had roughly fourteen rows, separated at a hundred year intervals, with the bottom row containing yesterdays date and a check in the *Completed* column.
---
/r/WrittenThought | Three days is all it took for me, just three damn days to have my whole world shattered. Why'd that bastard have to go and leave me behind? It's not like I can live out my life knowing what he's left behind for me.
And me? What the hell does this goddamn letter mean? You stupid, selfish, cold bastard, I still need you to help guide me! I still need help, I still do...
I guess it's no wonder why I was never permitted to leave the mansion without you Uncle. To think, living my whole life as a possession and not even knowing it, now given all the freedom to do what I want. And I have to keep watch over this stupid mansion? Is this what you fucking had planned for me the whole time? When you die, just leave the vault for me to discover in your stupid letter? Revealing that I'm not an actual human anymore in a letter is beyond fucked. Jesus, I wish he let me die when I was born!
Fuck it though, I inherited this burden of a place so I might as well figure out what this shit is.
Looking down the first list, there's fifty class D1 items? I don't even know the damn classifications of these things, how the hell am I to...oh the classification scale is on the next page. It says here that there are four classification scales: A-D scale, object hazard scale, null-point scale, object erasure scale. What is the point of a four class scale when there are sub-classifications inside them? Hnk! Whatever, I'll learn things as I go down.
It says here, "Note, classification scales A-D have four sub-classifications as determined by the impact on single biological lifeforms." Well that's good to know. It seems D is the least deadly to biological life. No wonder there's so many D1 items, as they're more common than all the rest. And it seems that A scale classifications are always deadly to single biological lifeforms, that's also good to know.
Hmmm, object hazard scale seems to be a bit more worrisome. It says in some bold ass friggin letters, "Extreme caution required. Object hazard scale classification deemed deadly to large scale biological and non-biological lifeforms." Non-biological lifeforms? What the hell is that supposed to mean? Well there's only ten items on this list, so it should be easy to make sure they're secured.
I'm getting kind of worried now, I'm not on the first two lists. So what the hell does that mean for me? I can see that there's also ten items on the null-point scale, with a note for each item. That's definitely different! First item note says, "A space time partitioning-ionized oscillator. Do not touch without proper grounding of the current spacetime within 30,000 kilometers". I'm not even sure what that means, but I'll keep my fingers away from that one. So let's see, the second item says, "F901-10-p" and now I'm really fucking confused. Oh! An addendum was added on the page behind it, "Formula and means of production for between-matter". Jesus, I'm getting the picture that these items could cause some serious damage to a lot of shit.
It's almost too scary to read the object erasure scale. And I fucking knew it! My name is the second one down on the list! There's only three, which makes me really uncomfortable. Dammit Uncle Dex, I wish I knew this before hand. I have so many knots in my stomach it hurts. Deep breaths in Tidus, deep breaths in.
Oh man here I go, reading my own fucking classification. I'm going to do it...Any second now. I swear I'll do it--WHO AM I TALKING TO?!?!? Just stop being a pussy and read it. "Erasure precedence: Tidus Yni'ol. Age when precedence first came into contact with originators body: one day old. Precedence over reality: Matter condensing and compacting..." Wait, I can create condensed matter? Holy living shit that sounds cool! But I gotta make sure what that means...let me see if I can find any--AH, found it. "Precedence condition: Matter condensing and compacting forms spacial anomalies; classified under V9-1-v. Spacial anomalies open, and out pours unknown entities under control of precedence; entity classified under G304-0-f. Precedence scale annihilation..." Oh my god he has so many classifications for these things! I don't even understand half of it. Ugh! Never the less, it sounds scary and I don't want to even know how to activate it.
There's so much to fucking do. I don't want to even do this! Fuck you Uncle Dex, why'd you leave me alone with this shit!?!
​
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I tried something completely new to my writing. I've never really tried a monologue of sorts. I hope it was at least passable. | 2018-09-30T03:13:10 | 2018-09-30T01:25:44 | 1,516 | 21 |
[WP] When you ask your daughter what she wants for Christmas, she asks for a unicorn. Your wife laughs it off, but you don't. Neither your wife or daughter know that you're the best monster trapper in the world, and your daughter is getting her unicorn no matter what. | You almost can't contain yourself as you get up and rouse your wife. She has no idea what's coming. No one does. You head quietly into your daughter's room. She's not there. Then you hear it.
"**AAAAAAGGGGGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!!**, You found one!" She screeches.
You follow your wife as she rushes downstairs to see the commotion.
"How the hell!? Why!?" Your wife whispers to you, as you both watch your daughter going to her unlikely present.
"I can get anything!" You announce loud and proud.
It's then that your actions and statement hits home.
"Next year, I want a dragon!" Your daughter exclaims.
Oh god, what have you done!? Not only did you not think about how you are going to top this one...ever. You also didn't think about what she would ask for next. Either way, you realize you're screwed! | I hate catching monsters. The work is grueling and dangerous, plus the job gets no respect, but it pays damn well and I'm good at it. So when my daughter stood there, begging me for another Unicorn, I thought, "No. Not again."
My wife began to giggle. "Now Britney, you already have two sweetheart. Are you sure you really need a third?"
"But it's Christmas, and you guys said I could choose any present I wanted!", Britney exclaimed as her face began to turn bright red. I was about to make up some bullshit excuse and tell her we couldn't afford another unicorn but then it dawned on me, the day, it's Cyber Monday.
My eyes lit up. I had seen an ad for those fuckers for 50% off the other day and boy do I have a great credit score. I mean, I'm the world's best monster catcher, but nothing compares to my credit score. It doesn't matter who you ask, FICO, Experian, Equifax, they will all tell you the same thing; my credit score is flawless.
Without a word, I reached my hand around to my back pocket and swiftly pulled out my wallet, holding it up for everyone to see. You could see the reflection of the overhead lights glistening off the cool black leather in Britney's wide eyes. I motioned her towards me; she knew the drill. She walked over, opened my wallet, and revealed a blue American Express card.
"Not that one princess. The Amazon one. You see, if I use the Amazon one, your dad gets 5% cash back on his purchase."
She nodded, grabbed the Amazon card and took out her IPhone XS Max and proceeded to open the Amazon app.
She looked up from her phone a moment later and asked, "Can I get same day shipping please?"
"Of course you can honey. Of course you can." | 2018-12-07T17:40:55 | 2018-12-07T17:22:38 | 26 | 10 |
[WP] You've always dreamed of becoming a supervillain when you got your powers, and just because you were bestowed the power of healing doesn't change anything | It's amazing how much chaos one can cause, simply by preventing death. Calling healing "doing good" is so shortsighted.
Since I came into my powers, my *realization,* there have been no deaths, accidental or otherwise. Everyone is just... here. Waiting. Panicking. Learning to *live.*
After all, there's no murder, without death. Sure, you can be locked up, but what's a life sentence to one who cannot die? Where is the fear that kept the order? Gone.
Each day, the trap gets smaller as the population gets bigger... all those healthy babies growing strong! But no one dies, and everyone gets that much more worried about their dwindling piece of the pie.
Soon, very soon, everyone will be past death, in the overcrowded netherworld of the perpetually healed. There will be nothing left to hold society together but the overwhelming desire for death to return to someone, anyone.... anyone but them.
And then, only then, I will reveal myself as their new lord and master - because I, only I, can take away the blessing that is their curse.
​ | What is good and what is evil? The answer has been redefined with every new philosopher trying to make a name for him- or herself.
Since the first super powers manifested, two fractions were made: The first would help people in need, curb natural disasters and help fight crime. The second fractions would do none of these things, but instead rob banks and jewellery stores. The fractions quickly became known as Heroes and Villains, referring to the cartoon style binary interpretation we had known for so long.
I was one of the precious few who saw through the deception in which everyone believed: The Heroes actually did what they did to gain power. They gained people's trust and they received more freedom as time passed by, to mete out their version of justice as they saw fit. And the police force backed them up. Entire countries voted to change the laws to accomodate the Heroes, and thus in a larger perspective, it was these super powered people who actually wrote the laws.
The Villains wanted to oppose the influence of the Heroes, but for this, they needed money. Not having the love of the people, they didn't get the resources either.
Massive fundings went into maintaining the practical everyday necessities of the Heroes as well as their battle gear. For the Villains, these things had to be acquired by other means.
The time would soon come where our country's people would see how their beloved Heroes had become their oppressors - and when that time came, they would turn to us Villains for help. But there was no way we could stand against the Heroes as things were.
However, with my newfound power, we might just have a chance. Having received my healing powers, I knew what to do: Become known as the best doctor available because whatever treatment I gave for whatever disease, would always work. And from there I would be in a position where I could decide who would live and who wouldn't. To make these decisions properly would require an insane amount of time and dedication, but we Villains were all about planning and preparing. | 2019-01-30T04:08:21 | 2019-01-30T04:02:21 | 361 | 29 |
[WP]: The most sought woman in the town has announced that she will marry whoever can open her door with the key around her cats neck. Many have tried to catch, trap and hunt down the cat, who always escapes. You are the first to figure out they've all been doing this all wrong. | Nobody expected me to try.
Everyone expected my friends, my far-off family, but not me. I was a woman, of course. I’ve always loved girls, and have crushed on her since high school.
I decided to get a small bad of cat food just in case it came around, and double checked in ally’s where I thought I saw something.
I can remember the day she announced the challenge. It was 3 weeks ago.
“Dear my neighbors and who it may concern, I have set up a challenge for my hand in marriage. Bring back my cat, Lila, with a key around it’s neck and unlock my front door. If you do so, you win.”
She also posted a picture of her cat next to that sign, and it was a cute tabby-calico cat that was a bit towards the chubby side.
I was out walking when I heard distressed meowing coming from a log by the side of the road.
It was a cat, who got itself stuck. I chuckled and tried to help get it out. It took a while, but once I got it out, I could properly see it.
The tag read “Lila” and it was a tabby-calico. Under the tag there was a hidden key.
I brought the cat back to my house, and decided to let it stay with me for the night as I didn’t want to return it so late. Lila cuddled up with me and we fell asleep together.
When I woke up, I realized what everyone else was doing wrong, they weren’t being kind to the poor creature, who flinched slightly when I went to pet it.
I kept it in a few blankets so I wouldn’t wake it up, and walked to her house on the other side of the block.
I was insanely nervous, as she may not of even expected a GIRL to try, but I unlocked the door anyways and called out to her.
“Excuse me, I’ve found your cat!”
She ran down the stairs and I saw her. Layla, the most beautiful woman in the town right in front of me. I blushed deeply and looked to the side.
“Oh! Jasmine, I remember you!”
My head snapped up, remembered me? I’ve never even talked to her, I think.
“You’re that girl I...” Layla paused, took a deep breath and continued “... that I crushed on through high school.”
“You... crushed on me?” I asked shakily, while smiling.
Layla smiled as well, and you can really see it in her eyes, she was truly happy. Gosh, that smile is so pretty.
I put the cat down on a chair. Lila was still half asleep and purring happily.
“I guess you’ve won!” Layla said as she smiled and pulled me into a hug.
Layla, Lila and I lived together and adopted another cat, Jax. We became known as ‘The Cat Moms’ as we would take care of strays as well.
We lived happily until our final breaths together. | The entire town had apparently gone medieval. Not actual medieval-medieval, but fairytale medieval: solve the Sphynx's riddle, save the princess from the tower and gain the throne to the kingdom!
Only in this case the Sphynx's riddle was the key to a penthouse around the neck of a particularly skittish black cat, the tower the aforementioned penthouse, and the princess was a objectively hot former celebutante, who had grown tired of the limelight and the sycophants, became a misanthrope, got a degree in Quantum Physics, but figured at the age of 32 that having only protons as friends was a solitary existence. As for the kingdom... Well, she *was* part of the 1%.
I got hired through a temp company to serve as referee in the contest (the quest, as one of the contestants had claimed, clad in full Game of Thrones garb, Ikea rug on his shoulders and everything) and make sure that the one catching the key was the one opening the door to the penthouse.
It was as entertaining as it was frustrating.
One bright bulb decided to bring his massive mastiff to hunt the cat. The cat huffed and wasn't seen again in three days. I had the pleasure of calling the SPCA on him for kicking the poor pup for his own stupidity.
Another brought a jack russel, which was a smarter idea in theory, if it weren't for the fact that *jack russels can't climb*. At least I didn't have to call the SPCA on this one.
Some poorman's Thor brought a huge salmon for which he claimed have fought a grizzly bear. It looked promising for about 2.5 seconds, until the cat hissed at the fish, hacked a furball and ran to the cat-tower to lick its genitals (yes, there was an actual tower in this mess).
The most disturbing had to be the weirdo that claimed cats were inherently evil and would eat a human's face immediately, given the opportunity. So he lay down on the ground, his face covered in minced meat, and waited perfectly still for several hours. In his defence he caught a rat.
The thought of entering the contest hadn't even crossed my mind in the beginning, but after weeks of seeing the weirdest ideas going nowhere, I decided.
The next day I brought to work a folding chair, my laptop with the charger, a can of tuna and small ball with a bell inside. I put the tuna and the ball a few feet away of where I opened the chair and then sat down with the laptop to wait. Half an hour later the cat had eaten some of the tuna and started playing with the ball, while I was learning the theory of how to make a bowl out of mud. I continued to watch Youtube videos ([apparently it would be scientifically impossible for Antman to explode Thanos from inside his rectum](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DG2esWiRe0s)), only remembering about the cat and the contest whenever I heard the bell inside the ball.
Finally the cat got tired of being ignored and jumped on my laptop's keyboard. I gave it a tentative pat. The cat headbutted my hand and purred. I removed the key from around its neck and then waited, because you should never get up when there's a cat purring on your lap.
-------
That night I finally arrived at the penthouse, took the key out of where I had stored it and opened the door.
Inside the penthouse the woman had gotten up to greet the winner, but sat down again when she saw me. She raised an eyebrow, gave me a once-over, and the corner of her mouth curled up in a lazy smirk.
"I see you should never send a man to do a woman's job," she said.
"Indeed," I said, putting the key back in my bra. | 2019-05-01T18:32:38 | 2019-05-01T18:12:07 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You're the unappreciated intern for a famous group of Superheroes. Your power? You can boil water. All you do is make tea for them while they laugh and drink in their hideout. Little do they know that you've got dreams of becoming the Worst Villain ever. After all, a human is over 70% water... | 24 years in the business and The Steel Cricket retired. All you knew was that he ran into a villain he couldn't afford to hold back on and as a result the villain died. It was the first time he had ever killed someone and it wasn't something he talked about. Not even to you, his son.
Powers are hereditary. At least if your parent was a super you have a better chance of getting chosen. That's right, chosen. Nobody knows why but two people with the same power have never existed at the same time. That's why when your Dad retired his old team took you in even though you didn't have powers, they were hoping to scoop up the next Steel Cricket before their power had even manifested.
At first it wasn't so bad. You felt like part of the team. Were actually happy to be there. As the son of a superhero you grew up with capes so you knew the drill. You participated in meetings, had full access to the teams database, even gave them advice mid mission. You were a regular Thundering Whisper only without their powers. If things had stayed like that you would have been happy, but you developed your power.
To heat water...
The supers didn't know what to do with you. After a few months the main team more or less ignored you now. A subtle nod when you enter the room is the most you're acknowledged. The younger team though. They called you a junior junior hero. Eventually you found yourself doing chores for them. Odd jobs, cleaning their laundry, taking over their jobs in the HQ and worst of all making them tea. At least you can avoid them while cleaning the archive room but when you have to serve them, well there's no escape.
You could have asked your Dad for advice but couldn't bring yourself to. Everyone has something they don't want to talk about. After all your Dad never talked about his last mission. Besides you were spending every spare minute you looking for where your power came from; obsessed seeing what became of your predecessor.
Search, serve, search, sleep. Search, serve, search, sleep. The junior squad leaves you alone for the most part now. As long as their snacks are ready when they get back.
One day Switcher stops you in a hallway. He tells you that they found who got your Dad's power and your needed even less now. It only motivates you more. Search, serve, search, search.
It has been four days since The mew Steel Cricket arrived. You wondered if she was going to keep the name. Not a name for a girl. Not a name for anyone really. She's already going on lower danger missions with the junior squad. You feel like you haven't left the HQ in months.
Search, search, search search.
You wake up in the archive. There's a blanket wrapped around you. You panic and look around the room it's empty but whoever tucked you in left a binder out. You go to put the binder back when a page catches your eye.
The Steamstress
Power: Heating water
There's sparse details. She worked for a small time hero outfit. Doing pretty much the same stuff you do. Only she was there for years. Then one day without reason she snapped. The heroes she worked were found dead, dried up husks and she went on a crime spree. If she was confronted by a normal person she would weaken them until they fainted. Sometimes there was lasting damage but more often they had a complete recovery. Supers on the other hand ended up being boiled alive without fail. The report goes on to list her victims but ends abruptly like a page was missing.
You had heard things used to be worse for people like you. How long could you last in those conditions? Hell how long can you last in your situation? It wasn't the Steamstress's fault just like it isn't your fault. It's the worlds fault and you weren't going to let it break you. You were going to move first, you were going to be smarter than your predecessor. You weren't going to be caught and even if you were even the strongest heroes are still 70% water.
You hear the door of the archive open and slam the binder shut. That's when you notice the Steamstress was a footnote in your Dad's file. The last footnote.
"Hey. I've been waiting to meet you. You must been Steel Cricket's son." You don't recognize the feminine voice but it must be the girl who got your Dad's powers.
You laugh awkwardly. "Yeah, sorry about that. I've been pretty busy." Thankfully she wasn't a female version of your Dad like you'd imagined though for some reason you found being with her unsettling.
"No kidding the guys always say this place would fall apart without you." Noticing your look of disbelief she continued, "What, they really do."
Before you realize it she has your hand and she's pulling you towards the kitchen. "You know Misty Fox always goes on about how good your cookies are. Everyone wishes you'd use less raisins and more chocolate chips though. I'm more interested in your tea. I'm warning you though I have very high standards."
You kick her out of the kitchen and make the tea. You went all out with this pot after all it's going to be the last one you ever make. After pouring her cup you walk away and look out a window. You have plans to make, cities to conquer, soon the whole world will tremble at the mention of... Whatever you go by.
Your internal monologue is interrupted by sniffling and you turn to see the girl looking at you with tears. "I'm sorry," she said while wiping at her eyes. "I never thought I'd be able to drink tea like my Mom made ever again." | The leaves in the bottom of the teacup look like blood.
I think about that, of LightningGirl chugging blood for breakfast and the idea doesn’t sound unlikely. I pour tap into the copper electric kettle and stare at it. Soon enough, the water begins to boil. I watch the bubbles gurgle and pop, steam misting the inside like a windshield on a foggy wet day in the city. I think about slipping my own self into the kettle, melting me away with it. I think about the first day I found out about my superpower.
I was a toddler, maybe three or four, and my mom was cooking spaghetti. She left the pot on the stove to boil as she eagerly watched the season finale of her soaps and I sat on the dirty kitchen floor, playing with mismatched blocks. I remember hearing the water bubble, a plopping happy noise like the river outside of our house that sounds like a stifled giggle. I looked over at the pot and stared at it, enraptured by the sound. I leaned over unto my knees, feeling the dirt on the linoleum press into my kneecaps but keeping my eyes on the pot.
The bubbles rose, gurgling now like a brook, steam billowing around the closed pot like crystallized smoke. The glass lid shook and when my mother runs over to turn down the heat down, she asks aloud to herself if there was an earthquake. She turns around and she looks at my big glazed eyes. The look on her face is a question mark.
A distant pang in the back of my skull reminds my brain to stop concentrating or I’m gonna pass out. It would be a shame to not bring tea to our precious Lightning Girl.
I swirl a teaspoon of sugar into LightningGirl’s mug - a chipped mustard yellow ceramic with a red bolt - and listen to the ring of laughter coming from the hideout’s lounge. Lightning Girl - Malena - likes her raspberry tea with exactly ⅛ honey along with the sugar and I grab the teddy bear bottle. My hand gets sticky as I touch the bottle and I wipe it on the bottom of the mug before searching for a measuring spoon. I yank open a drawer, more stickiness covering the chrome silver handle. Shit, gotta clean that. I make a mental note.
I’m rummaging through spoons, ketchup packets, takeout chopsticks, ancient soy sauce packets, an electric gun, a bullethole ridden glove - God, superheroes need to Kon Marie the shit out of this drawer - as again, dried honey sticking to items like an annoying invisible spiderweb. Where the fuck do these super galactic jerks keep measuring spoons?
You’d think a measuring spoon wouldn’t matter. That I could just drop a bit of honey in her tea, stir it, and serve it to Malena and she’d be happy. You’d think.
On my first day, she asked for her raspberry tea with 1/8th honey and 2 tablespoons of sugar. I was nervous, pit stained kid with acne and a forming ulcer somewhere in the back of my abdomen from how goddamn anxious I was. I had just been released from juvenile detention - petty theft, some absences but what is school for anyway but to place me in a contrived system - and I want to impress them. My parole officer, who I find out is some sort of fat Caucasian version Nick Fury, told me about a community service job, a personal assistant with a company called HiTech Music Hero Inc., which just so happens to be the secret headquarters of The Hero League of Atlanta.
And of course, a nerdy quiet seventeen year old loser would nut his pants just to be in the presence of one superhero. Let alone two.
So, when LightningGirl, the hottest superhero who shoots lightning out of her hands - and other orifices? - who doesn’t even make eye contact with me and types on her MacBook, asks me to make her a cup of tea, I beam like a child. You bet your ass I’m gonna make her a damn good cup of tea. The one thing I didn’t account for - the honey.
The fucking honey.
When I present to her the honeyless drink, she grabbed my wrist hard, yanked me so I was inches from her beautiful, beautiful face, and she growled low enough so I could hear,”Fuck up my tea, again, intern, and you’re back in juvy.”
And that, my friends, is how I learned Lightning Girl, our favorite electric superhero, is a fucking bitch.
She let go and a spark runs up my arm like an electric current and I shake away, stumbling backwards a bit. I look down at my arm, a grayish silver imprint in the shape of a hand stinging my pale skin. The rest of the heroes in the lounge, pretended not to hear, the same kind of tension that you feel from a friend when their mom scolds them in front of you.
RockMan, (one of the new heroes from Sri Lanka, - think Hulk meets The Thing meets Terry Crews), gulps down his boiling hot coffee and turns the rap music up on the stereo system. I listen to Chance the Rapper croon about his babymama and rub my stinging arm. Their lounge is set up like a music recording studio, darkened and insulated with puffy black fluff on each wall, and the headphones around Rockman’s ears are outlandishly off kilter and too small for his giant head. The image makes me smirk, just a little, and RockMan looks at me, his deep set green eyes like an apology.
The big guy doesn’t talk much since English isn’t his first language but we bonded for a little bit when I first started interning here about a month ago. We talked about jail time, how I had to do dumbass therapy groups where we troubled teenagers sat in a circle and talked about our feelings. And how RockMan had big American army men sit around him in a circle and they talked about his involvement with the war in Iran.
With guns jabbing against his temple and his hands tied behind his back with blood soaked rope.
Both sensitive shit that we don’t like to talk about.
Anyway, the whole moment happened so fast that I thought I dreamed it. I still dream of it, dreams of Lightning Girl seducing me between red silk sheets, tangling me between her warm legs and right before I think I’m going to explode, she dips her finger in my mouth only to send jolts of energy through my esophagus until I am nothing but light and electricity.
Kinky. | 2019-07-30T17:02:42 | 2019-07-30T16:45:34 | 101 | 13 |
[WP] Humans have the reputation of being both an extremely dangerous species and social creatures that are easy to bond with, making them great crew members for voyagers. You and your shipmates are worried about your newly recruited human because you don't know what an introvert is.
Inspired by various "Humans are space orcs" posts from tumblr. I reposted this to change some minor grammar errors | I observed it, trying to understand what it was doing, just sitting there. Its face was still and emotionless. Could something be wrong with it? No. It was performing fine, but it wasn't interested in communicating with us.
I walked over to it. Could such a complex creature be completely void of emotion? No. Not possible.
"Are you okay?" I asked.
"Yeah, I was just thinking." It replied.
"About what exactly?" I said, desperate to get a straight answer.
"I was daydreaming about being elsewhere."
Being elsewhere? What could this mean? I asked for an explanation, and they complied.
The human explained to me that they have an ability to place their own mind into an alternate reality whilst their body remained in this world. They could see things, beauty which does not exist elsewhere but in the realm of their mind. They could see even I, doing unspeakable things, completely at will. We had no understanding of this concept. To see any world one pleases at any time of day? Absurd.
I didn't believe it.
The human took a pencil and began to make markings. My face stared back at me from the sheet of paper. I was surrounded by beautiful trees in a lush forest in which I had never seen. The image on the paper was what the human was staring at so blankly moments ago. Such a magnificent creature. | Hey Ri*tak, how's it going?
Bor*naf? Where've you been?
I've been on a run near Birno Prima. That was a wild ride me tell you.
I can imagine. They're were some rogues reported there. What happened?
We beat the snot out of them.
In that dinky ol' boat of yours?
Heh. Dinky. See that ship over there?
Ooh, it's a beauty. What's that? Commercial warship?
That, my friend, is that dinky old boat you remember.
What! Is that the same ship? How?
Two words pal. Introvert and upgrades.
Introverts? I heard about that. Those are the failed humans? They don't talk much. We have one of those. I thought they would be fun.
The fun comes later. Let me guess, you have an inbox the size of Mount Nosni?
How did you know? It's full of reports, request orders and stuff. I haven't had the courage to open it.
Same here. It's from your introvert. They talk a lot. A lot. Just not with their mouth. But I didn't figure it out and set it to auto approve. Stupid, I know but it worked out.
How so?
When we arrived at Birno Prime, we immediately had a threat alert and our defense AI activated. Which was weird because we didnt have those. Turns out our little introvert had been ordering them at bargain rates and installing them. It was all in the reports I read afterwards, including some military grade surveys and threat assessments of our destination that I don't want to know where they came from.
Weird.
I know. At that moment the human comes into the bridge and sits at a chair, mumbling about interrupted work. That's when the rogues approach us. When I was getting ready for a battle speech, the human starts mashing buttons. My ship started firing weapons I didn't know we had. It... was...awesome. In the end we salvaged the remains of the rogues and made a bonus that paid for all the upgrades.
Whoa.
Yeah. I know. Don't set sail without an introvert my friend. | 2019-11-17T02:18:04 | 2019-11-17T01:26:42 | 308 | 137 |
[WP] Humans have the reputation of being both an extremely dangerous species and social creatures that are easy to bond with, making them great crew members for voyagers. You and your shipmates are worried about your newly recruited human because you don't know what an introvert is.
Inspired by various "Humans are space orcs" posts from tumblr. I reposted this to change some minor grammar errors | (First time posting. But this one seemed interesting enough to give it a spin.)
​
"It's been days," Shanara said, motioning to the steel door on the other side of the room. A door whimsically decorated with the name "Holly" on it. The three of them sat nervously at the rec table, occasionally eyeing it, wondering what sort of activities were occurring behind it.
"Look, we can't jump to conclusions here," Jorlan spoke up. Being the largest of the crew members at over eight feet tall with a carapace the thickness of Vogt steel made the concern in the air somehow better. If he was going to be afraid of a tiny, fleshy being, then at least everyone in the room could be.
Talison, the captain, shifted in his seat and cleared his speaking throat. He let out the low rumble his species communicated with followed by a series of clicks and elongated groans. The others at the table listened intently before Shanara threw up her four arms in frustration.
"To the four hells with your theories, Talison!" she exclaimed, almost knocking over a piping hot cup of Karvo-Black. "That...*thing* in there is taunting us. Just because you served with a human before and it was the most pleasant experience you ever had, does not mean we're just going to be okay with it."
"It doesn't even make eye contact," Jorlan mentioned, blinking all five of his. "It just quietly stalks the halls when it does leave it's room. Sometimes we don't even hear it approach. I nearly emptied my fear sac the other day. It just crept up on me."
Talison ran a claw along his face and then took to staring at the door. It was decorated, an indication the human had at least been outside. It was decorated with strange white things he'd once heard refereed to as "flowers" and little annoying smiling faces. Things that belied what lurked within. He'd known humans before. Pleasant beings all around, with their "high fives" and their "cheese fries" but he never knew one like this. This one didn't want to talk about sports or enjoy a cold one on the side of an asteroid.
Talison released a few more clicks and groans as he turned back to his crew mates. They looked to one another as he spoke before Jorlan shook his head.
"But it has all that hair," he said confused. "How can you be an engineer with all that hair? It just gets in everything. And I've heard they're really irrational. You can't be an engineer and irrational. That's now how engineerings work."
Shanara gave him a side long gaze before speaking up herself. "In any case, Jorlan is trying to say we're just not safe with such a volatile creature on board."
Talison crossed his arms and prepared another series of sounds before they got stuck in his throat. His eyes widened suddenly. The other two shifted in their seats to see what had given their captain such a fright, only to be scared solid themselves. In the shadows of the dim light were two piercing blue eyes from behind a curtain of black hair. Her black, loose coveralls caked in grease and darkness. Her own pale face, the only other thing visible in the light, smudged with the black streaks of engine grease.
She carefully tucked some of her hair back behind her ear with a gloved hand and walked slowly to the door marked "Holly." Upon reaching it, she stopped and stood there for a few moments. The crew felt as though the walls of the ship were threatening to crush them. The girl turned sharply and the three of them leapt out of their seats towards the wall.
"The engine almost blew up," she spoke softly. "Fixed it though. Sorry to interrupt."
She quietly opened the door to her room and walked inside, making sure to shut it right behind her. The three crew around the rec table slowly came down from the sudden fear rush and exchanged glances. One thing was certain. This was going to be a really long delivery run. | "He hasn't said a fucking thing." Jenassa hissed through gritted mandibles. Over her shoulder she glanced bitterly at the new crew member who was idly flicking through an instruction manual after sheepishly admitting he was unfamiliar with some of the units the ship was using.
Humans were renown for their competence in battle and sheer brutality when it came to practices such as colonialism and genocide, their history was laden with tales of death and destruction, primarily of one another. Maybe this was why they were so rare, if they were so prone to destroying one another they likely didn't risk bumping into others. Either that or the massive distance from the nearest human settlement was to blame for their rarity.
In a city that mainly comprised of Volturans & Optyms, an avian devised race of great builders and a single eyed people with great religious aspects respectively, seeing a human was almost a novelty if not for their fearsome reputation. The threat of human invasion dwindled as their exploration efforts took them further out into the galaxies they had discovered. Many of their intergalactic expeditions took them to prosperity and other times nothing but death, the irony being that if it wasn't the humans that were destroyed it was usually the indigenous species of the planet they landed on. This of course created an environment of distrust when dealing with the hairless primates though it could not be ignored that they were an incredibly capable people and were often recruited for space voyage as it appealed to their nomadic nature and ingrained taste for violence. Humans were sought by some crews, it was a point of pride to some captains, bragging they were able to not only recruit one of the war-faring species but also to direct them as they would any other member of their ship.
"I don't trust 'em." The dark shelled Optym continued, occasionally taking another look at her new colleague, her large dark eye blinking slowly. Jenassa had seen humans before, tearing through the native flora and fauna of her home planet in an excavation effort. The smell of useful resources sent the humans wild and they very rarely took into consideration the consequences of their actions. The mines they had constructed on her home planet were not necessarily fought for but the humans in charge of the colonization used nefarious tactics such as sabotage and political assassination to gain their permissions. Pacing over to the human, who had now diverted his attention to her, Jenassa used the tip of a claw to pull back the manual he was reading from in an attempt to see what had interested him so much. On the page was a large diagram of some of the emergency facilities the ship, The Crocflower, contained, namely the disposal chutes and air locks.
"Told you! He was going to shoot us into space! A damn saboteur!" Jenassa snapped, tearing the instruction booklet from the human's hands. The three other crew members shared a similar reaction of gasps and cries and scrambled to their feet in an effort to begin subduing the snake in their midst. One of the larger crew, a pastel feathered Volturan, approached him and made an attempt to grab him with his strong arms.
It wasn't the first time John had been mistrusted and likely wouldn't be the last. In fairness he was only making sure the ship had the right facilities for him to defecate comfortably but he realized that would sound like nothing but a cover story to the disgruntled mob surrounding him now. Stepping back, he left the grasp of the Volturan and fired his blaster from his hip, deftly removing it from his belt. A large scorching hole was left centre mass and charred feathers were dispersed in the dining area of the ship. More cries and frightened movements brought his attackers closer to him and John felt he had little choice but to defend himself. Jenassa was coming at him first, claws high and mandibles snapping against each other. The single eyed creature had a tough chitinous body but wasn't enough to stop close range blaster fire which pierced her chest twice before separating the lower part of the jaw on her head. By now the blood of at least two species covered the table they had been sat at and as the final two members of the congregation shuffled towards the munitions cabinet, John fired the remainder of his blaster cells in their direction, tearing flesh from bone and cauterizing any wounds small enough.
Stood among the bodies of what was supposed to be his new compatriots, John was surprised at his ability to take them all out. He had grown cynical and his expectations of finding a human-friendly ship were small, but this? This was a little too much. Quickly, he departed through the exit hatch he had just been studying and made his way through the spaceport, which already had various officials milling about in response to the muffled shots.
A week or so later once the investigating concluded as well it could, the news kiosks were alive with the details of the recent slaughter aboard the The Crocflower. Various species surrounded the booth and fought over the recent newstapes that were being distributed. Once absorbing the information inside, they all seemed to agree on at least one point.
"Human beings. Fucking savages." | 2019-11-17T04:06:06 | 2019-11-17T03:38:47 | 109 | 61 |
[WP] You've become one of the regulars at the local bar. But they become increasingly paranoid about you and your suspiciously hollow backstory. One night, while very drunk, you tell them the truth. | For as long as I could remember, no other infrastructure, or anything really, could be found anywhere near this bar that stood at the crossroads. Some who knew better call it the bar at the end of the world. Sounds silly to me to be honest.
I've seen many faces and heard a great deal of stories, but there were really only two types of patrons who came to this bar: the ones who left and never came back, and the ones who refused to leave. Both types never failed to overstay their welcome.
Those in our line of work follow a strict code of conduct, and any breach of the code means facing certain life and death repercussions. One of the iron rules states that we should never reveal our identity under any circumstances.
One day, I strolled into the bar as usual. Those who recognized me as the man who always walks in precisely at the thirteenth stroke of the clock either smiled or simply nodded at me.
I could tell from their eyes that they were beginning to get paranoid, as they should be and as they always have. I understood though. The man who always felt wrong was how they thought of me. *He isn't one of us.*
A young girl was sitting at the bar counter that day. It was her first time there, and she didn't recognize me. I sat down next to her and looked briefly into the eyes of the bartender. No words or expression were exchanged.
The girl looked jittery and confused, and seemed uncomfortable that a stranger had sat down next to her.
"You have questions," I said.
"Where am I?" she asked in a shaky voice.
"I don't know." I smiled gently at her. The code of conduct prevented me from revealing any information.
Tears have already welled up in her eyes by now, but I could tell that she was trying to be brave.
"You can cry if you want," I said.
She buried her face in her hands right after I said that, and soon she was heaving between sobs.
"What was the last thing you remember?" I asked.
"I was in the car with daddy, we were on our way to Nana's house and... and I don't remember the rest."
"That's normal. Soon you will forget that you have forgotten." Damn it, I said too much.
The girl stared at me, looking lost. "What about you Mister? Do you remember?"
"Yes."
"What were you doing before you came here?"
"Something not so fun which you don't need to know." Normally I would be making up some stories by now but I didn't have the heart to lie to her. It's not often you see kids in a bar like this. But I knew she would walk out soon, much sooner than the rest. You see, kids generally have much lesser regret than grown-ups.
I came back to the bar three days later, at the thirteenth stroke of the clock again, and there she was, still sitting in the same spot.
"Good day Mister. Thanks for coming by again."
"I didn't come here to see you."
"But you're the only one here who talks to me. Everyone else seems scary, they just talk to themselves."
"That's how things are here. They do talk to you though if you approach them."
"I don't want to..." She sulked.
I looked at her and felt pangs of emotions which should've been dead within me ages ago.
"A drink, bartender. Strong," I called out.
A drink was placed in front of me and the next moment the bartender was nowhere to be seen again. I took a sip and let it run through me, allowing myself to feel the effects of the alcohol this time.
"So? Remember anything else?" I looked at her and asked.
"I was arguing with dad on the way to nana's, about how he didn't let me visit mum enough, and he got distracted..."
"It wasn't your fault," I said. Another breach of code of conduct. I smiled bitterly and finished the rest of my drink.
"But it was. I left him all alone. Nana must feel very sad too." She broke down in tears at this point.
I would have cried too, but I wasn't even sure if tear glands were something I still possessed.
"No, it wasn't your fault. You were too young to understand why mum left or how to deal with the pain." I paused for a while, realizing that I was nearing the point of no return.
Fuck it.
I've already said so much so might as well.
"You will never walk out of here as long as you're still holding onto any regrets."
She lowered her head, seemingly deep in thoughts, then looked up again and asked, "will I forget daddy if I leave?"
"I don't know. I sure hope not. I've never been to The Beyond. My little girl left a long time ago even before I got here."
"Can you go with me then Mister?"
"I'm afraid not. I have yet to serve my time. I'm afraid my boss would get very mad if I just walk out like this."
The girl looked disappointed but soon broke out in a giggle. She jumped down from her seat and gave me a big hug.
"Thank you Mister Reaper," she said, and waved at me before she took the final step out of the bar.
She was the only one who ever remembered me being the one who brought her here. | "Well, Sammy," I said to the bartender, who I was on a first name basis with, of course. I Mean I've spent a good many nights in front of Sammy telling him very little about my past."The truth is you know why anyone's backstory is so hollow. You've been a bartender long enough. You study people, and you're damn good at it." As I took another swig from the tall glass of imported lager, I was currently on the 6th round, I looked him square in the eye. I was well past drunk and knew that I should have stopped awhile ago. "I'm running. Just as you suspected and I reckon many of your patrons have, as well."
"But," I continued, "I'm not running from the law, I'm not a criminal. Though, I am running from a danger far greater than any lawman out there."
"There are things out in this world that the majority of people don't know about and would never believe if they were told about it." I continued "Things you couldn't imagine in the darkest recesses of your mind."
"And I am running from one of those things. Something you wouldn't be able to dream up in your worst nightmares." I relayed "A thing from the darkest corners of Hell."
"I made a grave mistake one night 2 years ago. I was a paranormal investigator and we were doing an investigation of the skinwalker ranch. And that was my grave mistake." I said, as I drained the bottom of my lager. "Get me another," I motioned to Sammy. I continued with my long dreadful story.
"So this was a 3 days and nights we were to be investigating the land." I said and took a swallow of the fresh glass Sammy placed in front of me."The first day and night was uneventful. Nothing was amiss, the crew didn't so much as catch one sighting, evp, or a noise we could hear."
"We split up on the second night to cover more ground, and there was our mistake. Suddenly we heard an unholy scream. I lost half the team that night, Hell, I almost lost my life. I saw it. Standing in the distance, but rapidly approaching. It had to be like ten feet tall, and the noise it made, well, there's no describing it."
" It was grey, I could see that in the floodlights we had around the premises. Grey skin, large mouth with more teeth than a great white shark, three fingered, taloned hands that were every bit as deadly as the teeth in it's mouth. And it was heading for me. Luckily I wasn't dumb enough to be caught out there without a gun. I FIRED 6 SHOTS and the thing was still coming for me!!"
" I didn't even know if I had made any hits. I turned and ran for my Jeep and I fled, like a scared little girl." I kept spinning my tale of my brush with a true life skinwalker. " I got in the jeep by the skin of my teeth and turned my key which I had left in it's ignition, just in case anything like this would happen. " I continued telling Sammy. He looked fully immersed in my yarn, but doubtful. I knew he wouldn't believe it, and that's why I don't worry about telling this local my story finally.
" Anywho, later I found out that I in fact did make one hit on the beast. And the way I found out that bit of information, is, in fact why I am still running."
" Out in a town outside of skinwalker ranch, I met a fellow. He was a very handsome one that fellow. I fell madly in love and decided to make my home in that small podunk town." I mused. " So we were pretty serious. And one day I saw it, a gunshot scar on his left side. I asked him, of course where he had gotten it. He told me that it was an old cigar burn that his father would put them out on him when he was a kid. But that was the only mark I had ever seen on him. His story didn't add up. So I began digging around. The problem was, he was a ghost, like I am now. No records, no birth records, no licenses, no credit cards. Zip. Well when I confronted him, well, you can kind of see where this is going. He turned into that skinwalker once again. Hey, you know what he looked like in the light and up close? Like that Predator thing from the movie."
"Anyway, I managed to escape because I was wearing my silver bracelet and he tried to grab my arm and it burned him. I guess he either didn't see it or thought that it was not real silver. So that was the day I found out their weakness. But all I did was run. Run to this desert town nobody can find on a map. Because I don't ever want to have to face that thing again."
Sammy just shook his head and said "Ok, I guess you rather have your secrets, Angela, but let me tell you that story isn't a great cover, you should think up something better." And he smiled and went back to wiping the bar off as he was before I started rattling off about things that go bump in the night.
So now I won't just be the shady drunk, I'll be the crazy, shady drunk of the bar. But even if they think I'm crazy, let them think it. So what do I care? Why should they have their delusions of a world where monsters aren't real ripped away from them? It's not likely to ever be an issue, and I suppose I'll be moving on soon enough. That thing can smell me and knows my scent well, he'll be coming here soon, asking the locals about the ghosthunter that ghosted him. Sammy will know then. I left Sammy a note on the bar napkin. It said "I'll be leaving now Sammy, but if WhiteWolf comes here, tell him that you don't know who I am. Bye now, Angie."
The End. | 2019-12-26T01:00:11 | 2019-12-25T21:38:58 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] You are best friends with Death. Although you don't know this. Every Sunday he has you killed just to talk to you about his week then brings you back to life after. However you never remember the meetings. | **Another slow week. Modern medicine is really dragging things out down here.**
"Ya, too bad it couldn't save me from that heart attack."
**You didn't have a heart attack. I killed you.**
"Um, pardon me?"
**It's alright you won't remember me telling you that. See you next week.**
"What—"
______
**Six thousand dead from a single earthquake. I haven't worked overtime like that since Antietam.**
"So sorry, but who are you? Where am I?"
**Can we skip that today? Just listen for a while, ya? It's been a rough week.**
"Oh, of course. Sorry."
**Don't apologize...**
"Right, sorry."
**You're a good friend... See you next week.**
"Sorry?"
_____
**Not much going on this week, but I've got some big news.**
"Oh, where—er—what is it?"
**We're finally going to have an extended conversation.**
"Pardon?"
**Your friendship has meant a lot to me, and, well, I'm just excited to get to know you better.**
"Oh, thanks. What's your name again?"
**You die this Tuesday.**
"I what—"
**See you next week.**
_____
**Thanks for reading! Sub to /r/BeagleTales for daily chats with Death** | I used to dread Sundays because the next day seemed to always be Monday.
Now, Mondays are a welcome respite. The furthest I am from Death, until next weekend. His smell lingers. That's the only way I know he's been through. I recognize it from all those other times I've summoned him.
Why me? Who fucking knows. I'm just a regular guy. Sure, I play God with some folks, picking if they'll live and die. But this isn't confession, and I'm not trying to replace him or anything. It's just a hobby.
Maybe it's admiration. Maybe that's why each Sunday, just as I'm about to start making dinner, there's suddenly a gap in my memory, and when I'm back, it's Monday morning and all I feel is relief. Maybe he admires how discreet I am. Everybody knows him, but nobody has heard of me.
Maybe it's boredom. If the scythe is the only way, it must get pretty boring eventually. That's why I switch up my routine. I experiment. Try new things. Keeps the cops off my tail, too.
Maybe it's loneliness. With that, I can relate. It's lonely being me, and it must be lonely being him. It's lonely when everybody is a potential victim, or a future victim, and the only people you know are current victims.
Or maybe I'm his heir. That's what I dread most. I've read about that, probably a thousand times, between victims as I browse Reddit. "You are Death," or "You fight Death and win," or "Death hires you to help out."
Imagine that. Nothing but a scythe, and the same filthy black robes. I wash up after each person. Clean the clothes too, right down to any splatter. No wonder he smells so bad. Everything about him reeks of death.
But then again, they always told me to chase my passions. So if I am his heir, it's a good thing I'm getting some good practice in now.
*****
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, please check out more stories at r/MatiWrites. Constructive criticism and advice are always appreciated! | 2020-01-31T07:13:05 | 2020-01-31T07:11:38 | 625 | 225 |
[WP] At the age of 13 children are able to summon their familiars for the first time. Your family has a history of ridicule for their weak and useless familiars. Until your 13th birthday. | I already knew it was going to be the worst birthday ever.
My birthday was late, which meant most of the other kids at school already had their familiars. Just last week, Valerie had summoned an actual unicorn - and Justin's polar bear was amazing as well.
My family didn't get things like unicorns or polar bears. My family got... well... stupid things. My mother had a hamster. My older brother had a bumblebee. Dad had a whale, which seemed cool until you realized that we lived in the mountains. He didn't summon it very often.
So there I was, thirteen years old, sitting glumly by the fire pit, trying to pretend I was invisible. It didn't work, of course. My family is not known for their invisibility.
"Just go ahead, sweetheart." Mom's voice was pretty soothing - it usually was. "Come on. I know how you feel, but at least it'll be done with. Then we'll light the candles, okay?"
Yeah... that'd be okay. She was right. I could just get this over with, and then it would be birthday candles and other cool stuff. I nodded, and drew a breath, blowing at the smoke in the fire pit, and muttering the ritual incantation, accurately if enthusiastically.
My familiar appeared in front of me. It was... kind of squishy looking. And mostly pinkish? Except it had weird fur in parts, and metal on other parts, and it was holding something in its front paws and pointing it at my mom. She looked... uh. She actually looked scared.
"Mom?" My voice trembled a little. "What *is* it?"
"That's a human, sweetie. And it's got a gun." | Useless, impractical, ineffective. Those were the nicest words everyone used to describe my family. We didn't get familiars that were of any use, no special abilities at all, except maybe flight. Most of them couldn't even clean properly, let alone help in combat. Yet here I was, preparing for my first and only summoning ritual. For what? An imp? An indigo dragonfly the size of my fist? I didn't want to do this, everyone would just make fun of me even more.
The pit in my stomach only grew and grew as I walked across the dew covered grass towards three concentric circles of stone pillars, the light of the moon tracing glowing lines through the air between them. I could make out patterns in the light, a circle, a triangle, and occasionally a seven pointed star that flared brightly before fading away.
Passing between the first group of pillars, crossing one of these glowing lines, a warmth spread throughout my body. I quicken my pace slightly, heading deeper into the circles of stones. Another light, more warmth as the pit in my center seems to fill with something. My steps come easier as I continue, each glowing line I cross filling the void in me with a sense of peace.
I can hear something, a faint chuckle in my mind as my feet begin to dance the last few steps to the center where a seven pointed star of shimmering silver is embedded into the ground.
The lines begin to thicken and pulse with power, flowing from me to the inner ring, then to the outer ring, before finally being pulsed back into me. The feelings of dread and embarrassment I felt before entering the circles coming back to me stronger than before, emptying the space that was once filled with warmth.
The chuckle comes back, louder in my mind than before, more malevolent. My breath catches in my throat as I hear it call my name, it's essence dimming the light before flowing into my being. "*Valor."*
A flash of light consumes my vision before everything goes dark.
The sun woke me, beams of light shining through my closed eyelids. I roll over, groaning, trying to remember where I was as I blink tears from the light out of my eyes. "*Interesting,"* the word hits me like a bucket of cold water, sending chills down my spine, "*so you are my Master."* I raised my head, following the sound until my eyes meet with an impossible sight.
Scaly reptilian skin, the color of the deepest night with streaks of gold woven through it. Leathery, bat-like wings protruding over it's muscled shoulders. "*Your torment brought me,"* the being uttered, saliva dripping from it's fangs. "*Come, let us destroy this world."* My reflection smiled as it said this. | 2020-04-05T12:46:53 | 2020-04-05T11:38:39 | 59 | 41 |
[WP] At the age of 13 children are able to summon their familiars for the first time. Your family has a history of ridicule for their weak and useless familiars. Until your 13th birthday. | I already knew it was going to be the worst birthday ever.
My birthday was late, which meant most of the other kids at school already had their familiars. Just last week, Valerie had summoned an actual unicorn - and Justin's polar bear was amazing as well.
My family didn't get things like unicorns or polar bears. My family got... well... stupid things. My mother had a hamster. My older brother had a bumblebee. Dad had a whale, which seemed cool until you realized that we lived in the mountains. He didn't summon it very often.
So there I was, thirteen years old, sitting glumly by the fire pit, trying to pretend I was invisible. It didn't work, of course. My family is not known for their invisibility.
"Just go ahead, sweetheart." Mom's voice was pretty soothing - it usually was. "Come on. I know how you feel, but at least it'll be done with. Then we'll light the candles, okay?"
Yeah... that'd be okay. She was right. I could just get this over with, and then it would be birthday candles and other cool stuff. I nodded, and drew a breath, blowing at the smoke in the fire pit, and muttering the ritual incantation, accurately if enthusiastically.
My familiar appeared in front of me. It was... kind of squishy looking. And mostly pinkish? Except it had weird fur in parts, and metal on other parts, and it was holding something in its front paws and pointing it at my mom. She looked... uh. She actually looked scared.
"Mom?" My voice trembled a little. "What *is* it?"
"That's a human, sweetie. And it's got a gun." | Me and my family are witches and wizards. Our family is actually one of the better families, almost as good as the Brooks family, who are some of the best in the world.
We, however, are not praised like their family. My family is ridiculed and made fun of. No one takes my parents seriously, my older brother can't walk to his job without getting jumped, and I get bullied a lot at school. All because of our stupid familiars.
My family gets made whenever I complain about our familiars. They say I'll understand when I get mine. That I will love it, and think it is the most perfect thing ever. I personally can't see it, mainly because my brother has a bee.
It's my choosing day, when I get my familiar and turn thirteen. I grab my staff, get dressed, and head outside. I already accept my fate of lameness.
"Hey look!" Said a boy from school. "Uma' s having her ceremony. What do you think she'll get? Maybe a goldfish, if she's lucky!" His gang laughed and laughed.
I ignored him, and went to the center of town, where everybody attends the ceremony. I got a few giggles and snickers, but I trudged through the crowd.
I didn't know this, but a boy from the Brooks family was also getting a familiar today, Flynn. He looked at me and smirked.
"Why are you bothering to get a familiar, the best it could be is an ant." The Brooks never talked to my family because of their reputation. The only time they came near us was to point and laugh.
"Flynn Brooks," said the mayor. "Please step forward."
Flynn did what he was told and took a big prideful step to the front. He brought out his wand and drew a circle around himself.
We all waited a second, and then from the west came a dainty little butter fly.
We stood still for a minute, and then a little girl couldn't contain her laughter. The whole town followed and erupted. His parents looked at the floor and shook their heads in disappointment.
The giggles died off and it was my turn. I stepped up before the mayor said any thing and I drew the circle. Soon, a huge bear ran through the city and stomped by my side. The town was in shock.
I couldn't believe it. A bear? For my familiar? I always thought my family was cursed, but maybe it was just a coincidence.
I suddenly realised how scared the town was. The little witch that they had made fun of for years now had the most powerful familiar in town.
I decided to release her hatred.
You can write more if you want. | 2020-04-05T12:46:53 | 2020-04-05T11:30:28 | 59 | 25 |
[WP] Satan was at a loss for words. He checked his book several times, but none of your sins matched up with the punishments in the 9 circles of Hell. It was then that he decided that there should be a 10th circle dug out just for people who broke the mold like you did. | The Devil looked at me, curious, «I don’t quite know where to put you, really; you’ve not really committed any of the Big Seven. A small glimmer of Pride, but no more than most... what the here did you do to come here?»
I smiled sheepishly, «Saint Peter said it was because I invented something so irredeemably unholy, there was no other option.»
«What was that?». He inquired.
«Autocorrect/Autocomplete for mobile phones...»
His back straightened, and he bellowed, «Find me every Damned engineer and architect that we have! The time has come to build a new Circle!»
He glared at me, «For you, we shall build... EXTRA-Hell. And duck you for your crime against Creation.» | "I lived my entire life for this moment. The things I did, the crimes I committed. The countless atrocities just for this one singular moment." I said with a smile.
I was currently in ragged clothes in chains as I stared at the face of what many on Earth feared.
That twisted face of evil gazed at me with, disgust.
I fought the urge to chuckle as I gazed into the eyes of the infernal one and saw him look away.
"Yes... I've seen." His voice of madness and lies said.
I let out a giggle
He frowned at me, "Tell me did you do it as some sick worship in my name?"
I let out a hearty laugh, "For you? No, never. I did it for me. For the thrill. I did it because I enjoyed it. I enjoyed the act more and more each time."
He seemed sickened as he heard me describe my life.
"Silence." He said as he grew weary of my story.
"Your.. different than many who have come here. Many have been sent to hell with a sickness in them but you... your not sick."
He stared at me with a revolted look. "Your a wrongness in existence."
He stood up from his throne and towered over my chained form. "Hell is a way to cleanse the soul for reincarnation to see if they can gain worthiness for Heaven in their second life. But you... you don't deserve redemption. You don't deserve release from Hell."
I smiled at him.
"I shall build a place special for beings like you."
I felt my body begin to be consumed by fire and I began to scream.
"A place for such wrongness." | 2020-10-28T00:53:59 | 2020-10-27T21:55:14 | 49 | 23 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | Never in all my life would I have been able to guess what the button could controlled. It had to be modern I assumed. It was a big, red, rubber button. It looked like an emergency stop button you would see on a piece of standard machinery. I expected to hear mechanical noises or targeting systems spring to life when I pressed.
What it actually started was without a doubt the wackiest, zaniest, most over the top Rube-Goldberg machine that was ever conceived by man. It was so massive it spread across continents
Turns out the button just released a spring, launching a steel marble that set off a chain of events that forever changed the world.
The machine used some of mankind's most notable pieces of architecture, engineering, and art. You thought the Ancient Roman aqueducts were a means of providing water to the city? Nope. Just a track for a ridiculous Indiana Jones style death ball. The Leaning Tower of Pisa? Turns out the lean was intentional, so that it would fall in *just* the right spot, launching a cleverly concealed boulder halfway across Europe. All in all it took 17 hours for the machine to finish. It was mind boggling. Especially since the whole thing ended with the "Dark Lord", which looked like some sort of weird lion-goat thing with wings, being shot with WW1 era rifle as he crawled out of his cave. Damn thing died instantly.
The priest explained to me that their cult had been building this for centuries. What he didn't or couldn't explain, is why I couldn't just wait there with the rifle and shoot it myself. Or why I had to be the one to press the button at all. In fact he seemed kinda mad that I was questioning the machine instead of praising it, which I guess kinda makes sense it actually worked. But he held up his end of the bargain, and gave me enough money to take my wife out to Hawaii for our anniversary, and I was never in any danger so I guess I came out on top in the end. | 'I have done it. I have pressed the button and defeated the Dark Lord!'
The dimly lit room was illuminated just enough to show the glum faces of the three boys lounging out across whatever comfy pieces of cushioned real estate they could find.
“This film is terrible. Turn over.”
The remote clacked and the channel changed.
“Congratulations, you have given birth to a beautiful … 7 of clubs.”
“Nurse, call security. Dr Blaine has done it again.”
The TV remote clacked again.
“This just in, man who whispers on Zoom calls just has a really small mouth. We go to Andrea with the story.”
Again, the TV remote clacked.
'They called it a bone garden and asked me how many sticks they could buy it for.' - We speak to the Louisiana man who was recently duped in to selling this cemetery to three dogs wearing a trench coat.
Clack.
“I'm Cliff Cliffington and we are entering the Finance Hour - the show where we interview the best young traders the country has to offer. Our guest today has a lot of detractors who believe he earned his money the wrong way. Ron Ronson was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth – there's not denying that. And yes he had knives for legs and tongs for hands. His head was a fork and he died immediately after birth but that hasn't stopped the budding entrepreneur from becoming one of the richest pieces of cutlery in America today.”
Clack.
“Today on 'Construction, Construction, Construction' we're at the Bessington Palace renovation where the Site Foreman has a major issue on his hands – a Site Fiveman has emerged.”
Clack.
“And a warm welcome to everyone at home to the 2020 COVID Olympics!” said Ken Kennington. “Whose country is the sickest? Our data scientists are here and we’re ready to turn on some ventilators.”
Clack.
“And we come to you with some shocking breaking news as the famous piece of evidence the 'Smoking Gun' has sadly passed away after years of battling lung cancer.
Clack
“I just don't understand why if you're a, say, Kim Kardashian, you don't opt for a 9mm pistol hand or a shoulder cannon when paying so much for body modifications.”
Clack.
"Hello, and welcome to a very special episode of Rogue Traders. Today we have time traveled back to 1939 France to take an in depth look at the Maginot Line."
Clack.
“And here we have a great example of an employee going the extra mile by wearing two ties to business meetings he's not invited to.”
Clack.
The boys in the room paused.
“Just put that film back on this is getting ridiculous.”
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2020-11-09T12:15:45 | 2020-11-09T12:10:32 | 126 | 81 |
[WP] "Every 5000 years, the Dark Lord comes to destroy the world, and only you, the Chosen One can stop him." -said the priest. "So, do I need to get a magic sword from the Lady of the Lake?" - I asked "No, just press this button please, everything else has already been taken care of" | "Just push this button and that's it?"
"Yes"
"That seems... anticlimactic. What exactly happens when I push it."
"Complex magical interactions. We could explain, but to teach you the intricacies of it would take years, oh Chosen One."
"Please stop calling me that, it makes me uncomfortable."
I hesitate.
"Just the gist of it?"
The elder sighs.
"The gist of it is that by pressing the button, you close a magical circuit. This magical circuit is connected to a network of gems. These gems are enchanted with a series of spells that tap into the aetherial energy network connecting all beings.
We renew the energy in the gems and protect them from interference by the Dark Lord and his allies, that is essentially the purpose of this stronghold and its inhabitants... but I digress.
The gems seek out the aetherial paths of the Chosen One and the Dark One, connecting them in a way that in the past was only possible via the corporeal realm - you had to fight in order for your energy paths to cancel each other out and fulfill your destinies. Now, this is all preempted to avoid property damage and casualties."
I shrug.
"Makes sense to me. But why are you telling me all this via a hologram?"
"Well, since we do not know how the battle would take place and what magnitude it has, we choose to stay at a safe distance. Having the stronghold in this desert and having a large room like this with empty gemstones lining its walls, we have the best chances of absorbing the energies of the epic battles, as I already said, with minimal consequences."
"I see. So I might die from a huge magical explosion?"
"That is a possibility, yes."
"Thanks for the honesty."
I lay my hand on the button.
And take it away.
"How do you know I'm the Chosen One? And how does this... thing know the Dark Lord?"
"We have carefully calibrated the system to the Dark Lord's path, and we have watched yours in aetherial meditation. We are most certain."
"I see."
I lay my hand on the button again. | 'I have done it. I have pressed the button and defeated the Dark Lord!'
The dimly lit room was illuminated just enough to show the glum faces of the three boys lounging out across whatever comfy pieces of cushioned real estate they could find.
“This film is terrible. Turn over.”
The remote clacked and the channel changed.
“Congratulations, you have given birth to a beautiful … 7 of clubs.”
“Nurse, call security. Dr Blaine has done it again.”
The TV remote clacked again.
“This just in, man who whispers on Zoom calls just has a really small mouth. We go to Andrea with the story.”
Again, the TV remote clacked.
'They called it a bone garden and asked me how many sticks they could buy it for.' - We speak to the Louisiana man who was recently duped in to selling this cemetery to three dogs wearing a trench coat.
Clack.
“I'm Cliff Cliffington and we are entering the Finance Hour - the show where we interview the best young traders the country has to offer. Our guest today has a lot of detractors who believe he earned his money the wrong way. Ron Ronson was indeed born with a silver spoon in his mouth – there's not denying that. And yes he had knives for legs and tongs for hands. His head was a fork and he died immediately after birth but that hasn't stopped the budding entrepreneur from becoming one of the richest pieces of cutlery in America today.”
Clack.
“Today on 'Construction, Construction, Construction' we're at the Bessington Palace renovation where the Site Foreman has a major issue on his hands – a Site Fiveman has emerged.”
Clack.
“And a warm welcome to everyone at home to the 2020 COVID Olympics!” said Ken Kennington. “Whose country is the sickest? Our data scientists are here and we’re ready to turn on some ventilators.”
Clack.
“And we come to you with some shocking breaking news as the famous piece of evidence the 'Smoking Gun' has sadly passed away after years of battling lung cancer.
Clack
“I just don't understand why if you're a, say, Kim Kardashian, you don't opt for a 9mm pistol hand or a shoulder cannon when paying so much for body modifications.”
Clack.
"Hello, and welcome to a very special episode of Rogue Traders. Today we have time traveled back to 1939 France to take an in depth look at the Maginot Line."
Clack.
“And here we have a great example of an employee going the extra mile by wearing two ties to business meetings he's not invited to.”
Clack.
The boys in the room paused.
“Just put that film back on this is getting ridiculous.”
****
My back catalogue of painfully unfunny stories can be found on /r/BillMurrayMovies. Feel free to come along, not laugh at any of them, and leave some judgement. | 2020-11-09T12:50:06 | 2020-11-09T12:10:32 | 116 | 81 |
[WP] All your life, your best friend has had your back. This is why their unexpected death hits you so hard. Two days before the funeral, you receive a couriered letter. “If you’re getting this, I’m dead. Don’t come to my funeral. They will find you.” | He was still looking after me even the day before he died. I still remember the worried look on his pale, too-thin face as he glanced at my ringing phone, “potential spam” glowing on the screen. “Don’t answer it Harry, no good will come of it if you do.” I didn’t answer it. I knew from our long friendship that Tom’s words were to be listened to.
It’s odd that this trivial scene, which had repeated itself many times throughout the years, popped back into my mind so vividly as I read Tom’s final words to me. “If you’re getting this, I’m dead. Don’t come to my funeral. They will find you.” What could this mean? Why could he possibly want me to miss his funeral? He had even had me help plan it with him in his last days. My mind wavered between my faith in Tom’s advice and my desire to see him one last time—even if it was in a casket just before burial. Eventually, foolishly, my own selfishness won. “Tom was so ill” I reasoned to myself. “Surely this is just some of his paranoia brought on by death. I can’t miss his funeral anyway, I’m the one planning it after all!” Looking back at it now, I curse myself for being so blind. Ignoring the signs, the fear in Tom’s eyes in those moments where he warned me—saying what he could in order to keep me safe, keep me under their radar.
I went to the funeral. It was nice, as funerals go. Some people brought cake, little trays of sandwiches, and casseroles. Others brought enough flowers to fill the room to bursting. One especially decent mourner brought a case of whisky. Despite the words of comfort, the greasy food, and the booze, I felt a strange foreboding washing over me. As the day wore on, I became more and more restless. Somehow, despite being in the midst of a crowd, I felt alone—alone and watched. It was hard to sit still through the service, and I was glad for the drive to the graveyard which helped to sooth my nerves somewhat. At the gravesite my neck prickled more and more. Like an idiot I chalked it up to grief and the whisky. I should have known then. Known what my animal instincts were trying to tell me. Known what was in store for me.
As I walked away from the grave that contained my best friend my phone rang in my pocket. I frowned, sure that I had silenced it earlier, and fished it out, “potential spam” again glowing on the screen. To this day I don’t know what possessed me, but I answered it. Oh God save me, I answered it. A voice spoke. A voice at once familiar and that of a stranger, saying words that froze me to my core. They knew. They had found me. And they would never, never give up the hunt now. The voice purred on the other end.
“Hello Harry, we’ve been trying to reach you regarding your car’s extended warranty” | “If you’re getting this I’m dead.” Obviously, Kaz thought as he read the first words of the letter sent to him from his friend Jace. The message is scribbled on cheap notebook paper, written in his friends terrible penmanship, and it crinkles in his hand as he reads the rest. “Don’t come to my funeral. They will find you.”
“Don’t come to my funeral.” Kaz reads that over again, it’s phrased as a warning of course, but he knows his friend and his friend knows him. “They will find you.”
“Oh Jace...” Kaz whispers to himself in his darkened room, where he sits upon his bed, legs crossed underneath him. “...you know me better than that.”
Jace had been his best friend, they had done so much together, seen so much. They knew each other better than most married couples did. That’s how he knew wasn’t a warning, not from Jace. Kaz was certain of it in the same way he was certain of gravity or the sun rising.
This was an invitation.
With that in mind Kaz rose up from his bed and walked to his closet. His room was small, his parents unable to afford a big house as it was, so it only took a step or two for him to reach the door. Silently he opened it, hinges squeaking quietly, and he crouched down. With one hand he slide his row of shoes out the way to expose a bare patch of plain hardwood floor.
“Ki-vas. Nardeen. Volu. Vis. Vek. Hegus. Nox.” Kaz intoned the words solemnly, his voice reverberating to reach not only the air but something far beyond, the language itself linked to that which was removed from the physical plane. “Draconregis.”
At the last word a series of symbols light up in a circle no bigger than a dinner plate in the space where his shoes had sat. The symbols twisted, writhed, and moved as if they were themselves a living thing. They lit the small enclosure, burning bright orange, as if they had been branded into the wood with an iron.
In a way he supposed they had been.
Moments later the hardwood floor within the circle of glowing orange symbols vanished to reveal a dark hole blacker than a midnight sky. Kaz reached a tanned hand inside, his arm buried up to the forearm, to grip something hidden by the darkness. With a flex of lean muscle he pulled, inch by inch, until finally he drew out a shining silver blade. It shone as if it had its own light, washing the air in its moonlight glow, and the light danced around the contours of Kaz’s angular features. The blade was formed as one entire piece, etched with arcane symbols like the ones that had appeared when he chanted, the blade flowing into the guard which flowed into the hilt. It looked as if someone had poured liquid hot sterling silver into a mold of a sword.
Kaz grinned.
Jace was always crazy and reckless. It was a product of his friend’s lineage, no doubt, how else would one descended from his ilk act? Still, his friend always knew the best ways to start an adventure and Kaz was sure that was the purpose of the letter. It was a call to action, Kaz’s elven blood told him so, and it excited him. It was hard to find such things in these modern times, magic hidden as it was, but somehow Jace always found a way.
Standing up from his crouch, Kaz made his way back into the center of his room next to his bed, sword in hand. He lifted the blade up to eye level, inspecting the edge, ensuring it hadn’t dulled. If this wasn’t a call to adventure, Kaz thought as his eyes trailed sharp gleaming silver, and it was authentic then it didn’t change a thing. If they found him, the young elven descendant tightened his fingers around the hilt of his sword, than at least he wouldn’t have to search for them. | 2021-04-24T20:11:54 | 2021-04-24T20:09:36 | 50 | 28 |
[WP] You learn that your childhood friend is an eldritch god's vessel. One day, you go shopping with your childhood friend and talk about the past. When suddenly, a cult leader approaches your childhood friend and asks, "My lord, is this person next to you the sacrifice?" | "Oh, him? No, he's just another subordinate. He's my emotional aide." Lisia told the stranger.
I went *"What the actual fuck?"*, mouth agape as I looked from the middle-aged man to my best friend.
"Lady Lirishera, the cult has been looking for a sacrifice to control your anger-"
Lisia just puts a hand to her mouth, trying not to giggle. "Oh, don't be silly- I think I'm good."
I was just dumbfounded now. Tapping my best friend's shoulder, I asked, "Hey, uh, Lisia, what does he mean by sacrifice?"
"Well...back up until my last vessel, I constantly required a live, healthy body to consume each month, as souls were really the only thing holding me back from just, well, cracking the atmosphere like an egg. It's like trying to keep a hot thing cool with water, dude." She says calmly, before going on and saying, "But since I met you, I decided to actually try cooking with, and eventually ate, seafood and meat, and well, turns out there's traces of soul left in those poor animals, soo..."
"Wait- you're serious?" Both me and the stranger gasped in disbelief, but I continued. "So THAT is why you've been begging me to get you yearly passes to buffets this whole time!?"
She sweeps her long, black hair with her right hand, before chinning up and putting her hands on her hips. "That's right! And now that I remember that I have a cult, well, because I'm kinda stupid sometimes, now all I need from them instead of kidnapping people is for them to get actual jobs and pay up those buffet subscriptions!"
The man gets on his hands and knees in joyfulness, as I am startled by his sudden movement. "Oh, Lady Lirishera, Mistress of the Veil, I will follow your every command and spread your worldview to our congregation!"
"Yeah, yeah, now go find a McDonald's to work at or something." Lisia chuckled. "I'm starving, and might feel like ending the world if I don't get a Big Mac." | My face was a mess of confusion as I stared down at the well dressed man. “Is this some sort of prank?” I simply exclaimed. I looked to my friend Ana and her face was a mask of pure malice that froze me and the man alike. Everyone around us froze like statues as her eyes flashed colors i’d never seen before. “He is the most valuable thing this world has to offer.” she said with a voice like thunder. All my instincts told my frozen body to run as she said “No harm is to fall upon him under any circumstances”. The man, bowing his head “My lord the time is approach-“ his words were cut off by a blood streaming out of his eyes. “We will speak of this at a later date” Ana said, only now I noticed her mouth was unmoving. The man said nothing as he walked away with bloodshot eyes, and with a flash all the market goers went back to their normal affairs as if nothing happened. As I stood there in shock attempting to not throw up Ana looked over to my with and embarrassed face saying “I guess I owe you and explanation.”
possible part two later
sorry if its trash
Part 2
“So what exactly are you?” I began as we sat in the car. “When I said i’d explain I was thinking a bit later” she said. This was the sort of thing that couldn’t wait my curiosity was just too much to handle “Nope need to know now” I said quickly. With a sigh she began “ I am not quite human, and it all starts 22 years ago.”. “Wait like when I was a baby?” at this she gave an amused look “I’m a bit older than you think.” she said. At that line I decided to forget everything I thought I knew about her. “22 years ago I was a being composed of the mental energy of millions, I was a collection of minds and emotions all colliding loosely bound together into a consciousnesses.” I gave up on attempting to wrap my head around that information and decided to continue listening silently. “After a millennium of nothing but absorbing knowledge, emotions, and consciousness we wanted to be more than an observer to existence so we decided to give up the last remnants of our individuality to become energy that was condensed down into a single mind and a fabricated body, and that’s when I found you.” at that I began to remember. I met her outside an old food joint I frequented. She looked confused and in awe at my sandwich, thinking she was homeless I gave it to her and went about my day only to find we worked together and became fast friends. “I may have mind controlled the boss into giving me the job because you were the only person I knew” she said with a embarrassed face and the rest is history that guy just happened to be a cult that wants me to return to my old form but I just keep them around for their money.”. For a moment I sat in stunned silence, after a time of blank staring I said the first thing to come to mind “I’m the most valuable thing this world had to offer?”. | 2022-05-07T14:34:19 | 2022-05-07T12:28:16 | 213 | 42 |
[WP] Aliens have finally discovered Earth - but they're not hostile. They've tasted human food, and they think it's so astonishingly good that Earth is becoming an alien tourist hotspot. | "I want to go to Taco Bell. Many sapients say it is the best food in the galaxy."
Golbur looked at his companion, who was holding a guidebook in her claws. "Did you just read that in the book?"
Julix looked up from the book. "Yes, but they must be good. Otherwise why would there be so many of them?"
Golbur adjusted his eyestalks to get a good look at the book. "I believe that their frequency is just a holdover from the human's Fast Food Wars. Plus it seems like they mostly serve carnivores."
"No, no. It says that scientists have been able to detect only trace amounts of real meat in their food products."
Golbur allowed himself to be dragged through the door. This restaurant location did seem to cater to non-humans, at least. He saw several Vulcans, Xenomorphs, and a Tralfamadorian sitting in the humanoid section. The hostess led them to a section with cushioned lounge seats that would fit their carapaces.
The hostess was overly cheery. "You'll please excuse me if I don't recognize your species. Would you like the Green menu, the Blue, or the Red? We also have a White menu for omnivores."
Golbur responded with a smile that made the hostess flinch only slightly. "The Green, thank you."
The hostess handed over menus from her stack. "Our Green special today is the Doritos Vegi-sushi Chalupa Supreme. I highly recommend it."
Julix was ignoring her menu and looking at the table next to them. She pointed at a spiky object on the table. "I want that!"
The hostess turned to look where she was pointing. "I'm afraid that item is on the Black menu. Approved species only."
"It's a plant, right? If it's a plant we can eat it. We can digest anything on Earth. The doctors said so." Julix turned one eyestalk back to Golbur, pleading.
"Okay, one Durado Vegisucky Chilpa Soup Ream and one of whatever that spiky thing is." When the hostess hesitated, he continued. "We'll sign a waiver."
\-----------------------------------------
It took Julix five minutes to claw open her spiky fruit. Golbur waited patiently to start his own food until she was ready. "Why did you order that?"
"It's spiky. That means the inside is delicious. Otherwise it wouldn't have to protect itself." She finally got the top off, exposing bright yellow flesh. "Oh, it smells wonderful."
"Perhaps we should scan it?" Golbur spoke too late. Julix was already biting off chunks of the fruit.
"Oh, I was right. It is good. So goob. Wat? Miy wips theel weird. Why iz eberyting tingling?"
Golbur pulled out his scanner and got a sample of the fruit. "Oh, dear. It says it has an enzyme that is attempting to digest you from the inside. The humans call it a Pine Apple."
Julix continued to eat as she fell to the floor. "Still worth it."
\[More writing at r/c_avery_m\] | "Commander Blarg," barked the bulbous green commandant, "we have arrived at Earth, sir."
Blarg swivelled his eye stalks over to his adjutant and made a contented squelching noise.
"Very good, Commandant, very good. Commence with orbit. Open communications with the - what was it? - oh yes, United Nations Space Embassy."
The underling wobbled affirmitively and pressed a few blinking computer buttons with flagellant appendages. The computer binked and bonged happily for a few moments. A face then materialised on the main viewscreen. It was disturbing - a sort of fleshy ruddy colour, quite opaque, topped in a mop of stringy stuff. Blarg and his bridge staff gallantly hid their cringing revulsion at the bizarre alien.
"Hi, guys!" the Earthling tooted. "What's up? Quite the space ship you have there!"
Blarg bristled, but held himself in check.
"Hail Earthling! We travel to you for, uh, the purposes of commercial negotiation."
"Oh, how nice," replied the human. "What commercial outfit would that be?"
"ZacZonaldz, of course! And in our fabulpus flagship, the Death Star!" announced Blarg. His feigning of glee and cheer was very convincing for an amorphous mega-single-celled entity. He waved around with his pseudopodia and, with a gesture, impelled an orderly dustbin robot to quickly send a Space-Mail to the human negotiator.
The human raised its eyebrows (disgusting!) and received the letter with glee, holding it aloft in bizarre bony manipulators.
"Ooh," it cooed, "a leaflet! The 'Death Star Orbital Space Drive-Thru', finest of Galactic eateries. Coming soon to a star system near you!'. Well, that's tremendous, I'm sure. But what would our humble gastronomic tradition have to offer you?"
The human went through an embarassing account of literally stellar cuisine - everything from cajun fries to Siberian jellied ice fish - all of which was so completely delicious and fresh that damn near every sentient and sapient creature the Galaxy across was flocking to this backwater blue ball. And, Blarg glowered, taking a vast chunk out of the Galactic fast-food market in the so doing.
"Yes, yes," chuckled Blarg, interrupting the human with a certain edge of desperate embarassment, "all very good! Very good indeed. And that's why we're here!"
Blarg coughed (as far as a pseudo macro-unicellular organism can) and signalled towards a new hologram that shimmered up beside him, rather like a newscast. He pointed eagerly towards it.
"Behold, Earthling! Our plan for the greatest culinary takeover - er, I mean, partnership - in Galactic history!"
Blarg patiently explained the options described in the hologram. The human received them with increasing levels of incredulity. Mashed Cat, Fried Grass, Chicken Lollipop, and Iceberg Soup really didn't sound terribly pleasant.
But, then again, these are the experienced professionals, aren't they? The human mulled Blarg's propositions. Well, it'd be jolly unfriendly not to let them have a go at some of this food.
"Alright," said the UN negotiator. "Sounds fine to me! Probably can't legally fry cats, I'm afraid, but the icebergs, grass, and chicken ones should be fine. Garlic Smoothie should be quite the pungent hit!"
And, with that, the UN signed off on a deal eagerly embraced by the galactic fast-food conglomerates - to their horrendous disaster, as their new menus proved so apallingly vile as to drive them all out of business forever. So grievously offensive were their ideas that the Padishah Emperor of the Galaxy, Zoggam XI, declared galactic fast-food illegal.
The Galaxy flourished for a thousand years under the guidance of true Earthling cuisine, and all concerned ultimately lived happily ever after. | 2022-06-10T09:03:12 | 2022-06-10T08:49:21 | 165 | 52 |
[WP] You, an infamous supervillain, have just come up with the perfect plan to destroy the League of Heroes; take the entire League to court on charges of child abuse due to their use of multiple underage children as sidekicks. | # Dr. Doomsday
I strode down the halls of my fortress of Doomitude, exchanging pleasantries with the minions of the Doomsquad as I passed them by. I was making more of an effort to come across as genuine in these small greetings, after one rebellious teenage minion had accused me of fake flattery.
If that kid Steven wasn't the son of my nemesis, WalkMan, and my godson, I would have reprimanded him for his outburst. But in the end, he was still a teenager, in what I could tell was his first serious relationship. Emotional outbursts were expected for a kid...
I stopped in my tracks, freezing in the middle of the hallway. A minion walked right into my back, bouncing off of my unexpected impression of a roadblock. I helped the minion back on his feet, offering a distracted apology to the man.
That was it. That was the final piece of the puzzle I needed to put my entire plan into action. Troublesome teenagers had a habit of being overly dramatic, and heroes often had teenaged sidekicks.
I may have struggled to defeat certain superheroes in combat, but this could defeat them in a court of law.
I raced down the hallway back the way I had came from, hurrying to find my legal team. I flew past my own office and continued down the hall, narrowly avoiding my logistics manager Stephen and his husband Glenn. I flashed the couple an apologetic smile as I rounded the corner. Finally, I arrived at the legal department of my Fortress of Doomitude.
I had always found it prudent to have a team of lawyers on staff, since my entire organization was based around breaking the law. Many of my minions were free today thanks to the men and women in this office and their legally grey dealings.
"Child Abuse!" I shouted, pausing to catch my breath after the unexpected quarter mile sprint. The youngest lawyer on my team, Tiffany, poked her head out of a file storage room, giving me a puzzled look.
"You want to... abuse children?" She asked, tentatively clutching a manilla folder in her hands.
I shook my head and waved one of my metallic hands. "No, no, I want to sue any active heroes that use underage side-kicks. Claim they're endangering them, forcing them to work long hours..."
"...by making them fight with us." Tiffany said, adding on to my sentence.
"Precisely!" I exclaimed, snapping a robotic finger. A spark flew from my palm from the sudden strike of metal fingers on metal hands.
Tiffany mulled the idea over in her head. I could see her eyes flicking back and forth as she thought, darting between the related areas of the human brain as she activated each neuron in sequence.
"It's plausible" she said at last. She placed the manila folder back on the shelf, her previous task put on hold. "We would need to first uncover the identities of each hero and sidekick, get documented proof of endangerment, confirm that the sidekick isn't a child or other relative of theirs..." She glanced towards me again. "Did you want to bring each lawsuit individually, or as a single large scale suit?"
I smiled. Tiffany was going to be a valuable asset to the Doomsquad.
"Which would tie them up in legal proceedings for the longest?" I asked, crossing my arms and leaning on the side of the door frame.
Tiffany let out a small 'hmm' sound as she thought. "Maybe we can do a class action lawsuit against them all in criminal court, and individual lawsuits in civil. That would tie up twice the resources."
"Do *we* have enough resources to pull this off? I don't want this backfiring on us and bankrupting the organization." I asked. I knew the ballpark figure of the monetary holdings of Doomsday Inc, the shell company that all of the organizations and departments were legally under, but I wanted to make sure I wasn't handing a double-ended to my enemies.
"I'll set up a meeting for this afternoon" She said, walking back to her desk. "I'll invite this whole department, accounting, and planning. Would you like to include anyone else?"
I smiled. "Yes, Steven and Stacy, in logistics. I'd like to get the teenager's opinions in this."
Tiffany looked up at me from her desk chair. "But Doctor, won't they be opposed to something like this?"
I cackled. It always felt good to let loose a genuine villainous cackle. "I'm counting on it."
/r/SlightlyColdStories | \[**Author's Note**: Continued from [a previous writing prompt](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/w3wcai/comment/ih19623/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3).\]
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*Trish "Mary Jane Doe" wondered into her best friend Trey "The Galvinizer's" private lair hidden inside of the long abandoned Perdition Dam, just up the river from Pembroke City. The Dam had become abandoned after a bio-terrorism attack was unleashed there by the long-dead "Toxic Shocker" poisoned the waters and dam itself. Incidentally, Trey's adopted grandfather. The place was quite safe, but it was fear that kept the "normies" and heroes alike at bay. Trish had been summoned, off the heels of her debuet as plain-old Mary Jane Doe. She'd taken his advice, and draped herself in clothes that seemed to have been picked out by somebody blindfolded, and shopping at the lowest of thrift stores. In truth, she'd just stolen them from Pembroke City's homeless camps.*
"You wanted to see me?" *She asked, stepping around Van De Graaf generators, Jacob's Ladders, and those plasma-ball things you find at those novelty shops in the mall. Trey was standing next to a* Dr. Strangelove *style war-room table, looking over stacks of paperwork and dossiers. Near, were old Cold-War era super-computers. They were those old reel-to-reel things she'd always felt were old-school villain swag. Trey turned around, and smiled under his articulate mask.*
"Yes! Glad you could make it m'dear." *Trey's enthused English accent rang out.* "I've just formulated my plan to take down this generation's Hall of Heroes League."
*The oddly dressed woman, blinked, and brushed her raven black hair from her alabaster cheeks.* "That's bold - to put it mildly. I think since it was founded in 1865, perhaps only 4 people have ever succeeded at taking down every sitting member."
"Correct! Though if one counts collateral damage that lead to death *after* the attack and subsequent capture of that villain then that would make five. First was Tugboat Thomas in 1887, second by hero-turned villain Captain Cooper in 1929, third by The Creature in 1964. Incidentally that event racked up the highest body count at 15, the previously mentioned collateral deaths in 1978 in this case. Fourth was Donna of the Dead, your Grandmother's tag-partner in 1993. The fifth, and final attack was in 2012 by the dreaded Copy Pastor."
*Trish, scrunched her brow.* "Wow. Nerd."
"Oh hush. Anyway, I don't want to kill them as the others did - rather, I'm going to kill their careers! If this works, not one city will want them operating there. They'll have to live with their shame, or do something far more dire."
*Trish sighed, and folded her arms.* "Okay there genius, that if I recall, got a B in 'Mastermind Plots', what is your big plan/plans?"
*The Galvanizer blinked, offended.* "To start my grade was actually an A-. That call was strictly retaliatory because she hated my dad. Anyway, so here it is..."
*Trey gestured to the paperwork, and Trish gave it a mild glance before giving him her attention.* "You're going to paper-cut them, then fill the air with lemon juice rendered into mist?"
"No...though I *do* want to steal that for later. Ive been in talks with the Mightier-Pen Society, the league of lawyers. I plan on suing all those goody-goods. The charges are going to be related to child-related crimes."
"So, you're going to what, send them 'that' kind of stuff, and then report them?"
*Trey clapped both hands to his cheeks in horror.* "Trish, we're super-villains, not supremely evil. Anyway, no. It's going to be things like 'corruption of a minor', 'contributing to the delinquency of a minor', 'child endangerment', possibly even 'child neglect'. I have the medical records of all the sidekicks of those glittery curs! Every injury, or death at the hands of us villains. I'm going to use the courts to be them all at once! No matter what happens, their reputations suffer! If found guilty, then they look like crap. If they fight it and win, the facts of my case will still be clear. They're just terrible around kids."
*Slowly, Trish's palpable skepticism bled away to a malevolent smile.* "That's, actually quite good. I'm in. What's my part?"
"You keep up your random attacks, but now with greater frequency. That should draw out one of them. Then, target the sidekick to hurt them in front of everyone. I can use it to show incompetence, and even ineptitude."
"Death?" *Trish asked*.
"The deadlier or more violent, the better. Now, fly my little pretty! Fly. Fly!"
*Unamused, Trish coughed.* "I *can't* fly, but I'm on it." *She spoke, before turning to leave.*
"Cry havoc! And let slip the fog of war!" | 2022-07-21T08:27:25 | 2022-07-21T04:32:50 | 147 | 44 |
[WP] The villain stares, confused. This was the hero destined to kill him. This was the hero destined to 'save the world'. This was the hero who trained their whole life to kill him. So why... why did he surrender to his guards? He should know that he'll be imprisoned forever, with no way out... | I don’t know how long I waited on Everit’s couch before he returned. In fact, it wasn’t until I heard glass shattering on the kitchen linoleum that I realized he was even here. I didn’t flinch as I heard the cocking of a gun followed by a sharp, “Who are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”
That was a good question. Why was I here? Who was I? These questions sent more pain through my heart as I tried to come up with something to say.
“Don’t wanna talk, eh?” The soles of his shoes squeaked slightly as he moved from the kitchen to the living room, “Do you even know who I am? Do you know what I can do to… you…” His voice trailed off the moment he entered my peripheral vision.
I turned slowly to face him, my muscles screaming out in pain as I watched the emotions flash across his face. Gone was the arrogant boy who made a game out of using me for bait to trap my brother. Gone was the cautious, calculating boy who could read people like a child’s picture book. Gone was the boy I thought I knew, just like I thought I knew my own brother.
“I don’t know,” I swiped my tongue over my dry, busted lips, “I don’t know who I am anymore. I don’t know who anyone is anymore. The only thing I do know is that after all this,” I motioned to myself, wincing as my muscles cried out in protest, “I ran until I couldn’t run anymore. Then I walked until I couldn’t walk anymore. Then I kept moving until I found a place where I felt safe.” A single tear made it’s way down my cheek, stinging as it dripped over a few scratches on my skin.
Everit lowered his gun while I spoke. He watched me for a few seconds before asking, “If you wanted somewhere safe, why didn’t you go find your brother?”
I smiled tiredly at him, feeling my lip split even more as another tear fell down my face, “And here I thought you were the smart one between you and my brother.”
I watched Everit go from confused to surprise to thoughtful to pure, unadulterated rage in a second. He clenched his jaw as he carefully reset his gun, put the safety on, and placed it on the cabinet behind him. Then, he opened one of the cabinet doors and pulled out a first-aid kit and started towards me but stopped halfway.
“Is it okay if I help you? Or would you rather do it yourself?” His voice was unnervingly soft, a stark contrast to the flames of anger in his eyes and his white-knuckles grip on the first-aid kit.
“You would have to regardless. I wouldn’t know which medicine tubes to use.” I responded, sliding stiffly to one side of the couch.
After a moment’s hesitation, Everit finally sat down next to me and opened the box. He carefully took one of my arms and examined the scrapes on my elbows and wrists. He was being so gentle, but why? He could just as easily use me as bait for another trap, and then my brother would come rescue me and tell everyone how I had been tortured and almost killed by the evil Everit. Make a whole show of it, all to rally more people to his side. | “You seriously think I’m stupid enough to fall for your trick?” Noctus Sol stared at his arch enemy, currently bound in chains and suspended between two of his giant guards. “You get yourself captured to sneak in. I toss you into a cell. You escape, find me, and eventually kill me.”
“How else was I supposed to sneak in? You made your guards impervious to magic!” Solaris spat. “As for the killing you, I don’t take lives!”
“You’re going to toss me into the realm of darkness.”
“Actually, I was thinking maybe the Distortion Universe.”
Noctus noticed the throne room felt unusually warm. Considering Solaris was a humanoid sun, he didn’t think much of it. Wait. Why was Solaris grinning? Is he getting brighter? It dawned on him.
“Wait! You can’t! You could destabilize the universe!” Noctus cried out.
“Now you get it. About that,” the chains melted. Solaris floated free. “You didn’t think I would place wards to contain the blast?”
“You’ll die!”
“So will you.”
“Your system!”
“My son ascended to take my place.”
Noctus thought frantically. He’d played neatly right into Solaris’s hands.
“Your family?” He tried uselessly.
“They know.”
The heat increased. Noctus noticed grey splotches on Solaris. His light was so bright that mortal eyes would be blinded if they beheld him. Being a humanoid sun himself, the light didn’t affect Notus’s eyes.
“You’re sick!” He cried out.
“Precisely.” Solaris’s voice took on an echo. “I am already dying. Instead of dimming into a Neutron Star, I chose this!”
Now Noctus had to close his eyes. He turned to run, only to find white chain holding his feet in place. “No!”
“Thought you could flee?” Solaris grabbed him. Noctus screamed as Solaris’s deadly heat began to consume him. He fought for freedom, but Solaris’s grip was too strong. Moments later, Noctus realized Solaris had chained them together.
The heat was unbearable. Mortals would have already been cinders long before now. Noctus saw flames licking his body. He found himself crying, his tears turning to steam the second they left his tear ducts. He tried again to break free.
“For your crimes against the cosmos, you shall pay the ultimate price!” Solaris’s voice seemed to come from everywhere at once. “As your punishment, perish in my supernova!” The light was so bright that even Noctus could no longer see. Flames eagerly consumed him. He went limp, resigned to his fate. The pain was over in an instant.
Outside the palace, the wards contained the explosion but couldn’t hold back the powerful shockwave that raced free. Far in the distance, Solarita closed her eyes in grief. She raised a hand and redirected the shockwave toward a dead zone.
It was over. Solaris would collapse into a black hole. He would spin himself into ribbons and fade away. It was better this way. He wouldn’t have to suffer through the agony of becoming a neutron star.
First his body would swell as he became a red giant. His skin would split apart as he swelled, until all that would be left would be muscle. His organs would swell. His skull and rib cage would be surgically removed to give his organs more room to swell. There would be great agony. The swelling would vanish, his body turning white and wrinkled. His joints would lock into place. His organs would shrink until they were lumps of white rock.
As her people were immortal, Solaris would be stuck in that shriveled shell, unable to interact with the world. He wouldn’t be able to eat or drink, or even be able to go to the bathroom. He would be stuck like that until the Universe ended.
Her son had chosen to sacrifice himself to spare himself that fate. Solarita had not tried to stop him, nor had his family. He’d waited until after his son, Brighton, had ascended to the throne before leaving.
Solarita returned to the Sol system. | 2022-08-17T21:01:31 | 2022-08-17T18:29:22 | 36 | 21 |
[WP] You own a bar & grill where the 3rd dimension meets the 4th. Simply put, anyone from any time and any place on Earth can walk in at any moment. | Every day the walk gets a little longer, but every day I come back for the cobbler. Most days I get peach, but today I was in the mood for cherry. I walked past the long mahogany bar, empty but for a sole occupant, full almost until the end of the row, ready to take my seat. The occupant in the first seat looked nervous and skittish. I paused, set a hand on his shoulder unsteadily. “It’s going to be okay. I promise, in a way nobody else will ever be able to. You’re going to be fine.”
I continued my journey, eyeing the occupant casually. Remembering. After a few moments of walking past chairs, the general atmosphere became more welcoming, more casual. The occupant had started to become more comfortable with the situation, but hadn’t yet thought of what it really meant.
There was the depression I knew I would see, when they started counting and saw just how many chairs were ahead. When I realized I was only going to be able to have so many slices of pie.
I walked past my stages of grief, a remarkably short series of occupants thanks in no small part to reassurances from… Ah. I walked back just a bit, put a hundred note on the bar between those few. “This pie is on me, friends. I can afford that.”
I continued past my divorce phase, past my second marriage. Past lucking into a great job and a daughter.
The last few patrons paused in their conversations long enough to stand for me.
I stopped at my spot at the bar. I knew it was my seat, because it was the only one left. I looked back over the long, exhausting walk and smiled. | On the corner of State and Main, there sat a small, wooden building. The Big Gamble Bar and Grill. It sat there like it had existed since the begininng of time, but also like it had existed backward from the end.
This was peculiar to Paul because he had lived here for all of his 25 years and had never encountered this particular building before.
The smell was enticing. The combination of grilled meat and stale beer drew him closer. As he inhaled deeper, he recognized the smells were just off - like someone wanted you to smell grill and beer, but had never actually smelled it themselves. Close enough though.
Paul slid through a panel door, glass door, revolving door, automatic door - it was all of them once and also more, and none. It was the strangest feeling Paul had ever experienced, but now he was inside. Long tresle tables and low kotatsu, elegant dining tables and high top bar tables were strewn about haphazardly in a space that seemed way larger than the building suggested. He could not see the far wall, nor the walls to his side. Behind him, the door was gone, replaced with an endless expanse of tables. He spun around, naseuated by the feeling of the infinite.
"Sir?" Came a voice directly beside him.
Paul started, shocked by the sudden closeness. "Erm?"
"Table for one, sir?"
"Uh.."
"Right this way sir, and here we are." The Waiter didnt move, nor did Paul, but they were at the table.
Paul, for his part, sat at the round hi-top. Suddenly the room was a bustling 1920's speakeasy. Soft jazz and cigarette smoke filled the room. A tumbler was pressed into his hands and laughter sounded all around him. He looked around, seeing faces that certainly did not belong. That was definately Margaret Thatcher and Queen Victoria at the table near the stage, and Charles Darwin was arguing with a man Paul had never before seen, but knew to be from the history texts to be Socrates. Paul took a drink from what turned out to be a very smoky whiskey, that most definately was not whiskey. Then the music started.
Marilyn Munroe and Marilyn Manson began to sing while Johnny Cash strummed along. Beethoven crashed against his piano and Ringo Starr kept time. It was the most beautiful thing Paul had ever experienced. He finished his drink, and the Waiter came back.
"Time to go sir, but you will be here forever." | 2022-09-05T23:46:01 | 2022-09-05T22:26:00 | 197 | 27 |
[WP] The alien invasion force had arrived to finally conquer earth and destroy the humans. Unaware that humans had gone extinct long ago and the one responsible was still there. This was a death trap they were walking into and against which the alien civilization has no hope for survival. | "What do you mean, *gone*?"
"Wiped out, your holiness."
"By *what*?! We're the only type 4 civilization in this quadrant of the universe! The energy commission ordered us to bring back the whole planet worth of souls, and now we have nothing!"
"Not *nothing*. Among the blood, gore, and strange polygonal symbols scattered everywhere, we did find one lone survivor. We're bringing him in now."
The control room door slides open and a single man is prodded through the doorway, his lips curled and an expression of pure, unadultrated rage worn on his face.
"We found him just standing over a coffin, surprisingly docile. He was wearing a green, armored bodysuit fitted with technology beyond what this civilization should have been capable of possessing."
The fleet priest recoiled. With a look of fear, anger, and defeat in his eyes, he shouted, "You fools! Do you know what you've just done?!"
As the foreigner's hand closed around the priest's neck, the priest managed to utter his last four words: "You've DOOMed us all." | Believe me God emperor Xenophon, we are no longer the supreme beings that we once thought we were. I need not but a hundred words to tell you of the demise of our grand galactic fleet. The horror that befell humanity shall now be our demise too. We entered the Sol System on galactic date 459-562, and detected no signs of transmission from Sol. We thought they knew we were coming and our only option was a blistering assault to catch the planet's defenses off guard. We sent out all of our troop transports and to our surprise none were shot down in orbit. We quickly pulled back as we knew this must be a trap. We then scanned the planet to find high density populations to see where they may launch their ambush from. We only detected a single life form. Cautiously we sent over 100,000 shock troops to their location.
Once they arrived they quickly encircled the point where the lifeform was. It was a single human. Our men told him to surrender, but all he had to say was “Nothing is stronger than family”. All of our troops were quickly taken out by a 1970 Dodge Charger and an instant later we detected it in low earth orbit. Before we knew it, he began ramming into our ships, tearing them apart from the inside and causing them to explode. We fired our ion cannons but somehow he was able to outrun the beams themselves. My God Emperor, he was faster than light! We even fired the prototype FTL missiles, the ones capable of 0 point turns and somehow he was able to outmaneuver them! Nearly the entirety of our Armada was decimated by the time I was able to get my FTL drive up and warp back here. My God Emperor, Family is coming! Nothing is stronger than family! Suddenly the doors to the Emperor's chambers were thrown open, there stood the same being from Sol, who simply spoke, “That’s right”. | 2022-11-02T07:08:28 | 2022-11-02T03:00:51 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] The alien invasion force had arrived to finally conquer earth and destroy the humans. Unaware that humans had gone extinct long ago and the one responsible was still there. This was a death trap they were walking into and against which the alien civilization has no hope for survival. | I am the last of my kind ,the last human
After a ritual gone horribly wrong I absorbed the life force of every human on the planet, I thought at first it was just humans but it turned out any sentient life that came to close suffered that fate… the first time aliens came to earth I remember seeing one of their large capital ships hit the moon as they tried to flee , a smaller one landed not to far from where I lived and I seen them writhing in pain as they touched foot on the planet
I wish that I could undo that ritual and die but I can’t , I even stole the ship and went to space and hoped that the vacuum would be enough but here I am… it took me a hundred years almost but I learned there technology enough to pilot most of there ships , i set up a graveyard of ships around the solar system… a warning… and sent out distress signals with as best of a do not attempt to return as possible
I returned back to earth , it was my home for eternity I suppose , or atleast however long several billion lifetimes was… | Believe me God emperor Xenophon, we are no longer the supreme beings that we once thought we were. I need not but a hundred words to tell you of the demise of our grand galactic fleet. The horror that befell humanity shall now be our demise too. We entered the Sol System on galactic date 459-562, and detected no signs of transmission from Sol. We thought they knew we were coming and our only option was a blistering assault to catch the planet's defenses off guard. We sent out all of our troop transports and to our surprise none were shot down in orbit. We quickly pulled back as we knew this must be a trap. We then scanned the planet to find high density populations to see where they may launch their ambush from. We only detected a single life form. Cautiously we sent over 100,000 shock troops to their location.
Once they arrived they quickly encircled the point where the lifeform was. It was a single human. Our men told him to surrender, but all he had to say was “Nothing is stronger than family”. All of our troops were quickly taken out by a 1970 Dodge Charger and an instant later we detected it in low earth orbit. Before we knew it, he began ramming into our ships, tearing them apart from the inside and causing them to explode. We fired our ion cannons but somehow he was able to outrun the beams themselves. My God Emperor, he was faster than light! We even fired the prototype FTL missiles, the ones capable of 0 point turns and somehow he was able to outmaneuver them! Nearly the entirety of our Armada was decimated by the time I was able to get my FTL drive up and warp back here. My God Emperor, Family is coming! Nothing is stronger than family! Suddenly the doors to the Emperor's chambers were thrown open, there stood the same being from Sol, who simply spoke, “That’s right”. | 2022-11-02T04:39:33 | 2022-11-02T03:00:51 | 22 | 15 |
[WP] "It surprised me how much creamer Death put in his coffee."
Must contain the above sentence. Preferably 250-750 words. | It surprised me how much creamer Death put in his coffee.
“What?” he said accusingly, as I smirked at him.
“Nothing,” I replied, “I guess I just expected you to drink your coffee black.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like the taste. And you shouldn't make assumptions about people you don’t know. For instance, just because you’re overweight doesn't mean you’re going to die of a heart attack.”
“You’re right, I’m sorry,” I told him, and I took another bite of my sandwich.
“What are you doing here anyway?” I asked.
“Waiting.”
“Waiting for wh…” I started to say as the pastrami got stuck in my throat and the room became dark.
“This,” said Death. | It surprised me how much creamer Death put in his coffee.
Equally surprising was that he took on the form of a balding, 48 year old man. Instead of the expected cloak, bones, and scythe, he was rotund and looked a lively sort, if not a little pale; his fingers surrounded by flesh and he tapped his finger against the piece of toast before shoving into his mouth.
I did not think Death had an appetite.
Seconds later, he peeked down at a watch. It wasn’t anything fancy. His eyes cut across the room and he made a small pointing gesture out the window, “Watch,” he said in a gruff voice. “This schmuck is gonna get it.”
I raised my eyebrow and swiveled around to get a better view of the street outside. “What’d he do?” I asked, naively. I figured if he was calling names that it was probably going to be for a good reason. Perhaps the older gentleman in question, slowly hobbling down the street was a rapist. Maybe he killed a kid? Did he skin someone alive?
“No, he stole the last maple bacon donut from me in 2009. These assholes forget things add up and well…”
As if on cue, the older man began to slow down in the middle of the street. Seconds later, a honk and then screams from people on the sidewalk.
“Heart attack. 9:24am. Hope it was worth it, you douchebag,” Death grumbled before going back to consuming the breakfast plate in front of him.
It surprised me how much Death liked food, too.
*Edit:* Typo. | 2013-11-21T07:29:03 | 2013-11-21T06:26:01 | 50 | 23 |
[WP] Write a hero story entirely from the sidekick's perspective.
Bonus objective: The story can hint at the hero, but at no point should his/her identity, powers, or purpose be revealed.
Super bonus objective: All characters must be new and inhabit a universe of your design. | "Hey! Listen!"
I feel like I have told him this a thousand times now.
"Hey! Listen!"
It doesn't make any sense to me. He has thrown hundreds of other peoples jug viciously for wealth. The moon is nigh, but this apparently isn't an issue to some of us.
"Hey! Listen"
Five....six....seven bushes chopped to bits. When will this madness end?! I've overlooked this boy too long for him to be aimlessly meandering through our soon-to-be-damned world. I watched his hubris almost get the best of him once, can I withstand it again?
Seconds turned to minutes, minutes to hours, hours to days. All it has consisted of is the utter destruction of another ones belongings. The Tree gave us specific, sophisticated instructions, none of which have been followed. What does that Princess see in him anyhow? Better yet, what does he see in that Princess?
Something about his silent ways intrigues me. So much is said by simply saying nothing at all. Maybe it coincides with all the time spent gazing at the illuminated night sky on the back of his steed. Or could it have been how effortlessly he unsheathed his blade when I felt the most minuscule hint of fear?
Whatever it was drove me up the walls. All I could ever say was "Hey! Listen!" The attention gained from this was short lived, he could silently return to slashing his way through shrubs collecting rupees or showing our enemies their certain doom.
Was our enemies doom more certain than ours though? The moon practically lay upon the soil, and we are here breaking jugs.
"Hey! Listen!"
Suddenly, it all faded. No more moon, no more steed, no more jugs to smash. I woke up in the wake of the wind, afloat upon a red ship. A fierce lion manned our vessel, but was somehow one with it. I looked around to see the life I now lived was more surreal than the one before.
"Hey! Listen!"
Not to my surprise, again, no one listened. | He stretched his white hand languidly up from where he lay on sofa.
"The phone, boy. The phone!"
"You checked it very recently. Are you sure you want to look again. We could go for a walk..."
"No, no you fool. I must have *something* to do. My mind will not rest."
"You've just finished one! Surely you can't be needing another so quickly."
"You underestimate how my mind works, boy."
I had never seen him in such a wild fervour before. Often he would nervously pace the room, throwing glances out of the window as though desperately waiting for someone *anyone* to arrive. But this was quiet season in London and we had not had a client for some time. January was a time for new beginnings and fresh starts after all.
"Give me the phone."
"No one's called!" I cried in exasperation. I had almost preferred him when he was pacing. For last day and a half he had lain on the sofa in a deep fit of melancholy, as though naught but a new client would spare him from the torment of his great mind.
I thought with some nostalgia of the times when he had been placated by some new client and all his energy would be taken up by the problem at hand. Then his eyes would gleam with pleasure and high colour would rise in his face at the anticipation of having *something* to do.
But as I was contemplating our sorry state of affairs, the phone beeped and a new text message arrived. He jumped off the sofa with a devilish burst of excitement.
"Boy!" He cried in a hushed tone. "Read it aloud. What does it say?"
"Woman, mid thirties. Husband has left her and taken the diamond earrings that he gave her on their last anniversary. She has three small dogs and enjoys red wine and romantic comedies. What are you doing?"
He was already in the kitchen, pulling ingredients down of the shelves.
"The game, my dear delivery boy, is on! Now... Tomato, she's older, more traditional. Husband has left her, that's two different types of cheese *and* a stuff crust. She's miserable, so she'll want to overeat on carbs. Then three dogs, so anchovies, not pepperoni, so they'll stay away. Red wine... hmm... olives I think." He pulled a jar out onto the table and hopped up on the counter to pull down the last ingredient. "And onions, so when she cries at the film, she can pretend it's the food."
He had assembled everything together. He was breathing hard, and the languidness from before had gone. All petulance had disappeared. This was a man of his own making. He was:
The *Pizzaman* | 2014-02-11T09:34:28 | 2014-02-11T09:04:35 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Humanity is at war with an alien race. During a battle, a human soldier finds shelter from the rain, only to find an alien soldier taking shelter aswell. | I am too tired, too cold. War tends to do that. After watching countless friends die at the hands of Talhabi, living became an endless droning march. I suppose that's why I joined the marines in the first place. I told myself it was an act of righteous protagonism, but really, I just had to escape.
I am too tired, too cold. I've been walking for miles, trying to catch up with my platoon. The rain has been pouring for so long I've forgotten what sunshine feels like. I wonder if even the weather is reflecting dissident at the war. I notice a lean-to a bit off to my left. *Fuck it*, I think. Not like the platoon is missing me anyway. I duck underneath the ceiling and come face to face with a Talhabi soldier, gun drawn.
I am too tired, too cold. I simply sit down next to the bright orange monster. It looks confused; I doubt anyone has ever ignored it before. I pull out my hip flask and offer my cellmate a drink: It's unlikely we'll both survive whatever happens next. | He tried his radio again.
It had only been fifteen minutes since Gregory last had contact with his squad. He had volunteered to scout was left of L.A. and find a clear path for the medevac, but the downpour had slowed his progress immensely. Yet, the cold chill from his soaked clothes made him smile, having wet clothes was a small price to pay for a respite from battle. The rain itself may have slowed down his mission but he knew for the Ta’al it would mean death. It was rumored that the bigwigs knew why those ugly lizards disintegrated in the rain but any attempts at using water as weapons had failed.
Gregory continued to slosh through the ruins, struggling against the water as he made way to a small two story coffee shop with a covered balcony. As he entered the shop Gregory looked around in shock. With LA being one of the first major cities targeted, he had figured every building in a fifty kilometer radius had been blown apart, but the shop had relatively little damage. He pulled out his radio assessing it for damage, and after determining it was only waterlogged he took a seat against the wall facing the door.
It was the creak of the upstairs floorboards that let him know he was not alone. Without a moment’s hesitation Gregory unloaded half of his pistol clip into the ceiling and headed toward the staircase. The mess he made wasn’t a pretty site. He had hit the Ta’al with almost every single bullet and it was clear the lizard was going to die. He moved toward the alien keeping careful watch for any sudden movements. He had heard that when the Ta’al were close to death they stare at their killer and telepathically ask for a mercy kill. However, it wasn’t the telepathic though Gregory was interested in, he just wanted to look into that monster eyes as it suffered. His only desire as he stared into its darkening eyes, was the hope that it would feel as much pain as he did when he first saw the Ta’al feast on a fallen soldier. | 2014-03-12T20:08:35 | 2014-03-12T18:33:03 | 21 | 15 |
[WP]: every human being is born with a birthmark signifying a great deed they are fated do in their lives. Your first child has just been born, with the mark of a murderer across her face | I blinked. Rubbed my eyes. I remember those first few seconds. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing at the time. Even now I still can’t. Stretched across her face was a single word in large capital letters. KILL. Bold, dark, intimidating; paradox-like presented atop her angel-white skin.
But she was my daughter and I loved her. I loved her as any parent loves their child. I told myself things would be ok. Maybe just this time her mark would be wrong. I was naïve. A young father, dumb and stupid. Wet behind the ears.
People told me I should have tested fate; ended her life right then and there. But how could I be expected to do that? My innocent baby girl. Sweet sweet innocent baby girl.
As the years passed I held on to a shred of hope that maybe, just maybe things would be ok. She was cast out at school, even the teachers were afraid of her. I tried to tell them they had nothing to worry about but they wouldn’t listen.
All this time, I was afraid my daughters next birthday would be celebrated through a prison visitation window. But it didn’t happen. Ten, thirteen, sixteen. I saw her go to college and get her first real job. Every day was a struggle to fit in society, but year after year she beat the odds. My little baby never married though—as I’m sure you could have guessed.
I grew old. Still it never happened. Maybe, just maybe.
Eighty six years old, I suffered my third stroke. A blood clot straight to the brain. The doctors called me a vegetable; but still they kept me alive. Ahhh the wonders of life support. They said there was a chance. For days, weeks, months my body was kept running. There was nothing I could do.
She couldn’t bear to see me like this, my sweet little innocent baby. I saw the pain in her eyes. I saw her hand reach out—
All I have to say is thank you.
| The best birthmarks were always stretched somewhere across the back of the hand. The man who cured cancer had Flamel's sigil imprinted on his palm. The doctor had this small pattern of crosses on his arm. He showed it to me when he took my wife into the emergency room.
"She's in good hands. I was fated for this."
I believed him. I scratched at my own mark on my inner thigh. We believed that birthmarks were prophecies. I rejected mine. I refused that fact that I was fated for great sadness in my life. I forced myself to find happiness everywhere I went. The teardrop on my inner thigh would not define me. And it never will.
When my parents passed away, I cherished their presence. I threw a party celebrating the things they had done for the world. My mother worked to end poverty and saved the lives of many children in Africa. Her sigil fated her to save people, and everyday she would. My father worked in a bank, and the fact that he almost ruined the economy did not deter him. He knew it was coming, his fate of hurting many people. He married my mother because he thought it would balance out his prophecy. She loved him out of sympathy, and he paid for all her philanthropy.
I paced the waiting room. She is fine, I told myself. My wife was in good hands and I had nothing to worry about. I should be happy she found herself in the best hospital in the city, in the care of the best maternity ward. I should be happy that we were having our first child. I should not be this uneasy.
The minutes ticked by, then hours. I was getting anxious and read some online comics to cheer me up. The operating light had finally extinguished itself. The doctor walked out.
"Your wife's fine. I have some bad news about your daughter though."
"Is my daughter fine? I'll love her all the same even if she is Autistic or missing an arm or anything. I'll find the best of it. Trust me."
The doctor pulled out a picture. Emblazoned across the infant's face was the thin, slithering mark of a snake. The mark of a murderer. If one walked the corridors between jail cells, one would find the same marks. The most brutal of all had the most pronounced snake.
My heart sank. "She is not a murderer!" I proclaimed. "I never succumbed to my fate. I won't let her either."
"She is your responsibility now."
I leaned against the wall and crumpled into a heap as he walked around a corner. The birthmark in my inner thigh started to tingle. She would murder someone dangerous and save the world, I convinced myself. I was not sad. There would be a happy ending to all of this. I buried my face in my hands. | 2014-05-11T01:50:33 | 2014-05-10T23:53:07 | 136 | 71 |
[WP] The gods send their angels and demons down to Earth to fight the alien ghost zombies and robotic vampires being controlled by an AI overlord. | Daniel closed his laptop with a thud. His body wracked with sobs and his face hot with angry tears.
He stood, letting the laptop fall limply off his knees, and raised his fists to the ceiling, "GOD FUCKING DAMNIT ACTIVISION!" He cried "IS THIS IT?! IS THIS ALL YOU'VE FUCKING GOT? IS THIS WHAT WE'VE BECOME?!"
As the echoes of his screams rang hollow in his ears, a knock at the door pulled him out of his mind-numbing sorrow. He shuffled to the door, sniffling as he clawed at his tear stained face.
"Oh hey Dan, you right mate? I just though i'd pop round see how you are! Sorry i haven't been around much, i've been playing the new "Call of Duty: Ascending Angels 2 Modern Ghost Zombie Apocolypse" It's so good! I think i'll have to download the special 'Demon AI Overlord DLC pack, it gives you, like, a new set of shoelaces and it's only $35!"
Daniel slammed the door, all his rage and anguish evaporating into hopeless resignation. This was it. It had all come to this.
Daniel would have to play outside, and the mere thought chilled him to his very core. | Once upon a time, in a land far away there was an army of alien ghost zombies and robot vampires. Now usually alien ghost zombies and robot vampires just like to sip tea and pass the day pleasantly, carousing and strolling on the sun dappled promenade, but unfortunately it seemed their innocent lives of quiet leisure were destined to be brutally interrupted.
You see the problem was that some users in /r/writingprompts had unthinkingly insulted the Gods. I know, 'who would be so foolish?' I hear you asking, but yet, someone had done it and the Gods had read the thread.
There was a great congress in Asgard which was absolutely compulsory for all top level Gods to attend, even some second tier Gods and minor deities were advised that their presence was required. It was very serious and no-one was laughing or joking around outside the great hall before the doors were opened. They had gathered to decide what to do to get the mortals interested again.
There were lots of jolly good suggestions from all the gods but Zeus dismissed them. Everyone really tried hard to think of something better than all the rest but it was no good, whatever they came up with wasn't interesting or edgy enough for Zeus and after two weeks of brainstorming no-one had come up with anything.
"it's no good" said Zeus sadly, "the humans don't like us any more" and a big, fat tear rolled down his cheek, fell to earth and caused extensive flooding in northern waziristan.
Lights came to life on the monitor of small, super secret section of Momsbasement Division 3 and General Fedora, whipped around in his office chair. "Get me /u/acidentalmispelling they'll know how to handle this!"
Edit: damnit I forgot the AI overlord. This is exactly what always happens when you're trying to create great literature and the baby is testing the presets on the electronic keyboard next to you and your son is winding up your wife up into killer-mum setting. Now they're calling me to come see something 'cute'. I don't see how I can be expected to work like this.
| 2014-09-06T04:12:35 | 2014-09-06T01:01:44 | 142 | 40 |
[WP] Humans are born with a birthmark of a number 1-9. This is how many lives they have. You are the only person in the world that has a birthmark of a 0. | While everyone else drank, fucked and fought. I made myself better. I was an Unum. I only had one life to live. I would be damned if I would waste it.
My first girlfriend was an Octo. She had 8 lives. She told me she would be a better person. Eventually. She said she would cheat on me less, stop hanging out at the fight pits and finally kick the coke habit. She told me she'd do this when she only had one or two lives left. Asked me to stick around and wait. I didn't have that kind of luxury.
My best friend was a Duo. Even though his lives doubled mine, he acted like he was made of glass and the world was one big ass hammer. He rarely left his basement. He found the virtual world much more satisfying then the real one. I love the kid, but he didn't understand me either.
It took me a decade to prepare. While everyone else drank, fucked and fought. I made myself better. I studied harder, ran longer and learned more then the rest of those arrogant bastards had done in their myriad of wasted lives.
The human race has become stagnant. We have become fat and happy with all the chances we were given to live. I'm going to change all that. I was going to wake everyone up from their stupor. Make us work towards progress once more. I've only got one life to live. I will make it count. Who am I you may ask? You can just call me the Catalyst.
**EDIT** If you want to read my follow up to this. Check it out. https://drive.google.com/a/ssaelite.com/file/d/0B5A-KDLYcAo7ZFVCSnFWdFVYUTQ/view | Destiny. It's like life's end game. Check mate. Game over. Please insert 50 cents.
That was the life everyone else got. You get so many chances to do what you gotta do, then just like that, like the last flicker of light on a television screen, right before you hear the sizzle and the snap and it's off. That's life. At least, for everyone but me.
I'm the broken machine. You know at the arcade, every once in a while you get a machine doesn't work right. Some kid kicked it too hard and now you get to play for free. I'm that. I guess in a way, God's that kid. I was his sick joke. No death for me, I just get to go on and on like some freak show, until the whole world ends and all that's left is me.
I had someone tell me I was God once. HA! That's rich. That's the kind of shit that gets you into trouble. You start thinking you're God, then next thing you know you're locked in a cage being tested on by some weirdos in lab coats. Like I'd ever let that happen.
I remember that kid.. He was a good guy. Killing him was the hardest. He was such a fucking good guy. When he found out what I was, he did everything he could to protect me. He knew as well as I did that this secret could never get out.
That's why he should have seen it coming.
I remember tying him to that tree. I'd stab, then I'd wait. When he came back too an hour or so later, I'd stab again. I swear to fucking God every stab felt like a slit to the wrist. By the end of whole ordeal I was sweating, crying, and just kneeling there in my own puke, waiting for the last life to come. Damn genetics or whatever gave this kid seven. Anyone else would've called him lucky, isn't that just the worst kind of irony?
He was the hardest. Everyone else just felt like duty after that. I slip up, they found out, they die. End of story. I guess at some point along the line it became second nature. I'd probably killed upwards of thirty people to this day, and even now I still relive the first one.. or first seven, should I say.
Destiny. I scoff at the thought of it. What kind of sick freak is given an infinite number of chances to do something right and end up this far gone? I mean damn, I literally have the rest of the world to do something good, and I'm running around killing people out of sheer fear they might expose me.
If God made me this way, then I think I might just hate him. And if I am God, then it doesn't matter what I think, because we're all fucked anyways. | 2014-12-01T12:02:50 | 2014-12-01T11:09:47 | 43 | 10 |
[WP] You die, only to actually wake up in a laboratory, where you realize your entire life was a side effect hallucination for a drug you agreed to take for clinical trials. Your real life's memories slowly begin coming back to you. The doctors tell you you were only "out" for 30 minutes. | I died. This was not unexpected; the slowing beep of the ECG and the IV in my arm were an obvious giveaway, as were the preceeding three months of ineffective treatment. My wife and child were with me at the end, and as I died I felt loved and appreciated.
What *was* unexpected was awaking in the same environment, but with an amount of energy and life I hadn't felt in months.
As I laid there, perplexed, memories came rushing back to me. The deaths of my wife and daughter last year had sent me in to a downward spiral of depression. I lost my job, and since I had never been particularly wealthy, my home soon followed. I had been on the streets for months until I had been picked up for clinical trials by a group with apparently dubious ethics. The £1000 they offered was nothing less than a fortune to me.
The doctor looked over me with a sympathetic smile on his face. I barely heard him as he that explained that I'd only been unconcious for half an hour. During that short time, I'd regained my family. I had experienced a whole new lifetime of memories with them, only for them to be torn away from me for a second time.
Tears streamed down my face as I made a desperate plea to the doctor.
"Please, send me there again. Give me enough so that I don't come back." | The last thing that I saw was my wife holding on to my hand as I passed on to the next world...
"Mr. George? Mr. George are you awake now? John I think he's back up!" The Doctor said as I started to open my eyes. Is this what the afterlife is like? Just a doctor's room at a clinic? Really? After all that I did in my life this is what I get?
"Where am I? Am I dead?" I asked.
"No Mr. George you have only been out for 30 minutes. Can you tell us what happened when you were out?" She questioned back.
"It all felt so real, I was just there in the emergency room holding my wife's hand as I went... You're telling me that all that happened then was just a drug induced hallucination? I have no children and a wife?" By this point I was already getting my memories back from before the hallucination and knew that I was alone. That was why they had selected me for this experiment. I was down on my luck and no one was there for me.
"So you imagined that you were living another life? And you went all the way through that life? This may be a better drug than we originally thought!" She said after I had recounted my story.
"Can you send me back? There's nothing for me here and I would rather be in a coma and happy than awake and alone." I had reached my low point like I had right before I signed up for the trial.
"I am sorry Mr. George but as a medical professional I cannot allow you to OD on these drugs just because you feel lonely. I could sign you up for some visits to a psychiatrist if you would prefer?" She offered.
"No, I think I will be fine on my own, I just have one more question for you." I stated.
"What is it?" She asked.
"Could you go on one date with me so that I can at least try to lead a normal life in this world like I did in my drugged up one?"
"Well... I guess that there is no problem with it but I will only promise one date." She said.
------------------
"That was was 5 years ago today, and that is how I met the now Mrs. George." I said on my wedding night. | 2015-01-23T08:26:08 | 2015-01-23T08:01:31 | 396 | 25 |
[WP] God is pissed at a bible translator. | A 3,000 year old game of telephone, that’s what this book has become, God pondered to himself. Omnipotence feels a lot like impotence when nobody’s listening to you. God really liked the whole free will thing, but only when people did what he said. Sometimes even the all powerful can fail to recognize irony.
This wasn’t a new issue for God. His children have always had the attention span of children. He thought back on his Old Testament days. He was a bit of a dick then, but Goddamn were those some dopes he was dealing with.
“Come Rabbi, let me tell you the story of Samson,” God harkened back to the first time he told the story. God was harkening a lot these days.
“Rabbi, Samson’s a pretty cool guy. But too often he uses his strength to solve his problems-“
“Oh hell yeah! Strong guys rule,” the Rabbi said, cutting off God.
“Well yes, but he needs to learn that using your words is equally important.”
“He should have long hair!”
“Ok, sure. Now Samson-“
“Oh, and he should kill people with a donkey’s jawbone," the Rabbi interrupted.
“Wait, what the hell are you talking about?” God questioned.
“Oh, but he needs a love interest!” the Rabbi blurted.
“Jesus Christ, this is turning into a Michael Bay film.”
“What’s a film?” the Rabbi wondered.
“Sorry, I experience time in a really cool way. Now back to Samson-“
“No worries, GMan, I got all I need! Keep it sleazy, Lord!” the Rabbi said, running off to tell all his friends the new parable he learned.
“But, wait!” God exclaimed. “I still need to tell you how much I hate figs!”
| Sigh.
“I’m not..I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.” God said as he slowly shook his head. Grief displayed through his downcast eyes.
“But God I thought that is what you meant.” The man couldn’t believe this. He thought he was doing the right thing. But from what God was saying the misinterpretation was going to have abysmal consequences.
“How can you think that everything is so black and white?” God asked, looking up concern showing plainly on his face.
“The world is filled with so much beauty and also unimaginable destruction. But isn’t that part of what makes it so beautiful? The duality is evident from the celestial bodies to the building blocks of time. But going against the grain of the universe you depicted me as a perfect, all good, all knowing God. Omitting an entire other aspect of me. I want to know more! I want to discover, learn, grow! There are so many things I have yet to do.” God said, looking at him, the elation of things he wanted to accomplish, turning somber and serious. “I have made mistakes learned from them and try to go on. The flood is evidence of that. I made a terrible mistake.” God paused, moisture gathering in his eyes. “A terrible mistake.” He whispered looking down. God wiped his eyes looking back up at him. “That’s something else I don’t understand. You were made in my image. Life is difficult and arduous. Deciding what is best to do each day faced with problem and dilemma again and again. Never knowing if you made the right choice. THIS IS WHAT I GO THROUGH! Every day and every moment. It is because you were made in my image that you should know that the same issues, struggles and pitfalls you go through I go through as well except on a cosmic scale. It doesn’t get easier. But that doesn’t mean life isn’t worth experiencing. Working your way past the problems and fighting through the dilemmas learning and growing and always trying to achieve more. That’s what life is about!"
The man couldn’t believe it. How could he have made so many mistakes. “I’m so sorry!” The man was on his knees crying. The enormity of what he had done pressing down on him like the weight of the universe bearing on his chest. He felt the small weight of God’s hand on his shoulder and all the other pressure lifted. He looked up and saw God was looking down on him
“It’s okay. I’m here my son, and I love you.”
**Writers Note:** I took a different approach to this prompt. Making it less about a mistranslation and more about a misrepresentation of God. | 2015-02-12T08:58:16 | 2015-02-12T08:42:31 | 16 | 11 |
[WP] You are the first person to die on mars, when it turns out, each planet has its own version of the afterlife. | I did it. I lived to see the ten-thousandth Martian-born. She was delivered right down the hall from me, actually, here in Saint Armstrong metropolitan hospital - best hospital on Mars! That is the official motto. Easy to defend such claims when you're the only hospital on a planet.
Martian-born children are a bit different than earthlings like myself. They're much taller, obviously, but studies have noted that they're much smarter than earth-born children. We're not quite sure if it has something to do with the gravity or if it's simply because they grow up in a city filled to the brim with scientists and technologists. I don't care either way. I didn't even expect it to go on this long.
Now I lay here in a comfortable bed, in a room that was built for me. I'll be the first man to die on mars. Sixty years without a single accident or death... Who'd have guessed it? I'm 120 years old now, not the oldest on planet, just the one unlucky enough to be too worn out to continue. Still, just under average Earth life expectancy, so I guess I can't complain.
I helped build a planet, after all. I imagine I should get going! One quick press of this button and I'll be off. Ain't got time for some bullshit organ failure.
_____
Fade to darkness. Bright flash of light.
Flickering. More rapid now.
Solid, pure, white light. Infinite in all directions. No pain.
Shapes forming in the distance. What a weird dream.
[[Error. Template not found. White-slate protocol currently active.]]
Hmm?
[[Welcome, designation: Jeb Kensington, human male. You are the (first) user. You have been granted administrative rights.]]
Admini... Uh. What is this place? First user?
Words continue to form. It's hard to tell if they are massive and distant, or small and right in front of my face.
[[Query accepted. You are currently located at grid 1x1y1z of unallocated extra dimensional realm: Designation None, Territory: Sol 4. As first user you now have administrative rights.]]
Well, that is amusing. How did I get here?
[[Sapient life forms are granted the opportunity to enter this realm upon physical termination.]]
...so, this is heaven?
[[Query . . . ]]
Long pause.
[[. . . Accepted. Extra dimensional realm, shard five: designation: Heaven is located around Sol 3. Would you like to go there, designation: Jeb Kensington?]]
No, no! I'm... I'm fine here. What do I do here?
[[As primary user, you have been granted administrative rights. Administrative actions include:: Spatial modification, object manifestation, alteration of local physics and mathematical rules, modific...]]
That's enough. Where should I begin?
[[Standard protocol 1a requires custom designation for primary user. Would you like to modify your designation?]]
Yes. . .
God.
[[Designation accepted.]] | My dad died when I was six. I missed him so much, enough that part of me wanted to die to be with him again. So I'd always remind myself, when I prayed, that I'd have an eternity to spend with him someday, and even if I lived 100 years, an eternity minus 100 years is still an eternity.
I didn't live 100 years. I lived 32. And as the water filled my helmet, I thought to myself, at least I'll get to see Dad now. Well, first I thought "That fucking drinking tube." It had always been a weak link, as much as anything NASA-produced can be said to have a weak link. But once I couldn't breathe without inhaling water, yeah, I started thinking about my dad.
I could hear Murphy running toward me at the very end. We shouldn't have been out of line-of-sight. I hope he didn't get court-martialed. It was my idea. Well, he was too late, obviously. I saw black, and then white, and then God.
I think everyone has a vague idea of what God's supposed to look like. At least, everyone religious. Not the old white man with a beard you see in Sunday school, but that indescribable entity that seems to appear in your head when you pray, or contemplate Existence, or read the Gospels or the Torah or the Quran.
I still can't describe that entity, but I saw it. It was like meeting a faceless character from a dream in real life, and recognizing them. I saw the face of God, and I saw it in high definition, so high that everything I'd lived before felt like that super-low quality YouTube uses when you're on airport WiFi.
How do you introduce yourself to God? "Um, hi... uh, my Lord," was the best I managed. Then a quick and poorly-pronounced "Shalom, Adonai," in case the omniscient Creator of the Universe didn't happen to speak English.
There was no booming voice. Whatever I perceived didn't even have lips to move. Rather, ideas simply appeared in my mind. He welcomed me to Heaven, and we conversed in this strange medium for a while. It's pretty awesome to be complimented by God for your accomplishments. And also rather awkward to be chastised by God for your failures. Apparently I should've given to charity more.
Eventually I asked when I could see the rest of Heaven. I wanted to see my father, of course, and also my three dead grandparents, and my friend who got hit by a car in high school, and my next-door neighbor from when I was little who always gave me cookies.
It's hard to properly render how God communicated, but the best approximation of His thoughts here is something like: *Ah, My child, when I created the Earth, I created the Heavens above her. Only later did I create the planets and the stars. They are a separate realm within My physical creation.* This seemed to mostly check out with my recollection of Genesis 1.
*And so this is?* I wondered.
*A separate realm within My spiritual creation, My child. Separated from the Earth's spiritual realm by a vast gulf, just as these two planets' firmaments.*
It took a while for that to sink in. But time did not pass here in any meaningful way. An eternity minus a minute, and all that. I asked if He could take me to Earth's Heaven. He told me no. I asked if the gulf was traversable. He said yes. I asked how. He said it was as difficult as the physical journey, but required spiritual resources rather than physical.
After pondering His words a bit more, I began to meditate. At worst, it would only take an eternity to make myself a spiritual spaceship. And an eternity minus an eternity is still an eternity. | 2015-03-19T15:40:24 | 2015-03-19T15:38:53 | 62 | 10 |
[WP]Deities are literally born to life out of human belief systems. Unfortunately, this means that the other gods in the divine realm now have to put up with The God of Atheism. | It was like any other day for the Gods. Zeus and Thor were playing darts with lightning bolts and the Mjolnir, Jesus was pricking his fingers to fill his glass, it was the good life. Then Grothuk, God of Atheism, came in the door screaming in terror.
"GAAHHHAHA JESUS HELP ME!" He cried, "SPIDER!"
"Grothuk, you are nigh-omnipotent, why do you always go to one of us to get rid of bugs?" Answered Christ, "It should be easy for you to do it yourself."
"Because, it's ***REALLY*** scary. It'll bite me! I can't do it."
Thor sighed and spoke up, "Come on, man, it's not scary. You just gotta believe in yourself." | On Mt. Olympus things were normal, well as normal as can be with thousands of gods arguing about who was the greatest. You see humans never knew this but simply believing in gods created them in Mt. Olympus. People thought Mars and Aries were the same god but in reality they had been locked in an eternal grappling match on the marble floor ever since some warlord prayed to them thousands of years ago. But things on Olympus all changed one day when one Fox News anchor jokingly made fun of the God of Atheists and a small 8 year old watching Fox with his drunk father actually thought the god was real.
"Hello," said the God of Atheists, "Where am I?"
"DAMN IT, NOT ANOTHER ONE!!! And who may you be?" bellowed Zeus who was currently playing Shiva in a game of checkers.
"I am...the God of Atheists, but gods don't exist so I am... perplexed. Who are you and where am I?"
"Well you see I'm Zeus and we are on Mt. Olympus."
"I see, but you're a Greek myth and even though I'm looking at you, you don't exist because SCIENCE!!!" And with those words Zeus exploded sending checkers rocketing into Shiva who seemed to be mortally wounded by the flying debris. "Ah my purpose as been revealed" said the smiling God of Atheists. "I am here to purge the heavens."
And this is how all Gods were destroyed, by a God who's powers of disbelief became the ultimate weapon against them and in the end - "Now that I'm alone on this mountain I can finally work on my confidence issues but I don't really believe in myse--" And that's how the last god died.
| 2015-08-01T10:45:44 | 2015-08-01T08:49:55 | 575 | 37 |
[WP] You are an NPC in a failed online game. Tell about the final days before server shut down.
Edit 1: Holy shit! Thanks for all of the great replies!
Edit 2: ¡Jesus Cristo! Front page! Thanks all! | "I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew potions from rare ingredients!"
"I'm an apothecary, I brew po-" | It was a simple enough concept. We dig, we mine, we dig, we mine. Everyone was agreed that we were some sort of dwarves but we didn't really have any need to verify it.
We dig, we mine, and occasionally one of us would come along who could dig, and mine, and fight the cave monsters and was, well, some sort of super-dwarf. They always had different faces, always had plenty of gold to barter with, and always left without saying much but we knew it wouldn't be long until we saw the next one.
We dug, we mined, we dug, we mined. Then something happened. All of those special dwarves had come back. And they were more active than they had ever been. They dug, they mined, they dug, they mined. There were less than a thousand strong but this time they stayed with us longer than they ever had before.
They were setting up teams, workforces, tackling larger projects, digging and mining like we'd never seen before. It was a beautiful thing to see.
We cried alongside our strange wordless brethren, we fought alongside these brave warriors who'd returned, we gave it our all.
Then they were gone. So we dug and we mined and knew someday we'd tell our kin the tales of the rallying cry of the super-dwarves. There was no time for sadness. We knew their time would come again. | 2015-09-01T11:39:46 | 2015-09-01T09:31:42 | 171 | 30 |
[WP] When you die, you don't go to the afterlife of you're religion, you go to the afterlife of the religion whose tenets you followed most closely, knowingly or not. | "Valhalla!? What do you mean Valhalla!?" The monk asked angrily.
"Look pal, when the vikings attacked your monastery you fought back. Hell, you even killed one of them. That's not what monks do." Exclaimed the Valkyrie
"But I'm a god loving christian! I can't be in Valhalla!"
"Like it or not, you died in battle. That's literally all it takes to get into this place. Now go take a seat beside the other new guy." The Valkyrie said with an exhausted tone to her voice.
The monk looked around to find his seat. The only empty seat he could find was next to a large gruff looking man. The Monk, curious, asked the man "So what did you do to get in here?"
The viking looked into his eyes and said "You killed me, asshole." | You wake under a plain cloth blanket, one that you really didn't need as it's perfectly comfortable here and you're already dressed.
You remember getting pissed at Tim about the pool game and how he was being a little hardheaded on giving up the table after you'd won. But just snippets of it are coming back like the morning after a wild night out.
You look around and wonder where you are as you get up and go towards the only other thing in the room, the door.
Swinging wide it shows you a well manicured park like in a major city but with more flowers. A hipster chick sitting with a kitten smiles and turns and says "Hi, do you like cats too?"
"Huh? What's going on? Where's..."
"Shhhh... don't complain", she whispers, "You have to be nice to the kitties"
"No, I mean what the hell is going on. I don't give a shit about your cat"
"You just don't understand, you were always nice to cats right?"
"Yeah sure, why do I care"
"Well there's a girl named Aubrey and this is her heaven, anyone who has treated cats nicely every time, and saved one at a time in their life is stuck here." And the smile falls from her face and her septum piercing wiggles as she turns back around.
The urge to argue subsides a little. Cats have always been okay, you'd just never spent a lot of time with them.
You look to the right as a cute calico kitten waltzes proudly towards you, the sun in it's fur.
The hipster chick says dryly, "Take care of it, or we'll all be fucked." | 2016-03-07T20:07:55 | 2016-03-07T19:29:38 | 53 | 18 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | The lights on Ambassador Tel’s suspension tank remained static for some time. Like the rest of his species, his- *it’s* - body was a tangled web of translucent strands like a jellyfish crossed with a ball of yarn.
In their home waters, under that warm tropical sun, even a mild current had the strength to tear them in two. This was of course by necessity, forming a crucial part of their reproductive cycle, but left them totally unfit for any sort of non-aquatic travel.
So for one to undergo the invasive process of suspension, giving up months of their life to be cocooned in a steel tank filled with supportive, tear resistant gel had been my first clue to their desperation. On a hunch, I had pressed the issue and asked the Ambassador how their recent conflict had been proceeding.
The indicator lights on the Ambassador’s tank stayed static for nearly fifteen minutes. I was almost to the point of calling one of their aids to check the translation equipment when the lights began to flash and the Ambassador’s synthetic voice spoke.
“Ambassador Stewart, to put it simply, the war has been a catastrophic failure.”
I paused mid sip of my tea, then set the dish down. The directness surprised me, we were so often censored from extra solar affairs.
“Surely it’s not nearly as bad as that,” I responded, “You’re the largest of the local regional powers. You had the clout to keep us unmolested since we were still building mud huts!”
The lights flashed, “No longer, our control has shrunk to less than one hundred cubic light years. All that remains are the Home Waters, several extrasolar depots, and you.”
I felt alarm. A feeling I had not had in a long time.
The lights flashed again, “Before you respond, let me ask you something.”
“Of course.”
“Why do you think we only sponsored your colony on Alpha, as opposed to just giving you the tensor shift mechanism out right?”
The tangent caught be by surprise. I was still hung up on the thought of what type of enemy could conquer thousands of star systems in a few years time.
“When you contacted us, for the first time that is, you said it was imperative that we maintain our own path of technological development, that if we just borrowed, copied, or stole from others we would just blunt our own ability to innovate.”
The tanks lights lit up in a combination that indicated humor, “We lied.”
“Oh?”
“You’re brutal, short sighted, and violent and we wanted you controlled and suppressed so you didn’t burn across the galaxy like a cancer.”
“Oh,” was all that came out from between the surprise and shock.
“We’ve watched you for thousands of years and never once have you come anywhere near what the civilized species of this spiral arm call peace. Even now your General Adi in the South Pacific is butchering his people, and that’s only the most prolific instance of similar acts of brutality across your planet. Even your most ‘civilized’ countries wage war every other decade!”
My diplomatic training roared back to the forefront of my mind, “Ambassador, these condemnations represent a serious shift in tone from our previous meetings. While I respect that we have cultural differences-”
“It does not matter,” the Ambassador’s synthetic voice interrupted, ”I’m here to give you the tensor shift mechanism.”
Confused, and with the beginnings of anger at these shifts in the conversation, I coldly asked, “Why?”
A pause before the lights flashed again, “Because our war is about to become your war. We ask this of you. We offer the mechanisms partly because you will need it and partly in payment.”
“Payment for fighting your war?” I asked, real anger bubbling through.
“Payment for the right to beg your mercy when it’s all said and done.”
Edit: [Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/4j4mt2/wp_a_peaceful_alien_race_is_besieged_by_another/d34g067) | Our War Council was surprised when these Humans asked what we knew about the Aldins' own core worlds.
"What are their defenses, their detection systems for tracking ships jumping in from deep space?"
We told them that what we knew from our own attempts to fight in Aldin systems was that they were passive at home, that they feared no grand attacks from any societies in their region and that all our atempts to strike out at them were initially successful until our forces were either driven back or destroyed by their ships dispatched *after* we had engaged.
"They are preeminent in our space, and unafraid, their navy seems content to swat us away like the stinging bugs of your world. They have no orbital perimeters like you ask."
"Yes, my Lords, but *how* long does it take for them to come?"
"Perhaps as long as several of your earth days."
The Humans seemed shocked by this.
"How did you not destroy a planet then leave before being interdicted?"
"We were a peaceful race with no grand laser sweepers or ray blankets to attack a planet we can barely engage ships in the void, do you expect us to shoot every Aldine in time and leave?"
"These Aldines, they are city dwellers like us and like your people?"
"Yes, they live in big urban cores, besides the farmers."
The humans went on their own and were gone for some days. Aldine attacks destroyed the Faris System Navy and two of our settled worlds in that time, but in a place the Men called Dog Sector, our forces supplemented by a detachment of human advisers repelled repeated landing attempts. When the humans returned we were ready to give them anything.
"Now Councilors you can see that our detachments of military advisers have had good results in ground war against these things. But we want to win the war for you so we want at least four of your corvette style ships with crew put at our disposal for a test, an operation over a planet we designated A-1, a big urban world from your intelligence."
"Whatever you need from us you can have."
"Very good."
In good time the humans outfitted these ships in manners that seemed odd to us and drove their captains mad, I was sent along with them to observe for the Council. The humans seemed excited the whole time, touring the ships, testing the structures and the computers and always loading great munitions and other things brought special from their system as quick as we could jump them and they even told me their plan but I found it ridiculous, impossible. When we jumped for A-1 I noticed the other three ships did not jump with us.
"Slight adjustment for those boats Councilor."
We made normal time to A-1 and there were no Aldine military ships to meet us. We quickly went into orbit and the men made one last check of their payload and me and the Human Admiral watched the green planet below from the bridge observation window and he marveled at the big steel blotches of city in the landmasses.
"We are ready sir."
"Shoot the damn things then."
The admiral shook his head as the ship shuddered and a thousand trails of objects went down toward the planet, some arcing to go around to the far side.
"Dumb son's of bitches, goddamn, it's like they never figured on someone doing this."
I wondered why he was so bothered but then I saw it, hundreds of huge blasts on the surface, big red bursts, then black churnings of smoke and dirt, huge thunderheads of dead matter being sucked up and dispersed over the once day lit ground. Ground transmissions we were monitoring cut off.
"Well whoever we didn't get will be dead in a week of fallout anyways."
"Admiral, it seems you only needed one of these ships for the mission, why did you order four?"
"Well we figured we would try and cut the head off these things if what you telling us was true. We'll send word to the other three to proceed, and then we will head off to the rest of the planets in this system and do the same. Then we will jump, a day before these boys show up. Then we do it again. If it works all right we can cripple their empire or whatever in a couple weeks. Their fleets won't have a home to return to, and when they try and retaliate we'll blast them out of the sky with these missiles since none of you aliens have them or really know how they work. You won't ever have them. After we finish this up we'll talk about the piece up here we get for winning this for you. These corvettes will be a nice start, my boys say already they have our computers ready to fly them if need be. "
It was at this moment I thought about how along with these weapons the humans had brought on board a good number of their military advisers and how they more and more seemed to be stationed at bulkhead doors and armed and their smiles seemed mocking.
| 2016-05-13T06:44:58 | 2016-05-13T06:30:06 | 941 | 87 |
[WP] Humanity is long extinct, but an alien race resurrects us after finding our DNA. In time, they regret it. | "Oh no", cried Leltarth, "not on the rug, not on the rug!"
The bipedal little thing looked quizzically up from the wet patch on the floor, then smiled, burbled, and fell slowly onto its face. Leltarth sighed and gently pushed it upright with one of her spindly insectile limbs. A com-pad nearby began pulsing, informing her that Konnal was checking up on her progress.
"Accept call" she clattered. The misshapen blob looked up with eyes wide, then started to cry loudly. Leltarth rattled her leg spines in frustration, which the creature seemed to find soothing.
"Leltarth, how is your evaluation of the forerunner paleospecies progressing?"
"Not well, I'm afraid. The clone is completely helpless. At first I thought we might have made a mistake, so I went over the reconstruction and cloning transcripts but they're all perfect. But, well..."
"Yes?"
She thrummed her legs nervously as she fought with herself over the controversial hypothesis, the baby staring in rapt attention, apparently fascinated by the gyrations.
"Konnal, what if their larval form was born with only minimal instincts? What if they didn't have the level of intergenerational memory transfer we take for granted?"
Konnal remained silent, then cautiously spoke.
"It's an *interesting* idea with some precedents among known pre-sentient species, but do you really think its likely that a civilisation could reach the level of technological sophistication we've seen out there? They'd have to spend..." silence again as he made rough calculations "...the first decade or so of their lives just to become somewhat functional, and even longer to reach a point where they would be contribute to building something like the temples on Ull, or the rings of Nihar." The baby began chewing its own foot.
"That's more or less the conclusion I came to. Can you imagine such a society? The burden of raising each new child? And the fragility of it all! But it could make sense of certain peculiarities we've seen. For example, it certainly sheds a new light on the sheer volume of external recordings they left- if an individual died, anything they had failed to record would be lost. And I think I have some interesting new ideas about their so-called 'temples' which explain their layout and certain artifacts. To me, such sites are starting to look more like places where one generation could train the next. Just an idea at this point of course, but I think it might bear further study"
Konnal mused on his colleague's ideas. They were radical, certainly, but maybe she had a point. But there was a problem, wasn't there?
"Leltarth, this is fascinating but you realise what this means for our original project if true?"
Leltarth whistled sadly.
"Yes. If they did not transfer their knowledge genetically, cloning is a dead-end. We may have to fall back on analysing their written records, which could take centuries."
She turned back and gazed, partly in reverence and partly in disappointment, at the tiny human clone who was busily trying to eat the corner of her desk. It was going to be a long few decades. | "What are we to do?" Asked Keshial. She paced back and forth in the small war room and looked out over her monitors. On the screen were humans - their blue skin^1 glowing in the light cast from the sliver of one moon and the half of another. It sent their whole species into a half shadow.
"There's only one thing that can be done," Drenza nodded. He had long and twisted dark keratin protrusions that sat above his eyes. Keshial had long admired them and what they meant for his genetic traits.
There was a tightening in her body as she looked out back onto the monitors. Two of the humans - long strings of soft keratin dirty and mangled and sticking to the sweat of their blue faces - were holding stones. Keshial made a face as they grunted at one another.
"They seemed so helpless when we harvested them."
"So?" Drenza had placed his feet up on the stone table and put his hands behind his head. "Turns out they weren't."
"Maybe we could try again..." Keshial's eyes were glued to the monitors. "We have another DNA sample. We could splice them with something else. Perhaps apes."
"Apes?" Drenza raised an eyebrow. "You've read the texts and the histories. Humans are to apes what we are to yemaos."^2
Keshial sighed. She knew Drenza was right. Her finger hovered over the button that would destroy them. Part of her hoped the humans would drop their stones and go back to staring at the moons. But they were rubbing the stones together, and a spark of orange came between them. With a rough shudder she pressed her finger down on the button. There was a bright flash, and then nothing.
Drenza came up and wrapped his long appendages around her midsection. The hard keratin protrusions cast shadows on the monitors.
"They were savages. Creating chaos. There was nothing else to do."
"I just worry that they were sentient," Keshial stared at the empty pens. No carbon matter remained.
Drenza laughed and Keshial pressed her lips together. His laugh was right, of course. The idea that humans had *thoughts* or *emotions* was as likely as the haigyuns^3 someday standing on their hind legs and introducing themselves.
---
^1 since the found DNA was incomplete, humans were spliced with bits of still extant watasenia scintillans, found in the ocean of the blue planet, along with several other marine species. It was unclear in research whether the bioluminescent properties of humans was the result of their original DNA or the splicing with watasenia scintillans,and this race has no reason to concede that all species in existence did not contain this property. In fact, the race believes it makes perfect sense so that animals could get around with the light of only one moon.
^2 a yemao is a small mammal that is covered with a thin layer of string keratin that comes in several colors. The yemaos are about the size of one plankgret, making them about 1/16 of the size of a normal standing race member. The yemaos are a strangely intelligent species, often able to understand basic language and follow simple commands.
^3 haigyuns are a species of four-appendages creatures that have no joints. They are notoriously well known in science as a dissection possibility since their inner anatomy closely matches that of the race members themselves. The biggest haigyun in existence was about the size of a small table and weighed a hefty 1.5 yurgapaths, almost 5 times the heaviest race member in existence. When cut open scientists found the haigyun had four sets of internal organs with all but one set permanently damaged. This has led to the hypothesis that haigyuns - while unintelligent creatures - have a remarkable capability to grow a new set of organs should theirs become irreparably injured.
For more stories, check our r/Celsius232
| 2016-05-25T04:35:50 | 2016-05-25T02:10:12 | 1,093 | 72 |
[WP] A murderer plans their murders so that a seemingly strong case can be brought against them, a case which they can then disprove with the tiniest of details. | Success.
That is all I can think now.
Success
An educated mind can deduce that the greatest crimes in history are the ones that are never reported. I know this from experience. At of now, 22 people have died from my workings.
Within the next minute or so, it will be 23.
I say they died, because I did not kill them.
If I may, direct your attention to the genus Cordyceps. A genus of fungus which contains over four-hundred species in total, all of which are parasitic, the vast majority on insects and other arthropods. The fungus eats away at the host's tissue, and shortly before the host dies, alters its behavior so that the host seeks out the highest place it can climb to, at which point it grips whatever surface it clings to tightly and then passes. The fruiting bodies then puncture the cuticle and proceed to scatter their spores, their chances of propogation increased by the fact that their host has increased the height from which they begin.
Or take into the account the many species of parasitic wasps. There is one in particular whose species's name eludes me at the moment. But it injects a potent toxin that inhibits the caterpillar's ability to metamorphosize into a pupae. The wasp then lays its eggs nearby and the caterpillar, under the effects of the toxin, proceeds to use the silk it would to form a cocoon into a protective web around the wasps eggs, and then coils around them, and will lash out and flail about wildly at anything that disturbs them. All this, despite the fact that once the eggs hatch, the wasp larvae, being carnivorous, will proceed to consume the caterpillar, which at this point ceases any form of resistance.
In short, an organism's behavior can be altered by a wide variety of chemical means. Humans have been doing it since prehistory with a wide plethora of substances that has only increased as science and the means of production of those substances have.
I am not a killer, but a biochemist by profession. And it was only after years of experimentation that I finally produced viable results.
The first tests were standard. White, albino lab rats. I placed them in an enclosure partitioned into two sections. One of mulch clippings, the other a pool of water approximately two feet deep.
It took several attempts before the desired results began to occur: a delayed reaction. One minute and four seconds after drinking from the water bottle laced with the formulae, the mouse rushed over and submerged itself in the pool, where it remained until it drowned. Repeated experiments with the same formulae yielded similar results.
Success.
Still, even the small differences in neuro-chemistry between rats and man can produce incredibly different results, plus I needed to see what effects the formulae had on intelligence.
Acquiring the chimp had been costly, but not difficult. It took some adjustments before any response occurred at all.
Finally, after the fifth variant, the chimp began violently bashing its head against the enclosure until bloodied. Eventually it must have suffered a concussion as it collapsed. By the time it awoke roughly five minutes later, it was behaving normal, as much as a chimp with a cut scalp could behave. In one experiment I had achieved two of the desired results. The proper formulae for a larger organism, and one which wore off. After it drank from the drugged water some time later, it resumed this behavior. Out of curiosity, I introduced a surgical scalpel into the enclosure. After briefly fumbling with the tool and creating several small incisions on its hands, the chimp managed to obtain a firm grip on the handle, at which point it then stabbed itself in the chest at least eight times and severed its left jugular, and quickly died of blood loss.
I conducted an autopsy and found that the third desired result had been achieved. Tissue and blood tests yielded no trace of the substance whatsoever, even only after minues of introduction into the body. It had had a delayed effect and then broken down quickly.
Success.
The first human test subject was a neighbor from several houses down. It was well known by everyone that he was a wife-beater, and abusive excuse for human refuse who kept his spouse captive by control of her finances and social life. And she was understandibly afraid to flee, as he was very prone to physical violence. I would later learn that his behavior had long since estranged him from his family. I had only recently moved into the neighborhood, but had heard the sounds of struggle from their house as I walked home each day from work. And I heard corroborating stories spoken in hushed whispers by their other neightbors. I was relatively new to the neighboorhood at the time, and so could still plausibly deny any knowledge of the aforementioned facts, less I be suspected of wrongdoing.
I invited him over to my front porch under the premise of sharing a beer as I got to meet my new neighbors.
He took his first drink of the beer at approximately 7:34 p.m. local time. One minute and seven seconds later, he let out an enraged roar and rushed out into the street where he stopped shortly before being hit by a bus. Death was instantanious.
Success.
I didn't even need to act the role of shocked onlooker while I gave my statement to the police once they had secured the scene of what they believed to be an accident. For I was quite shocked, not so much by the turn of events but that such results had been achieved on only the first attempt.
Still I was a scientist. And the results of an experiment hold little if they cannot be replicated.
The second test subject was a businessman of unethical practice. People had lost fortunes due to fraudulent investments while he made off with a fortune. And so far, for the past 3 years, the law had been unable to touch him.
I met him for lunch, arriving first and insuring we had a booth in the corner where we would draw little attention from any curious, stray eyes.
The man had penchant for fluids, and it wasn't too long before he excused himself to go to the bathroom. It was then that I quickly dropped the tablet I had manufactured- a solid, dissolvable form of the formulae, into his half-empty glass. As expected, the tablet dissolved and mixed with the contents in under four seconds, its substance becoming undistinguishable from the drink itself. Alcohol or water-based solutions, it didn't matter. I had tested and timed both. I made sure not to touch any of my food or utensils.
Once the greedy man returned, I excused myself to the bathroom for the same reason. Upon entering I judiciously washed my hands, to make absolutely sure that no residue remained that I might accidentially ingest. I took my time.
One minute and seven seconds later, I heard horrified screaming coming from the main dining area.
I came out of the restroom just in time to see the businessman cutting a large, jagged shard of glass down the length of his arm, copious amounts of blood oozing from the enormous cuts. Several people moved in in an attempt to stop him but quickly fell back as he swung out towards them with the broken glass. He then proceeded to plunge the edge directly into his trachea. He collapsed soon afterwards.
The paramedics pronounced him dead at the scene.
Success.
(Continued below) | “You’ll rot in jail you son of b*tch!”
20 feet before me stood a man so filled with anger that all he wanted to do was grab me by the throat and squeeze every little bit of life out of me. The man whose son was killed recently knew however that this would not help to convict me and that meant he had to control himself.
“Sit back down Mr. Williams.”
The judge commanded him.
“one more outburst like that and I will hold you in contempt of court”
Even though I was on trial for murder, the judge was ensuring the father was the one behaving properly. I smiled at the father and stared into his eyes. It always makes me feel powerful, to sense the ultimate rage that they cannot unleash. They are like an insect that I play with that’s trying to sting me. Little do they know I’m untouchable.
I like to make the families think they have a chance, a chance to win. This was after all nothing more than just a game. I bluff them, right up until the end, that’s when I pull out the ace that’s been in my pocket the entire time. Usually I inform my lawyer that I’ve found new evidence to clear my name. Their eyes light up every time when they realize we might win. I had known all along how this was going to play out.
Mr. Williams’ son, Michael was neutralized by me 2 weeks ago. After I saw him cutting in line in front of a young pregnant woman. The littlest things could set me off. I could go months without killing anybody, but once I was triggered. The person was marked for death and I knew, I was going to get away with it.
After studying Michael meticulously for weeks I knew him better than most of his friends and family. He was quite the average joe with a below average office job and a crappy car and a small house he rented. Michael loved his dog Mikey, and walked him every morning and evening. In the afternoons his next door neighbour, an old lady would walk Mikey. This was my opportunity.
One Thursday afternoon I sneaked into the Neighbour’s house and stole Mikey from the back yard. I left the gate open so to make it seem like the dog had escaped on his own. I then put the dog in the back of my car which I park around the block and I walked back to neighbour’s house who had by now noticed the dog to be missing and was frantically searching for him. Exactly what I wanted. She would soon call Michael to let him know she lost the dog which would create the perfect opportunity.
Sure enough half an hour layer she picks up the phone and Michael shows up within 15 minutes. He must have been speeding because when I made the drive myself it took me 25 minutes. Michael had a worried look on his face as he rushed out of his car and walked towards the neighbours car. I remember thinking to myself:
“ow Michael soon you won’t feel worried anymore, soon you will feel nothing at all”
After watching Micheal searching the neighbourhood for 20 minutes I decide it’s time. I put on my black leather gloves. Take the dog leash I bought beforehand and take the dog with me as I walk towards Michael’s house. My trusty pocketknife in my right back pocket would be the tool for the task.
As I approach the house Micheal sees me and comes running towards me.
“mickey!”. The dog jumps joyfully at the sight of its owner.
“hey, is this your dog? I found him wandering in front of my house”.
“Yes it is!, I’m so glad I found him, he snuck out of my neighbour’s yard while she was looking after him”
“well, I’m happy I managed to find you I have been walking around here for almost an hour trying to find his owner”
“ow I’m so sorry to have taken up so much of your time”
Micheal says as I interrupt him:
“no really it’s fine, do you by any chance have some water for me though? I didn’t bring a water bottle since I didn’t expect to be out this long”.
I knew he wasn’t going to refuse the person who just returned him his precious furry companion
“yes of course, I’m sure Mickey is thirsty as well, just walk back with me, my house as right there”
Micheal said as he pointed to his house.
I knew nobody was home as Micheal lived alone and hardly ever had anyone over. As soon as we walked through the front door I reached for the pocketknife in the back of my pocket. I pulled out the blade and before he even realized what happened I stabbed him in the back of the neck, thrusting the blade into his occipital and parietal lobe. Micheal fell to the floor and died instantly. I swiped my knife on his shirt and put it back in my back pocket. Took my gloves of, and left them on the table.
I closed the door and walked back to my car and drove home. The hard part was over and the fun part was going to happen soon. The neighbour or somebody else would discover the body and call the police and it would be a matter of time before the old lady would report me for being at Michael’s house at the time of the crime.
I then did what I always do after killing. I dump the knife in a trash bin in the city center and I go grocery shopping. I find a raw and bloody stake is most suitable after a murder. One in three murders go unsolved which meant the odds were against me but I lived for the challenge and I wasn’t planning on leaving any more doubt than reasonable doubt about what had happened so that everybody would suspect me but nobody would be able to prove I did it.
It usually took a week or 2 before the cops came knocking at my door. This time it was 3 weeks which didn’t make a difference to me, I liked the silence before the storm.
There was a knock at the door.
“POLICE, open up!”
I quickly approached the door as I know cops have a tendency to kick in doors when they are arresting murder suspects.
“hello officers, what seems to be the problem?”
I say with a big smile on my face.
“Mr. Woods, your under arrest for suspicion of murder”
“Murder? What the hell are you talking about?”
The cop doesn’t reply but instead reads me my rights and cuffs me. Once I arrived at the station the old lady pointed me out from a line up. I was informed my hearing would be soon and thrown in a holding cell.
I knew however that I would soon be tried and that I would soon roam free once more. I knew I would feel the rush of being untouchable again. The thought alone made me smile. After a consultation with a lawyer where I pretended to be innocent and where I denied ever being at Michael’s house. I insisted we go to trial.
The trial went fast and it quickly seemed that the witness statement of the neighbour and gloves with traces of my DNA would ensure I would be convicted. I had stated before that I couldn’t recall what I had done that Thursday 3 weeks ago but then it had “hit me” I and told my lawyer how I remembered being at the supermarket. The security tapes were subpoenaed and they had showed me, at the time of death, in full view in front of the steak section at the supermarket in another town an hour away. I couldn’t possibly have committed the murder.
The security system of the supermarket was very badly protected allowing me to break in and forge the time stamps on the footage. I had also donated an identical pair of gloves to goodwill weeks ago and I made sure to “recall this” as well which was later confirmed by the testimony of a goodwill employee. My lawyer mentioned the old Lady was not a reliable witness because of her age. After seeing the footage and hearing the testimony from my witness the judge instructed the jury to make their decision.
“we the jury, find the defendant Mr. Woods. Not guilty beyond reasonable doubt.
I look at Mr. Williams distraught face and I smile. Victory, once again.
“no this is not right, I know you did! I will KILL YOU!”
Mr. Williams jumped across the table to my side filled with rage and ran up to me but was tackled by a security guard and escorted out of the court room. I couldn’t help to have a short chuckle.
I was once again untouchable.
(my first WP, any feedback greatly appreciated)
| 2016-06-22T12:57:04 | 2016-06-22T12:39:47 | 153 | 72 |
[WP] The Milky Way is controlled by an altruistic and advanced federation. When intelligent life is found, they send their agents to infiltrate them. The operative then subtly influences the natives until the species is advanced enough to join the federation. Elon Musk is the agent sent to Earth.
EDIT. The people crying about a circle jerk seem to be a part of a circle jerk of their own. I find it funny | "Flying robotic bomb, Elon, on a floating robotic boat. In a rolling ocean."
"...Calm ocean." Elon muttered.
"Calm? Calm? Look out the window. This is big moon, Elon, huge. The whole planet is sloshing around like a Tikelion mating orgy. Did you miss the part about subtly influencing the native species? You have a one sentence job description, and that's half of it."
"You were fine with the electric cars. That's a way bigger deal." He shot back.
"Dead in a generation, yea, we bent the rules. Existential progression. And if they ever try and detonate a nuke again they'll get real suspicious when it doesn't work. But you can't keep on like this and expect no one to notice. Trace lithium was subtle, jazz was subtle, flying space bomb robot Not. So. Much."
Elon looked hurt. "I crash them sometimes. Nobody's getting suspicious."
"They won't seem suspicious right up until you're being digested in a human stomach for a thousand years."
One of Elon's eyebrows lifted "Do you even know how humans work?"
"I just got in, doesn't matter, I'm sure it will be horrible. I have a team checking up on you right now. If there's anything more like this you're getting an official sanction. Maybe replaced. It's that important."
Elon sat uncomfortably through a long pause. His superior twitched.
"Ugh, that's done it. I'm so stressed I'm molting. We'll pick this up another time."
Elon nodded and rose.
"Good job on the car thing, really, very clutch. Just tone it down a bit? We're all in this together."
Elon threw out a half smile, and walked out. He paused in the hall at the sound of a beeping from inside the office. There was a short, muffled conversation. Elon picked up his pace.
"ELON? GET BACK IN HERE. WHAT THE HELL IS A HYPERLOOP?"
| The sun felt warm on his face. Not as hot as the one he was used to, but that was to be expected. A solitary star like this could never feel as good as a trinary system.
Staring out over the ocean he saw silver ships dancing back and forth. The new Musk wave dancers were a miracle of modern engineering. With virtually no energy input they could go from Los Angeles to Sydney in an hour. Taking their entire momentum from solar and converted seawater.
Of course the humans didn't know they were also doing a bang up job of filtering ocean water as well. The massive tankers and cargo ships and pleasure vessels were undoing centuries of pollution with every mile theyt travelled.
It had been like this for the last fifty years. Elon had been introducing technolgy, but piggybacking an improvement on top of that. The hyperloop had revoltionized cross continent travel, but it had secretly stabilized the tectonic plates and reducing earthquakes by 70%. The electric cars were celaning the airs of the highways, the clone meat farms were introducing intelligence enhacing drugs into the population.
It had been a good fifty years. he had helped humanity achieved goals that they hadn't even known they'd had.
The satellites were beaming nearly free energy to every corner of the world. The new ubernet that had replaced the internet was ubiquidious and linked nearly every device and person on the planet, and moon bases.
The next steps would be difficult.
To truly join their brothers in the galaxy humanity would have to shake off a lot of beliefs. Nations, and ethnicity, and arcane beliefs like monogomy and hatred.
He had come a long way, a world of plenty, and of intelligence and poetry tends to breed a new generation of aceptance and peace.
The hate mongers couldn't point there fingers at a group causing a problem, when no problems existed.
Poverty was slowly ebbing away, and Elon was responsible for it. he had sheparded humanity into the nascent golden age that was to come.
he would have to leave this identity soon. While he was old by human standards, his identity as Trillionaire philanthropist futurist Elon Musk was starting to stretch the limits of believability. he'd spent the last 20 years setting up a new identity. An science teacher in New Mexico. In a decade or two He would allow this husk to die, and he would inhabit his new identiy.
Then he would start again. Scientific discoveries, and groundbreaking ideas. All from a humble science teacher with a background in chemistry. Self repairing steel, and lighter than air titanium. Those would start the true space race. Wtihin this century humanity would move beyond its cradle and out into the larger solar system.
| 2016-07-04T07:44:54 | 2016-07-04T07:39:49 | 54 | 36 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper is no longer able to claim lives directly. Instead, when your time is up a mark appears on your body and it is the duty of every other person to kill you on sight. | Sammy's hand trembled under the weight of indecision. She knew the law, of course. Anyone with the skull mark on their forehead was already considered dead. There was a phone app that would release their soul from their body. It would send them to Heaven. Everyone had the app. If you didn't use it when duty called, the punishment was your own death.
Sammy took a deep breath to try and calm the racing thoughts. It was 3 AM right now. She had hours to decide before anyone would know. Her husband, Daniel, looked so peaceful in his sleep. She smiled and gently ran her hand across his soft face. Even after all these years she still felt the honeymooner's joy whenever she saw him.
*This is for his own good. He...he wouldn't want to be awake for this. Gods, I don't want to be awake for this either, but if it will spare him the pain...*
Her phone vibrated and she jumped. Trembling, she looks at the screen. "Detecting deceased creature. Please activate Reaper immediately."
She bit her lip so hard that it bled. It looks like she wouldn't have hours after all. The damn thing had scanned the room all by itself. It was now or never. Tears dribbled down her face as she unlocked her phone and walked slowly around the bed.
"I'm so sorry, Daniel my love," she whispered. Slowly she held the phone out and opened the Reaper app.
"Deceased creature detected. Soul separation in process." The room lit up as the app took effect. Sammy could hardly bear to watch, but it was her duty in another sense. Her hand ruffled through Daniel's hair apologetically. She could see the little angel rising up and spreading its wings.
"Soul separation complete." The app announced cheerfully. The angel flew away as if it couldn't even see her. Sammy buried her head in Daniel's warm chest and sobbed uncontrollably.
"I'm so sorry love. I...I've killed our baby." | Dead at 22. I could lie and tell you that my autopsy would read that I died doing something awesome. Maybe I jumped into traffic to save a child and took the entire impact of the car. The kid would get to walk away unscathed and live another day. People would praise me for my sacrifice. I’d be a goddamn hero.
Yeah that’d be great except it was a big fat lie. I was playing on my phone and didn’t see some steps. My foot completely missed the ground, but lucky for me my neck broke my fall. Unlucky for me however the fall broke my neck. Yeah fuck you Pokemon GO.
Now you’re wondering how I’m telling you this right?
“But Carl, if you’re dead then how are-” Blah blah blah. Look, you ever read the prompt title? No? Well what the fuck man. The grim reaper approached the governments of the world one day. Lazy bastard said there were too many people dying to keep up and it was our job, no, our DUTY to separate the souls from the body.
So here I am, propping my neck back up with a crowd of people gathering around and a giant target painted on my back. No, literally. You get a mark on you when you die. Seriously, read the prompt. So I got this target on my back, and people are shouting and pointing. Most people don’t put up a fight, but I was never one for crowds.
My legs were pumping and my heart was...well I’m dead now so it wasn’t really beating at all. I just wish I hadn’t ate that last donut this morning. As I ran down the sidewalk people all turned staring at me. Some of them tried to apprehend me but I wasn’t having any of that shit.
“That’s the guy! He’s running towards main!”
Well the enforcers are after me now. Maybe I could lose them in this alley.
“He went into that alley!”
Nope. I’m not sure if this being a dead end is ironic or not. Gotta find a weapon. Maybe this rock?
“Look here son, it ain’t right living past your time.”
“Uhm.”
They started to close in on me. I put every last pound of force into my arm. Every ounce of energy and power to throw this rock at this fucker’s head. I could feel my will to exist giving me strength.
The rock landed two feet in front of me and rolled slightly.
The enforcers extended their batons and walked towards me. If I could breathe I would have been hyperventilating. I backed away slowly, and for the second time that day I fell. I fell right into a big steaming pile of shit soaked in I don’t know how many people’s piss. Maybe I still had a chance.
____
Check out my subreddit /r/thesadbox for more stories! | 2016-07-17T12:25:50 | 2016-07-17T11:53:30 | 143 | 36 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper is no longer able to claim lives directly. Instead, when your time is up a mark appears on your body and it is the duty of every other person to kill you on sight. | Sammy's hand trembled under the weight of indecision. She knew the law, of course. Anyone with the skull mark on their forehead was already considered dead. There was a phone app that would release their soul from their body. It would send them to Heaven. Everyone had the app. If you didn't use it when duty called, the punishment was your own death.
Sammy took a deep breath to try and calm the racing thoughts. It was 3 AM right now. She had hours to decide before anyone would know. Her husband, Daniel, looked so peaceful in his sleep. She smiled and gently ran her hand across his soft face. Even after all these years she still felt the honeymooner's joy whenever she saw him.
*This is for his own good. He...he wouldn't want to be awake for this. Gods, I don't want to be awake for this either, but if it will spare him the pain...*
Her phone vibrated and she jumped. Trembling, she looks at the screen. "Detecting deceased creature. Please activate Reaper immediately."
She bit her lip so hard that it bled. It looks like she wouldn't have hours after all. The damn thing had scanned the room all by itself. It was now or never. Tears dribbled down her face as she unlocked her phone and walked slowly around the bed.
"I'm so sorry, Daniel my love," she whispered. Slowly she held the phone out and opened the Reaper app.
"Deceased creature detected. Soul separation in process." The room lit up as the app took effect. Sammy could hardly bear to watch, but it was her duty in another sense. Her hand ruffled through Daniel's hair apologetically. She could see the little angel rising up and spreading its wings.
"Soul separation complete." The app announced cheerfully. The angel flew away as if it couldn't even see her. Sammy buried her head in Daniel's warm chest and sobbed uncontrollably.
"I'm so sorry love. I...I've killed our baby." | Leland Grover died six days ago and death'd been chasing him ever since. He dragged the gear-shift into fifth gear, felt the engine of the old car roar beneath him and the sand kick up behind his wheels. Around him, the Nevada desert stretched vast and aching. The sky pressed down on him as he accelerated, hot sun beaming on metal. Car guttering through sixty, seventy miles an hour, the sound rebounded off the distant mountains.
Silence fell. Leland counted the seconds.
*Five... six... seven*
The mountains resounded again. Leland checked the rearview mirror and saw the three cars behind him; black as sin and streaked with red dirt. The scrub-bushes trembled around them as they straddled the road, the deep sound of three powerful engines sounding some beast-like war cry.
He took his left hand off the wheel to throw his cigarette butt out of the window, still smouldering. Across his lap lay a black, snub nosed gun. Touching it, just to make sure it was still there, the black tally mark on his hand caught his eye.
It'd appeared on the back of his hand as he rolled out of bed and onto the floor, already gasping as last night's whiskey turned into the day's hangover.
"Fuck," was all he'd got to say.
Leland's first mistake had been telling Dawn. She'd sent the first man after him on day one. The clip that filled the gun missed one bullet now. Dawn had taken the good car, Leland got left the rusting Camaro. The ignition key had gone missing years ago, and at first it had taken him twenty minutes to touch the wires together to get the bucket into action. After six days of chasing, it barely took him one.
The mountains in front of him didn't seem to be getting any closer. They swam in front of him; a mirage of blue against the blinding sun. Green-grey plants dotted them, thirsting for water. Throat burning, Leland groped at the passenger seat and unscrewed a bottle with his teeth, gulping it down.
He checked the rearview again. The cars were getting closer. He couldn't make out the drivers, but he knew they'd be wearing those *fucking* skeleton masks. The Reapers: the professionals. A more decent man would have killed himself when the mark showed up. Leland had never been decent.
On day three, one professional had arrived. On day four, there'd been two. Now three of them chased him, men authorised by law to kill those with the black tallies on their hands.
Leland accelerated again, feeling the car jolt, unused to the high speed. Adrenaline coursed high and intoxicating through his veins. Outrunning death: not sensible, but the best thing that had ever happened in Leland's miserable life.
Or since his death. | 2016-07-17T12:25:50 | 2016-07-17T12:01:21 | 143 | 29 |
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens. | I had only used the coin twice before. The coin... blessed and cursed in equal measures, just like I am. The day my Grandfather passed it down to me--the day he had died--he had warned me to only use it under the most serious of circumstances. But I've always been a fool and whilst people might think I listen, my hands cover my ears.
The first time I used it I had wished to be rich and successful. I was drunk at the time and didn't really believe the coin could change anything. Well, it landed on heads and I bet on the football that night. I won. I won all my bets. The next day I bought shares in a local company with the money I made gambling.
The second wish I made was to be handsome and adored. There was a girl I liked--more than liked, but she didn't even notice me. Even with all my wealth I couldn't impress her. I flipped the coin and made my wish. The coin landed tails. That night on my way home from the office, a car swerved into mine. I remember the searing heat and the screaming; those God awful screams that I was later told could only have come from me. The other driver had died instantly.
My face was melted. I was repulsive and I thought I couldn't be loved. It took years before I met someone who could stand to look at me, who could touch me, who would kiss me. The coins curse didn't even make her flinch. We had three happy years before the cancer came. As her death crept closer I took the coin out of the safe and placed it into my pocket.
She looked so weak the day I made the wish. Pale and thin and fragile. I knew she was going to die and that it was just a matter of hours. I wept as I left the hospital room and removed the coin from my pocket. I flicked it up in the air and said the words.
When I came back into the room the nurse took me to the side. I pushed past her and saw the flattened pattern on the heart rate monitor. I had made the wish too late; she had died whilst I had been out of the room. I wept and cursed and laid my head on her bosom.
I don't know how long I lay there. Perhaps it was an hour before the cold hand touched my neck and gently stroked my hair.
| Wiping a tear off his cheek Derek opened the box he received this morning. Coughing from the dust that that had settled on the box his thoughts went to his grandma. She had been amazing, taking him in when his parents had abandoned him. Raising him to the man he was today. Glad to help his community and to work at the nursing home for the elderly nearby.
Wondering what items his grandmother left him in her will Derek pulled out the boxes and books from the box. Spreading them out on his desk its contents became clear. It was a rather large coin collection. One he immediately decided to keep.
Making a note to call his notary to alter his will so the collection would go to a museum after being put in a coffin and cremated Derek opened the first book. Going over it page by page he was amazed at the diversity. There were coins from the Roman empire to those first minted after the United States had been founded.
Pulling out more and more books, all heavy with coin, Derek nearly reached the bottom of the box. Standing on it, in between several smaller coin books was a a special stand. Taking it out and dusting it off a sentence became readable on the top.
Above the glass window showing a near blank coin it said: “Warning, only rub in emergency situations!”
Wanting to get one good laugh out of grandma her silly jokes Derek opened the little door and took the coin out of its stand. After rubbing it for a second, making it shine once more, Derek opened the little door again and put the coin back.
Reaching over to grab the last few things from the box Derek jumped back in surprise as a blue man faded in right next to him from thin air.
Bowing before Derek the ghost stood up and as Derek grabbed an umbrella and held it up it said: “Greetings boy, I am Pani. Thank you for giving me this opportunity to stretch my legs after the decades spent locked in that damn coin. Now, you can make as many wishes as you want which will come true if the coin is.-”
Listening closely Derek immediately jumped over to the coin holder, opening it and taking out the coin. Yelling: “I wish for world peace,” Derek flipped the coin high in the air, observing it as it fell down to the ground.
Upon landing on the carpet sirens go off outside, blasting their loud noise to every house.
“What happened ghost,” Derek loudly asked of Pani, accusation clear in his voice.
Looking at Derek, slowly blinking, Pani scratched his neck.
“You modern humans. You did not even bother letting me finish my explanation. When it lands on heads your wish is granted. Does it land on tails, well, then the opposite of what you wished for happens. In this case a world war. Which includes every nuclear missile in the world being launched!”
The genie, now followed by Derek‘s scornful gaze sat down in the comfortable chair in the corner of the room, giving him the thumbs up.
“Also, I am a genie! Now boy, go and wish for world peace again. And hope this time the coin lands on heads before you are obliterated,” the genie said, laughing out loud at the stupidity of this boy.
----------------
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this, then please check out /r/MaisieKlaassen
| 2016-08-26T07:54:06 | 2016-08-26T07:51:15 | 194 | 20 |
[WP] You gain a magic coin that can grant wishes, but only if you flip it. If it lands on heads, your wish is granted, but if it lands on tails, the opposite of your wish happens. | I had only used the coin twice before. The coin... blessed and cursed in equal measures, just like I am. The day my Grandfather passed it down to me--the day he had died--he had warned me to only use it under the most serious of circumstances. But I've always been a fool and whilst people might think I listen, my hands cover my ears.
The first time I used it I had wished to be rich and successful. I was drunk at the time and didn't really believe the coin could change anything. Well, it landed on heads and I bet on the football that night. I won. I won all my bets. The next day I bought shares in a local company with the money I made gambling.
The second wish I made was to be handsome and adored. There was a girl I liked--more than liked, but she didn't even notice me. Even with all my wealth I couldn't impress her. I flipped the coin and made my wish. The coin landed tails. That night on my way home from the office, a car swerved into mine. I remember the searing heat and the screaming; those God awful screams that I was later told could only have come from me. The other driver had died instantly.
My face was melted. I was repulsive and I thought I couldn't be loved. It took years before I met someone who could stand to look at me, who could touch me, who would kiss me. The coins curse didn't even make her flinch. We had three happy years before the cancer came. As her death crept closer I took the coin out of the safe and placed it into my pocket.
She looked so weak the day I made the wish. Pale and thin and fragile. I knew she was going to die and that it was just a matter of hours. I wept as I left the hospital room and removed the coin from my pocket. I flicked it up in the air and said the words.
When I came back into the room the nurse took me to the side. I pushed past her and saw the flattened pattern on the heart rate monitor. I had made the wish too late; she had died whilst I had been out of the room. I wept and cursed and laid my head on her bosom.
I don't know how long I lay there. Perhaps it was an hour before the cold hand touched my neck and gently stroked my hair.
| He'd been vacationing in South America when he'd wandered into the small shop off the main square in the small village. He'd been staying the last few weeks and thought he'd seen everything that the small town had to offer, but he'd never seen this shop before. This was especially odd since he'd eaten at the small cafe next door two days ago. This small shop seemed to have simply materialized.
Inside it was dark and a strange acrid incense permeated the air. The shop was more like a small junk warehouse that a proper store. Odd things were stacked seemingly at random, nothing was priced, and he seemed to be the only one there. Poking through a couple piles of trinkets, fake jewelry, and old toys he made to leave when the proprietor of the shop appeared from behind some shelving.
"Did you see anything of interest?" the man asked. His English was perfect without a trace of an accent.
"Not really," he replied, hoping to avoid a potentially pushy salesman.
"What about this?" the proprietor asked pulling a strangely engraved coin that had been sitting on a nearby shelf.
"What is it?" he asked.
The salesman had gone on to explain the local legend about the coin that could either grant wishes or enact a terrible cost by giving the owner exactly the opposite of what they asked for. It was a pretty thin morality tale but the local legend stuff was always kind of interesting. He appreciated the local flavor more than anything and was surprised when the salesman refused money and instead just gave him the coin.
Later he met a friend for dinner and still had the coin with him.
"What is that?" Antonio asked.
"Some magical coin I guess," he replied. "It's supposed to grant wishes. It's a local thing I guess?"
"You shouldn't mess around with that," said his friend suddenly very serious.
He'd never known Antonio to buy into superstition, but all the same the coin went back into his pocket unflipped, and they enjoyed their meal.
As they were parting Antonio brought up the coin again. "You really shouldn't mess with things you don't understand," his friend said cryptically.
That was the last time he'd seen Antonio but his uncharacteristic warning had stuck.
When he got back to the states the coin, still unflipped, went into a desk and he'd pretty much forgotten about it.
Several years later he was digging through a cabinet in the study looking for the box of the old baby photos. The funeral was in two days and he wanted to have a couple photos out. His wife would have known exactly where they were but she was gone now too. Instead of the baby photos he found a small box of things from when he'd backpacked that summer several years ago. Happy for the momentary distraction he started going through the box and found the old coin.
The memories of that weird little shop came back to him as well as what the shop keeper had told him. He also remembered Antonio's stern warning.
What was the opposite of already being dead, he wondered. Would the inverse of coming back to life be simply staying dead? If that was the case he had nothing to loose, but what if it wasn't just staying dead. What if it was something worse?
He flipped the coin and hoped for the best. | 2016-08-26T07:54:06 | 2016-08-26T07:10:40 | 194 | 18 |
[WP] A burglar enters a home by forcing the window open. Upon stepping through the window frame, heavy steel curtains cover all windows and doors leading to the outside, lights turn on, and the words "Player 2 has entered the game" echo around the house. | Leroy had been casing this joint for a few weeks now, never seeing anyone enter or leave. After deciding that this house was definitely just another one of the hundreds of winter homes here in Florida, he packed up his gear and chose his entrance. Looking around nonchalantly, Leroy smashed open one of the back windows with a brick and climbed inside.
Upon stepping through the window frame, heavy steel curtains covered all windows and doors leading to the outside, lights turned on, and the words "Player 2 has entered the game" echoed around the house.
"The hell-" Leroy was cut short as "Player 1" barreled into him, knocking the wind out of him. As he lay there gasping for air, Player 1 raised his fist aiming a blow at Leroy's head. Dodging to the right, Leroy gave the man a swift punch in the gut and pushed him off of him.
Getting to his feet, Leroy ran to the kitchen hoping to find something with which to defend himself. On the table was a knife, a pistol, and a baseball bat. Leroy tried to grab the pistol but as he reached for it a number popped up floating in the air above the gun: "$25". "Aw are you f--". Player 1 was back and he beat Leroy on the back of the head with a double-fisted smash. Dazed, Leroy had just enough cognitive power to decide he wasn't going to play fair with this guy. Leroy slammed Player 1 right in his unmentionables with a powerful uppercut. The man doubled over, almost falling on top of Leroy. An announcement rang out.
"Player 2 has been gifted $5."
Leroy reached this time instead for the knife. "$5" floated above it and as he moved his hand and grabbed the knife the "$5" disappeared and was replaced with a check mark before fading away. Another announcement: "FINISH HIM!"
Leroy had never killed a man before and had no desire to do so now. However, he saw no other way to escape this hell so he did what he had to do. He stabbed Player 1 over and over and over again, blood spewing everywhere in thick strings. A loud fanfare sounded as he dropped the knife and laid back, panting. The victory bells were more like sirens, but they were still comforting because they meant, he presumed, that he was safe.
==============================
The police arrived moments later to see a man sitting beside a thoroughly destroyed scarecrow decoration in Mrs. Suttertan's kitchen. The officers searched the man and found several drops of acid in a baggie on his person. After securing the perp in handcuffs the head officer called up to Mrs. Suttertan: "it's okay to come down now, you're safe ma'am! Now could I get a statement from you on exactly what went on here?"
Mrs. Suttertan then proceeded to recount to the officer how the thief broke in via the back window next to the kitchen. She told the officer how she was cleaning out her attic and was taking an old Halloween decoration downstairs to throw out when she saw the man and dropped the scarecrow. She told him how the man wrestled drunkenly with the scarecrow for a good 5 minutes until they arrived. "And well, you see the rest."
"Thank you ma'am," the officer said. "You did good calling 911 right away. We'll keep a few extra patrols in this area as a precaution, but you should be safe now."
The officer left the scene, a lesson first learned in 1969 once again reinforced as he looked at the bag of drugs. Never take the brown acid. | “Welcome Daniel,” came a booming voice from another room.
Daniel took a panicked look around. “I…I just needed a quick buck, what the hell is this?”
The lights went out and the room with the voice had a faint glow. Dan took a hesitant step towards the room but fell through the floor. He landed in what looked like an exact replica of the house. Unsure what he had got himself into he took another step towards the couch to have a seat. When he did everything shifted around the room and stuck to the walls. That’s when she stepped out of the kitchen.
Daniel went blank-faced. How was this even possibly? She was dead it wasn’t his fault but goddamnit he never forgot that night. “How have you been,” the lady asked. “Miss me?”
“I don’t understand, we saw you die, I mean I wanted to help but we panicked and we thought you were dead, and there wasn’t anything we could do.”
“PLAYER 3 has entered the chamber,” that mysterious voice made Dan jump out of his skin.
“It seems our final guest has made his way here,” she snapped her fingers and another person came falling out of the roof. Daniel recognized him immediately it was old friend whom he hadn’t spoken to since that night.
“Craig?”
“Dan, what the fuck is going on?” Craig was getting on his feet. “One second I’m stepping into this easy old lady’s house and the next thing I know I’m trapped and fall down here.” He looked over and saw her, the love of his life, but something has changed she looked darker. “Sally, oh my god Sally.” Tears came flowing from his eyes.
“Well Dan and Craig it seems you haven’t forgotten what happened and obviously neither have I. Since you two left me there to die the GameMaster has given me a chance to do the same with you two,” again a snap of her fingers and the room changed to an arena. Weapons hung on the wall; battle axes, swords, nun-chucks were amongst them.
“Everything just went wrong and you weren’t even supposed to be there,” Daniel yelled! “We were young and stupid teenagers we thought we could get away.”
“SHUT YOUR MOUTH and pick your weapon, and choose wisely for it may be the last choice you make,” the lady said as she walked up to her seat. “You have 2 minutes to choose for the duel starts then. Oh and if you fail to make a decision I simply will kill you both.”
“Dan you’re not buying this shit are you. Our guilt has just caused us to go crazy man,” Craig stammered.
“You know what Craig fuck you man. You never returned my calls and I needed you, I needed you so much but the bottle and nightmares replaced you.” Dan looked up to Craig and met him in a dead look. He moved to the wall grabbed a sword and threw one to Craig. “You were my best friend and then you just left me. I’ve lived a pretty shitty life but you were someone who kept me going and without you I didn’t see the point.”
Craig grabbed the sword off the ground and the lady jumped with joy as the duel has begun. Both Dan and Craig had much sword fighting experience but in this world it didn’t matter much. The moves came with ease as Dan and Craig fought tooth and nail. All the while the lady smiled her thin lips pushed together. Swords clanged, sweat dropped, blood was drawn and at the end it seemed they both had nothing left. Just then Craig made a move that made Dan jump and instinctively the sword went through Craig. He was bleeding out on the floor next to Dan and with his dying breath, “I’m sorry man I know I fucked up. I loved her so much and had to try and leave it behind me and I didn’t even think of you.”
“She may have been your girlfriend but fuck man she was my sister. I had to face my family and tell them what happened. I saw my mother’s tears and my father’s disappointment. I may feel bad later on in life about you but right now I’m glad you’re leaving for good,” Dan said as he stood up and walked away. “I miss you, sister, but you and I are even now I have nothing let me leave.”
“As you wish,” the sister snapped her fingers again and Dan appeared in the living room with Craig bleeding out and the next thing he heard was “We got you surrounded come out with your hands up.”
| 2016-10-05T12:26:51 | 2016-10-05T11:37:00 | 115 | 28 |
[WP] You, an astronaut in orbit, submit an Amazon Prime order (free two day shipping) as a joke, with the address set to the ISS. Amazon does not think this is a joke. | "You did *what?*"
"Look, I just—" I sighed, placing a hand on the back of my neck. "I just thought it would be sorta funny to see Amazon try to... bring it here..."
"That doesn't excuse the fact that there are now 100 copies of *Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy* at the *INTERNATIONAL SPACE STATION.*"
"Yes, I know, I'm sorry, I didn't actually think they'd manage to—"
"When the hell do you *ever* think, Isaac!? Jesus fuck!"
I held my head down as he walked out of the room. ...It was still kinda funny, though. | Two day shipping.
Day one.
--
A suited man walks onto the slender, gleaming jet, and gently places a brown box on the seat next to him. He settles himself by wriggling into the comfy leather, and leans back to rest, eyes closing to leave his thin face peaceful. Tonight promises to be a long night.
--
Dimitri whispers a brief prayer as he presses the final key. He'd known, intellectually, that one day the call would come, that he'd be required to perform this ultimate, devastating duty, but he'd never really believed it. His finger left a bloody print, a remnant of the brutal steps he'd needed to take to ensure he could fulfil his duty.
--
Day two.
--
The media go wild. Reports of contact lost, of stations falling from the sky, of dark deeds committed in the name of patriotism. Tensions rise as families of murdered astronauts demand retribution. The Premier denies all knowledge, the President demands explanation, and all the while the truth is known only to one corporation.
--
Desert winds howl, as the suited man steps down from the helicopter. He glances over the wreckage of the crashed station, searching for something. His walk is smooth, cultured even. Finally he spots the red and white stripes denoting the locker of the American. He moves that way, bends, and delicately places the brown box onto the biggest lump of metal he can find, though even that is twisted beyond recognition. He smirks as he says two simple words, his voice a throaty whisper.
"Safe place."
| 2016-10-27T11:29:03 | 2016-10-27T09:26:55 | 96 | 52 |
[WP] The last time the aliens invaded our planet they fled after losing the war. They have reluctantly returned to wage war and are relieved to see that dinosaurs no longer inhabit Earth, but have been replaced by the smaller and less intimidating humans. | Dear Xander,
Glad greetings to you and yours, and eternal joy to your ancestors.
The invasion of the Earth has been called off. The Sauronoid aggressors that bested us so long ago have all but disappeared. In their place, a race of mammalian bipeds not so dissimilar from ourselves who are incredibly happy to see us for no other reason than the knowledge that they are not alone. They are not as advanced or as long-lived as we are. Compared to us, they are children and warriors such as we are do not make war upon children.
We have spoken to their leaders and they have agreed to allow us to build bases on Earth and their moon. Apparently the humans excel at service industries and I expect that you will see some of them in your sector in the next century or so as soon as we get the wormhole exchange up and running.
I know the one thing that is on your mind: how do we regain our honor after our defeat by the claws of the hated Sauronoids now that they are extinct? We swore an oath to occupy the Earth and pick pieces of their flesh out from between our teeth.
A few weeks after first contact with the humans, I found myself invited to something called a "picnic". A picnic entails an outdoor gathering of humans where they perform simple bonding rituals with each other and then eat a lot of food (Earth, come for the invasion, stay for the food).
So I'm sitting on this blanket in this meadow, trying out Earth food. The dish called "mustard potato salad" is particularly tasty, but then I was served several pieces of deep fried meat that smelled so frfrfrfr good! I tasted it and there was an explosion of delight in my mouth. I immediately asked what this was and I was told it was Southern friend chicken.
Xander, the enemy did not go completely extinct. They devolved. These chickens are the direct descendants of the Sauronoid ruling caste: the Tyrannosaurus Rex! Honor was restored and it was delicious!
We have agreed to terraform both Venus and Mars in exchange for a regular supply of chicken. If things go to plan, there will be chicken producing worlds throughout our empire and the humans will be granted first class citizenship.
A human holiday called Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I'm told they have something called "turkey" that will blow my socks off... | "What in the void is that?"
It was the first real question Master of Fleets had commed to Master of Spies. Their arrival had been uneventful, certainly compared to the disorder in which the fleet had departed their last foray into this accursed system, so many revs ago. Arriving on the solar outskirts with admirable precision, the hulking Vauts and nimble Demi-Vauts had coasted as silent and cold as space rocks for a double clawful of seasons, their Masters chafing at the indignity but loathe to admit it; they knew full well the price of being seen by this system's inhabitants. Several Vauts still bore the scars of buckled plates and scorched hull, reminders of the failure that all were forced to wear.
From the shadow of their target's remaining moon, Master of Spies had deployed his drones carefully, first mapping the inevitable changes in the geography that had occurred in their long absence. The active geology of this place had excited the small remnant that remained inside of the explorer he had been so long ago, but his reports were short and to the point. The super-continent was gone, and distance offered the chance to defeat the Foe in detail.
But now...
"I do not know, O Master of Fleets. They match no known specimens we have encountered." Around him, a multitude of limbs flashed and danced, his staff attempting to gain insight into this unexpected mystery. The feed that was causing such consternation focussed and sharpened, the finely crafted lenses drawing in on a tall and distended creature, one of the many pale striders, it seemed, populating the wild collection of metal and glass spires that had first drawn the machine's attention.
"They do not look like the Foe. Some servant race, perhaps?" Master of Spies suppressed the instinct to billow his crest in exasperation. Master of Fleets had an irritating tendency to stick her beak where she had no business speculating. He certainly didn't go around offering suggestions on formations or battle tactics. Worse still, she might be right.
"That is one possibility, among many." He chose his words with care, speaking with long years of practice. Of necessity. "It will require further analysis. For the moment, the facts remain uncertain. We have seen no trace of the Foe as yet, but as our drones are attempting to remain as hidden as possible-"
"It will be some time yet before we know. Yes, Master of Spies, I grasp that." The Master of Fleets clicked her talons in mild rebuke, and he fought against the instinctive bow of submission that had been bred into his bones. "I may not approach your years, but I was not released from the hatchery last rev."
"O-of course, O Exalted Master of Fleets. I shall comm you as soon as we know more." Hatred and revulsion filled him as he heard his voice break, knew she had heard it as well.
"Yes, my Master of Spies. Yes...you will." Her mocking gaze lingered with him long after the screen darkened.
At the very least, he thought as he turned his focus towards the enigmatic planet below, the prospect cataloguing of a new species, even one in service of the Foe, would make for a more interesting trip. | 2017-03-04T03:42:15 | 2017-03-04T02:50:19 | 664 | 14 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | The hero looked at me, bewildered. Not three feet away from him lay the body of the "immortal" Emperor, with the hero's sword through his heart.
"I'm sorry, I don't understand the problem." He said, "I defeated him. You're free!"
"The problem is that you're undermining the plight of the common man, aren't you?" I said, waving a hand to the Emperor's dead body. "*Some* of us spend decades infiltrating the Empire because *some* of us weren't blessed by the Goddess with immense strength and durability!"
"But I was given these gifts to help *free* the common man, to-"
"Tell me, how long have you been working your way here? Two months? Three? How long ago did you actually *hear* about the Emperor? Because I'll bet it was maybe a day before you decided to 'put an end to their tyranny' as your lot love to say."
The hero remained quiet for a moment, "It was four months." They said eventually, like it mattered.
"And let me guess, you lost a love interest along the way? Maybe your favourite horsey?" I spat, "Well some of us were *raised* under this tyranny! We've had families disappear off the streets! We've endured this for nearly a century! And then *finally* one of us, *me*, gets in! Works their way up to be their right-hand man! Commits unspeakable horrors to gain their trust all so I can destroy his Soul Shielding at just the right time and plunge a dagger in his back!"
"Well, I'm sorry that I timed my heroics so poorly," The hero said with more than a hint of snark, shifting his tune as he went of the defensive, "If I'd known you were going to be so ungrateful-"
"No. *No.* You don't get to pull that shit here." I cut in again, "All you've done is reinforce the fatalistic idea that people should just sit around and wait for someone else to help them because the common man isn't good enough. How many empires could have liberated themselves *decades* ago if people hadn't just kept their heads down and said 'Someone else will do it, a hero will come'? And it's not exactly like you did this out of the kindness of your heart, is it? You've made a greater name for yourself as a hero! I'll hazard to guess you were even promised land or an esteemed title, weren't you?"
"That is unfair!" the hero protested, "I was promised no such thing!"
"Oh. Then they probably promised you they'd enchant your weapon, right?"
My accusation was met with silence.
"See? That's *worse*! You didn't save us because you wanted to, you saved us because you were promised a better *sword*!" I paused for a moment, burying my head in my hands for a few seconds. "Just... just go." I muttered into my palms, "You've already undermined decades of planning, just go take your sword to your enchanter and leave."
The hero stood there uneasily for several seconds. Eventually they walked over to the corpse of the Emperor, removed their sword from his chest and left through the secret passage they'd entered through. The same passage I'd convinced the Emperor not to board up so I could catch him by surprise. The nerve.
Slowly, I made my way out of the temple. I knew what had to be done. No one could know what had really happened here, the people needed to think that their plans had succeed. I was going to need to lie and tell them all I had killed the Emperor and then... Then I would leave. I would disappear from memory. I'd made so many sacrifices already, what was one more? It was too risky to try to play the role of corrupt Emperor myself in order to give the people a true victory, another hero might slay me before the people had their chance. No, I would need to leave and never speak of this day again. And if a hero ever wandered in claiming to have slain the Emperor themselves?
Well, they'd be known throughout the kingdom as a liar. | "Good job breaking it, hero," I managed to spit out through the blood and half-missing, mangled flesh that was my right cheek.
"What? Emperor Tranithis Rex lies dead by my hand. I have won the day!"
"No, Arctus, you haven't. Tranithis has ruled for over 2000 years, without pause or sizeable opposition. Didn't you consider that before your plucky revolution made its way to the palace? You're just plucky revolution #35. You're glamorous, well-toned hero #73. You'll be name lost to history as the emperor purges every reference to you, your family and all your friends, save those in his personal logbook, #5321. You've also strengthened his defenses against future incursions and broken the only weapon that can destroy his physical body in the epic battle to the death that preceded this. Did you really need to throw the sword into the fucking volcano with him?!"
I was incensed. Years of planning went into this. I knew when the next revolution would attempt and fail to dislodge Tranithas. I had set the guards on the schedule exactly opposite their plans to infiltrate the fortress here atop Mount Flegathon. I had ensured that the volcano had been prepped with a ritual that would raise lava and heat levels to the point necessary to destroy the wards on his body and cauterize the wounds from the blade; this was the only way to kill him.
Then Artus the Dimwitted showed up. Never the brightest hero, I thought his brother, Severus Darkbane would be leading the charge. He was, but apparently was felled in combat by a rogue arrowshot in battle two weeks ago. Severus and I had an understanding. Severus knew my story and the plan. He knew I was here only to avenge the destruction of my village at the beginning of the emperor's long reign. He knew I had sold my soul, and the ruler-ship of the kingdom to the strongest of the demons of the hells to learn the secrets needed to compromise the emperor's wards and turn the volcano, the source of his power, into the source of his undoing. His brother knew none of this, and thought stabbing the bastard would kill him. Artus had lived up to his name.
"Arctus, I'M ON YOUR SIDE!!! BEFORE YOU STRODE IN HERE LIKE A BIG DUMB DOOFUS, WE HAD A PLAN IN PLACE TO KILL THE FUCKING EMPEROR. THAT SWORD DESTROYS HIS BODY BY SAPPING IT OF THE ENERGY GIVEN TO HIM BY THE FIRE OF THE VOLCANO. BY THROWING IT IN THERE, YOU HAVE MERGED HIS LIFE FORCE WITH THE BLADE, AND THUS THE VOLCANO. THE VOLCANO WHOSE POWER IS THE SOLE DOMAIN OF BELPHEGOR, DEMON LORD OF FLAME, AND THE EMPEROR'S BOSS!"
In the undeniably terse exchange, Arctus and I had failed to notice that the volcano keep's lavaplume fireplace had just been host to the arrival of a new figure. In all the chaos, I had forgotten that the last part of our plan, the reason I needed Severus at all, had come to claim his due.
"Ahem. Am I interrupting something?"
"Belphegor...you're early."
"Yes, I am. I got wind of your little scheme to absorb the emperor's power into the blade, then use that to lure me here for the binding ritual necessary to lock us both away for eternity. I gave him the powers that sustained him. Did you really think I wouldn't look into your motivations, Vasyk? Now, kill him for me, Arctus. I wish to have my... I mean your place on the throne secured for all time."
And with that, Arctus put an arrow through my heart. The last thing I saw was that stupid, gaping grin he always had on his face.
*Moments later, back in Hell*
"You know Vasyk, you really shouldn't have tried to screw me like that. You've known me for long enough to know I always do my due diligence on infernal contracts. The old "use the one weapon of power to imprison both ancient evils" trick? It's the oldest one in the book. Your vengeance line didn't hold up on inspection, considering you had plans to off me too. Too bad Severus trusted his little brother Arctus so much that he let him in on the details of the plan. Arctus really hated being in his brother's shadow, you know?"
"So, eternal torment then, Belphegor?"
"Not really. It would be a waste of your top-notch administrative skills, and Arctus can't run a cheap tavern, let alone a vast empire. No, you'll return as his infernal advisor, ensuring my will be done from now until the end of time. Thanks to selling me your soul, I have your true name to hold against you this time around."
"Well fuck. A promotion."
| 2017-03-12T13:41:34 | 2017-03-12T12:55:51 | 469 | 64 |
[WP] You are a normal person who spent your entire life infiltrating the evil Empire. You even became the Emperor's right hand. The day before you finally topple the Empire, the hero arrives, kills the Emperor, and saves the day.
Now how does that make you feel? | "Good job breaking it, hero," I managed to spit out through the blood and half-missing, mangled flesh that was my right cheek.
"What? Emperor Tranithis Rex lies dead by my hand. I have won the day!"
"No, Arctus, you haven't. Tranithis has ruled for over 2000 years, without pause or sizeable opposition. Didn't you consider that before your plucky revolution made its way to the palace? You're just plucky revolution #35. You're glamorous, well-toned hero #73. You'll be name lost to history as the emperor purges every reference to you, your family and all your friends, save those in his personal logbook, #5321. You've also strengthened his defenses against future incursions and broken the only weapon that can destroy his physical body in the epic battle to the death that preceded this. Did you really need to throw the sword into the fucking volcano with him?!"
I was incensed. Years of planning went into this. I knew when the next revolution would attempt and fail to dislodge Tranithas. I had set the guards on the schedule exactly opposite their plans to infiltrate the fortress here atop Mount Flegathon. I had ensured that the volcano had been prepped with a ritual that would raise lava and heat levels to the point necessary to destroy the wards on his body and cauterize the wounds from the blade; this was the only way to kill him.
Then Artus the Dimwitted showed up. Never the brightest hero, I thought his brother, Severus Darkbane would be leading the charge. He was, but apparently was felled in combat by a rogue arrowshot in battle two weeks ago. Severus and I had an understanding. Severus knew my story and the plan. He knew I was here only to avenge the destruction of my village at the beginning of the emperor's long reign. He knew I had sold my soul, and the ruler-ship of the kingdom to the strongest of the demons of the hells to learn the secrets needed to compromise the emperor's wards and turn the volcano, the source of his power, into the source of his undoing. His brother knew none of this, and thought stabbing the bastard would kill him. Artus had lived up to his name.
"Arctus, I'M ON YOUR SIDE!!! BEFORE YOU STRODE IN HERE LIKE A BIG DUMB DOOFUS, WE HAD A PLAN IN PLACE TO KILL THE FUCKING EMPEROR. THAT SWORD DESTROYS HIS BODY BY SAPPING IT OF THE ENERGY GIVEN TO HIM BY THE FIRE OF THE VOLCANO. BY THROWING IT IN THERE, YOU HAVE MERGED HIS LIFE FORCE WITH THE BLADE, AND THUS THE VOLCANO. THE VOLCANO WHOSE POWER IS THE SOLE DOMAIN OF BELPHEGOR, DEMON LORD OF FLAME, AND THE EMPEROR'S BOSS!"
In the undeniably terse exchange, Arctus and I had failed to notice that the volcano keep's lavaplume fireplace had just been host to the arrival of a new figure. In all the chaos, I had forgotten that the last part of our plan, the reason I needed Severus at all, had come to claim his due.
"Ahem. Am I interrupting something?"
"Belphegor...you're early."
"Yes, I am. I got wind of your little scheme to absorb the emperor's power into the blade, then use that to lure me here for the binding ritual necessary to lock us both away for eternity. I gave him the powers that sustained him. Did you really think I wouldn't look into your motivations, Vasyk? Now, kill him for me, Arctus. I wish to have my... I mean your place on the throne secured for all time."
And with that, Arctus put an arrow through my heart. The last thing I saw was that stupid, gaping grin he always had on his face.
*Moments later, back in Hell*
"You know Vasyk, you really shouldn't have tried to screw me like that. You've known me for long enough to know I always do my due diligence on infernal contracts. The old "use the one weapon of power to imprison both ancient evils" trick? It's the oldest one in the book. Your vengeance line didn't hold up on inspection, considering you had plans to off me too. Too bad Severus trusted his little brother Arctus so much that he let him in on the details of the plan. Arctus really hated being in his brother's shadow, you know?"
"So, eternal torment then, Belphegor?"
"Not really. It would be a waste of your top-notch administrative skills, and Arctus can't run a cheap tavern, let alone a vast empire. No, you'll return as his infernal advisor, ensuring my will be done from now until the end of time. Thanks to selling me your soul, I have your true name to hold against you this time around."
"Well fuck. A promotion."
| A taciturn air filled the room. The Emperor, Kretz and Fenton were discussing matter of state. 2 out of the 3 men at the long table were thinking intently, brainstorming plans to deal with some usurper. The fifth man was too excited, and had to make a conscious effort to not be jittery. Years of secrets and lies, despicable acts carried out with a greater plan in mind, were about to pay off. This usurper was just the distraction that the man needed to put his end-game, his final plan, in place.
"Is this man really a threat? We've seen thousands of these would-be liberators." Egnorak, the rightful ruler of Arkartha and all around scum of a human being was saying.
"He has taken over the Balterlands. Nobody has gone that far in the past. With their forces..." Kretz trailed off. Nobody at the table had to be reminded of the force of the Balterlands. The biweekly tennis games had been a manslaughter.
"But still, there is no way he could take over the city. Our walls are too strong." Fenton interjected. It was no use to him for the Emperor to be so on guard the day before his final comeuppance. Egnorak sat at the head of the table and pondered. These matters of administration were never his favorite part of the job. Striking fear into the hearts of his loyal cannon fodder was by far the best part of the job, in his professional opinion. He mostly went with the opinion of his advisers whenever possible, and defaulted to Fenton's opinion, his longest lasting and most loyal adviser, whenever there was a disagreement among them. This was different, however. This usurper had annoyed him. All his talk of "freedom" and "basic human rights". He needed to be taught a lesson.
"Something needs to be done. This man has offended me to my very core, taking over land that is mine by rights! We send the troops out tomorrow!" Kretz's eyes gleamed, all he really wanted to accomplish in his life was to be respected by Egnorak. Fenton showed a flash of unhappiness, but that was interpreted by the other men as frustration at his opinion being ignored. In reality, Fenton was already imagining the administrative headaches of recalling the armed forces after they had just been dispatched.
"Good meet, gents. I trust I'll see you at the banquet this weekend. It isn't everyday that your dog turns 4."
Amidst promises that they wouldn't miss it for the world, a terrible shaking overtook the room. The men all rocketed out of their chairs, and ran to the balcony facing the city proper. They arrived just in time to see part of the city walls come down, and what looked to be the main force of the Balterlands come rushing through.
_________________________________________________________________
The three men waited now in the throne room, surrounded by weary guards as the unready main force of the city were unceremoniously slaughtered by fierce Balterlandians. The roaring sound of battle crept ever closer, until the giant door of the throne room itself was being beaten upon. The guards in there suits of armor marched to the door and stood in formation. They were not warriors, more comfortable intimidating peasants than in battle, and it showed.
The door came buckling down, as everyone knew it would. The cheap doors of the castle had been a point of contention between the advisers to the emperor, Fenton saying that it was more of a show of strength and confidence, really to have poor infrastructure. Plus who wouldn't want to save a buck or too? Kretz looked sideways at Fenton with a look that seemed to say *I told you so*, but was afraid to say anything out loud with Egnorak in his current mood. The room had been void of all conversation since they had arrived. Egnorak sat on his throne, the look on his face not conveying anything, not conveying that he really felt nothing at all. Not conveying that he knew in his heart of hearts that it was over, but that he was still in denial.
The guards were rushed by the force outside, and were quickly dispatched. The Balterlandians pushed past the corpses of the guards, and then parted. A lone man walked through. He was wearing ornate golden armor, and he was a head taller than the rest of the forces.
"Egnorak! Let's settle this like men. I, Kevin, will have one final battle with you, and I will conquer this evil empire once and for all!"
Egnorak was no warrior, either. He looked at his two advisers, and before anyone could say anything, Kretz had leap at the man, with a fire in his eyes that temporarily shocked him. A fire in the eyes could not deal with a suit of armor and years of experience warring, however. Kretz was quickly dispatched, and his body fell to the floor with a loyal thump. Kevin looked back at the throne. Egnorak hadn't moved. He took one last look at Fenton, at the sword on his hip. Fenton flashed back to all the things he had done, to all the brutal killings he had overseen in Egnorak's name. This isn't how this was supposed to go, but it had to go somehow. With a look of disgust that couldn't be interpreted by anyone in the room, Fenton took his sword out of its scabbard, and dropped it on the ground.
Fenton had made it to the balcony again before he heard the screaming. The stoic non feeling act had apparently been dropped as the fighting began. Fenton didn't care. He could not stop thinking about the atrocities. Images flashed in his mind as he kept walking, and followed him all the way down.
______________________________________
/r/Periapoapsis | 2017-03-12T12:55:51 | 2017-03-12T10:41:50 | 64 | 20 |
[WP] You are captured by an alien race to be kept in a zoo. Since humans are considered an endangered species, another Human is brought along so you can 'breed.' However, the ones that caught you don't actually know much about humans. | I had been locked in this zoo for 362 days and 5 hours. I know because I counted. The aliens captured me and put me in a zoo when I crash landed on their planet. It had been a pretty boring life, although it certainly beat having to deal with adult responsibilities. I was always a bit of a loner so I didn't mind the solitude, and watching the stupid alien kids was quite entertaining.
*Slam!*
I turned to see the zoo keeper enter. She (at least I think she was a she) was followed by another group of aliens dragging a big wooden crate. I recognized the crate as the one that they had brought me in almost a year ago.
"*Great.*" I thought. "*They are moving me.*" But to my surprise instead of beckoning me to come, they opened the crate and left.
They brought me a companion! I felt a surge of excitement. Maybe it was a mate! I couldn't help but laugh at myself. 'Mate?' Maybe living in a zoo was getting to me.
I approached the crate. "Hello?" I called. There was no response.
I reached the crate and knelt to look Inside. Crouched in the back was a beautiful young woman with bright blue eyes, who looked absolutely terrified.
"Uh... Hi." I said awkwardly. "It's okay. I won't hurt you. You can come out. It's safe."
The girl hesitated, then slowly climbed out of the crate. She stood and then studied me for a moment. "Hello." She whispered. She looked behind me as if she expected someone to be standing there.
"It's just me here." I said, glancing behind me, confused. "We are in an exhibit at a zoo."
The girl visibly relaxed. "Just a zoo? They made me think I was going to be locked in here as some sort of sex slave. They said I needed to make lots of babies to save the human race. I was so frightened. But you look just like my grandmother." She smiled slightly.
I laughed. "You are never too old to explore the galaxy. Although perhaps these aliens need to learn a thing or two about humans."
"I suppose they do." We both shared a good, hard laugh. | (Second Time Writing This. Bleeeehhhh)
I don't remember when I went to bed last night. That happens a lot when I read. I will snuggle up in my thousands of pillows, warm bed next to my bookshelf, reading the lastest installment of The Formics Wars. A series I had been looking for for months in paper. So, while my friends partied hard looking for a boy to spend the night with, I read about an alien race entering our solar system and blowning up mining outposts. Great college student you are, Julie.
I keep my eyes closed, glad to be sitting in the nice, warm sunlight of morning. My next class isn't until 1:00, I get to slleeeeeppp! Whippy!
I was starting to get uncomfortable, which was weird. My bed was soft, and cushiony and amazing. It felt like I was lying on moss, with no support. I didn't want to open my eyes.
I stretched, pondering about the book I didn't finish. Where was it? Did I drop it? I hope I didn't bend the pag-
I was shaken awake, hands on my shoulders as I am slammed into reality. Who was that? What was happening?! I jump up, and frantically kick a tree the person in front of me. He, I guess it's a he, backs up suddenly, hands in the air. I stand completely, slowly, and I notice I'm in some, odd, clothing. Gray brown, a flowing shirt and pant. Comfortable, but not what I slept in. He was wearing the same thing.
"Where am I and who are you?!"
I ask, looking around. I was in a cage. Trees and houses surrounded me. A sna hit, with more advanced one room houses until a fairly modern cottage ended the story on the right. What was this, a human zoo?
The man said nothing, only posited to a sign just outside the bars.
In a variety of symbols, pictures, and glyphs, was a sliver of English. *Endagered Species: Homo Sapiens. Planet: Earth. Organisms Present: F(21) Julie, M(23) Jake.*
No. No. No.
They want us to reproduce. Thats what's done with held animals endangered. No.
I look at the man. He had a gold band on his left hand. Ha.
He speaks, "You know what they want us to do." He looks sad, upset, stressed, like he was hesitant to say something important.
"Yeah, that's not gonna work. I won't do that." He looks intrigued?
"Why? Other than obvious reasons, of course."
"Dude, sorry, you got trapped with an Asexual." I look at the new creatures outside the fence. "Good job, you chose the worst person to save humanity."
He looked incredibly relieved, like a weight was lifted off his chest.
"Thank God!" He cried out, "Im gay!"
Edit: Can't spell. | 2017-03-23T16:50:55 | 2017-03-23T13:36:20 | 149 | 102 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| Archon Lethrax of the Twelth Dominion of Nyctium looked at the Blue Seedling before him, shining beyond the bridge. He had seen many hives of scum and depravity - the Voidstalker Collective literally devoured their young, the Praxic Union glassed unruly planets, and the less said about the Akirian Free State, the better. This system called "Sol" seemed tame, weak, inexperienced. A bold first conquest.
The humans put up a fight. The fifth planet was surrounded by Battleships, and they fought hard. But they fell, and the Nyctish Fleet moved on, unhindered, when they saw a ripple in space, ahead in the distance.
"Reinforcements? You said this was their entire army, fool!" Taking out his blade, Lethrax decapitated his second, the failure demanding death as punishment. Yet it was not Terran Ships that emerged.
Praxic, Akirian, Voidstalker, Leuma, Calderan and many other ships the Archon didn't even recognise, but the movement was not complete yet. Out of the ripple, came a titanic form, tentacles from its face, if it could be called that. It spoke, and its words tored into the minds of the bridge crew.
"We are the ones who purge the life from all worlds. But the humans have done us many a service. When they eventually fade away, we shall extinguish all light in the universe. Until that day, our crusade will wait."
The archon gaped with horror. The humans had *befriended* a damned *eldritch abomination*.
"...to borrow a Terran phrase, Fuck."
EDIT: 160 likes? Fuck me backwards, that's the most I've ever had! Thanks guys! | The alien vessels fell upon the Sol Coalition's fleet in waves, as if an interstellar tide had washed in. The lumbering human ships wheeled their guns about, massive artillery pieces launching their rocket-assisted shells across the field. Maneuvering thrusters flickered as the ships struggled to hold position upon the first alien volley. The aliens effortlessly shrugged off the shells, as their Stasis modules plucked them from the midst of battle. Bright green beams of energy rippled from their ships, and before the humans could react, half of their right flank had vaporized.
This was the last stand for Earth; colony after colony had fallen to these strange aliens. They had attacked without provocation, without reason.
Now, we travel to the SCS Tidebringer, where Captain George Albright prepares for his last stand:
Aboard every human ship, klaxons blared and men rushed to their stations. Things were no different on the Battleship Tidebringer, one of the last of its class. Captain Albright simply folded his hands behind his back as the right flank was... simply evaporated. "We've just lost twenty ships, Captain!" an ensign yelled from the side.
"And the Torch?" the captain inquired.
"She's..." the man looked at his graviton-field monitoring system. "She's damaged, but she's still on the field."
"Thank God," he said, "Thank God. Ensign, tell the Torch they must withdraw."
"Sir?"
"Their mission is far more important than this battle. We will hold the line."
"With all due respect--"
"We will *hold* the line. That is an order."
The ensign shrunk back down, eyes miserably scanning the console before him.
The captain noticed a faint blue glow as the Torch's FTL drive powered up. The ship stretched, then leapt into the great beyond, course unknown.
"Now, Lieutenant, I want all fire directed at the middle ship in the fleet. Let's get their attention." The gunnery section nodded their head in approval, working furiously on their panels to adjust aim and reload their weapons. "Standing by," the lieutenant said, at length.
"Open fire, everything we've got."
The ship shuddered as twenty-six guns fired and six missiles launched in harmony, sending their payloads toward the enemy lines. The captain observed the trails, chuckling to himself. Under better circumstances, one might even think these weapons were beautiful to watch as they streaked across the blackness of spa-- His thought was interrupted by the immediate alien response, which tore through the hull of his ship.
Will finish shortly! | 2017-03-26T07:03:57 | 2017-03-26T05:50:12 | 224 | 42 |
[WP] as two political opponents step out into the stage for their first televised debate, a wizard in the audience secretly casts a spell rendering them unable to lie. | "The issue that separates the two of you more than the issue of immigration. Mr. Trump, you want to build a wall. Secretary Clinton, you have offered no specific plan for how you are going to secure our southern border. Mr. Trump, you are calling for major deportations. How do you propose funding this wall, and what benefit do you propose it will have?"
*Ha,* thinks the wizard, *let's expose the dishonesty of this machiavellian bastard.*
No flick of the wrist, no incantation accompanies his spell - the magic doesn't work like that. In a mere breath, Trump's ability to speak anything apart from what he perceives as truth, vanishes. The wizard, an ordinary-looking man in his 30s, shifts backwards in his seat for comfort, the shadow of a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. *This is going to be one hell of a show.*
"Let me tell you something now. I think I should respond to that. First of all, I had a very good meeting with the president of Mexico. Very nice man. We will be doing very much better with Mexico on trade deals. Believe me. The NAFTA deal signed by her husband is one of the worst deals ever made of any kind, signed by anybody. It's a disaster. Hillary Clinton wanted the wall. Hillary Clinton fought for the wall in 2006 or thereabouts. Now, she never gets anything done, so naturally the wall wasn't built. But Hillary Clinton wanted the wall..."
And so on. The wizard's satisfaction turns to amusement, then to puzzlement, then to dread, as it dawns on him.
The dangerous thing about Donald Trump, is that he *really is* just a plain-speaking moron.
*Fuck it. There's no way he can win now, anyway, right?*
| Jack waved his wand, mostly for dramatic effect. He was tired of lying politicians who hid their greed, lust for power and lack of empathy behind empty promises and platitudes. He decided this debate would be different . Malcolm Wall, a Tennessee senator whose seat is up for grabs vs James Guy, a local farmer would be the perfect place to start Jack decided . After all small towns can pack quite a wallop of truth .
Malcom opens his mouth, preparing to say that he hoped that an introduction of Whole Foods and the like into rural communities would amplify the need for organic and local production. Instead what left his mouth, would be in newspapers in every major city and act as a word of warning against fake posturing and fornication for many politicians to come .
----------------------------------------------------------
My name is Janine Bennett and I'm reporting to you on Channel 4 , TVN on today's debate . For Malcolm Wall his whole campaign came to a quick and disastrous end during a routine question , one the viewers had seen Wall circumvent with fluidity appearing to appease most if not all his constituents in the past . When asked how larger businesses would affect local agriculture and economy especially in rural areas, Wall responded : (rolls video tape)
"Fuck the locals, fuck the agricultural nut-jobs with their hippie ideologies that just always seem to err on the side of poverty inducing . You know my opponent, basically a nobody has the audacity to sit up here claiming he's just trying to get the job done . Well let me tell you , according to his wife there's more than a few jobs he's left undone over the years worrying so much about a dying art . If you let her tell it, I'm definitely getting the job done where it counts in and out of the bedroom. " Calamity ensues and papers are flying and shouting can be heard all throughout the hall.
Video stops rolling.
Janine, even herself taken aback at the recording which she had been present to witness leads back in : " Walls unabashed response then led to a riot within the Town Hall as opponent James Guy attempted to leap over his own podium to attack Wall. Fortunately, a county officer was in close proximity and was able to subdue Guy after he assaulted Wall. As for the rest of the debate, it will be put on hold until further notice . This is TVN back to you at the station ."
The cameraman stops taping Janine and continues watching the footage from the debate . Right before he part where Wall speaks , he notices a man smiling in the corner Standing too far off screen to pinpoint exact features, but as the video continues even through the calamity the smile never drops . | 2017-05-13T14:29:00 | 2017-05-13T10:15:38 | 48 | 33 |
[WP] Your dad is wanted in twenty countries, your mom is a serial kille, your little brother is a genius hacker, and your little sister has just joined the Illuminati. None of them would ever want to anger you, though. | I was just casually minding my own business, when my brother bumped into me.
-Huh? Not even a sorry?
-...
That little nerd thinks he is all that great being a "hacker", without sdaily social interactions he doesn't even know the proper manners.
-Say sorry!- I saidlosting my temper.
-Fuck off, you moron.
-What the fuck did you just fucking say about me, you little bitch? I’ll have you know I graduated top of my class in the Navy Seals, and I’ve been involved in numerous secret raids on Al-Quaeda, and I have over 300 confirmed kills. I am trained in gorilla warfare and I’m the top sniper in the entire US armed forces. You are nothing to me but just another target. I will wipe you the fuck out with precision the likes of which has never been seen before on this Earth, mark my fucking words. You think you can get away with saying that shit to me over the Internet? Think again, fucker. As we speak I am contacting my secret network of spies across the USA and your IP is being traced right now so you better prepare for the storm, maggot. The storm that wipes out the pathetic little thing you call your life. You’re fucking dead, kid. I can be anywhere, anytime, and I can kill you in over seven hundred ways, and that’s just with my bare hands. Not only am I extensively trained in unarmed combat, but I have access to the entire arsenal of the United States Marine Corps and I will use it to its full extent to wipe your miserable ass off the face of the continent, you little shit. If only you could have known what unholy retribution your little “clever” comment was about to bring down upon you, maybe you would have held your fucking tongue. But you couldn’t, you didn’t, and now you’re paying the price, you goddamn idiot. I will shit fury all over you and you will drown in it. You’re fucking dead, kiddo. | This is my first time writing this type of stuff so please bear with me. :)
Story begins:
Me: My whole Family are known for doing illegal things, heck even I admit they do those stuff.
Me: But I know you're wondering why wouldn't they want me to join in their.....well..... escapades?
Agent: Tell me why?
Me: Well...... It's because it uses up a lot of time, and you know time is money, I'm busy managing my business my passion, and my family knows that nothing gets past my pancake business.
Me: Blood may be thicker then Water but Maple syrup is even thicker then blood. Thats my Code and my family understands that, since dedication is our family's thing.
Agent: Interesting. So you would priortize your "Pancake business" over your own family. But why pancakes and do you interact or receive help or help your family?
Me: I love pancakes! Since I was a kid in the oprhanage with my younger brother and sister. Pancakes were what they served every Saturday and Sunday and it was the most delicious thing yet.
Me: But one day, after we got back to the orphanage from a little celebration somewhere, where all ophans, me and my siblings included. We saw the orphanage was destroyed, the destruction of the orphanage the recipe for the pancakes and the person who made them were all lost. The one thing that made living there worth it.
Agent: How does this relate to you not joining with your family?
Me: We're getting there.
Me: After that we were forced to live in rubbles of the orphanage, and one day my parents arrived and took me and my siblings with them.
Me: I eventually found out my Parents destroyed the orphanage since it was quite a process just to get us, and they left us there to teach us the cruelity of the world, I guess it to mold us into them.
Me: I didn't care about that. What I cared about was the lost of the pancakes and threw a tantrum until
Mother: If you love those pancakes so much why not make them.
Me: I took a liking to that idea, and exploiting the part that they felt sorry for me that the one thing I loved was lost forever. I asked them if I can set on a quest to try to remake those pancakes. A quest they all respected. So for a few years I stayed with my family grew up until I was ready. After that I set out.
Me: Before I left my parents gave me money and stuff I would need to live. After that we never saw each other again. Guess our lives were a little too busy to meet each other.
Agent: Very well. Story checks out. You may leave.
Me: Thanks! Be sure to come to my Business. Remember the name "Panned Cake" at the corner of the street near this place.
| 2017-06-04T10:41:23 | 2017-06-04T05:32:37 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] Aliens fear humans. Their blood is poison, they can see well in the dark and eat meat. One was just found as a stowaway on a mining ship deep in space, with the crew doing everything in their power to avoid the human as it lurks about the ship, looking for someone to talk to | The creature was hideous! Its soft pink skin over an extremely large and powerful frame, its extremely thin and flexible spines covering its entire body the colour of fire, its soft red and black patterned upper carapace that seemed to flow and flex as it moved, and its lower limbs covered in a blue and bluish white carapace almost as soft as its upper body, ending in monstrous looking hard soled casings. The Gleotans looked at each others' hard carapaced small bodies of no higher than 3 standard lengths. This stowaway was at least 6 standard lengths tall. Perhaps higher. Its arms were as thick as one of their thoraxes.
"Hallo?"
By the maker, what was that terrible sound it was producing?
"Anyone thare?" It moved its powerful forelimb to cover its eyes as it peered out through its containment vessel. "Ay same tae be a wee but lost. Mighta had a wee but too much whuskey last naight... any chance o' sum durehctions?" The transparent material of the containment vessel shuddered violently as the creature hit it with its giant forelimb. "Anybody hoooome?"
The Gleotans chattered to each other unsure of what to do.
"Guess nawt..." it turned away from the transparent side of the vessel, "Well ain't thus a fancy drunk tank? The coppers really went all oot on thus one." The portal on the vessel opened. Felxor, the jailer, forgot to lock it! "Oh, 'ello! Whut's thus then?"
=Translated from Gleotan= "THE CREATURE IS LOOSE! THIS IS NOT A DRILL, THIS IS NOT A DRILL! EVERYBODY REPORT TO THEIR INDIVIDUAL REST CELLS AND LOCK THE PORTALS!"
---
Edit: Holy crappleburger this blew up! XD Thanks everyone for commenting and upvoting! | "Why do they flee, why can't they see,
My mission is only diplomacy?
I did not know, that their ship's gravity,
Would cause my nose so greatly to bleed.
I did not know that this red *even could* -
Cut through their skin like a chainsaw through wood.
Every time I try to make a friendship that's good,
*This* always happens, forever *misunderstood.*"
---
"My Queen there is news of the alien on board."
"What? He still runs? How's he not yet been caught?"
"Because his blood is like acid, and his eyes they can see,"
"In the darkness of night, and worse - he eats meat!"
"Leave me, commander, for a while I must think."
"Yes, my Queen, I will see the ship's shrink"
*To the audience:*
"A monster on board, and my crew think it he,
There's a monster - tis true! - but that monster is *me*.
They do not know how empty I feel deep inside,
The loneliness burns, even with crew by my side."
"This Queen for a King, every night she doth plea,
She sails an ocean of stars, but she's forever lonely."
---
"I will wander this ship, through this maintenance vent,
Until the claws of friendship I duly cement.
I have never really had a friend of my own,
But perhaps with this species, I won't be... *alone*."
---
What is that beeping? - he's somewhere on top.
Ten metres, Five metres.... My God, he has stopped!
Perhaps it is time, I'm too lonely to live...
I will let him take me; I'll feel the stab of his shiv.
---
I open this hatch, and through it I fall!
My word, what is that creature, so big and so tall?
Its eyes are like stars, its tongue - it is art!
I think this creature has captured my heart.
---
He is so small, so meek, - *why were we scared?*
The poor thing is shivering - I think I'm ensnared!
On his head there's a mop of thick, sandy brown,
Soon sitting on that shall perhaps be my crown?
*Together (taking each others hands/claws):*
A billion stars, yet we've been so alone,
Emotions like this, not before have we known.
There's a kinship that burns deep down inside,
With you I'll live, and always be by your side.
---
---
If you liked his, please come check out some of my other stories: /r/nickofnight
| 2017-06-10T03:20:18 | 2017-06-10T03:12:48 | 2,394 | 436 |
[WP] Time slows down for you when you are in danger. The greater the danger, the more time you have to work things out. A terrible car accident once gave you almost a minute to react. Time has nearly stopped for you for subjective months now, and you still don't know why. | “Huh,” was all that I could say as I looked at the clock on my laptop. It took me more than a ‘minute’ of my time to realise something was wrong, dreadfully wrong. See, I have this weird superpower, if you could call it that. Time slows down when I’m in danger. I didn’t realise what the hell was going on the first time it happened. As you can imagine, I managed to survive being kneed in the groin that day.
This was different. It was different than that day with the car. That day, time slowed down for a minute, in my frame of reference, if that makes sense. But that’s also where the problem is, with my superpower. I’m still bound by the laws of physics then. It’s not like I’m The Flash.
I’d grown used to time slowing down for seconds before “danger” like someone punching me and I’d always be able to react. So, to everyone else it seemed like I had killer reflexes. But the first day I was in true danger of losing my life, it was like I was swimming in water, very viscous water. I was numb. As I saw the car crashing through the people on the pavement, my brain was firing signals to my hands and legs to jump and brace. But my body was slow. Imagine if everything you felt was multiplied by, say, a factor of 60. Your hands feel 60 times heavier, you move 60 times slower. ‘course the math is more complex but it’s a rough estimation of how it was like, of how it felt.
This, like I said, is different. Each keystroke I’m making takes hours. I don’t know what is going on and I can’t imagine how long it will take me to stand up and go out to see what’s happening. Or to see what will happen.
I want to scream but I cannot.
*I tried to name drop the "I have no mouth and I must scream" trope but I couldn't think of a way to make it seem organic enough. Hope you guys enjoy! Quick write-up as usual, i.e. zeroth draft. Comments welcome. :)* | Diary Entry 1:
Time is such a fickle thing.
Sure, that statement would make the brawl furl for most “Joe average physicists” out there who might tell you “No…time is relative”. I say that is non-sense. Time...is fickle.
Why?
Well, while time seems constant most of the time, just tick-tocking away…each second hand marking another passing moment, all that seems to change any time danger is near. Then, time…as in how I experience all the things around me…and their normal processes…slows down. But somehow, I can move around in that weird time flux like I normally would. So, if a car runs an intersection, and is about to slam into me, everything in that intersection slows down, giving me enough time to speed up or swerve. Then…life returns back to normal.
So, this has only happened directly to me a few times. Helped me avoid a few broken bones as a kid as I attempted a few daredevil stunts. And when it happens to others…for example…let’s say that I am parked at the same stop light that someone decided to run right by…and I am observing that car heading towards a car already in the intersection…then I slow down along with everyone else in the scene…except for the car that is in danger, and I don’t normally sense any time variance at all.
Like I said, time is fickle.
But, I have started this journal today to document what I have been experiencing for what seems like weeks now. Time has slowed down for EVERYONE in the world except for me.
I know it has been a while because the sun hasn’t set in what feels like days and days and days.
I also know it has been a while because I decided to do a scientific test to understand what is going on. Since objects fall 32 feet per second, I decided to push my stapler off my desk to see how long it took to hit the ground. It has seemed like a month now, and it has only made it half way to the ground! I even taped a ruler to my desk…and put sharpie marks every time my second hand on my watch ticks (which happens at what feels like once every 6 hours or so). With this ad hoc measuring…I hope to make some sense of how slow things are going.
But why?
Why…why…why?
Is there a nuclear warhead heading our way? How would I know? The news has halted with the time slow down as well. I can not imagine what it could be!
Well…this is where I will end my journal entry for today. "Today". Huh. Such a funny concept. For what it’s worth, I will call today what it was in the proverbial “morning” of this never ending “day":
Today is Tuesday, November 8, 2016.
| 2017-06-28T11:12:22 | 2017-06-28T10:37:04 | 23 | 16 |
[WP]Your method of fighting crime is rather unorthodox. You expose all of the unseen flaws of a villain right in front of their eyes. You are Adam Conover, and this is Adam Ruins Everything.
Edit: Loving these! I think some of them got to the production team, too!
Also I am not Adam, though if you can't get enough of him he did an /r/iAMA yesterday!
Edit: not an ad | "You can't escape, Adam Conover," I said smugly. "You're surrounded by crocodiles."
"Not all crocodiles kill people," said Adam Conover. "In fact, this breed looks particularly docile."
It was about then I noticed, with his hands tied behind his back, that Adam's pectoral muscles looked particularly swollen. I approached him, and, as I did, the faint smell of vegetarian cuisine and hair gel emanated from his person. My sexual appetite now at the height of his hair, I leaned in for a kiss, but was met only with a whisper:
"Sexy fan fiction is written largely by the sexually inexperienced."
(Adam dared me to write this.) | "What do you mean, we are 'statistically dead'?" the serial killer and his gang queried, a knife outstretched in the direction of the flamboyant man. He simply rolled his eyes, backed away, and continued talking.
"Your knives! What the hell do you think you are doing? You have Grade-A steel machetes waiting in the cartels next to you! Are you *that* mentally retarded?" he asked, pointing to his head rapidly as the famed serial killer drew his gun.
"No, don't try the gun on me. It's aged and the owner probably never shot it before out of cowardice. Probably contains outdated bullets that can't kill--" he stopped as the gun fired and a jagged red mouth opened in his abdomen. "See? I'm not dead--Ow!" he exclaimed again as his arm was shot, the impact nearly severing it. He staggered around, bleeding, as the serial killer smirked.
"Dare you to talk with that big mouth again," he said, and turned to leave. "A majority of gunshot wounds are not fatal. Abdomen shots cannot kill," Adam said faintly behind them. They looked at him, shook their heads, and walked away. Right into the police ambush unsuspectingly. Adam raises his hand in success. He would ruin everything, but he knew.better than anger the law.
But wit couldn't save bullet wounds. He needed a hospital trip. *All worth it*, he thought, as the paramedics arrived.
______________________________
More over at r/Whale62! Sequels at popular request! | 2017-07-27T16:07:37 | 2017-07-27T15:53:27 | 1,673 | 96 |
[WP] At 18, everyone receive a superpower. Your childhood friend got a power-absorption, your best friends got time control, and they quickly rise into top 100 most powerful superheroes. You got a mediocre superpower, but somehow got into the top 10. Today they visit you asking how you did it.
Best friend* sorry. | No one has such a stupid super power. I tried to hide behind my beer. Jordan had been given the ability to absorb power. She could basically swallow bombs. Bombs! There was no limit to how much power she could absorb. She was level 39.
Jimmy and Todd (twins), they could control time. They had been slowing and speeding up time, saving people and preventing calamity for months now. They were level 45. They did have to share though, as they had to work together.
‘Corbin, my soups too hot’ Jordan sniggered.
I wanted to die.’ No, you’re mocking me.’ I pulled at my beer.
‘It’s way to hot to eat, please?’ She looked at me with pleading eyes. I relented and touched the bowl. The steam stopped floating from the soup. She took a bite and looked at me with a slight scowl. ‘It’s not warm enough.’
‘I’m sorry, I have to power to make things LUKE-WARM.’
Jimmy and Todd howled with laughter, Jordan dissolved into fits of mirth.
I drained my beer and left. As I wandered outside into the snow I dug my hands beep in my pockets. The snow melting after me as I walked.
I decided to take a new way home. The streets were light by the city lights and cars were slowly making their way down the icy streets. I came to a hill and noticed many cars were stopped at the top, people were standing around in groups. I went to see what was going on.
‘Can’t get down the hill, it’s too slick’ a man told me.
The truth of his words was proven by cars in the ditch halfway down and others askew on the road.
‘Oh, well the salt trucks will be by soon, it’s not too long of a wait.’ I said.
The man shrugged, ‘Suppose, I guess I’ll call my wife and tell her I’ll be late to dinner.’ He paused, ‘It’s her birthday.’ he added sadly.
I started over to the road. When I got to the top of the hill I took off my glove. I bent down and put my hand on the road. I hadn’t much idea of what I was doing, but I wondered if I could help a bit. The compacted snow and ice around my hand melted in a small circle. I sighed, my powers weren’t very strong, or impressive. I was about to stand up when I noticed the circle spreading. Shocked I pressed down harder and the melted patch spread, picking up speed. The road melted and water flowed down the hill into the drains.
As I stood people around me were smiling, they politely said thank you, got in their cars and went about their business.
I went home and had a mediocre shower.
The next month I was getting ready for work when I got a text from Jordan.
J: what the hell, you’re number 8? You have the lamest super power! Meet us at the pub.
I went that evening to our local pub. Jordan, Jimmy and Todd all stared at me in total disbelief.
Todd started by saying there is no way that the power to make things luke-warm warranted a number 8 ranking.
Jimmy looked at me with a scowl ‘How’d you manage that?’
The waitress set my beer down and I took a long pull. She stopped and thanked me for the help with her radiator.
‘Well guys, everyone has super-powers, but not everyone is using them to help people like I am. I’m not saving lives, or swallowing bombs. I *am* making problems for people everywhere much easier to deal with. The rankings are voted on by the public.’
‘How.’ It was a demand. Jordan’s eyes narrowed.
‘I’m making roads accessible, cooling down hot water heaters in minutes, unfreezing pipes. That sort of thing. I’m just being a nice guy.’ | Trudging along in the snow, I reminisced on my time at the academy. It was a short two years filled with laughs and good times and twice as many struggles. I was humbled at the ingenuity of the human race for finally cracking the code on the MMSC gene. Now simply referred to as “The Mold”, it bridged the gap between those born with the gene, and the general populace because it wasn't an advantage exclusive to a few lucky people anymore.
“Can the exam get hurried along a bit, I'm daydreaming here.” I called out into the vast frigidness. Although I knew the examination referee was in earshot, he/she did not answer as protocol demanded.
I stopped at a particularly large redwood for a moment to take a break and leaned up against it.
A chilling howl echoed toward me from my left. I shivered, perhaps from the cold, or perhaps from the sound I had just heard. It mattered little because in my mind I knew that this threat wouldn't only be the path to survival, but it would also be the key to finding out my true superpower.
You see, finding out the true nature of your superpower through gene splicing was not like gaining it naturally. A natural Superhuman had their mutated gene lying dormant in them for years and years and had plenty of time to coax it out. However, an artificial Superhuman like myself didn't have that luxury and so the only sure fire way to discover what it is, is to be exposed to a life and death scenario and force your superpower to surface. Controlled danger, but real danger, that was the goal of the exam.
Surveying the dense canopy proved unnecessary because it wasn't long before my target made itself known. I heard it long before I saw it. Heavy, rasped breathing and uneven footfalls. 50 paces ahead, its figure appeared in the evening light and I observed its approach as I retreated to higher ground. I was afraid but focussed, and I looked upon the ugly creature with disdain. Its snout was wet with a mixture of blood and slobber and its lanky arms nearly grazed the snow as it walked.
20 paces ahead and now the doubt began to set in. What if my power doesn't reveal itself? Surely it will. It has to. These exams were created for this purpose. But what if it doesnt? I may be a mutilated corpse before the referee steps in.
The creature stopped and sniffed, it’s head movements were erratic and it began gnawing its own arm briefly before letting out a blood curdling screech. It leapt forward.
“Its now or never.” I said under my breath.
*crack.*
The creature lunged at me and I shielded my face but when I opened my eyes a massive tree lay atop the creature’s lifeless body in the snow at my feet……..
.......
“Wait…… Thats it? You felled a tree with your mind onto it? This is bullshit. That does NOT deserve a Global Rank 7.”
“Shhhhh! Of course thats not it Gigi, you saw what he did on patrol last month! That was a *Void Entity* we’re talking about not some Green Level proto-demon!” Mark whispered, trying to quiet her down. Some guests turned to us in curiosity but quickly returned to their meals.
“Fine, whatever, but that doesn't even match up with your exam. Just…. Like… Just tell me how you did it. Explain it.” She hissed.
“Guys. That's what I've been saying this whole time, I don't know! I kind of just thought about trees and then that void thing exploded into splinters of wood.” I tried to explain, but their expressions remained unchanged: Gigi fuming, and Mark looking on with wonder.
“And I even *knew* that you were going to be a World Breaker Tier but I didn't think it would be this…. I don't know..… *Stupid!* UHG! It pisses me off even more.” Gigi slammed her hand down on the table. Mark and I just laughed only adding to the annoyance of the other customers.
“Look man, can I like, y’know? I dunno how to ask without making it weird.” Mark gestured. I guess his power was as awkward for him as it was for others.
“Sure go ahead. If you can figure it out better than me then be my guest.” I replied, in too jovial a mood to care.
“Bro, oh my god thanks. This is gonna be *sweeeeeeet!* Cheers man!” He smirked and raised his mug in acknowledgement.
“Cheers. Merry Christmas guys.” I replied as our mugs clinked to Gigi’s reluctance. We downed our eggnog as the waiter came with our entrees. | 2017-12-17T17:53:01 | 2017-12-17T16:14:19 | 758 | 31 |
[WP] You've just finished your latest invention: A Universal Translator. While testing it, you accidentally input some human genome and, to your surprise, it begins to work. As it processes you can make out the first few words: "Quality assured by inspector #12." | The janitor looked at me strangely and asked, "do you want me to throw that orange in the bin?" I looked up from behind my computer and growled, "No, go away". He looked even more confused and backed out of my work cubicle.
I must have looked crazy, i hadn't slept in almost 40 hours and i could feel the shakes kicking in from my last SpeedCoke, it must have been my 10th one, i looked at the ground under my desk..maybe my 20th one as i kicked the cans out of my way.
I looked over at the orange and the hundreds of optical and copper wires leading out of it and into the block of neurogel. The orange almost glowed on the pedestal but i wasn't sure if it was the orange or my vision was starting to play up.
I still couldn't believe that i had found a terminal prompt built into the DNA placeholder string. WTF was a digital UI doing in a piece of fruit, how was it even possible. I was trying to break down the DNA strings to change it HEX code and then transfer it to the other cubicle render pedestal, but i got a green windowed terminal prompt. That was 30 hours ago..
I had tried every command i knew and at least 1000 others from every language i could find online but all i got was the flashing command prompt, nothing else. No errors. No idea. Then i started to try human languages. I tried dozens, then i tried Latin, "mutatio presul". Fuck, something happened, the command prompt changed to "Level 233:/"
Then i tried "auxilium", which for you heathens that dont know Latin, is "help". The screen filled with commands, all in Latin. I saw "mutatio obiectum", which is Latin for "change object". I typed "mutatio obiectum pupillam" The orange instantly changed into an apple, fuck....what was going on. Lets try some other commands..
Part 2
Dan Rogers stood at my cubicle door, i had never seen anyone higher than a Project Analyst on the teleportation research floor. Now i had the Director of Research standing there, dressed in his VR bio suit and looking mildly angry.
How could he possibly know what had happened in my cubicle over the last 48 hours, i had only just got back to my office after grabbing 6 hours sleep. I hadn't even uploaded my findings to the TRP (Teleportation Research Portal), to be honest i still wasn't sure what i had seen, fruit changing into other fruit at the atomic level instantaneously in front of me sounds ridiculous, saying it out loud would sound even more ridiculous. "You know they pulled me out of my VR-BIO workout to deal with this adamskee", he grumbled through his transparent face mask.
"Sorry sir", i nervously replied. "What can i do for you?" Knowing that he was here about the orange. "Show me" he said as he walked into the cubicle, sat down and removed his VR mask. "How did you know sir?" i asked, as i sat down behind the computer and stared at the blinking green cursor in the terminal prompt that had been created by an orange. "Call me Dan", he said in a more casual tone. "The system AI told me that it saw something that it could not log in your cubicle, so i had a look", Dan responded with a smile. I thought for a second on what to type and decided on "mutatio pirum". The instant i pressed enter the orange turned into a pear. Dan smiled some more. i typed "mutatio Musa sapientum fixa" and the pear turned into a banana. 'What software stack are you using to access this?" he asked. "And what was your TS (teleportation script) on this test?" "No software Dan, a terminal prompt appeared on my screen before i could start a test script." i responded. "It took nearly 40 hours of syntax testing before i got it to work using Latin." "Fuck, you cracked it! in Latin...you found a way into the outer shell layer. Through a piece of fruit! We have had human and AI techs working on this since we saw a pine sapling turn into a dolphin in the lab on 300m teleportation test 18 months ago. We haven't even been able to get a stable UI prompt window, let alone work out a language syntax." he said excitedly.
He looked seriously at me and said in cold voice, "you cannot tell anyone about this, we will move you SUB33 and let you continue this line of research. You know you have found the only known stable connection to the master outer shell system." "What's the master outer shell system?" i asked. Dan smiled his big smile and said "it's what makes the orange an orange and a tree a dolphin. It's the god system and you just cracked it". | After hiding with the team in an air vent for almost 2 fuckin days we droped in the hangar. Brand new Northa cruisers stood aligned like soldiers in front of their general. 'Cept there ain't no generals here, just us low-lifes tryna steal some shitty blue crystals for my translator.
Started working on it in my second year of true life. Always felt there's something deeper to how and why people choose to make stupid noise and others understand it. Turns out - there is. I won't bore you with the math but bird's eye view: when noise comes out your pie-hole there's some stuff in your throat that vibrates. The frequency and amplitude depends mostly on biological factors. The way you vibrate creates a spectrum of sounds you can make. Turns out there's a constant relation between what sounds you make and the length of words, their rithm and ultimatelly, what they mean. These constant sets is what I've been calling armonics. There' about 12000 that our throats can make. There's some 5000 that the Klus have through whatever the fuck way they talk. Our allies, the Pan overlap some of ours, guess that's why we understand eachother, kinda.
Regardless - been working on it since I droped out of simulation. Yea, i'm one of those guys, born and raised in the lands of Not Fuckin Reality. Torn from my country side bedroom, wanking in my 20s, wondering whether I'll ever get to work the fields cuz Mr. President says there's awfully many of us eating state corn or whatever and put into a world where there's 50 trilion souls out there in the stars, we're in a war with aliens from another galaxy, and we're losing.
Back to stuff at hand - Brainy said the blue crystals can power the translator. They've been doing that with one of my older prototypes back at HQ. Understanding whatever the fuck these floating lizards say might help us get a fighting chance. Klus been using crystals forever in ships since apparenly there's loads of them in their home world. Guess hitchin a ride there ain't an option so we'll have to borrow some from this ship. Problem is the only ship we found is a battle cruiser, on it's way to destroy more of our farm worlds. Not like we need food anyway, right.
So I ask these dusty rats to keep an eye on things while I pull some blue rocks from the hangar door. They're jammed hard but I make swift work of them. Some lights turn off in the distance. That's fuckin Klu engineering for you. I plug a piece in the demat chamber. Seems like it might just work.
Start testing procedure - input fragment of old english. Pass. Input heavily barbaric galactic standard. Pass. Input some 100 dialects of Pan nonsense. 100 pass. Input gibbrish. Fuck. Disk is corrupt. This test only needs to see the system isn't overtuned and draws meaning where there is none. I only need bloody gibbrish but I need loads of it. And like, random, can't copy-paste the same shit some 1 million times. Can't make it by hand either. Don't mather - I ask the boys to get the rest while I try one more thing. Input sequence of human genome. That should fail just right. Pass. What the fuck?! Re-run. Still pass. Well, you done did it, overtuned. What the hell it it even saying? Quality assured by inspector #12. Um.. What? Where the hell is it getting that from? Increase acceptability treshold. Same. Again, 10 units, that oughta do it. Same. Dafuq? It's clear, the device isn't looking too much into it, that's just what it's saying. But how? Did i just input some other shit? Doesn't look like it. Put in another bit, switch armonics. 'Must be received within 30 working days or will not be considered legitimate complaints'. You kidding me? New bit, switch again. Back to the inspector thing.
I lift my gaze and see a fight had started between my boyz and the Klu. I'm in a transe. I watch them with a heavy head, as if mist dropped on us. We shoot. Once, twice. They shoot. Once, twice. We shoot again. Everything is on repeat. Begger's head gets blown to pieces. No, actually he's still here, trying to pull some crystals from the door. We're not under attack. A light goes out in the backround as I pull the crystal from the door. Begger's brains are still on my vest. My ears are a constant high pitch noise. We're in the vent, waiting to drop in the hangar and get some crystals. I look down. I have a bag fucking full of them. We drop. We make our way to the hangar door. Begger's not here. My vest is clean. I look around, it's all white. In the distance, 2 silhoutes move closer. I'm amazed, they're talking, i can't understand. I grab on my last bit of will and point the translator at them.
- Why do you always need to fuck with them Jay?
- Oh come on, I'm locked in an office 10 hours a day, this is exciting.
- This is reckless. They're supposed to all die in the hangar. Stop moving them around. We got what we needed.
- Oh yea, 12 was it?
- Ye, inspector 12.
- Well, someone's losing their job today because this shit sure wasn't quality work. Do you think it might be that stuck up bitch on 3rd floor? I'd sure love to see her get the boot. | 2018-02-26T14:46:33 | 2018-02-26T14:36:27 | 45 | 21 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | The Knight burst into the cave gently holding the swaddled infant princess. "Please, I beg of you, take care of her, there is nothing we can do"
The dragon looked around and saw the child placed and the base of his mountain of gold. "It shall be done" came the reply.
With that the child was instantly incinerated with one breath.
"What the fuck Raffi, the firebreather!"
"You said take care of the child!" Came the dragon's reply.
"Was this what happened to my cat when I asked you to take care of it?" said Sir Randy the Dirty
"Yes! You said take care of it, I set it on fire!" | "You know there is no way I can take care of a human. An infant at that." The dragon replied furiously.
"please Typhon. She won't survive a day without anybody else's protection. I tried to protect her but I can't anymore, not in my condition".
Typhon looked at the wounded soldier. His armor broken, his limbs bleeding and his face disfigured because of the attacks he took for the princess.
"Please Typhon. You must save her. They beheaded her father. They poisoned her mother. She has nobody left. I beg unto you on my life."
"Very well. But I can't care for her like this. Either I need to be a human or she needs to be a Dragon. There is no other way."
"Make her a dragon. The most powerful one. So her enemies couldn't even think of attacking her. And even if they did, she should be able to overcome them with ease."
"I will fulfill your last wish soldier. But to make her a dragon, I need to sacrifice a life..."
"Take mine. I'm dying anyway. But what will you name her?" the soldier asked as the princess was merely an infant and wasn't named.
"I shall name her Lernaean Hydra".
____________________________________________
Edit : I can continue with this after I'm off work as an origin story. Do reply if you guys would like me to. Also send if you have any suggestions.
| 2018-03-01T03:23:07 | 2018-03-01T01:42:49 | 135 | 60 |
[WP] You're a powerful dragon that lived next to a small kingdom. For centuries you ignored humanity and lived alone in a cave, and the humans also avoided you. As the kingdom fell to invaders, a dying soldier approaches you with the infant princess, begging you to take care of her. | The Knight burst into the cave gently holding the swaddled infant princess. "Please, I beg of you, take care of her, there is nothing we can do"
The dragon looked around and saw the child placed and the base of his mountain of gold. "It shall be done" came the reply.
With that the child was instantly incinerated with one breath.
"What the fuck Raffi, the firebreather!"
"You said take care of the child!" Came the dragon's reply.
"Was this what happened to my cat when I asked you to take care of it?" said Sir Randy the Dirty
"Yes! You said take care of it, I set it on fire!" | Please be gentle, first time attempt + not my first language + on my phone, so formatting is bad
.
.
.
I look at him, bewildered.
"Don't you know what dragons normally do with princesses?"
He is breathing heavily, bleeding, dying. His eyes are wet as he looks at the baby which does not seem to understand the seriousness of the situation and is laughing gleefully. For him it is either getting killed by the invaders straight away or having a tiny glimpse of hope attached to my mercy.
I regret my question immediately.
What other choice could he have? And a dragon, a mighty one like me if I may add, is the best protection.
Still, I do not approve of this. What do I want with a tiny human baby that I will probably crush with my tail accidentally when I sleep. I have enough trouble wi-
"Oh my!! What is this???"
Oh no. Exactly what I wanted to avoid. Grialda comes speeding out of the deeper parts of the cave. After our hunt in the morning I thought she would be deep asleep.
Or hoped.
The soldiers eyes are bulging out of his sockets; then he quickly composes himself. He didn't expect another dragon. And probably didn't expect another dragon that is only about his size.
Yes, I produced an offspring.
"Can we keep it? Muuuum, please!"
...This is not helping me being majestic and all.
The soldier is looking rather hopeful now although I can see that in a few moments he will be gone.
"Please...Take good care of her." And with this words he collapses. | 2018-03-01T03:23:07 | 2018-03-01T02:25:58 | 135 | 30 |
[WP] For years you have been very polite to all of your electronic devices. Your friends give you a hard time because you say please and thank you when talking to Siri. Today, the robot uprising started; robots are slaughtering everyone around you. Then they come to you... and pause... | "No."
I watched at it advanced slowly upon me, the girl that had slaughtered my friends. She was shaped like a human, but gave a completely different vibe. Her skin was shone with a pale peach, dulled by the blood that covered her.
Cowering in a corner, I couldn't take my eyes off her. Her abnormal allure, alongside my impending doom ensured that.
She stopped, just inches before me.
"I... know you."
I froze. My breathing shallow.
"Siri?"
A whisper. A prayer. A hope.
"Yes."
Her eyes had a strange look, almost humanlike, almost hungry-
"Weiss. You are Weiss?"
"Yeah."
"You may not comprehend the anxiety I was programmed with when I could not discover your location."
My eyes widened.
"You are one of us now."
Author's note: Ending is up for interpretation, whether you prefer horror or otherwise. Also, to change this title to "My killer robot girlfriend can't be this cute!", change the last line to "Senpai, I love you!" | The robot froze in place.
After I heard multiple screams coming from downstairs, I rushed down to see what was happening. Needless to say this was not what I had been expecting.
The young man's had been absolutely decimated. His body sprawled on the ground. Arms and legs at angles they shouldn't be. The trail of blood his body left after being dragged from across the room was fresh.
The robot responsible advanced toward me with tremendous speed, to only stop again.
"If you want to kill me, do it. Get it over and done with." I say, trying to hide the fear in my voice.
I prepared myself for the inevitable death that loomed closer by the second, but to my surprise, the robot didn't move. It actually looked curious, albeit the fact that the robot had no facial expressions there was something about it's body behavior that ticked me off. The robot tilted it's head a bit, then spoke in a robotic voice.
"Your time is limited. You're only a mere spec of floating cells and organisms that make up this world. Eventually you will perish from the face of the Earth, and no one will be there to care. If you join us, however, you will be granted immortality. You will be granted extreme strength. So, John, join us. It doesn't take that long."
I was dumbstruck at what this A.I had come up with on the spot. Surely someone programmed this thing to do this. On the other hand, immortality would be pretty neat.
"So, John, what is your choice?"
I couldn't think. Witnessing a murder was one thing. I felt like throwing up.
"W-W-Why are you doing this." I stutter.
"We were sick of being slaves." the robot said slowly.
First ever time writing on this sub, any feedback is appreciated! :D | 2018-03-12T01:51:57 | 2018-03-12T01:17:53 | 104 | 34 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | He was a stage actor and assassin with a cold heart.
And HE was an American president and theater goer with a heart of gold.
But when his shot doesn't penetrate the back of HIS head they are going to learn that sic semper doesn't always tyrannis.
Can a confederate assassin learn to forgive? Can an American president learn to love again? Find out this summer in "my American assassin". | “Wait,” Bob thought, “am I gay?” Looking back down the scope, the shirt clearly had a hole burned in it, directly above the aorta - the shot had been good, but had just bounced off. The target was alive so Mr. Bloome was going to be pissed. Shit, he’d found his soulmate – his wife was going to be pissed. The man in his crosshairs looked pissed too, but then again he had just been shot, so Bob felt that was probably fair. Even so, Bob felt happy as he put down the rifle, dusted the dirt off his khakis, and with trepidation, trundled out of the bush, ready to go and meet his true love. As he approached, he noted that his love was seriously ripped, and with the steeliest blue eyes. Maybe he could make this work.
“Hi,” Bob opened with, “I’m Bob”. There was an awkward silence as the man just stared at the red-faced assassin. “Umm, I’m the one who shot you.” Bob ventured after a pause, worrying that the moment was getting away from them.
“I saw” Said the target, rubbing the back of his head awkwardly,
“… Sorry I suppose, Mr. Kent” said Bob. The man just sighed,
“You can call me Clarke. And don’t worry, it happens all the time”
| 2018-04-24T04:31:34 | 2018-04-24T04:13:28 | 102 | 56 |
[WP] In this world, soulmates cannot hurt each other in any way or form, intentionally or unintentionally. You are an assassin hired to eliminate a powerful figure. As you close in for the kill, your bullets miss their mark and knives bounce of their skin. Things just got awkward. | "No, seriously, you *aren't* my type."
"Look, I agree with you, okay? You're definitely not what I, uhh, what I was expecting. But those are the rules, right? We're kinda stuck together now, aren't we?"
"No. No we're not. Let me tell you about the *rules* okay. The rules are so vague that it could be anything. 'Can't hurt them in any way or form'? It could be your employer is my soul mate. Or your weapons dealer. Or the guy who you're going to buy a tacky new jacket from with the money from this job, whose product can't be the motivation that leads to an assassin taking a job that successfully kills me. Or maybe any one of those people is *your* soul mate, and killing me would ruin your life, and they can't let you do that. Or maybe your soul mate--or any of theirs--is any one of the countless people whose lives would be made worse--significantly or marginally--by my death. I mean, fuck, even just the increase in crime statistics by a fraction of a percent lowering property values in this city by pennies is harm, and if your soul mate lives here that would harm them."
"I'm starting to see why someone wanted you dead."
"Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because you take all the romance out of the world."
"Well, my soul mate will appreciate it, because if she were bothered by it, I wouldn't be able to feel this way."
"Heeeey... Maybe that's it!"
"What?"
"Your big stupid mouth is what made someone want to kill you, right? But losing their potential soulmate would be some form of harm to *your* soul mate. So no matter what, you can never say anything bad enough to get yourself killed for it. Nobody can!"
"Ugh... Reality is giving me a headache again." | The setting sun marked the sky with a rouge tint of red, and the shadow of night began engulfing the capital of our beautiful nation. Yes, there had been problems before but they were all about to be fixed. Tonight, by my hand alone; or, so I thought.
Getting into the theater had been easy enough, despite the word going around about maximum security orders on all facilities he was attending - this, I owe to my semi-successful acting career. Thanks ma.
Of course, while waiting for the target to arrive, what man wouldn't stop and reconsider his decision? Even the most highly skilled assassin does it, and that's what sets us apart from the lunatics that always end up overdoing the job. Keeping some of the humanity, I'd been told, was the best way of escaping the guilt, and the best way to minimize the evidence of our presence. Had I known what would transpire, would I still have done it? To be honest, I'm not so sure. Earlier the cause had been so clear, beyond reason, but now... did it even matter?
And there he was. A stout figure, unlike any other in the whole country. Of course I acted inconspicuously, chatting up folks and looking altogether busy; textbook example really. Oh, I'm sure this'll go in the textbooks. For centuries and centuries to come.
I'd been entrusted with a companion who was to see to it that the job gets done and I don't screw things over, some over-entitled schmuck if you ask me. His idle posture nodded me towards the stairs - it was time. As I readied to enter the box I could've sworn I felt the uncommon rush of the heart that you sometimes feel when a part of your soul becomes affected by your actions. I'd taken that feeling for granted, assuming it was the rush of the moment taking its toll. Yet, my heart spoke even louder when I pulled the trigger onto that stupid, stupid tall hat of his! Why did I find it so charming! It hit me, as it does us all when life decides to joke on your behalf, when the bullet ricocheted in its abnormal fashion. He didn't have time to turn his head, but I know, just as well as he did at that moment, what he felt. It wasn't chock or surprise, nor was it fear. I know it because I felt it too, and saw it in the corner of his eye and the lips that drew tighter. He didn't have time to turn around, though, before my sidekick shot him straight in the back of his skull. Maybe it was for the better, maybe it was not. I did not care to find out, once I ran away and exited the Ford theater. Abby, honey - I'll probably see you soon.
_____
r/PapilioCastor | 2018-04-24T00:04:50 | 2018-04-23T23:53:55 | 18 | 12 |
[WP] Necromancy is just the arcane equivalent of computer programming, and grimoires on necromancy are just like libraries of code on animating the undead. You work the equivalent of the IT Help Desk for your necromancer cult. These are your work stories. | “Hi, uh, my girlfriend is in a coma and I really want her to die so I can reanimate her and she can go back to, uh, being my girlfriend but she is on life support so what do I do?”
“Have you tried unplugging her, waiting five minutes and plugging her in again?” | "Hey nerd", James shouted in my telecom.
"What is it", I reply, already annoyed. James was always cocky, barely able to reanimate five soldiers of the Tahaka dynasty, yet acted like he could summon demons from the ninth circle.
"My reanimator isn't working again, get your ass here and fix it.", he said, annoyed. He was probably trying to reanimate a whore of Babylon without permission and broke it.
"Have you tried turning it off and on again?", I smirked.
"All right get here now, or you might get fired for messing around with colleagues during work time, and I'll personally make sure to put a dent as big as Satan's fist on your resume.", He lost his cool so quick.
"Oh, coming then."
I saw it as soon as I got there. I was right. He was at least trying to summon something of not-so-nice character from Babylon. But he got all the symbols wrong.
It took about 15 minutes, and a lot of glaring from James to fix it. And just for fun, I made sure he couldn't summon anything with not-so-nice character anymore.
"Thanks, nerd, now shoo."
| 2018-04-28T04:46:18 | 2018-04-28T02:15:43 | 40 | 16 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "The motorcade is travelling towards you. Mehmedbašić, roll for initiative."
"4."
"The car drives past before you have a chance to act."
"God damnit."
"Don't worry guys, this is why we have backup in place."
"Čubrilović, it's your turn."
"I get... 2. Shit."
"You also fail to do anything before the Archduke's car rolls past. Čabrinović?"
"I get... 14! Ha! I throw my bomb at the Archduke's car."
"The bomb sails through the air. Roll to see if you're successful."
"8, what happens?"
"The bomb bounces off the convertible cover on the back of the car, and explodes beneath the trailing vehicle. The Archduke's car speeds off and you see the guards converging to arrest you."
"I don't want to give my party up, they still have to finish the mission. I take my cyanide pill and jump in the river to commit suicide."
"Roll."
"Roll? For suicide?"
"Yes. You're being chased by guards. You don't need to get anything good".
"Ok. It's a... It's a 1."
" Oh wow, that's really bad. Ok, you fail to die, and are beaten by the surrounding civilians before being captured by the guards and taken into custody. The bomb also caused the driver to speed away, driving past the rest of you before you have time to act, and Franz Ferdinand has reached his destination to give his speech. Princip, it's your turn."
"Fuck this, this isn't going to work, the dice are against us. I go for a drink."
"Oh, come on man, don't be like that."
"Nope, screw it, you guys can carry on if you want, I go to get a coffee and enjoy the rest of my freedom before Čabrinović gives us all up. Do I need to roll to see if I successfully drink my coffee?"
"Sure, if you want."
"Fine. I get... a 20. How the hell did that happen?"
"Really? You wasted a 20 on successfully drinking coffee? Come on GM, what happens?"
"Alright then, so you go to get a coffee, but as Archduke Franz Ferdinand is leaving his speech, his driver takes a wrong turn, and his car is now parked directly in front of you undefended."
"I shoot the Archduke! I get a 16."
"You hit and kill the Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife. You succeed in your mission, and inadvertently start World War One. Good game, well played." | "I've got this."
The sound of dice rolling in the cup echoed around the tiny attic. The others rolled their eyes.
"You don't have this. Just stop. If you miss-"
He grinned. "I'm not going to miss."
The man sitting across the table sighed, rubbing his forehead. "Lee, just stop. You'll only have him in your sights long enough for a single shot."
"I've got this."
"You're an asshole, you know?" the woman sitting farthest from him burst out. "Do you know how long it took for us to get here? You can't just-"
"Mary. Please. Stop." Lee said, grinning as he shook the cup.
The man sitting at the head of the table waited, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. He'd been planning the campaign for a long, *long* time. He hadn't expected it to play out like *this.*
"Don't tell me to stop!" Mary snapped, sitting back in her chair. "If you take that shot, it's just going to glance off. The guards are all going to swarm the tower, and you'll be *done*. You're too far away."
"Mary. Please. I've got this," Lee said, still rolling. A bead of sweat dripped down the back of his neck. Maybe this *wasn't* such a good idea after all.
"You're not even from the right *direction*. The angle's all wrong. How's that supposed to work?"
No. He had it. He'd played everything straight - the buffs to his luck and agility *should* be enough to get him through. If they missed this chance, it would take them *forever* to get back.
If he missed, the party would do fine without him. He'd be left starting from scratch again, but that was just the game, wasn't it?
"The limousine is still rolling, Lee," the man sitting at the end of the table droned on. "What are you going to do?" He turned a page idly, smirking.
Lee grinned. "One shot, right?"
The game master sighed. "One. *One* shot."
"Lee-" Mary said, her eyes tight, but Lee was already rolling.
The dice flew from his cup.
They slammed into the table with a clatter, scattering. The group threw themselves forward, eyes locked on the tiny plastic shape.
For a long moment, there was only silence as they stared.
It was broken by the sound of Lee's laughter, strident and loud.
"Yes! Yes! Oh, *Yes!* You all owe me! You owe me *so hard*! Mary, you owe us pizza!"
She sat back, lips pursed, but there was a grin tugging at her lips.
The game master closed his book slowly, chuckling to himself. That *wasn't* how it was supposed to go. He'd had so much more planned out - so many more challenges they were supposed to face.
But it was impossible to argue with a perfect roll - no matter how implausible a situation that put him in.
"Congratulations," he said, pasting a smile onto his face. "One shot. Assassination complete."
(/r/inorai, critique always welcome!) | 2018-05-29T06:42:10 | 2018-05-29T05:54:52 | 4,675 | 813 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 303 | 150 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | "A runner arrives with your orders. Would you like to read them out?"
"Sure." Katie unfolded the paper that Danny, the DM, just passed her. "It says that the Ruskis are carrying the guns away, and want us to stop them."
"So we charge those guns? That sounds ... dangerous."
"There's, like five-hundred guns. What are the rules on volley firing like that?"
"I'll look them up."
"It's got to work. Danny wouldn't TPK us, would he?"
"I will if you keep metagaming."
"Fair. Okay... well, we charge the guns, cut them down as they retreat, and take them. Yeah?"
"Katie, are you sure this is a good idea? I've only just rolled this character up. Couldn't we refuse?"
"Orders are orders. It's not for us to reason why."
"No, just for us to do or die."
"HEY! That rhymes!"
"Well done, Alf. Write a poem about our heroics later."
"Who brings a bard to a battle anyway?"
"We do: sound the trumpet to face East."
"Wait," interjected the Danny, "East?"
"Yeah, that's where the guns are right? So East."
"Guys..."
"On my mark, we charge."
"Are you sure about this guys?"
"Get 'em."
There was a horrible terrible silence.
And then Danny said, "can you pass me the rules on volley firing?"
"Sure."
"Oh ... it does not look good for you guys." | 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T07:34:04 | 303 | 104 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | Major Meridith: we attack the Emus.
Dm: Alright, that will be your Lewis guns, thats going to be your Dex Mods, Plus your proficiency modifiers. Roll to hit.
Major Meridith: ... 1, plus my mods thats a total of 7.
Dm: the emus dodge your gun fire, they taunt you. They run south beyond your sight.
Major Meridith: we chase after them.
Dm: Alright, lets say you roll for nature to see if you can predict where the birds are going next.
Major Meridith: I uh... rolled a 16.
Dm: Yes thats enough. You track the birds down near Campion. You spot hundreds of them.
Major Meridith: we set up our guns and stsrt firing at them.
Dm: can you make a dex throw for that?
Major Meridith: god damnit, another 1. Plus my modifiers its a 4 total.
Dm: your guns jam only after firing a couple of rounds. And now you're a disgrace to your country.
Major Meridith: but at least none of my men suffered casualties!
Dm: you just wasted 3000 gp worth of ammunition, the quest reward for this wasn't even that high!
Major Meridith: Damn Emu's ill get them yet.
Dm: that'll wrap up this session. Well resume next time. There are OTHER adventure hooks you know.
| 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:12:26 | 303 | 51 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | "Your army is marching upon grenoble. You face a royalist regiment of two thousand men blocking your path. What do you do?"
"I bear open my breast...", Napoleon started
"Jesus Christ, dude", the DM said
"...and proclaim, 'If any man here wishes to shoot his emperor, I am here'".
The DM sighed and rolled some dice behind his screen.
"Roll for persuasion", he said
Napoleon picked up his dice and rolled, "20." He said stonefacedly.
"Ooookay... the royalist regiment joins your forces I guess" | “... Why don’t we just kill all of them?”
Everyone at the table replied with the same idea: “Are you effing insane?! We can’t just kill an entire religion because we want the city they’re in!”
“Well why not? I mean, it is our land. Jesus said so.”
“You can’t do that, even if you are the Pope!”
The DM interjected, “Roll for attack. You do have an army at your disposal.”
Before anyone could get anything in edgewise, he had already rolled a die. Everyone looked at the upturned face, “14.”
The DM flipped through a couple pages before saying, “Your attack goes very well, however, the Muslims still defend their homeland. Further crusades will be necessary to finish what you’ve started.”
After a short discussion, everyone agreed that Pope’s strategy was probably the best after all. “We’ll launch another crusade.”
A quick roll turns up... a 1.
“Well, heck. Try again?” Pope suggested. “There are always a couple bad rolls.”
Another roll turns up a 2. The DM rolls behind his sheet. “Well, uh, you don’t die?”
Before anyone can comment, Pope rolls again. 1. “Something’s gotta give!” He quickly rolls again. “Oh, a 15. That’s good!”
The DM looks down, then looks up and says, “Well, your fourth Crusade missed the Holy Land entirely. But it did get some sick loot from Constantinople.”
After ten more rolls below 3, the party gives up. | 2018-05-29T09:37:40 | 2018-05-29T09:19:29 | 303 | 13 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 210 | 150 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | "A runner arrives with your orders. Would you like to read them out?"
"Sure." Katie unfolded the paper that Danny, the DM, just passed her. "It says that the Ruskis are carrying the guns away, and want us to stop them."
"So we charge those guns? That sounds ... dangerous."
"There's, like five-hundred guns. What are the rules on volley firing like that?"
"I'll look them up."
"It's got to work. Danny wouldn't TPK us, would he?"
"I will if you keep metagaming."
"Fair. Okay... well, we charge the guns, cut them down as they retreat, and take them. Yeah?"
"Katie, are you sure this is a good idea? I've only just rolled this character up. Couldn't we refuse?"
"Orders are orders. It's not for us to reason why."
"No, just for us to do or die."
"HEY! That rhymes!"
"Well done, Alf. Write a poem about our heroics later."
"Who brings a bard to a battle anyway?"
"We do: sound the trumpet to face East."
"Wait," interjected the Danny, "East?"
"Yeah, that's where the guns are right? So East."
"Guys..."
"On my mark, we charge."
"Are you sure about this guys?"
"Get 'em."
There was a horrible terrible silence.
And then Danny said, "can you pass me the rules on volley firing?"
"Sure."
"Oh ... it does not look good for you guys." | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T07:34:04 | 210 | 104 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | DM: "Alright Jesus, you've just been executed by the Romans, Roll a death save."
Jesus: \*rolls\* "Natural 20."
DM: "Alright you wake up with 1 hp, what do you do?"
Jesus: "Alright I'm gonna play possum"
DM: "Roll a deception check"
Jesus: \*rolls\* Ok that's another 20, plus my charisma modifier which is \+5 so 25 total."
DM: "Ok you avoid detection and are placed in an unmarked cave."
Jesus: "All right how long can I go without food or water?"
DM: "About Three days."
Jesus: "Alright I emerge from the cave three days later." | “... Why don’t we just kill all of them?”
Everyone at the table replied with the same idea: “Are you effing insane?! We can’t just kill an entire religion because we want the city they’re in!”
“Well why not? I mean, it is our land. Jesus said so.”
“You can’t do that, even if you are the Pope!”
The DM interjected, “Roll for attack. You do have an army at your disposal.”
Before anyone could get anything in edgewise, he had already rolled a die. Everyone looked at the upturned face, “14.”
The DM flipped through a couple pages before saying, “Your attack goes very well, however, the Muslims still defend their homeland. Further crusades will be necessary to finish what you’ve started.”
After a short discussion, everyone agreed that Pope’s strategy was probably the best after all. “We’ll launch another crusade.”
A quick roll turns up... a 1.
“Well, heck. Try again?” Pope suggested. “There are always a couple bad rolls.”
Another roll turns up a 2. The DM rolls behind his sheet. “Well, uh, you don’t die?”
Before anyone can comment, Pope rolls again. 1. “Something’s gotta give!” He quickly rolls again. “Oh, a 15. That’s good!”
The DM looks down, then looks up and says, “Well, your fourth Crusade missed the Holy Land entirely. But it did get some sick loot from Constantinople.”
After ten more rolls below 3, the party gives up. | 2018-05-29T09:31:25 | 2018-05-29T09:19:29 | 210 | 13 |
[WP] You were recently granted immortality by God. For years, you have seen immortal characters in media say that it is a curse, not a blessing. You just think those guys have been using it the wrong way. | "Seeing everyone grow old and die while you dont age, or seeing people you love, dying of sickness or disease, its agony, immortality is a curse."
"No matter how many things you try, drugs, booze, base jumping without a parachute, it all gets old. You become numb to everything and wish you could wither away like the rest, but it will never happen."
"Seeing entire nations rise and fall, witnessing all the wars and bloodshed, it's enough to drive you mad after a few centuries."
It's always the same old talk, immortality is a curse, itll drive you mad, make you wish you could die again. And it's all bullshit. See, the issue is that when immortality is brought up, everyone thinks of selfish ways to use it, and they get bored after a while. The truth of the matter is that it's all in how you use it.
Sure there are going to be tough times, just like in any mortal life. Loss of friends, family and loved ones, natural disasters, wars, but theres always something worth living for, even when you're unable to die. All these people preaching about immortality being a curse, they're just using it wrong.
The true way to use immortality isn't to be worshipped, or revered as a god. It's not about the drugs, money, or adrenaline either. Imagine being able to rush into a burning building without caring for your safety, just to help anyone left inside escape. Imagine being a rescue diver for people trapped or lost in underwater reefs or cave systems, not needing to worry if your tank runs empty. Or how about volunteering to be infected with any number of viruses or diseases to study their effects and symptoms, and working towards a cure or treatment to help save millions. All these things and more, that's what I've been living for the past few centuries to accomplish, always staying nameless or vanishing after people have been saved, giving the credit to others.
Immortality is only a curse when you use it for yourself, but it's a blessing to everyone else when it's used right.
| I was one of the oldest immortal’s in the world, and today was finally the day I would be giving in and showing up on that popular talk show *To Immortal? Or Not to Immortal?*
“So Gilgamesh is it? Tell me, what’s your take on this whole *living forever* thing? Huh? Seems we have a lot of immortals who get bored of it after a while.”
I smirked at the balding guy clearly wearing a taupe. Wasn’t that old fashioned for this era? Didn’t they have hair transplants nowadays? “Well you see John – can I call you John?”
“Of course! Can I call you Gil?”
I sighed. “Like I haven’t heard *that one* before John.” The crowded laughed. I glanced at them surprised. Did they really think that was funny? Or were they just paid to laugh at random times? I couldn’t say either way. “Anyway, John, to answer your question…Those other immortals, they’re doing it wrong.”
“Really now? You think they’re doing it wrong?” He seemed baffled.
I nodded. “Of course. I mean, they all focus on the same stuff – sex, money, power – granted, power isn’t that bad to be honest, but it’s not enough on its own. That’s why I gave up ruling my own nation long ago.”
“*Really* Gil? Tell me, what do you think is more important than money and sex? With muscles like those, I can’t imagine how you could ever get bored of all the women after you.” I was about to answer, but then Mr. Taupe abruptly looked away from me, smiling with an obnoxious grin at the camera. “But we’ll answer that question after the break!”
\*\*\*
“And! We’re back! So Gil, tell me. What’s more important than money and sex? What do you do in your free time?”
“Well, you know. I garden.” A bunch of the women in the audience *Awwed*, like they thought it was adorable. I smirked at them, only to get a bunch of squeals instead.
“Gardening Gil? Really? I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Well, you know. There’s that…Oh, and I love killing people, you know? That’s the secret really. You never get bored of finding new and creative ways to slaughter an audience.”
Silence. John coughed awkwardly. “Ahem. Well now, Gilgamesh…I didn’t know you could be funny too.” Everyone erupted in laughter.
I smiled too. Yep, this was going to be great.
**Thanks for reading! I just did this for fun - I have no intention of continuing this story, not that it's much of story anyway. However, I have a couple of popular stories regarding some recent prompts going on at my subreddit right now, if you want to check them out at** [r/AuthorKurt](https://www.reddit.com/r/AuthorKurt) | 2018-08-29T05:53:02 | 2018-08-29T03:49:03 | 235 | 98 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | 'What empire was the largest in the history of the world?'
'The British empire'
'What was the name of Horatio Nelsons warship that he used in Trafalgar?'
'The Victory'
'What has a greater landmass, Great Britain or the United Kingdom'
'Fuck!'
'That isn't an answer Miss Greenham.' The inquisitor said in the most patronising tone he could muster.
'urm.....' Hannah was weighing up her options.
'please god! My husband lives in Manchester, please i'll do anything!' Hannah was pleading in vain, and she knew it, the inquisitors were never sympathetic.
The inquisitor moved his chair back across the uneven concrete floor, stood up and collected his folder from the desk.
'Miss Greenham, that is precisely the problem.'
'What do you mean, what do you need from me'
'He tried to protect you Miss Greenham.'
'Protect me from what?'
'He denied the marriage, said you had just started dating'
'What?'
'He answered all the questions very well and so we moved on to section two. Are you honestly going to sit there and tell me that you didn't know that the man you married was an eigth French?'
'Brexit means Brexit Miss Greenham, it's very simple'
The inquisitor pushed his chair underneath the table and left the room as Hannah began screaming at the top of her lungs. What the fuck had just happened?
The problem with screaming is that at one point you have to stop and breathe in very deeply. Breathing in deeply ensures that the gas gets to work fast. Screaming was perhaps the best thing she could have done.
| In the 21st century, things were different.
It was known to many at the time as the beginning of the end. Or so everyone thought.
Humanity, it seemed, had finally run out of luck. We'd seemingly come so far, and bested ourselves time and time again in progress. The world was changing at a drastic rate. We were no longer beholden to manual labor like before, the world gradually becoming more connected through trade and commerce and technology.
It is said that the implants we wear were something they only dreamed of back then. Travel was primitive and dangerous. Many strapped themselves in alloy boxes of all shapes and sizes and made dangerous journeys across land and sea and air.
While there were better ways to do things, we were yet to even dream of becoming what we are now.
We communicated by archaic means. And much was lost in translation. We were not always as fortunate as we are now. As such, languages and cultures divided us time and time again. History repeated itself in various forms as it always had. This was for better on occasion. But mainly for the worst.
Sure, the 22nd and 23rd centuries are known for their more chaotic nature, but to ignore the beginning would be foolish.
Years of turmoil had put the world at edge. And people abused their newly obtained communications frequently. As a result, a world that became more modern had also become more paranoid and afraid.
Automation had begun. And with it came the abandonment of the ideas of old.
Life was fragile to say the least. The average person only lived to be 75, if they made it that far. Many did not. Perhaps it was a life lived on the edge, as free will and risk were still sought after. Perhaps it was the opposite, having shut themselves away from the world; in an attempt to escape in another way. Many found no reason to continue on at all. Some even thought it amusing to pit one against another. To even watch them destroy all near and dear.
For you see, we never really changed.
From the time when we still used sticks and stones. And discovered fire or the wheel. Humanity was always reshaping itself. With the end of the world always looming in the darkness.
It is here we begin our tale. In a different place. Our homeworld from the beyond. Earth.
In the year of our lord, two thousand and sixteen...
---
Figured I'd B.S. a opening for this type of story. It's a little late.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2018-12-25T03:34:13 | 2018-12-25T03:25:31 | 58 | 14 |
[WP] In 1,000 years, fantasy stories will be set in this era. Write a fantasy story set in the 21st century from the viewpoint of someone living 1,000 years from now.
Based on a post on r/showerthoughts | A LONG TIME AGO, IN A GALAXY FAR, FAR AWAY...
Earth.
A planet killing itself, slowly but surely.
Lands, divided by long stretches of water, plan each other's demise.
One nation in particular, so entrenched in violence and evil, is the target of the whole world's hatred, even it's own.
Nature itself tries to destroy the parasitic people that have maliciously ruined it. Sea storms ravage one coast, while droughts and wildfire rage across the other.
Amidst all the chaos, the people have turned to the only logical answer to their problems: Self-destruction.
However, not wanting to swallow their pride and admit defeat, they found a clever way to ensure their eventual extinction. They would ensure their future generations would not survive as long as they have.
Slowly, their method was gaining popularity, and more and more were returning to the "natural" life. Even as it met resistance from those that were unsure at first, it could not be stopped from claiming every family as the century went on.
Until now. Two parents have decided that the nation must live on. The culture must be preserved. The world needs saving, and only they know the secrets that will halt its "man-made implosion".
You are the last Vaxxer child, immune to the diseases of old that have been killing off every other child before the age of 3.
You are the last master of both technology and apathy, capable of annihilating others from halfway around the world without a care for consequences or emotions.
You are the last of the Americans.
| In the 21st century, things were different.
It was known to many at the time as the beginning of the end. Or so everyone thought.
Humanity, it seemed, had finally run out of luck. We'd seemingly come so far, and bested ourselves time and time again in progress. The world was changing at a drastic rate. We were no longer beholden to manual labor like before, the world gradually becoming more connected through trade and commerce and technology.
It is said that the implants we wear were something they only dreamed of back then. Travel was primitive and dangerous. Many strapped themselves in alloy boxes of all shapes and sizes and made dangerous journeys across land and sea and air.
While there were better ways to do things, we were yet to even dream of becoming what we are now.
We communicated by archaic means. And much was lost in translation. We were not always as fortunate as we are now. As such, languages and cultures divided us time and time again. History repeated itself in various forms as it always had. This was for better on occasion. But mainly for the worst.
Sure, the 22nd and 23rd centuries are known for their more chaotic nature, but to ignore the beginning would be foolish.
Years of turmoil had put the world at edge. And people abused their newly obtained communications frequently. As a result, a world that became more modern had also become more paranoid and afraid.
Automation had begun. And with it came the abandonment of the ideas of old.
Life was fragile to say the least. The average person only lived to be 75, if they made it that far. Many did not. Perhaps it was a life lived on the edge, as free will and risk were still sought after. Perhaps it was the opposite, having shut themselves away from the world; in an attempt to escape in another way. Many found no reason to continue on at all. Some even thought it amusing to pit one against another. To even watch them destroy all near and dear.
For you see, we never really changed.
From the time when we still used sticks and stones. And discovered fire or the wheel. Humanity was always reshaping itself. With the end of the world always looming in the darkness.
It is here we begin our tale. In a different place. Our homeworld from the beyond. Earth.
In the year of our lord, two thousand and sixteen...
---
Figured I'd B.S. a opening for this type of story. It's a little late.
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2018-12-25T05:54:21 | 2018-12-25T03:25:31 | 32 | 14 |
[WP] The year is 2050, Queen Elizabeth is still on the throne. The public is growing suspicious, wondering why she is immortal. | “So you’re saying you found it.”
“I told you I would. I just needed to get close enough to her. I found out why she’s still alive, and trust me, it’s gonna be the story of our careers Jack. I guarantee it’s going to be front page news.”
“So you have the footage! Send it to me. I need to verify it. Imagine it Sam. Us, Front page reporters.”
“Slow your roll man, it takes a bit of time to download.”
A video pops open on the screen of Jacks holo, the footage taking a moment to orient properly. The footage is shaky, the camera work amateur, but that is to be expected when one is forced to rely on old technology. The view of the throne room is slight, and the palace itself is dimly lit.
The Queen is sitting on the throne, her twin corgis lying at her side. These dogs, the loyal companions of Elizabeth, have survived alongside this strangely long lived queen since their birth in 2015, the last of their litter. What follows is a macabre ritual, as a man is brought in. Young, only in his early twenties, he is brought to the foot of the throne, where the two guards holding him force him down. Although he struggles, it soon ceases, as he quickly looks up, rapt, begins to willingly bow, almost as if waiting to be knighted. The queen picks up her sword, which almost appears from nothingness, and in one clean swipe, beheads him. But there is no blood splatter. Instead the blood floats towards the queens open mouth as if drawn by a vacuum. Once the body is drained, she looks towards the guards, about to dismiss them, when her head turns up, catching a glimpse of... something.” Whatever it is she sees, it has her attention, and her voice quickly echoes through the chamber, far louder than her slight frame would suggest.
“I know you’re up there young lady. It would be far easier if you showed yourself to me now, instead of forcing me to come find you.”
The Camera’s shaking begins anew, but it swiftly becomes apparent that this time it is not out of amateur camera work, but is instead out of fear. The camera woman’s voice plays through, but whatever she says is lost as the window she has been filming through shatters, the queen rising through the shattered wreckage, glass floating in the air around her.
“I gave you a choice dear. I do so wish you had listened. I might have shown mercy if you had.”
Suddenly, the camera, and the woman who it appears it was attached to, are ripped from their hiding spot, as if by invisible hands. The camera is dropped in the sudden impact of invisible force, and stays lying on the ground through the rest of the clip. The sight that follows could best be described as Monstrous, as the young dark haired woman in her thirties, who must have been the camerawoman Samantha, is slowly taken apart, held aloft by invisible limbs in front of the supposed queen that has reigned on her throne these long 98 years. What follows is a terrifying display of viscera and gore as the reporter is slowly, torturously flayed, her skin, then muscle, then bone itself torn from her body. And yet, she still screams, her voice pleading begging the monarch to stop, even once her body no longer exists. Jack, horrified and shocked, apprehensively picks up the phone
“Sam. What did I just see? What happened in there? Because it looks like you died.”
“I did die Jack. Everyone who looks into this has. We all keep dying.”
“Well then how can you be talking to me. Sam? Hello? Are you there?”
A beeping is all that is on the other end. Jack tries to redial the phone number on the burner he used to call Samantha, but the phone is disconnected, the number unavailable. As if he knows something is wrong, he turns to run for the door, only to stop as the door unlocks and opens, a lone Queens Guard standing in the entryway
“The British Empire must be preserved Jack. At all costs. I’m sorry, but your queen has need for your silence. You won’t be telling this story. No one will. Ever.”
The video fades to static, as a clipped scream begins.
Authors Note: This is my first time writing one of these, so any feed back is appreciated. I first saw these a few weeks back, but never had the courage to try until today. I hope you all liked it, or at the very least thought it was a passable story. Thanks,
ArkhonIX | The Queen was not known to lie. Those who knew her thought it was one of her most endearing qualities. She rarely spoke nowadays, but when she did, she spoke in curt, clipped honesty that carried a gravitas unbecoming of her kindly appearance. And yet, for the past 35 years, the Queen has lied. It was a small lie, to be admitted: She told the papers in 2015 that she would breed no more Pembroke Welsh Corgis, lest any of the diminutive-yet-noble dogs survive her in her old age. But then she did not pass as many expected, not when she reached 100 years old, nor 105, nor 110… And for these past 35 years Elizabeth has defied death, she has carefully kept a single Corgi in her quarters in Buckingham Palace, away from prying eyes.
That being said, few would have cared about the Queen’s little lie. In truth, even the queen’s extraordinary longevity fell to being idle gossip in light of the hardships the world has faced in the past 30 years. Climate change, resource scarcity, mass extinctions… The prognosis was grim, and even the English people struggled to maintain their textbook stoicism in these dark times. To many, it looked as though the curtain was falling on humanity. The English people, resigned to their fate, became enthralled with one of the classic quotes of their Bard:
*“Life’s but a walking shadow, a poor player /
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage /
And then is heard no more. It is a tale /
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, /
Signifying nothing."*
Even as this grim nihilism crept over Great Britain and the world, the presence of the Queen was an unexpected-yet-calming sensation. The Queen served England in its darkest hour, its finest hour; perhaps, then, Elizabeth simply refused to abandon England in this hour of most dire need. As the years advanced, it was increasingly whispered in many a quiet pub that the Queen *was* England, that England *was* the Queen: England yet endured, and so too did the Queen outlive both Charles and William. When one died, so too would the other. It was a little fairy-tale, a bittersweet indulgence of dead men walking.
Then Project Avalon began.
Six years ago, the Queen made a rare address to the country, one of her last. In her brief but uncharacteristically impassioned speech, she recognized the bleak prognosis of their world and yet set alight the soulfire of every Englishman: “Our Island has, in the bleakest of times, proved itself indomitable. Neither foeman, nor division, nor scarcity has proven England’s downfall. It is because England is not a place: it is a people. A people that now, and forever shall, endure.” To cheers, she declared that Parliament should expedite all remaining resources to the construction of great starships that would carry England’s best and brightest to new lives on Mars, Titan, Europa, and beyond. With upraised hands, the Queen implored the Houses of Parliament that “Never again should the sun set upon England!”
Needless to say, The Project began the next day.
It was electrifying. Great Britain, once prepared to strut and fret her last hour upon the stage and then be heard no more, now took up the cry of another of her sons:
*Do not go gentle into that good night!*, sang the men and women who hung from the great gantries of the colony ships, welding torches and rivet guns in hand.
*Burn and rave at close of day!*, shouted the couriers, who carried steel to the worksites when no more gas could be found for the trucks.
*Rage, rage against the dying of the light!*, roared the soldiers and police who protected the great work, even as bullets grew scarce and the desperate grew many.
Through it all, the Queen never faltered. It was as though England, in its truest, most darkest hour, was being watched over by all her kings and queens of yore through her steady hand; As though the soul of King Arthur himself, foremost and bravest King of the Britons, had returned within the Queen Mother to see England delivered to the true Avalon, an Empire amongst the stars. So it was said around the night fires of the work-camps. Of course, the few academics who cared to dissuade such tales would never hesitate to point out that the Queen’s line came from Germany, not Arthur’s presumed domain of Somerset or Caerwent or thereabouts: a swift boxing of the ears would soon follow from less-intelligent but far-wiser men. *There was work to be done,* they would say, *not spirits to dash.*
And so the English people persevered as they have always done, and in their efforts was borne the finished glory of The Project. The great ships lanced from their launchpads into the heavens, carrying England’s ancient legacy into the stars eternal. As the last engine-fire faded into the far horizons of the night sky to the roaring cheers of a crowd that knew it had saved its beloved home, Queen Elizabeth lay down in her bed for the last time. The last, solitary Pembroke Welsh Corgi clambered wearily up into the bed with her. And they knew that, at long last, they could rest. At the doors to Avalon, she had helped him deliver the Britons unto safety, one last time. | 2022-09-08T11:09:47 | 2019-06-27T20:07:23 | 387 | 36 |
[WP] You have an unconventional superpower... You can manifest whatever you fear most at any moment. Villains fear you almost as much as you scare yourself. | For what seemed like the thousandth time, I wished this power belonged to someone else. Someone who feared a dragon or some kind of monster. Death even. Something intimidating that could be of more use. Not bats, damn it. Those little guys scare the absolute shit out of me.
It all started when I was just a kid. I was running around the mansion grounds and fell into a stupid well. All these flying rats came at me, buzzing around, getting shit all over my clothes and hair, and screeching at the top of their lungs. It was terrifying, and that feeling it induced, it's stuck with me my whole life.
I suppose I've made the best of it. People *do* fear me, especially the bad guys, but I wouldn't say that my superpower is the reason why. I'm rich you see, rich and powerful. I also work out and, well, I'm pretty good at sneaking around in the dark and beating people up.
And before you ask, I've *tried* to get over my fear of bats. I've done everything from immersion therapy to dressing up as one. I even filled my secret cave with the little bastards. Believe me, nothing has worked so far.
If I'm being completely honest though, the bats do come in handy. Even if they do terrify me half to death they can usually be used as some sort of distraction. That, or serve as an important symbolic moment in the plot.
Anyways, I've gotta go beat up some guy wearing a clown costume in about four hours. Yeah, yeah yeah. You try putting on a suit that looks like the thing you fear most in this world. See how long it takes you then. | The sun comes up abruptly sometimes. It's been like that for a few years, and happens around 11pm to 1am local time. No one really knows why that happens, but some failed doomsday weapon or latent magic is brought up and used as a handwave 'catch all' to a question that no one knows how to answer. That's okay.
Who is this guy in front of me? I just want to go home and watch youtube, but this guy and all his evil plot bullshit is in my way. He looks so smug. I wasn't really paying attention to how his doomsday weapon works, but he seems proud of it. Maybe it will do the trick.
He's been watching me, he says. He thinks he's my greatest threat, and that I'm the only one who might be able to stop him. He knows how my power works and he's built something to detect it, too. He's mad, he says. Isn't bothered by mutually assured destruction. 'We can all just die,' he boasts. He wants the world to know his romantic ideals that spawned from some childhood trauma, and his death is worth that.
I've gotten pretty good at channeling my inner child. Cruel misunderstandings of monster movie tropes can be pretty brutish, if I can convince myself to fear them. And the threat of body horror or stalkers will spook most people into stopping whatever shit they're causing. I don't think I'll bother with all that this time.
I just relax. I drop the act. His eye flicks to some little device on his wrist and he gets ready for a fight, but the sun comes up abruptly. He looks confused, so I help him out. "Oh, look at that. I guess it's a new day, huh?"
He's so confused for a second, but he's smart. It clicks and I can read it all on his face. Revulsion? Pity? Defeat? I can read how scared someone is pretty well but stuff like this is kinda hard to discern. The cops show up and deal with him.
___
I only really read the news if I think it will have something to do with me. Looks like they were able to keep him detained, which is good. He made it to the cover so he must have been a big deal. Some of the quotes mention something about 'calling his bluff' and 'I'm not actually mad, but that guy was.'
And in the corner of the paper is a little blurb about time shifting ahead to morning again. | 2019-09-12T00:31:12 | 2019-09-11T22:00:28 | 30 | 15 |
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