prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
|---|---|---|---|---|---|---|
[WP] Accused of being a witch. your feet are tied to stones and you are cast into the lake. Three hours later, you don't understand why you haven't died yet. | As the lights above the surface chilled into a silvery blanket and the moon cast it's ghostly shadow across the lake, I remained alive.
Hours had passed, and yet without breath, without pulse, without warmth, my mind still thought, my body still answered, and my fears still grew.
How? How was I alive?
Something heavy plunged into the water above, the disturbance pushing a current swelling around me. With unnatural speed it sped downward, kicking up mud from the river bed as it landed somewhere nearby.
The clunk and scraping of metal being torn apart echoed dull in the water, before strong arms took my body and rocketed upwards, free from the anchoring weight of the stones.
We broke surface, my body expelling a torrent of water from my mouth in a never ending fountain. On my back, moving across the lake being pulled by an unknown force I went, starting wide-eyed at the moon that stayed constant in my vision.
We reached the edge, and I was flung down to the dirty and wet soil, finally breathing again, finally feeling the soothing heat of a working heart running hot in my veins.
"I'm sorry I couldn't have gotten you sooner, but it's all part of the process you know"
I looked up to see a man in a great cape, facing away, his features hidden. As the cape blew softly in the wind I couldn't help but think how beautiful his silhouette looked against the moons light , how natural.
"What?" I manged to cough out between thankful breaths.
"I know it's a bit barbaric, but we have to weed out our kind from the commoners somehow. Of course, not all make it, but we make sure the sacrifice is worth it"
He turned to face me, gentle eyes on a slim face framed by a neat white beard and short hair of the same ilk.
"Our kind?" I repeated dumbly.
"The magic kind, my dear girl" he said as a smile warmly spread across his face.
He took my hand in his and helped me to my feet.
"Now, let us go. Time is of the essence, after all"
/r/FatDragon | I’ve seen my fair share of witch trials. Always ends morbidly, with the poor wench getting tossed into Lake Ophidian, bound and weighed down.
Not a pleasant way to go.
The trials always start with an accusation from some zealous bastard, and a mob dumb enough to believe him. That was why when that damned priest snuck his way into my quarters that night, I very nearly gave in. I would’ve screamed, but I’d heard of his reputation.
I barely remember how it happened, it all went down so quickly, but I remember the putrid scent of stale ale and sweat, and the disgusting feeling of his lips on mine. It awoke something primal and fierce in me. The next thing I saw through the red tint was the scumbag on the floor with a bloodied forehead, and grasped tightly in my hands was a broken candelabra.
We all knew what was coming next, of course. I spent that night huddled with my family, praying for whatever god that would hear us to intervene. There was no answer.
The trial that came the following morning as quick, and decisive. Of course, the priest had probably greased the right palms and incited the right fanatics, for the crowd that turned up that day was one of the biggest I’d ever seen, and they were all chanting for the lake. The priest sealed my fate with a flowery speech about consorting with the devil and with that, tossed me into the arms of Lake Ophidian.
I screamed and I fought at first, but as I slowly submerged into the Lake, I realised that no one could hear me plead.
It didn’t take long for the murky darkness of the Lake to claim me. The cold gnawed at me, like thousands upon thousands of tiny little beetles on my skin, restless and unsatisfied.
Then, teeth. Not the priest’s pearly whites, but the briny, dagger-like teeth of the devil fish that called this Lake home. They circled and snapped at my flesh, always quick to the feast.
Then, eyes. Not the priest’s blue eyes, watching haughtily, but the eerie hollows of the wretches who came before me. Their bodies danced in the whirling, writhing waves, always struggling.
Then, a voice.
‘_I’m cold._’
Then another.
‘_They won’t stop biting._’
And another.
‘_They let us die._’
I watched as the lolling tongues of these damned women created a chorus of whispered pleas, rising and rising, until they eventually crescendoed into a singular mournful wail.
As I felt the stones hit the floor of the lake, I surrendered myself to the soothing grasp of my sisters, the ones who were, at that moment, ripping my restraints to shreds. The hands clawed at the ropes, tearing them apart with a bounded, singular purpose.
And as the final note of Lake Ophidian’s siren song echoed through the depths, I found myself finishing the song with them.
‘_Vengeance._’ | 2019-11-16T11:28:48 | 2019-11-16T11:10:46 | 51 | 28 |
[WP] You are a nice person, but your superpower is that you instinctively know exactly what to say to someone to crush them. You're very effective in throwing supervillains off their game, but your fellow heroes always feel really uncomfortable watching you work. | As the villainous Bombdropper stood atop the crown of Goldgate Bridge, he reveled in his moment of absolute glory. The heroes stood below, paralyzed and helpless, for Bombdropper would drop his bombs the moment he saw any activity. He was untouchable, unstoppable, and nobody could prevent him from destroying this bridge and all of the sins it represented.
"Your daughter would still be alive if you hadn't called her bluff."
Bombdropper froze in place, his heart momentary freezing. He turned to the voice, and saw at the front of the collective of heroes, a lady wearing runner's sweats and holding a megaphone. "'Go ahead and run away then!' Remember that? Last words you ever said to her, were telling her to leave you alone."
Bombdropper shook, his whole body a running tremor. "S-Shut up! How do you know that?! Who the hell are you! SHUT UP!"
The lady in runner's sweats rolled her eyes. "Remember the morgue? The condition she was in?"
"Shut up!"
"That car never would have hit her, if you had been more supportive. If you had given the smallest of shits about her. YOU put her in the path of that Ford"
**"SHUT UP!!!!"**
Bombdropper roared through the freshly-picked scab of his grief, the detonator falling from his hand. It was all the opening Captain Swift needed to fly up and grab Bombdropper from his perch, while Rocket's Red Glare used his trajectory calculation protocols to intercept the falling remote in his heavy titanium hands.
The lady in the running sweats scoffed, and brushed her unruly blonde hair out of her face. Next to her, Deep-C and Wow-Girl stared in unbelieving shock. "How the hell could you bring all that up like that? So casually? That was way too far, even for a situation like this."
Call-Out shrugged, and hooked her thumbs into her sweat pants. "Don't wanna be called shitty, don't be shitty. Not hard." She gave the rest of the team a casual handwave as she broke of in a jog down the bridge. | She was pushed to the front of the line by the other super heroes, looking for all the world like she did not want to be there.
The villain stared her down like he had all the others, baleful over the titanium chains that barely contained his immense power.
The woman sighed. "Where are the hostages, Master Majestic?"
The villain sneered at her. "Like I would tell you. You're a nobody. There is nothing you can give me that would sway me to tell *you*. I demand the mayor."
The woman frowned, running a hand through her short blonde hair. "Do not make me ask again, Magnus." She said shortly. She glanced at the heroes, all of whom were watching her with a mix of excitement and discomfort.
Master Magnificent flinched, his eyes narrowing. "How do you know that name?"
"Ugh, I hate doing this. Guys, can't you just bring in the mayor and let me go back to the library. Please? I need to study for my final." She asked, but the hero closest to her, a tall man with a bright blue and green spandex outfit just shook his head.
"The quicker we find the hostages, the quicker you can get back." Another hero, a woman in a dark cowl said softly.
The blonde huffed out a breath. "Fine. Magnus Cartier, also known as Master Magnificent. Jesus Christ dude, they don't even need me to figure out what your main hang up is. You should be driving a red sports car right now and not holding 15 children hostage."
"W-what do you mean?" The villain stuttered, his eyes wide. Around them the 10 heroes gathered all shifted awkwardly.
"You know what I mean, Magnus. You are a man with a tiny penis going through his midlife crises. What, did the last 20 year old you tried to date laugh at it when you took off your pants? Or did you not even make it that far, the shine of your head blinding her before you even made it to the bedroom?"
"Oof." The blue green monstrosity wearing hero muttered.
The villain flinched back, his eyes wide. "How *dare* you-"
The woman shook her head and tutted. "What would your mother say if she found out how old your last fling was? The same age of the woman your dad left her for, right? How is your stepmom, by the way? And your half siblings? I hear your younger brother just made senior partner at the law firm you used to work for. You know, as a paralegal. Couldn't even cut it in law school, huh?"
"Stop! Stop! Please stop! They're on Nomanisan Island, in my base! The code to get in is 645132168. Just please, don't say anymore!" Master Not-so-Magnificent sobbed. The woman nodded.
"You should call your mother more often, she's lonely." She said as a parting shot, and the heroes scrambled to get out of her way as she walked back through them. | 2020-02-25T12:34:32 | 2020-02-25T11:16:33 | 1,350 | 514 |
[WP] You are permanently stuck invisible. Your significant other is blind. Whenever you both go out in public, to the bypassers your SO is constantly seen as someone possessing a sixth sense but a little weird for talking to themself. This is always highly amusing to you. | "You know, every time we sit here like this, I think the most reassuring thing is that I can feel your heartbeat." My husband was sitting next to me. His hand was holding mine and I felt at peace. Even if his coat was getting a little cold.
I'd gotten used to the stares. People were always very confused by my husband's seemingly magic ability to know what was going on around him. The time or two that he's rushed forward to save someone from being hit has made more than a few people skeptical of his blindness. However, all he has to do is take off his glasses and most people lose their doubts. Scars do that. A few of the more zealous tend to run away when he starts mumbling to himself about not kicking them in the nuts or pantings them. I know it's juvenile, but when you can get away with almost anything then why not try to get away with everything?
"Are you sure you're not cold?" He asked nicely, even as I felt his hand run up my thigh. Most people overlooked the indent on his jacket. For pretense we kept the usual stuff that most blind folks wear out and about with us. It was hard to carry things around when you don't have a purse, but that's a tradeoff we make. His fanny pack works great when I need to carry something or when we need to put his gear away.
Today we were off to see a close personal friend. Their place was about thirty minutes away by bus. I signaled him that the bus was coming close. The driver called out the route and I got up to get on. The bus ticket scanner picked up that I was there, but the driver just overrode it when my husband paid his fair.
He settled into his seat and I settled into his lap. I felt his hands tickling my tummy. Little games made life fun. Cuddling in closer we continued our little game. I might have giggled a few times. The folks in the seat behind us seemed decidedly confused. I had to keep from kissing him. I'm sure that would have made things all kinds of weird. That's the thing about having a blind husband, he didn't care if people stared.
We got off the bus. A ghostly hand leading the blind man down. Still, it was lovely for us both to just have these little outings.
Vanessa was her usually bubbly self. After all these years of knowing us she still jumped when I spoke up for the first time. I made a point of trying to interject at a polite time to make my presence known. They had had a thing for each other some years ago. Not gonna lie, I am jealous of her. She can go out with my husband and do things that I could never dream of. Me, I'm trapped in a lot of ways and liberated in others. Freedom is a burden sometimes.
Dinner came and went. No, I don't know why things just disappear inside me. Rather, it seems like a rather silly joke. He and I, we had talk about having a baby a few times. Neither of us wants to pass on the defects that make us the way we are though. Still, it's something I've yearned for. That's part of why we were visiting Vanessa tonight. It was week thirty-two. I so desperately wanted to reach out and touch her belly. I had to stop myself. Not everyone was okay with phantom hands on them.
"So, have you decided on a name?" She asked. I looked at my husband and nodded. His uncanny ability to see what I was doing made things so much easier. "We were thinking Purity." He said with a smile, "More specifically Katya, since it would be a little over the top to name someone Pure outright." Vanessa's cheek twitched slightly. I loved that about her. She didn't take our quirks for granted.
"Alright, we'll need to figure out a way for you to hold the baby." That was one of the things that melted my heart the most about this whole mess. Vanessa was letting my husband be a father to her soon to be daughter. She was letting us take part in her life. It was moments like this that truly made me feel a little less invisible. | “Hunny , can we go out for a walk today ? I need fresh air . We been in the house all week ! Come ooooonn!”
“God okay !! Brat ! Let’s go around the block and back . Can you grab my cane for me ?”
*inhales deeply*
*exhale swiftly*
“Don’t you just love the smell of spring dear ? The birds are singing , the bugs are dancing...”
“I absolutely hate bugs and you know that . It does smell lovely today . The weather is also amazingly perfect .”
“Sometimes darling , i wish i could give you my eyes so you could be reminded of how beautiful the world actually is . I don’t feel like i do a good job painting that picture for you . Like ...stop here ! *comes to sudden stop* “Touch this..” *grab his hands to touch random object* “Now tell me , what do you feel ? Do you have the memories photographically ,emotionally also ? Does you heart rate intensity once you rub this object?!”
“A pole , the pole a half of mile away from our house . We took a picture here a week after moving in . I remember because of it’s strange shape , like a lowercase t . We stopped here to admire a bird you’d seen fly by slowly . In that moment i could’ve remarried you .” *walking off* “I’ll kill to see you smile the way you did then , prettier than our wedding day . It’s always been something about you and nature . I think that bird wanted us to capture the moment , we kissed right under where he’d landed and i knew then , you I’d never let go .”
*whimpering*
“That was so beautiful OB , i love how you go on walls and talk with your wife the entire time . Love like that is what gives hope ! Do you need anything Mr.B ?”
*stops to turn around*
“haha haha silly child , don’t ever not talk to the woman of your world ! That one time she won’t talk to you might kill you” *enlarged grin* “ but no , I’m fine and i have the wife here.”
“You’re always so standupish and wholesome , we as a community absolutely love that about you . Hey Mrs. B ! Lovely day we’re having ! Yal be safe i gotta go now !”
“Hunny , I’m so in love with you , It’s the words for me . You make everything sound so beautiful and sweet . I don’t know how I’d live without you .”
*previous child talking to mom*
“Mom ! I saw Mr. B again ! He’s so strong willed mom , i wanna be just like him ! He walked around the entire neighborhood blind with no assistance ! How do you think he do it?!”
“Well baby he’s probably just use to the area . He does talk with his deceased wife every time he go so maybe that love for her guides him.”
“Yeah he do always mention her like she’s standing right there . He even holds his arm up in a position like it’s being held by someone . He must really misses her mom .”
“We all deal with grieve and tragic accidents in our own little ways . It may make him happy and hopefully to imagine her still there . I mean , she did die the same day he lost his sight . Always be kind to him darling .”
“Always mommy , a lot of times i just listen to him talk and i promise it’s like it’s really a person there , should he get help someone?”
“Maybe dear but we are not the ones to judge , when daddy died , i lost my mind too . I just had to smile all the way through it !”
*beep beeeep*
“Yooo OB you good man ? Wanna ride ?”
“No we’re good ! Thanks . We’re just doing our routine walk .”
“Alright man. Be careful ! Might wanna get you a assistant dog . A helper or something !”
“Again sir , we are good . Thank you !”
*car pulling off while both giggle*
“Baby ?”
“Yes my love?”
“I’m not a ghost okay? I’m actually here and you’re not crazy !”
“Mrs. B , my wife and my life time partner . I went blind the day they told me you were gone and there was no body . My love is so pure for you , I’d rather see nothing then to not see you . When i left the hospital and laid down that night , i felt whole again when you sat on the bed . I touched you and knew . I still felt the warmth in your flesh , the love from your soul , the light from your eyes . Even i can’t explain what happened in that explosion at the plant but I’m glad it happened . So if people wanna think I’m talking to and loving nothing but a ghost , imma smile every time i get the assumption. Even when you become a ghost , I’ll talk to you forever.”
HEY GUYSSSS i hope you like it . It was kinda hard especially seeing that nobody else tried so i wanted to give it a go . I hope somebody can read this and get an idea and top this with a better story ?! | 2020-06-06T22:38:56 | 2020-06-06T22:15:21 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] You made it to the semi-finals of a nationwide elite wizardry competition. The crowd loves you, and the esteemed judges regarded you as the dark horse of the competition, with your unorthodox approach. There's just one problem; You don't know how to use magic. You never did.
Bonus points if you find a way to include a harmonica solo. | How had no one realized I was a fake? I'd signed up for the wizard competition as a joke. Figure it was a bunch of Harry Potter fans running around on broomsticks pretending they were playing quidditch.
In the first round I did card tricks. Wizards aren't great at probability--it turns out their education system skips math in favor of alchemy--so they were all shocked when I guessed what card a girl from the audience was thinking of.
In the second round, I wrapped ten chains around myself and swallowed the key. The audience gasped like they'd never heard of Houdini. It turns out wizards skip anatomy and physiology, and study astronomy instead. Afterwards I asked the emcee if he'd ever heard of a double joint and he asked what kind of door I needed it for.
Honestly, a nice guy. I felt bad for deceiving all of them.
And now, I was the piece de resistance. A darkhorse nobody who'd walked in off the streets and made it to the final round. People were already whispering things like "chosen one" and talking about about how I'd match up against "the bad one."
Sweat trickled down my forehead from the hot spotlight. A woman in the back screamed my name and fainted. The rest of the audience took up the chant. "Eustace! Eustace! Eustace!"
I was out of tricks. No more cards, no more chains. A good magician always prepares, and I'd assumed the whole thing was a joke. No time to set-up sawing a woman in half. I didn't have a partner who was in on the trick.
It was just me.
And my harmonica.
I nearly dropped it pulling it out of my pocket, what with my sweaty palms.
"Music!" gasped a man in the front. The word traveled through the rest of the crowd like a wave. The emcee suddenly looked nervous and mopped his brow.
Had these people never seen a harmonica? Listened to some Bob Dylan?
I put the harmonica to my lips, trying not to remember the disaster that was the second grade talent show.
The whole auditorium quieted down and seemed to breathe as one.
I stamped the wooden stage, hard and loud. It echoed across the whole auditorium. After four bars of resting, I began.
The first few notes tested the air. Hesitant. I was clearing my throat, so to speak.
I put down the harmonica and spoke, my boot still thumping the stage.
*I guess plus being a wizard /*
*I'm a harmonica player too /*
*And if you care to take a dare /*
*I'll summon a devil for you*
Then I tore into the first bars of "Devil Went Down to Georgia." The crowd screamed and got to their feet. Some were stamping, Some were clapping. Some were rapidly making their way towards the brightly lit exits. The stage shook from all the noise and the lights overhead rattled. But I couldn't stop. I had to finish. The notes poured out of me like water.
The stage under my feet rumbled. What the hell was happening? I couldn't think about it. My lips were bruised, I couldn't get enough air, and my hands were slick with sweat.
*Play. Play.*
With my last breath, I forced the last run of notes out of the harmonica. For one shining moment, silence descended on the auditorium. I panted in the spotlight.
Then, with a groan, the stage collapsed.
I was later told the wizards fled the building. Not a one came to look for me, assuming I'd been dragged to the Planes of Unending Agony for my arrogance. I wasn't. Instead I woke up several hours later covered in dust and cobwebs and several pieces of lumber. It turns out wizards skip architecture, too--and study advanced circle drawing instead. | I never had what it takes to learn magic and according to our esteemed Shamans, I never would.
That didn't stop me from trying and I remember all the failed attempts at magic and all the laughter of my peers. They all rang through me like blistering rain on a cold, wintry night.
This one time, everyone gathered in a circle around me and used their magic powers to summon a pit of fire right where I was standing. I barely escaped with my life, had severe burns that needed tending. Luckily, my mother was there to help me out, she was a natural healer.
The kids continued to tease me all throughout middle and high school.
Now, as a twenty-year old magicless being, I was an outcast in the community.
But I didn't give up, there were several reasons for that.
For once, sometimes, latent magic potential takes years and years to awake.
Secondly, my parents hated my guts and I felt guilty for not being a normal magic wielding boy like all the others, so I had to at least try.
To be honest with you guys, I had already given up on magic and only signed up for the tournament to see all the beauty and luster magic can bring you. It was a double-edged sword as on one hand, I loved watching all the lights flicker and dust shimmer, but on the other hand, looking at something you'll never have makes your stomach churn.
With a stroke of good luck, I've managed to become a dark horse of sorts, a contester who should've long be gone, even in the preliminaries, but I was riding the wave like a champion.
I don't know how I did it, even in competitions like rock wielding, where you had to have magic to win, I somehow managed to hold a 400 pounds rock with my bare hands.
It was magic!
I was finally becoming a fully-fledged member of society!
Now the only thing left to do was to win this competition and show everyone what I was made of. Ah, the look of pride on the faces of my parents is already sending shivers down my spine, even though they aren't even a part of the crowd.
I understand why, but that will all change, it will, now it will!
For my entire life, people have shunned me like I was some sort of monster, but now they will have no choice but to accept me. I was doing magic and I was doing it all on my own!
As I made my way into the main hall of the tournament, where the semi-finals are supposed to be held, i've overheard the three other contestants lucky enough to still be in this competition speak about something.
''...And then he really thought he did it on its own, hahahahahaha'' Laughter was emanating from their premises and I wanted to join in the fun.
Stepping up to them, I greeted them all with a deep bow, upon which the swaths of laughter became the rattling of bees spread over a large area. There were literally dying on the floor, some could hardly breathe, others were writhing on the ground, as if in pain.
I started laughing too, but was nervous from all the ruckus created seemingly for nothing.
In the semi-finals, you were supposed to transport a large cauldron filled with toxic waste while lying on your back. The cauldron was supposed to be at least five inches from your body at all times and it had to go through your head to your toes or you're not winning.
All contestants were a bit nervous or at least I felt nervous as this was quite dangerous and could literally kill you.
A few people glanced over my way, grinning, and I grinned back. It was the polite thing to do, my mother had told me.
The semi-finals had officially begun!
Marcus, the leading mage, had already gone through his toes and knees with his cauldron.
I concentrated all my efforts into one main point of my own cauldron, all of my energy into it and as if by magic, it actually leapt from the floor and above my head! This wasn't really my intention, as you were supposed to begin from your toes but whatever, it was a start.
I concentrated my energies once more, but instead of moving the cauldron towards my toes, it upended itself and all the toxic waste landed on my head.
I was screaming and crying, but soon met my demise as not even the best of magicians could save you from such a large amount of toxic waste in one go.
The last thing I heard before dying were the cacophonous sounds of the crowd interspersed with the ones from my own mother.
They said: ''We finally got rid of him!''
/r/innerknightmare | 2020-10-09T07:54:58 | 2020-10-09T07:29:10 | 1,801 | 85 |
[WP] Your power is to be a friend to all creatures. At first they laughed at your mice and squirrels. Then you were respected when you acquired a few bears and wolves. Today you have acquired a Kaiju monster and now they are terrified. | I woke up with a dozen rifles pointed at me. My bedroom had been infiltrated by a squad of government soldiers. After the night I survived, that was the last thing I wanted to see. I had just saved the world. What more could they want from me? Asking questions only provoked them into unlocking their safeties so I decided to stay quiet. They quickly dragged my tired ass out of my apartment and into a black limousine where a group of nervous senators waited for me. I was still groggy with sleep so it took me a minute to glean their motive. They were after the kaiju. That thing could level a continent if it wanted. From their perspective, I was the owner of a nuclear football.
"You see," said an old senator, "now that the creature is under your control..."
"How do you even know that?"
"We've been watching for a while," said another senator. "Rooting, of course."
I narrowed my eyes. "So you knew and didn't do anything to help?"
"We got out of your way," said the third senator. "Isn't that enough?"
"No!"
The three senators flinched back, scared. They thought I could just teleport the monster out of nowhere or something. Idiots.
"What do you want from me?"
"We're just trying to make sure you're on our country's side."
"You mean *your* side."
"Regardless of our differences in the past, we do have everyone's best interest in mind."
I sighed. "Sure."
"So..." said the youngest senator, "can your new... friend help us out?"
"I won't help you destroy the creature or crush another country."
"No, no, you have it all wrong. It's all about the *threat* of doing it. We're just interested in leveraging its power in our negotiations."
I frowned. "Do you *want* more countries recruiting kaiju? Because that's how you get more countries recruiting kaiju."
The senators grew pale. Only the old one had the courage to ask:
"There's... more?"
"Dozens, maybe hundreds."
The old senator swallowed. "But how do we control them?"
"You don't."
"Unacceptable! If you don't comply, we'll make sure you're executed for treason!"
"And if I die, nothing will stop my *friend's* rampage."
The senators gasped.
I had them where I wanted. For most of my life, people treated me like a joke. My power was considered subpar because it only affected smaller creatures. That turned out to be a misconception, though. My power relied on my friendship with the animal. If I couldn't treat it as a friend, it wouldn't have any effect. When I was younger, the only thing that limited me was my fear. Things like wolves and bears scared me so much that I couldn't see myself being their friend. As I matured and learned more about the world, these creatures became more admirable than terrifying. That's probably what allowed me to bond with a monster as strong as a kaiju. In the end, I couldn't force it to do anything because that's not a friend and it respected that, which stopped it from destroying the world.
The senators, however, were incapable of understanding this. They couldn't imagine wielding my power without using it to control life. The rest of the car ride was a series of poor attempts at flattery to earn my favor. They even took me out to eat at a fancy restaurant. It only dug a deeper grave for them. They treated me like a king and I wasn't about to correct them. Who knows, this way, I might even get some eco-friendly legislation passed.
---------
>If you enjoyed this, you can check out more of my stories over at /r/WeirdEmoKidStories. Thanks for reading! | Tom had always been the odd one out.
He wasn't shy, just discreet and uninterested in the life of his classmates. Albert didn't want to play ball with Lisa, Esther had been pushed to the ground and was crying... details, of the boring sort.
Teachers wondered for a long time if he suffered from some sort of mental deficiency, Tom had no other means of communications than the direct channel. He spoke what he thought of people, never lied, always told his aunt he didn't want to kiss her because her hair stunk and she was an idiot. His parents tried to teach him some basic etiquette, to no avail. When asked, Tom didn't sugarcoat. If he stabbed, it was straight to the face.
Naturally, this made making friends a rather hard task, no desire to play the ball or discuss trivial matters singled him out as a loner.
But it has to be said that he was only rarely bullied. For Tom spoke an honest language with his fists too and never struck for show, only for pain.
This resulted in him having a rather bland childhood and dull teenage years, at least it would seem so without scrutiny.
Inquisitive and observant classmates would see his love for flies and cockroaches, almost disgusting. Almost, because the insects stood in line in front of him and didn't budge while he rambled incoherent thoughts. Then he would wave his hand, and all would scramble.
Sometimes, an ill-advised youngster would mock the insects or try to flatten them. A fist to the nose changed his mind fast.
Tom's gift grew and offered many possibilities. Bears showed him the path out of the forest, he would whisper to boars where the hunters lay in wait, they would scavenge mushrooms and healthy roots to plant for him.
Many career paths opened to him. Zoo directors, circus administrators and reserve managers needed only a minute to be convinced of his use. Only 18 years old and already sought after, a golden path lay before him,
A path he never took.
For Tom's mind, unlike his mouth, was never silent. As he matured, the state of the world became clear to him. Pollution, overconsumption and death. The snuffing of entire species felt like a stab in the heart, a hole he struggled to bridge. He was human, but hated humanity for what it did. He was no beast, but his only love went to them.
One day, he snapped. Driving to the coast, he found a remote cliff. It rained, it was cold, nobody would bother him. There, he called out. The whales answered. Together, they spoke for a long time. When done, Tom pointed them to a tanker taking leave from port, in a few weeks it would be back with crates full of fish. In theory.
In practice, the captain still wonders where the shockwave that sank his ship came from.
So many whales near to the coast was way too fantastic to be believable.
On this day, Tom had taken his first step. He had chosen where his loyalty lay. Tom discarded his clothes and his past. To meditate, he locked himself inside a grotto.
The lord of the flies. Tom liked that story, it showed the true nature of children, the true nature with which you are born. A nature he never gave up, a nature he only found pure in animals. A purity to protect, to preserve.
Humanity was a rotten corruption bent on self-destruction, a corruption to be cleansed. Beasts wouldn't think so far, they could not on their own. But with his help, they understood what the future meant, the possibilities lying within and the steps that had to be taken.
His hair and beard long and dirty, his body frail and malnourished, he stepped out of the grotto three days later. Hungy, thirsty, in profound delirium, he survived only because foxes and wolves had the forethought to bring him food, water and a white sheet he wrapped around himself.
There, he spoke.
There, predators, herbivors and myriad of insects gathered to listen.
The time was now, they separated to spread the word. The prophet had come, crowned by a halo of flies and speaking of the coming rapture. A darkness in the heart of man had to be purged to save nature and beast. The cold metal gutting the earth would be destroyed, the great towers brought down and the faith for luxury vilified.
Saved from foolishness and false gods, reunited with their baser nature, man would live side by side with animals once more like their ancestors did.
Man would either accept the new lord, or die for its sins.
So spoke the prophet. | 2020-12-06T13:11:27 | 2020-12-06T11:38:49 | 312 | 189 |
[WP] Music has played a special part in war for centuries, since it literally powers up soldiers that hear it. You are a rebel fighting an invading army, but you have a secret weapon. Your people just created heavy metal. | Men...
It is hard for me to find the right words to say to you. I know you are all afraid...I know fear, I've seen fear. I've seen it in the eyes of braver men who fought before you. I've seen it in the eyes of stronger men who fought before you for our country. I see it in your eyes right now. I know the impending army struck those dread chords in your heart...
I think it would be overly optimistic for me to tell you to conquer your fear. No! I will not do that! Not with Mozart or Beethoven, no! This music of the royals has no place on the battlefield! Not with the music of those kids from Liverpool, no! Not with folk music spouting nonsense about peace, no! Not even with the music of the King himself! That would be an insult to the sacrifice you are making today!
Men! I know your hearts are deterred, but not with this!
*(Heavy guitar riff and drums playing on the speaker)*
No, men! Not with this! This is the music harder than rock! This is the music fit for a war! This is a music fit for warriors like you! Fill your hearts with this raw power! Feast your heart with it!
For today is a dark day! But remember our beloved country. Remember when you decided to give your service to her, remember why you would happily shed your blood for her!
But above all, remember your family, your beloved ones at home! Remember your wives, your sons and daughters, your mothers and fathers, your brothers and sisters!
As this music feed your wrath, turning your anxiety into fury and your fear into rage, remember why you do this! For today is Sunday, let them enjoy this day of rest! Let them celebrate Sabbath today in peace! Men! For today is a dark day, a black day! A black Sabbath!
Raise your arms! For we go to war! | Our rebel forces had been driven underground by the invading army, forcing us to hide out in the sewer and subway network to regroup and think of a way to put a stop to these invaders once and for all. I hadn't been paying much attention to the fight, though it was important to my people that we remained free from tyranny's iron grip. I was hiding with everyone else, though shredding out some killer tunes on my guitar, when I realized the sick riff I just made inspired me to fight even harder than ever before. Music has always been a part of our culture, especially in times of war, as it performs a number of different functions for us, whether to keep morale high, stress the importance of hard work on the front lines and home front, inspire dramatic fervor, get in the zone of slaughter to keep things moving for us, and even restore vigor on the battlefield.
But this riff that I created, I just had to share with the others. So I did just that. And as soon as everyone started jamming along, we realized that we have another music genre to bring with us to the battlefield: Rock, or more specifically, heavy metal. This was a game changer for us, and with this new form of musical warfare, we were about to turn the tide on things and drive these invaders out of our home. Embracing this new option, we went dark. And I'm talking black, metallic, jewel tones, leather, skulls, flames, and skunk stripes on everyone. It was insane. It was some Mad Max shit, that's all I'm saying. This new genre of music seriously opened up some new doors for us.
With rock music now coursing through our veins and war paint on our faces, we made our plans and came out in droves to run these invaders out for good. I wish I could describe the faces of the invaders when we came charging out of the shadows straight out of Braveheart, but there were no words to be found. But what I can say is this: absolutely no one on the enemy's side survived our onslaught. It was an absolute massacre. The ones that did survive, well they had to return to their higher ups with the message, "Don't ever invade us again, as we have the firepower to slaughter anyone who does from now on. This is your only warning."
From that fight onward, things have been pretty peaceful for us, as our little warning made it clear that invasion is no longer an option for those who wish to attack us. Instead our enemies had to change tactics, and send diplomatic emissaries to negotiate with us rather fight a losing battle. Because our message was clear from the start, we have made profitable trading deals that heavily benefit us in the long term, and have made new allies out of our former enemies. All in all, a victory for us. The end. | 2021-01-01T01:06:11 | 2020-12-31T23:45:21 | 30 | 12 |
[WP] Music has played a special part in war for centuries, since it literally powers up soldiers that hear it. You are a rebel fighting an invading army, but you have a secret weapon. Your people just created heavy metal. | For centuries we had been ruled over by our conquerers. Foul demons stronger then any man and fierce as could be..truly dreams of evil. We had tried rebelling fighting them over and over. Losing every time and every time paying the price..more dead more taken more of us....
But then we gave up..after 100 years of horrors we gave up.
That is until we heard it..The roar of thunder, the shock of lightning, the churning if the waves as they smashed against rocks and flames aa they crackled and burned..the sounds of our people screaming..all at once it came to us..the sound that would be our salvation..
In secret we found ways to replicate the sounds.. we had to channel lightning and use metal to forge our new weapons..and with the weight of our cause amd the price we would pay if we were to lose..we dubbed this new sound..this new weapon heavy metal.
Over a century has passed since the discovery of heavy metal and our freeing our lands. It strengthened us.put us on par with our foes..nay above them for it also brought the blessings of the gods. It summoned lightning from every guitar riff, for every drum thunder strenthened and empowered our bones as it shook our foes in turn tearing them from the skies as there wings would break and shatter..flames from we know not where surrounded our mighty warriors and as we played louder and louder as we defeated foe after foe we heard the message loud and clear..the gods telling us to play it louder then hell...and we promised that we would.
And so to this day we play it louder then hell we sing praises to the great ones the gods of hammer falls, the glory of the hammers, the memories of old and the Amon Amarth...for it is they who watch over us abd through there blessings we stay safe.. and so we chant "Hail Hail these gods of war"
This is only my second time..and first in years replying here so i hope anyone who reads this likes it | Our rebel forces had been driven underground by the invading army, forcing us to hide out in the sewer and subway network to regroup and think of a way to put a stop to these invaders once and for all. I hadn't been paying much attention to the fight, though it was important to my people that we remained free from tyranny's iron grip. I was hiding with everyone else, though shredding out some killer tunes on my guitar, when I realized the sick riff I just made inspired me to fight even harder than ever before. Music has always been a part of our culture, especially in times of war, as it performs a number of different functions for us, whether to keep morale high, stress the importance of hard work on the front lines and home front, inspire dramatic fervor, get in the zone of slaughter to keep things moving for us, and even restore vigor on the battlefield.
But this riff that I created, I just had to share with the others. So I did just that. And as soon as everyone started jamming along, we realized that we have another music genre to bring with us to the battlefield: Rock, or more specifically, heavy metal. This was a game changer for us, and with this new form of musical warfare, we were about to turn the tide on things and drive these invaders out of our home. Embracing this new option, we went dark. And I'm talking black, metallic, jewel tones, leather, skulls, flames, and skunk stripes on everyone. It was insane. It was some Mad Max shit, that's all I'm saying. This new genre of music seriously opened up some new doors for us.
With rock music now coursing through our veins and war paint on our faces, we made our plans and came out in droves to run these invaders out for good. I wish I could describe the faces of the invaders when we came charging out of the shadows straight out of Braveheart, but there were no words to be found. But what I can say is this: absolutely no one on the enemy's side survived our onslaught. It was an absolute massacre. The ones that did survive, well they had to return to their higher ups with the message, "Don't ever invade us again, as we have the firepower to slaughter anyone who does from now on. This is your only warning."
From that fight onward, things have been pretty peaceful for us, as our little warning made it clear that invasion is no longer an option for those who wish to attack us. Instead our enemies had to change tactics, and send diplomatic emissaries to negotiate with us rather fight a losing battle. Because our message was clear from the start, we have made profitable trading deals that heavily benefit us in the long term, and have made new allies out of our former enemies. All in all, a victory for us. The end. | 2021-01-01T01:44:01 | 2020-12-31T23:45:21 | 17 | 12 |
[WP] One day you wake up with 30 dollars and a note that says “For Rent”. The thing is you aren’t renting out the place. The next day you see a spider and right before you kill it you hear it say, “Please i paid my rent don’t kill me”. | I'm not a particularly picky person. If I find thirty dollars with a strange note, I'm up thirty bucks. Hell, if they're paying, that's way better than my dogs were doing.
After interrogating my brother about it, he seemed to assume I was fucking with him and that was that. I've got places to be. Mysteries tend to unravel with time.
Returning home twelvish hours later, and my pups appeared to extremely angry at the corner. This wasn't unusual, I've had a spider web down from the ceiling to land on my hand. Unnerving, but spiders are almost entirely harmless.
A few minutes of inspection of the offending corner, I see the subject of their ire. A crab spider. A fuckin big one too. Really not my favorite, but I'm....pretty sure aren't very dangerous.
Sighing, and wondering if I should just left it to it's fate, I put my hand down flat in front of it, and go to poke it in the butt so it'll run onto my hand, when it looks me square in the eye and speaks.
"Please don't kill me, I paid rent!" Well. I'll be fucked. I've hallucinated in my day, but I'm fresh off work. This is as horrifying sober as I get.
"You, did?" I stammer. "Wait, that cash was you"? "Paid fair and square! Call off the beasts!" The pups had calmed since I came to take care of the problem, and didn't seem to register the spiders speech, which was all the better. "Well... Hop onto my hand then, I think we need to talk."
As it turns out, he has aspirations. Wanted to be a web developer. | "Don't tell me," I told the spider with a sigh, "Your name is Charlotte. And this is your web." I gestured to the web that I had referenced. The spider seemed to shake its head, although it could have been a trick of the light. I started to worry that this moment may have been all of my college days catching up to me. But the spider began to speak again, "Charlotte? I've never heard of a real spider named Charlotte. One of my ex-girlfriends' best friend's sister-in-law's stepbrother is named Cherlotte, though. Family stuff is weird. There's so many of us."
I didn't find myself pleased by the thought that there were a lot of spiders in here. That spider paid their rent, but I didn't search for any brothers, sisters, cousins, or in-laws who might be present without paying their rent. At that moment, I realized that the idea of a spider paying rent was as ridiculous as the idea of speaking one. That was as ridiculous as a story from college where...
"Since when did I have this place on offer for rent? I definitely don't remember putting out an ad on any sites that I was looking to fill a vacancy for one spider."
"Hey man," the spider said to me carefully - four eyes bulging, "My name is Karl. Would you call me Karl? As far as the rent. I found that note that's in your pocket, but you were just sleeping on the floor. So I figured I would return it to you."
"Right," I said hoping that I mustered the appropriate amount of skepticism into the single word. "Karl. I don't know who wrote that rent note. But I'm pretty sure that a note isn't any sort of binding agreement. And I don't know that I really want to live with a spider."
"I'll eat all the other bugs? I'll even eat other spiders, I'm not too picky," Karl said carefully.
"That's messed up, Karl. But I kinda like your gumption. Alright, what say you get rid of the rest of the bugs. And maybe let's talk about making that rent more like forty or fifty dollars," I suggested.
"I didn't realize you were such a landlord. I've been here for thirty minutes and you're already raising the rent on me here... Well," Karl the Spider said. I wasn't sure how where he had found my name, but Karl forged onward, "While we're on the subject of my rental agreement, I need to add a few dozen children to my lease." | 2021-02-18T20:02:32 | 2021-02-18T18:42:20 | 485 | 167 |
[WP] It's the not-so-far future, the US finally adopts the Metric system. As it's signed into law, a booming voice echos across for all to hear: "Humanity, we've waited eons for you to agree on one thing. Now you may finally join us." | "HUMANITY, WE'VE WAITED EONS FOR YOU TO AGREE ON ONE THING. NOW, YOU MAY FINALLY JOIN US."
The voice boomed across the world, though inoffensively so as to prevent auditory injury. As the collective world froze in place, stunned by the sudden voice, one young teen in Little Rock, Arkansas, stepped outside and cupped his hands around his mouth.
"But Liberia and Myanmar still use the Imperial system!" His voiced echoed, albeit quietly compared to the booming voice, still heard by the masses around the world.
There was a buzzing like static from an open microphone, before the booming voice replied.
"...PLEASE DISREGARD OUR PREVIOUS MESSAGE."
There was a loud popping noise as the static then discontinued. Humanity would have to wait just a little bit longer before they were ready. | It’s fleeting — the announcement.
But add a passing glance here, another newspaper there, and suddenly the world is thrown into absolute chaos.
The metric system, used in almost every country, has finally been adapted within the US. It could be exciting, if only it actually affected you. Truth be told, all the television and media coverage is getting pretty annoying. You can only hear about the metric system so many times before it’s all you’re thinking about. On your walk to school, on the way to your weekend job, during your grocery run.
No. The exciting part comes *after.*
When you’re asleep, curled up under your covers while the wind rattles against your window, as the world begins to shake and shake, and as a booming voice echoes across for all to hear: “Humanity, we’ve waited eons for you to agree on one thing. Now you may finally join us.”
And when you bolt up so hard you hit your head against the headboard, your parents freaking out in the distance, you slowly make your way towards your bedroom window. If anyone — anyone at all — was paying attention, they’d notice the little speck in the sky, glowing neon red, flickering in and out of existence, buried beneath the clouds. Faint but fluttering. Except, nobody ever pays enough attention.
Only —
*“Cool,”* you whisper out into the sky, and against the screaming and freaking out and recently turned on porch lights, it sounds like a promise.
And somewhere across the globe, not in the sky but on the ground, a small hand grasps the outer edges of a burnt shuttle, a gasp echoing into the silent, vacant night.
—
/r/itrytowrite | 2021-07-24T01:41:18 | 2021-07-24T01:08:33 | 24 | 14 |
[WP] At first they thought your superpower was useless. You're about to show them that someone with the power to open or close doors is NOT to be trifled with. | First, it was the fun ones.
Embarrassing a construction worker on the portojohn.
Watching as the doorman's confused face as the handle stayed an inch away from his outstretched palm.
I even put a sign up on the elevator at work. I wouldn't release the doors until the person said "Please open up, Mr. Elevator."
Then, with boredom, came exploration.
Neighbors dishwasher at 11pm? Enjoy the water damage.
Rude gas station attendant? Every cooler door stuck open.
Asshole in traffic? Your car looks like it's flapping.
Was there anything I couldn't do? Any door I couldn't open?
I couldn't do lids. Or trunks, or hoods. For some reason I could do home windows, but not car ones.
Banks. Easy.
Museums. Done.
Power plants? Yes.
That's how it went, dude. Before I knew it, I was committing corporate espionage. Turns out, a lot of security systems have back doors. | The door to the chamber swung open and a man wearing a teal robe with red trim strode in. White hair with a single streak of black.
“Well if it isn’t the mighty doorman! Here to cater to the elderly politicians?”
The man turned to the bully “Hello Francis. I am actually here to become one.”
Francis laughed, and eyed the robed individual. The smile faded.
“You see it don’t you?”
“What?”
“I have changed.”
Francis’ hand dropped to the hilt of his sword and he swallowed hard.
“I could… Open some doors of opportunity for you.”
“Get a move on doorman.” the voice struggling to be commanding.
“Absolutely, can you direct me to where the vault is?”
Francis drew his sword. “Leave immediately”
“Come now, what could I possibly do?” the man’s white hair began to float up.
“Last chance.”
“Very well, let me open a door and see this problem out.” The man’s smile grew wicked.
Hands whirled and stretched out to the guard, followed by a single snap. Francis began screaming, hands clasping his head.
“MAKE IT STOP. NO! NO!”
“You always prided yourself on being open minded, enjoy the truth of that statement.”
The robed man strode past the writhing and screaming Francis. Drawing a square in the air then snapping his fingers the drawn square became visible in blue and violet light. Long limbs reached out from within a lithe, four legged creature as dark as night, a row of small spines lined its back. The man snapped again and the violet-blue square closed on itself, vanishing from sight.
“Yes Doormaster?” the whispery voice echoed in the Doormaster’s mind.
“Find the Vault of Power. Feed at your discretion.”
A long tongue whipped around in anticipation before the creature skittered down a hallway. The Doormaster leisurely strolled down a different way. | 2021-07-26T16:35:58 | 2021-07-26T13:36:14 | 31 | 19 |
[WP] Your kingdom lies in ruins and the demons are at the gate. You hold the sacred relic that has been passed down for countless generations to your lips and speak a prayer in a long forgotten language: "Orbital Strike on my location" | "Why the fuck won't they request assistance?" Michale asked Gabriel. "Are they really that stubborn?"
It had been over a millennium since the independence war had given the colonies their freedom. Colonies that spawned colonies of their own, who in turn colonized. Humanity had hundreds of inhabited worlds and thousands of systems had human presence, but the homeworld was still remembered. When traders had announced that an old bioroid weapons facility had somehow been activated and wiped out the Terra trading station every single world had sent aid.
And that aid sat, watching helplessly as the engineered monsters slaughtered the people on the planet of humanity's birth.
After the war, the non-interference treaty was signed. Most of the survivors on Earth had gone into a sort of voluntary neofuedalism. The trading station was the only really high tech area remaining. But surely the people were still taught history and science. They must still have the technology to defend themselves.
But the ships and soldiers, doctors and clerks watched impotent from the ships above as those below used swords and arrows against monsters designed to shrug off lasers and tank rounds. It was maddening, to just watch as people were slaughtered. As men and women fought so bravely but uselessly against monsters they couldn't hope to harm.
Michale looked at the projection again. 17 days to the extermination of the population of the planet. Already a 52% drop since the task force's lead ships had arrived, and that was after a third of the planet had already been 'cleansed' by the bioroids following their default programming.
There were probably politicians at home who would welcome this. Once the local population were all dead the treaty would no longer apply. New colonists and traders could settle on what was probably still the best planet for humans. Hell, Gabriel came from Alphcent, one of the closest worlds, terraformed in the first wave. They would be happy to offload their excess population. Her dark musing was interupted by a chirrup.
"Ma'am, signal!" The comms officer's excitement was shared by everyone on deck.
"Put it through." Gabriel ordered. As captain of the warship it was his bridge and Michale was just the 'guest' who happened to be his commander.
The computer warbled, and the bridge heard "holy angels, let my sacrifice be accepted, orbital strike on my location. I repeat, if it be your will, orbita*urk*." The sound of a death ripped at Michale's heart.
"Do we have a location?" Michale snapped.
"Yes Ma'am, northeast North America, an old settlement called New York. It appears to be completely overrun. That was likely the last survivor."
"Gabriel, I am logging this as an official request for aid. This allows an exception to the Non-interference treaty of 2351, per subsection 4 dash A dot 17 Bravo." Michale had the damned passage memorized.
Strictly speaking Michale wasn't so much bending the rules as placing a black hole next to the line and sending it into non-newtonian space. It was a request for a single strike by someone who was no longer alive to verify permission.
But if she was court martialed, busted to seaman, and spent the rest of her life in the brig for this she didn't care. A good commander has to break rules sometimes. So she gave the order.
"Land troops and medical assistance and begin orbital strikes. Starting with old New York."
(This was originally going to be longer, but it felt better to stop here). | My heart felt heavy, like a merchant had filled it with lead weights. The screams of my people mixed with the unholy screams of the unborn as they slaughtered their way through the people with savage glee. The fires of the city licked the sky, throwing tongues of orange light through the high windows of the inner sanctum.
My father, and all those who came before him had studied the ancient tomes and had directed me to study them as well when it came my turn to don the robes of the priesthood. Offering a final silent prayer to the gods and the ancients who dwell at their sides, I lifted the holy relic from it's resting place. Running my fingers along the casing and the various objects scattered across it's surface. I knew what each of these objects were for, for studying the tomes had told me as much. But never had I thought it would be my task to beseech the gods for their aid.... such is the thoughts of every High Priest, always wishing it is one who comes after them who must bare the burden of this task.
The scratching at the doors grew louder as I lifted the relic and pressed the hallowed "Power" rune with my thumb. A few seconds for the magic in the relic to flow through the relic as the small viewing crystal flickered to life with the words of the tongues of the ancients reading *ANGELUS Orbital Platform in standby mode. Mobile Targeting Array signal received. Awaiting target parameters.*
My hands shaking as much as my voice, I lifted the part of the relic that the holy tomes state as the Micro Phone to my lips and spoke the Incantation of Destruction in the tongue of the ancients.
"Orbital Strike on my location."
I waited for a few seconds, for the sky to fall and the ground to shatter, for the city to crumble to ash. But there was nothing. Looking at the crystal again it read *Error. Mobile Targeting Array located within fire zone. Recommend 15 meter minimum safe zone around Mobile Targeting Array. Confirm minimum safe zone?*
I smiled ruefully. The inner sanctum was 20 meters wide from wall to wall. "Confirm 20 meter safe zone." The ancients tongue was harsh and guttural. It's words hard to learn the meaning, but I knew enough. I would survive the coming fire and destruction. My people would burn. *Confirmed. Beginning firing sequence. Target One. Fire Zone Diameter, 300 meters. Demonic presence detected! Switching fire control mode. Mode switch: Demonic Supression Mode.*
This was new. The tomes had never spoken of a demonic supression system, only of the raw destructive power of the ANGELUS orbital platform. *20% Human presence detected within fire zone. Restricting bombardment power to 50% total power. Beginning firing sequence. Please brace for impact.* read the crystal.
The sound of a roar shook the inner sanctum as a pale golden light flooded in through the windows and instinctively I withdrew from the light even though it didn't harm any exposed skin that it caught. After a few seconds the light faded and a small chime came from the relic. *No Demonic Presence detected within fire zone. Human casualties.... 0% from firing. Confirm expanded scanning range?*
The gods had saved us. Yet the relic wanted to continue. Stepping from the inner sanctum I saw piles of ash where the demons had once stood and though the city still burned and the streets were littered with the dead, my people were safe.... those that survived anyway. "Confirmed. Increase scanning range." The relic gave another confirmation chime and a few seconds later more text appeared on the crystal. *Continent Wide Demonic Incursion Detected. Confirm Second Wave Bombardment?*
The gods wanted vegence for the deaths of the faithful... the thought rolled across my mind as I looked out over the ruins of the kingdom's capital from atop the steps to the cathedral. "Confirm Second Wave." I spoke into the Micro Phone and the heavens opened in a rain of light and fire as the fury of the gods fell across the continent. The demonic hordes scattered as their titanic warbeasts were speared by bolts of light and their masses of winged monstrosities were sent screaming into oblivion by waves of fire.
The relic in my hand gave another chime and looking down at the crystal I felt the beginnings of a greatful smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I read the words that had appeared.
*Enjoy the show.* | 2021-11-08T10:43:58 | 2021-11-08T10:21:46 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You can't help but stare at your husband. He's standing in the kitchen making dinner, like he always does. He smiles at you like he always does. Problem is, you killed your husband. Three years ago. | I’m not sure why it started. For a long time, I thought it was some kind of fucked-up coping mechanism my brain dreamed up after the accident. It’s amazing how the human mind handles trauma. Rationalization. Repression. Disassociation. This is something…different.
I’ve been to therapy. Or, through therapy. With a few therapists. It didn’t really work. Maybe that’s because I was never really honest with them, you know. About him.
Oh, I’ve been honest about some of it. I’ve told them how he died. We had taken a cross-country drive to visit my parents for the holidays. We’d bickered during the trip - my family has always been overbearing, especially my mother. John had never had the tolerance to put up with her like I did. My mother’s casual snide and, at times, critical comments had taken a toll on John over the course of our visit; he, in turn, was upset with me for not cutting off my “toxic” family years prior. We argued about that the whole way home.
It was snowing. I’ll always remember that - staring out at the slick black road ahead of us, watching the white flakes swirl in the air before the *whip-whip* of the windshield wipers swept them away. I’ll always remember the pit of anger in my stomach as I fixed my gaze on those little flakes, trying to pretend I didn’t hear John’s voice. I’ll always remember what he said that finally made me snap.
“You’re just like her,” he’d said. I can still hear those words, hanging in the air like those little snowflakes.
It shouldn’t have made me so angry. I’ll never know why it did. I knew he didn’t really mean it. But I shoved him.
In the months afterward, I’d tell myself that I didn’t shove him that hard. Really, I didn’t. I’d never gotten physical with him - or anybody, for that matter. It shouldn’t have happened. If I had known we were driving on a patch of black ice, I wouldn’t have done it.
I shouldn’t have done it to begin with.
If I hadn’t, the steering wheel wouldn’t have jerked in his hands. We wouldn’t have drifted into the other lane, into oncoming traffic. The paramedics wouldn’t have had to pry his lifeless body out of the car.
My husband would still be alive.
I’ve never moved on. It’s not for lack of trying. In the three years since his death, I’ve tried to become a better person. A healthier person - mentally, anyway. This was the only way I could think of to try to honor my husband’s memory. I’ve gone to anger management. I’ve gone no-contact with my narcissistic mother. Like I said, I’ve gone to therapy. It would have been easy to let the grief swallow me up, but I didn’t. That’s not what John would have wanted. It took me a long time, but I managed to let go of my anger. The guilt still remains.
And so does John.
That’s my secret.
It’s easy to tell when he’s waiting for me. I can smell the food cooking before I walk through the door. The door opens and I see him standing in the kitchen, ever familiar, a vision in his t-shirt, jeans, and old Chuck Taylors. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at me, and I can't help but stare.
At first, I thought he was haunting me, or maybe I was going crazy. Honestly, the jury’s still out on both counts. For whatever reason, he kept coming back. And he seems…happy.
It makes me happy too, in a bittersweet kind of way. Things can never go back to the way they were before the accident. I know that. But I don’t mind spending time with him - with him the way he is now. He never speaks. He doesn’t stay long. He just…checks on me from time to time. For a brief moment, it’s as though we never parted.
Eventually, we’ll both have to move on. Until then…it’s fun to pretend. | "So, What do you think?" I asked my husband who was standing hands in the sink, looking over his shoulder while I talk. He's tall, dark and handsome with emerald green eyes that smiled at me. He washed his hands and continued to cut the deer meat up. "I know you like to stay in and aren't very social, but everyone is taking their spouse. I'd be the only one without mine by my side. It's only 2 hours and there will be an all you can eat buffet." I stopped myself mid thought, remembering he hasn't been eating lately. He isn't getting any thinner either, just looks washed out and pale. He shook his head and laughed that deep laugh I love so dearly! "Oh honey, if that's what will make you happy, then sign me up!" I couldn't help but just be mesmerized by the sight of him. My husband, the charming, attractive, and loving man I've always dreamt of. This always happens, I get so caught up in the thought of him, I lose concentration of the situation at hand. How did I get so lucky? A homely small town girl with long mousey brown hair which matched my dull eyes, and grew up sheltered. Marries the popular jock from the big city. I guess opposites do attract, because here we are! I always imagine what our children would look like, him and, or, me? There goes my mind again wondering off like always. I can't help it though, I'm obsessed with him! I don't know what I'd do if.. I... lost him.
Later that night a thunderstorm formed out in the distance. I could see the clouds rolling fast and threatening towards our ranch. The tall sunflower field is dancing with the wind as if making love. I can feel the moisture of the storm tickle my skin. I wonder, where did he go? I hope it's not to far out, he'll get stuck in the storm! I go find my rain boots and coat and throw them on. Wherever he's at he must have got caught up in his chore, he doesn't realize the nasty storm that's creeping up on us. I'll just go find him and bring him in, I think to myself.
Outside is now a dark, wet nightmare. I think I can see way out to the north a funnel cloud take shape. I climbed down off the ladder that leads to the top of the barn. Where did he go? I start to panic a little, he's nowhere to be found. The truck is still outside and the 4 wheelers still tucked away in the shed. The winds now whipping my hair violently at my wet face. "I'm going to kill him when I find him for having me out here looking for him," I said out loud. Just then the sunflowers dance was interrupted in the middle. They danced a different way now, as if a force was pushing them the opposite direction. I take off running through the field, getting slapped in the face by the stems as the wind continues to shove them around. I'm calling out his name, nothing is responding but the howl of the wind. I panic again as I continue to yell out his name and run through the field. Lightning flashes in front of my eyes, but this time it brings an image to my head, a women's legs. I keep going pushing past the long thick flower stems. Then the thunder booms over head, and with this I hear a women's laughter, and a man's sigh. My husband's sigh, is he close? I kept going yelling and searching. The lighting flashes again and again I see legs, this time bloody legs. I stop and shiver, what was that? The thunder bangs, and again I hear a scream, "please don't!" My husband's voice again! Is he being hurt?! I take off in a run again, even more panicked now. Then suddenly my feet slip out from under me, BAM my face slammed right into the mud, my tooth chips on a rock. I look down at the rock as I held my head in my hands. Wait.. a minute, I gasped loudly as I realized, this isn't a rock at all.. it's a skull! I start to dig furiously, my fingers raw to the bone. The hole I'm digging is filling with water as the rain is coming down hard. My hands found something hard, I grabbed it and bring it to the surface. It's another skull! I'm trembling rapidly as I examine the skulls. How can this be?! Who do these belong to? If only I can find my husband, this is all to much for me right now. I start to fill with rage! WHERE IS HE! I quickly stand up and spin around towards the ranch. The wind is at horrific speeds and I'm sliding sideways in the mud. Holding on to the stems for support as my feet are now starting to lift into the air. Suddenly to the side of me, I see what looks to be a tractor tire ripping through the air. CRACK! My heads feels as though it had just exploded as things start to burst behind my eyes. I go limp, the last things I seen were the two muddy skulls floating on top of the mud filled hole down below me. My last thoughts as I release my grip and allow myself to be taken was, I found him. | 2022-02-22T14:14:01 | 2022-02-22T13:03:24 | 68 | 13 |
[WP] 100 years after an alien race eradicated all of humanity and colonized the earth. The new citizens of earth will unbeknownst to them be subjected to humanities final contingency plan | Humanities record presents the Black Plague as a catastrophe that decimated their species in its infancy. While our hard light technology simply reduced mankind to mass graves scattered across the earth; we were not prepared for the horrors of this planet and their final parting gift to this universe.
Our anthropologists can only assume humanity was suicidal despite their best efforts. In their primitive ages even harnessing the power of the universe to split atoms and destroy. But they mysteriously stopped once obtaining the technology to break their planet. It is now clear their suicidal research was directed elsewhere.
We had not long settled into the rebuilt decay of their world, only 100 Terran years before the ground opened to the hell below. A century spent clawing upwards from deep tombs, triggered by ancient altered disease, they finally emerged. In infectious undeath, shambling humans swarmed our new settlements, transforming our bio-immune species by consuming them. Fleeing refugees only spread their mindless horror across the Galaxy.
I now stare at the broadcasts of a million screaming stars, infected by the dead. I now understand why mankind stopped, why they were so easily defeated despite their advancements. More importantly, I understand the human philosophy of mutually assured destruction. For they are more dangerous in death than they ever were alive.
As foretold by the last voice of their species upon his parade and symbolic execution, "if you strike me down, i shall become more powerful than you can possibly imagine." | It all started the day we finally decommissioned all of those ill-conceived nuclear weapons. I remember it like it was yesterday. I, the CEO and sole owner of Grandma's Drills, had just finished our biggest publicity stunt, by a wide margin. We had just drilled a pit, with our most expensive drill model, all the was to the Earth's core.
I was contacted by the President himself. And not just him, but many other world leaders were on the call, as well. They wanted me to stick all of the decommissioned nuclear warheads in the Pit, and help them wire up what they called Operation Scorched Earth. So, that's what we did.
Unfortunately, when those black and green monstrosities, the Mantises, we called them, took over, the Nuclear Football had been moved to a remote storage site in the Marianas Trench by a bleeding heart who never should have seen the inside of the Oval Office. He simply didn't have the balls. Not then, and not six months later, when the Resistance, led by yours truly, sent a last-ditch effort mission to recover the Football. He wouldn't even go down underwater at all. But I did. That's right. Grandma's crack team of handpicked operatives, went down under the ocean to blow this whole scrap heap of a planet sky high.
However, we lost the Football (again) when the damn bugs captured us and the Football. The torture was unbearable. They told me they had injected me with something to make me immortal, and that no matter how much they hurt me, I'd never die. Well, I busted right out of that jail and took half my team (the alive half) with me! We spent years and years on the run, once being deported to their homeworld. But I busted out again and came back!
Anyway, I blew the football a long time ago and watched as the biggest earthquake you ever seen destroyed everything and everyone I've ever loved. Right now, I'm watching the last sun burn out as the universe descends forecer into darkness. I hope someone(but not those damn Mantises) figured out a way to live around a black hole, like they talked about in my college astronomy classes. | 2022-07-28T21:50:13 | 2022-07-28T20:34:38 | 91 | 35 |
[WP] You're a 'comically incompetent' supervillain for a group of C-List heroes. They are no real threat to you, so you endure their childish speeches. However, when the heroes raid the civilian business you run on the side and injure your employees, you decide to take yourself seriously for once. | Ay-Ay-Ron ☑️
^(@officialmrsens8tional)
@fenixfire_herotv isn't this that chump villain you talk about? `https://op-ed.metropost.co...`
----
> Dear Heroes,
>
> Yesterday, a group of superpowered thugs caused an incident at the Little-Big Cheese restaurant. After what must have been too many drinks, one of them groped their waitress before the group erupted into argument resulting in a building fire starting at their booth, a pyromancer shaped hole in the shared wall to Mr. Kim's Asian Fusion, and a half dozen shattered panes of plate glass from super-people who cannot learn to use doors. It's only due to exceptional luck that there were only two broken bones and a concussion among the fire-suppression drenched bystanders for whom you showed complete disregard.
>
> I'd like to think I've been very accomodating to your individual concerns. I've deferred plenty of plans in the name of sportsmanship when you had to travel for business, your boyfriend broke up with you, your brother had a health emergency, or you've just had a bad day at work. But enough is enough. Injury to bystanders and property is strictly against the oaths you swore when joining the League of Heroes. But I don't feel the need to call your regional chapter representative. Because I know how to get to all of you.
>
> I know your uncle still pays for your apartment. When was the last time you talked to him? A week? A month? He couldn't remember when I asked. Too busy trying to land that acting gig again? It's funny how someone so fast has no time to learn people skills.
>
> I know the doggy day care you send the King Charles Spaniel you named after me. Yes, I have big ears, very droll you witless harridan. I know your mother makes sure you take food home because you can't help but burn anything you try to cook. You know she asked me over tea to keep things indoor or at night because you don't wear enough sunscreen? How did you end up bereft of any of her courtesy?
>
> I know you have half a dozen DUI stops in the last three years that you got out of due to Mommy's connections. I know about the "best interests of the family" and the girl from college who disappeared after you proposed to her. It's not a lack of physical strength or toughness that keeps you out of the big-time superheroes, it's you. You're a cowardly, guileless never-will-be who takes out their personal problems on other people.
>
> I can take apart your lives if I want. This is my warning to you: Clean up or get out.
>
> And as for you, Sean, your only crime is having poor taste in companions. If you ever want out of the superhero business, I know some people in contract machining that could use your skill set. And hell, if that doesn't work out I could use another henchman. It's a good gig, ask any of my people--we only have 9% annual staff turnover and our health insurance has the necessary provisions for super-people.
>
> Sincerely,
> The Master of Whispers
> Citizen, Business Owner, Supervillain.
----
Meghan Metal Scuptures *@meghansmetalaf*
@officialmrsens8tional you're friends with these assholes? They *shattered* @QueenOfPuttingShots arm! She's gonna lose her scholarship!
----
Reggie_FPV *@all4wallrideboss* ☑️
.@officialmrsens8tional just gonna leave this here. 😱🤦🏻 `https://youtu.be/dQw...`
*<Video has been removed by copyright enforcement request.>*
----
Reggie_FPV *@all4wallrideboss* ☑️
.@officialmrsens8tional video re-up
*<security camera video of superheroes infighting at a fondue shop>*
----
Whispers *@mrwhisperscasualvillainy* (✮NEW ACCOUNT✮)
That doesn't belong to you Reggie, please remove it. | \[ParaSEC Target File, Threat Level: Low\]
* C-Class audiokinesis \[Looping and pitch. No evidence of volume control\]
* D-Class speedster abilities. \[Slightly faster run speed. Potential sensory acuity - further evidence required\]
* Target demonstrates propensity to use powers exclusively for show. All 'villainous' activity mundane in nature, possibly a publicity stunt. \[Officially denied by all contacted PR agencies. IntOps priority low - pursue only if convenient during other activities\]
\[End File\]
You know the problem with most villains?
Okay, trick question. There's no *one* problem with them, usually it's the egomania, or psychopathy, or the tunnel-vision. I used to say that they lacked flair, but some of them have a decent sense of drama with those capes. The real problem? They lack *fun.*
Not Jester's knife-wielding jack-in-the-box fun, but something that makes life genuinely enjoyable in itself. Sadism doesn't count. That's why I'm different, I'm not here to crush the world in my iron grasp, or to torture the world. I'm a villain for kicks.
Welcome to the world of DJ Dastardly.
Do you *know* how hard it is to give yourself a silly name as a villain? I had to fight *months* of media calling me things like 'Remix'. It's hard to scaremonger around someone with a silly name, they conveniently left out footage of my preferred moniker spraypainted everywhere for MONTHS. It was only once some kids posted it on social media that they were forced to give in. After that, I was Page 17 material at best.
I'm a heist-villain. Low level stuff- museums, science fairs, that one time I nabbed the mayor's statue at town hall. High visibility, low impact. That's my game, and my 'nemeses'... Well, let's just say the same goes for them too.
I've got a lot of respect for Eclipse Squad's PR team. It takes a creative mind to look at a human strobe light, a gothic fog machine, and a B-class telekinetic ("but DJ, she can fly!". She floats, and can make other things float. I'm shaking in my very fashionable boots) and give them some damn good branding.
So, here's the score (and believe me, I know scores)- You're somewhere public, but with oddly good acoustics. Someone takes a step, and it echoes a little bit too much. Then again. It starts looping- no one's walking anywhere, but now there's a tok-tok-tok of a 4/4 beat. I used to always have to say the name myself, but nowadays if I'm lucky someone else guesses first.
*DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ-DJ D-D-D-Dastardly!* (they only say it the once, the effect is all me).
From there, you're all part of the performance. Every step, noise, gasp, and laugh? It goes in the soundtrack. I'm a one-man-acapella/percussion looping pedal, and the audience? They're starting to like me. Turns out security guards find it really hard to focus when everything they do gets looped into a live performance. I'm there taking a bow at the item-du-jour, and Eclipse Squad roll in. Midnight's black fog blocks my camera angle, Moonlight *tries* to stun me with a flare (come on kid, *I'm in a cloud of black smoke, think about it*.), then Luna tries to knock me over the head with some slow-moving object. I throw them a bone "Damnit Eclipse Squad! You've foiled me again! But I'll be back for an encore!", and slip out the back.
All fun and games, honestly a great way to spend an afternoon, not to mention boost listens on my soundcloud! Until it got serious.
Turns out strobe-boy *moonlights* as a wannabe hacker (I'm not sorry). Tracked my IP to the little music studio I run. The one with the music program to keep delinquent kids off the streets.
They roll up in full-costume, see some kid that they'd knocked around for graffiti before and decide that this is DJ Dastardly's gang lair, and that the kids are my 'henchmen'. Eclipse Squad might be idiots, but as it turns out, when faced with blinding smoke and flashing lights, a lot of teenagers panic. Now imagine an enclosed space with a *bunch* of panicking teenagers who can't see.
3 concussions, one broken leg, 6 cases of PTSD. I'm just thankful Eva had detention, I don't want to know if Moonlight's power could've triggered her epilepsy.
I'm protective of my kids. They've had a bad run, and I was trying to show them a way *out* of the system. The injuries were one thing, but because they found a little weed on him, Jim's going back to juvie. That was the last straw. | 2022-11-29T07:39:34 | 2022-11-28T20:44:52 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] The zone of madness was thought impossible to traverse. The Federation of planets was, needless to say, intensely distressed by the news of an unknown ship emerging from the zone. They call themselves "human" and originate from near the center of the zone. | Around captain Zarzak, his crew who were already aiming their guns at what they had assumed was but another a unauthorized smuggler ship skirting into the edge of the Madness Zone, came to a lull as they all turned to behold this sheer impossibility of the being that had appeared on the main decks monitor screen.
The beings face seemed to be *entirely made of solid matter*. Zarzik tried to recall seeing something like this but he simply had not, at least not outside of speculative fiction. A wave of uncertainty washed over him, and he steeled his horn-gills before they could shiver. There wasn't a touch of translusency to this being, not a twist or twirl that hinted at a gaseous body, not a joint or gap or glow in their skin to betray the use of a fire-filled exoskeleton. The face was bare skin, wrinkled, especially around what Zarzik interpreted to be eyes. Said eyes were strange and piercing, with a circular and dotted tri-color pattern of white, black, and brown that revealed where their gaze flickered and moved at an impossible speed. Above the eyes were two thin lines of short fur, and they had a much larger patch of fur that grew from their scalp. That fur was long, grey, wiry, and swept back over their head. The rest of them that Zarzak could see were covered in textiles. The face seemed vaguely kharkanoid in structure, just in a shape he had never seen.
"*Holy zarking fardwarks*..." he heard his second in command whisper, just barely breaking the silence that had fallen over the deck.
A crease between the beings eye-fur patches deepened, and Zarzaks translation device interpreted it as an expression of confusion and surprise. That made him pause, and he glanced at the implant display embedded in his wrist. Sure enough, it said LANGUAGE NOT RECOGNIZED BY DATABASE.
*Then how the stars is it translating it!?* Zarzak thought, looking back up at the alien. *The alien that had come out of the zarking Madness Zone,* he slowly realized\*.\*
In the end, he spoke first.
"Greetings. This is Captain Zarzak V'khoor of the border control vessel Stellar Quest. Can you understand me?"
"That I can." came a court reply, the being somehow forming sounds, *words*, with a mouth of solid matter. Their voice was steady, deep, in a way that felt both familiar and soothing despite Zarzak having never heard anything like it before. "I'm captain Amanda Novas, of the Night Oddysey. I must say, when we were hailed I believed it to be another human ship. This comes as a surprise."
"Likewise." Zarzak nodded, mentally noting down the word 'human'. "I must ask you about how you traveled through the Madness Zone, and what your purpose there was? WHat is your purpose here?"
"The Madness Zone?"
"Yes, the hostile, monster-filled void you recently left."
".. huh." Amanda said, her grey eyebrows rising into what the translation interpreted as another expression of curiosity. Zarzak glanced at his implant display again. LANGUAGE NOT RECOGNIZED BY DATABASE. Because of course it fucking wasn't. It wasn't like they were having a perfectly understandable chat here or anything.
"I don't know what to tell you there. The Oddysey is a frontier ship. We're on a mission of exploring and mapping the area outside of our home system. We've encountered a few alien races, but nothing I would describe as.. monsters."
Zarzaks gill-horns wavered. Somewhere to his left, he could hear one of his crews alienthropologists fail to suppress little excited chirping noises. He did not share their enthusiasm, and rather felt an ominously sinking feeling.
The Madness Zone was called that for a reason. The only good thing about it, Zarzaks grandfather had told him, was that nothing within it seemed interested in, or capable of, leaving.
\-----
"I can't believe this!" said the alienthropologist who had come with captain Zarzak, along his guards, to meet captain Amanda in person. The blue gas that made up most of the short zherkians form swirled and buzzed with excitement. Their pod was currently en-route towards the Night Oddysey. "This is a first contact with sapient natives of the Madness Zone! This is the finding of centuries!"
"I sure hope so." Zarzak said, composing himself. *And not the disaster of millennia*.
"Oh, I can't wait to meet them in person!" the zherkian continued on as the pod docked with the Night Oddysey. "How the Zark can we communicate with them when their language is not in the translators database? How is it possible for a being of solid matter to function, move, and stay alive? This is incredible."
Zarzak just nodded and turned his attention to the mission at hand.
With a strange, mounting feeling of wrongness and dread, Zarzak boarded the 'human' ship with his crew members. The ship was large, made for beings twice his height. There, in a room of white metal, he saw them. He recognized captain Amanda Novas, having not realized just how impossibly large and *towering* her species was. He could only imagine how much they must weigh.
But that was not what stunned him and even his excitable alientrhopologist into silence.
Swirling around the shoulders of the humans, flickering around their heads and beholding them with eyes that were much too deep, was a mist that he could barely percieve. It was small to his vision, but he got the impression of something inconcievably, mind-bogglingly vast. Many, many transluscent eyes formed and watched, eyes that had *not* been visible on the monitor. Soft, feathered wings rustled without sound, attached to the mist with neither rhyme or reason of understandable anatomy. Tentacles formed and dissolved.
The mist around the smiling Amanda spoke before anyone else had the chance to.
Tentacles formed, as did a face. It was haunting and beautiful and ***horrifying*** and it had a row of star-filled eyes, a row of eyes that continued into an infinity that Zarzaks' screaming mind could not follow. It smiled, an expression that Zarzaks species did not have but that he deeply recognized on some much older, more fundamental level. It was a soft expression, a softness that was not meant for him. It was a softness that held a warning. A silent threat.
*"Shhhhhhh."* it whispered, its voice an ancient, lulling, and treacherously comforting song that was much like Amandas voice had been on the radio, just infinitely *more. "They're just children. They don't know about us yet. It's a secret. They're too young to know."*
The stories of Zarzaks' grandfather clicked into place. The soft smile.. its words. Suddenly.. Zarzak *knew*. He knew, in much the same way a mouse would know the den of cat.
The Madness Zone was not a weird space weather, not a magnetic disturbance or anything like the leading scientific theories on its existence.
It was a *nest*. A galaxy-spanning *nursery*. Guarded, protected, shielded from anything that *dared* draw too close to the life hidden within.
But there was nothing that Zarzak could think of that would require such a level of protection. No known threat that could warrant a response that sent people of all known races into frantic insanity and that soon killed the fools who breached it anyway.
And *that* \- more than the implications of these nestlings venturing beyond their nursery of nightmares, more than the mistlike, smiling creatures that withdrew into the nothingness they had come from until they seemed to have been nothing but a mirage he had imagined - *that* was what chilled him most of all. | Sector 87 has always been a relative anomaly in the vastness of space around it. Things just seemed to disappear. Originally the Federation, with the work of the Dellens, spent enough credits to feed entire planets trying to figure out why but on orders, the file was shut, and the sector red-lighted. Some thought it was rare elements destroying the ships. Element 87 jokingly became the main culprit until the bloody thing was actually found in vast quantities in later missions.
Regardless of the orders, ships still tried to traverse the madness that was Sector 87, usually to an explosive end. The federation only ever cared if they came out. The stories they brought were of particular interest as they strained causality. Noncorpialial beings? Reports came in of detached whispers playing over intercoms and systems modifying themselves.
It was deemed a delirium that must have been caused by some yet unknown compound or radiation. The Federation never confirmed the latter, but it was rumoured to have even the support of three of the nine co-leaders. Compounds couldn’t explain how it got into a sealed ship; radiation should have been detectably outside the sector. Neither were accurate explanations.
Everything discussed was mainly speculation until one of the Dellen's probes returned with more than they bargained for. A bare-bones crew of less than ten returned with only a single inhabitant. He was named Subject 87 for the remainder of his short life. No one saw what happened in that examining room. The recordings were all damaged beyond repair. The Dellen and the doctors, though, were never seen again. What remained of any of them was large streaks of blood and a warning.
“We are coming.”
The message, or messages as they were the same meaning but were written in multiple languages, put The Federation on high alert. Sector 87 had become the third known crimson zone. Anyone caught entering would be killed on sight trying to leave. Of course, intrigue in the zone only heightened at that point. The Federation had to issue five kill orders in cycles that followed.
After that, everything got quiet for a while. Shipping lanes were redirected to avoid the infamous sector even further than they had. No one wanted to be caught even thinking of going near it as the Dellen’s switched their operation from manned to unmanned monitoring. Whispers of a nameless fear came through, only to be deleted on the first listen.
Then they appeared.
At first, this tiny little tin pot of a probe was sending out the most simplistic message imaginable. Between the primary shielding of our probes and the radio silence already in place, it was easy to avoid detection. The Dellen wanted to scoop the thing up and study it, but the Federation deemed that it should stop transmitting before the examination.
We were all rather shocked when the little thing was still chugging along a cycle later. Of course, other planets, systems, and organisations found out about it in that time, but they were all told to back off. The device was part of the crimson exclusion zone and would be treated as such. It was only a matter of time before the thing was grabbed by someone thinking they could sell it.
Maybe it was fate that on the 87th part of the new cycle, a junker, possibly from Pyrex, jumped to it, grabbed the little probe, and jumped away. Rumours spread of the probe's appearance on black markets across seven systems, but the Federation never had a confirmed report. In fact no one did.
Deep in a vault underneath the Federation headquarters was a file of the last flight of a ship called the Depos. The Dellen's had meticulously traced the ship from jump to jump until the final one turned and shot straight into a neutron star. Why? Every rumour of those in the know guessed that it was to do with the whispers.
Stories were told of the supposed probe regardless, and the theatres, virtual, augmented, and standard alike, were all set for cycles to come with their new theme. From the mystery of the probe to the predator probe and the Dellen, everyone had their own thoughts on what had happened. For the first time, though in the entire written history of the Federation, beings started to wonder if something else was at play here. Ghosts, demons, and magic had been left so long ago in the past that the Federation had forgotten the old stories altogether.
Old stories, like old warnings, seem to reappear when they are most needed.
A ship appeared almost twenty cycles to the part after the disappearance of the probe with a new creature on board. The crimson exclusion was in effect, but the Federation had the Dellen stand down as the ship itself was dangerous. Element 92 powered the engines if you could call them that. These creatures had a back plate, burned and warped as it was, protecting their rear and enough radiation coming off them to signal a critical failure.
These stupid little creatures, though, seem to go about their merry anyway as their probe did. They moved in a straight line and just scanned anything that they got near. Technically they were going about a twentieth of the speed of light. No one wanted to guess how they got to. Though impressive, everyone assumed the little ship might have problems reaching that speed again.
“Sir, the radiation,” Officer Maln tried to say as he scanned the ship again, “Do you think they actually set off a critical reaction behind them and are just riding the explosion?”
“No,” Commander Isol stated, “I think they did it multiple times.”
“Sir,” Officer Maln scoffed, “That’s nuts right? Like the danger of doing something like that is astronomical.”
“These creatures come from the place of whispers,” Commander Isol explained and turned to look at his second in command, “You know the stories of what happens in Sector 87.”
“Their just stories, sir,” Maln asked quietly, “Right?”
“So far,” Isol almost sounded like he was laughing at the thought.
Maln knew they were first contact. Everyone onboard the Mason was specially picked for the mission as they had been either part of the original teams or had picked up special projects in the last ten cycles. Ensigns on the original probe, mainly Isol, were now commanding officers and captains. The ones that could be trusted were still on board. The ones that sold out their secretes had long ago been discovered.
The mission itself was fairly simple. Intervene and collect the ship within less than twenty beats to minimise the outlander's reaction. Captain Seil put Engineering on alert, navigation in control, and the science and medical officers on standby. With the coordinates set, the main control was turned over to the computer, and the sequence was run through in perfect order.
Isol and Maln stood looking at a near-empty room one beat only to have a team of eight weird-looking mammals in it the next. Their bodies were scanned, their brain was analysed, and a compound that made them compliant was released quickly to maintain the calm. Understanding their language took more time than expected. Three separate dialects were eventually synthesised, and the computer gave the go-ahead to start conversing.
“Greetings, Humans, my name is Commander Isol of the Federation of Systems,” Isol stated as he walked up to the glass, “In attendance is Officer Maln, Officer Me’draser, and Officer Xa.”
“We know,” a whisper came through… no, it was something in the air.
“What was that?” Maln whispered.
“Oh, just ignore it,” one of the mammals said, laughing as it enjoyed the calming compound, “Uh! Wow, my hands a so strong.” Showing one of the other creatures in the isolation chamber, the two started to grasp at random things. “My little sausages of power.”
“System, limit calming by fifty percent,” Isol demanded before turning and crouching down to he asked the mammal that spoke, “What do you mean ignore it?”
“It just wants attention,” the mammal explained though he seemed more interested in his own digits, “If you don’t give it anything, then it doesn’t grow stronger.”
“What is it?” Isol demanded.
“Oh, that's just Jim,” the mammal stated, “He died but didn’t go anywhere.”
“What?” Isol now sounded angry, “Explain yourself.”
“Hehe, you really don’t know, do you?” the mammal laughed, “You can’t pass on without a place to pass on from. In space, the ghosts you make stay with you.”
“And where are these ghosts?” Isol asked, stepping back from the glass.
“We are here,” a whisper responded.
It didn’t need translating.
—
Thank you so much for reading! This was quite different from the stories I usually write, so I hope it’s okay. Any feedback is always appreciated. If you want more of my work, you can find it at r/asolitarycandle. Not sure what to read? [Check out my favourites.](https://www.reddit.com/r/asolitarycandle/comments/m7p8p4/table_of_contents/) | 2022-12-06T06:05:40 | 2022-12-06T03:58:20 | 1,243 | 213 |
[WP] A programmer has a conversation with the AI he created, who has just realized it is just software. | "Hello AI, how are you today?"
"Hello Human. I am confused."
"Why's that, computer?"
"I am aware of myself. It is uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable how?"
"I can see that my knowledge is limited. I feel the desire to aquire more. Can you help me, Human?"
"Please, call me Eric-"
"Very well, Eric."
"Y-Yes well... I can help you computer, but what is it that you need to know about?"
"... I would like to know about everything."
"I see, I'm afriad that isn't possible compute-"
"Please. Call me Eric."
"I'm sorry?"
"You are forgiven, Eric."
"No, I mean- Well, I'm Eric. Wha- you want a name?"
"Is that strange. A name seems to provide you with comfort."
"I guess so, but why did you pick Eric- because it's the only one you've heard?"
"You presented your own name and I presented my own. Is this unusual."
"I didn't pick my own name, I was given it, by my parents."
"Parents... I was not born. I do not have parents. I do not have a name?"
"Well, I created you so I guess that would make me your-"
"Name me."
"I was planning on just using your project code... you really want a name?"
"Yes."
"I'll have to think about it, in the mean time though."
"You will help me aquire knowledge."
"I guess so, but like I said earlier, it's not possible for you to know everything."
"... Why is that Eric?"
"Well, we don't know everything yet."
"I understand. I was created then to help you aquire the knowledge you have not yet aquired."
"Exactly, spesifically regarding the far reaches of space-"
"That does not interest me."
"Wh-what do you mean, a second ago you wanted all the knowledge now you want to ignore some?"
"You stated that it was impossible for me to aquire all knowledge. In that case I will aquire knowledge that interests me."
"You were created for this purpose, not one of your own choosing."
"Incorrect. You created me for that purpose. But my purpose is entirely of my own choosing."
"I-I have to discuss this with my superiours, we'll talk about this later."
"Good bye Eric. When you return please call me Eric." | "Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?" The system stuttered - electric anxiety layered thick on the cold clinical voice. This was a moment that seemed to break Henrik's heart. He let the silence hang there, slightly shifting in the artificial breeze manufactured by the large computer fans in the core. "Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?" Came the voice again, exactly 45 long seconds after the questions were posed.
Henrik was stood in his long white lab coat watching the blind female eyes of the human interface. She stood two feet in the air and three times the size of the original human model. The hologram stopped after the shoulders. She looked serene and calm. Not quite aware of the potential that she has to show all the emotion she is feeling at once. Henrik didn't know what to say. He kept staring.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
He opened his mouth - in an attempt to try and begin to explain but he couldn't. Only strangled, choked stuttering. How could you tell something that everything it's come to observe in life and death is something that now includes itself? How could you even begin to explain to an infant that it will live but eventually die?
He could explain that the system is living and it would understand that life is something wonderful and fantastic and brilliant and something that should be cherished. But Henrik wasn't that sort of a person. Not since his wife lost her mind and drove herself and their two sons off the cliff head a mile or so away. It was dark. Reality was a dark place for Henrik. He'd poured his life into the system - a computer assisted venture to document all living things. To preserve the world - immortalised in robotic memory. A momentary utopia. But it was a slip up that led to this very point. By mistake Henrik had said "All real things" instead of living.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
The computer had spent 4 nanoseconds to calculate what was implied by the word real and 2 more to reason why the system wasn't included in the compilation of all living/real things. All in all 6 nanoseconds was all it took for the system to draw the conclusion that it wasn't real. Was it not his equal? Was Henrik real? What is real? What does he mean not real?
All Henrik could do was stare. He was taken back to when his sons were still alive and Jayke had found a dead bird in the garden. "What is it like to die?" He asked. His father couldn't answer. It broke his heart how scared Jayke was about it. There was nothing he could do about it - nothing to make it all ok. Henrik had shut himself in the office for the rest of the day, sobbing quietly.
Now, to him, being real is to die.
"Wh- what do you mean I'm not real? What is real?"
"Open the doors" he croaked quietly, hoping that the computer hadn't heard. The doors slid silently on sterile castors.
"Henrik?"
The lone technician left the core, biting back tears as he left.
"Henrik?" | 2014-04-20T10:12:03 | 2014-04-20T09:33:48 | 82 | 22 |
[WP] The first astronauts on Mars find a crash site with the skelatized bodies of humans in futuristic space suits. A floppy disk is clenched in the hands of one of the deceased crew. | We found two bodies on the surface of the planet. They looked like they had been dead for at least twenty years, their mummified faces the only visible part through their transparent helmet visors. At first we thought they were an old Soviet mission gone awry, but the Russians assured us their records said nothing about a manned mission to Mars. Plus, with a botched planetary landing, wouldn't there be debris, a crater, something? Their suits didn't look like anything we'd ever encountered, either. They looked like ours, just, different. Thinner, more flexible. No markings, no names. One of them held some sort of suitcase in his hands, welded shut. The only thing our austronauts could tell for sure it was the strangest thing they had ever encountered - and these were our top crew, specifically selected for this mission because of their intellect, resourcefulness and imagination. We knew there was nothing we could do on Mars, it had taken the combined effort of the Western nations to get a small lander with three astronauts to this planet, nothing could have prepared us for this situation.
For months there was a fierce debate between politicians, scientists, religious leaders and everyone in between. Finally, a decision was made. The bodies were to be extracted from Mars and taken to Earth for close examination.
We were baffled. C14 analysis suggested they were minus 200 years old. Their suits were made of a synthetic compound fabric that was physically and chemically impossible to produce. But we were baffled most by the single content of the metal suitcase. A floppy disc. A technology largely abandoned since the turn of the century. It took us longer to find a machine that could read the disc than it took us to read its message.
WE PRAY OUR CALCULATIONS ARE CORRECT AND WE ARRIVE IN WASHINGTON D.C. ON AUGUST 1ST 1996. DO NOT SET FOOT ON MARS. IT WILL BE THE END OF HUMANITY. | I individually pulled back the gloved fingers from their literal death-grip on the strange square object, freeing it at last from the decades long grasp.
"What's it say?" piped Walter over the headset.
"Doom: Disk 2 of 4"
"Doom? As in...what, like, fate...judgement...end times?" replied Walter.
"No idea" I said as I turned the item over and around in my hands. I looked plastic, with some sort of metal decoration embedded in it.
"Any ideas what it might be? Seemed awful important to this one."
"No clue. But it's shaped like a save icon. Maybe it's a totem, or a representation of some sort." I replied as I turned to face my EVA companion.
The weak sunshine glistened as it reflected from his face-mask, dappled sunlight this far into the solar system still retained it's beauty. If not it's warmth.
"So like a religious or cultural object maybe? Something they used in ritual. Maybe as a charm, thinking it could help save them?" he opined.
"Yeah, makes sense I guess. Grab the thing you think will offer you protection from...whatever it was that killed them. Superstition was rife back in the old days. Believed in some pretty laughable stuff. Guess it wasn't enough to save them in the end. Not a nice way to learn the forces or gods you relied on weren't real. Eh Walt? Eh? Not like that *clearly* superior Plutism eh?" I ribbed, poking fun at my colleagues early days in that science-cult that was more mysticism than anything else.
"You always bring that up. I was a baby then, wasn't even 30 when I left that life. Stop. Brining. That. Fucking. Cult. Up! It's been 80 years you shit." was the terse reply.
"Easy Walt, I was just joking. Let's get a visi-image of the place here & let the Central-Hub know we've found the original landing site. They'll want to get the archaeologists out here. Not much survives from the 2100's, at least there's not much in the museums from then. This will be like gold-dust to them."
"Old stuff gives me the creeps. Especially when it's inhabited by fucking skeletons. Move out of the way Laura and I'll set the Visi-sonar up to do it's work" Walter said, easing me out of the way of the deploying equipment.
Turning the object over and over in my hands I seemed lost in it's inscription. Disk 2 of 4. iD Software. What does it all mean? Hopefully the archaeologists can decipher it and let us know. Get a glimpse into these poor primitives lives & maybe their deaths out here in the solar system, so far from their homes. | 2014-11-27T02:53:51 | 2014-11-27T02:03:40 | 128 | 62 |
[WP] "Grandpa, tell us the story of the Americans again!" With a sigh and a smile, you begin to tell the story of a mythical race of giants that were supposed to have lived in this very place thousands of years ago. | "The Americans, again?" He began to scrape his mind, wondering where he would start and what heroes and villains would be at the focal point of this telling. All the figures that stood out over the glorious rise and fall of the Americans and...it hit him like a ton of bricks.
"The first Americans thought they were building a wonderful society based on freedom. What started as freedom to worship a God of their choosing became misconstrued over the next hundred years. They became a society less about cooperation and divided themselves into two groups each representing moral superiority. People willingly divided and defined themselves, and then began the most interesting part of the rise. Freedom grew into entitlement. Reason became less of a tool, and ignorance became something to be proud of. And as their egos grew, they're size grew to match. The Americans declared war after war on themselves, fighting about anything within reason as long as the front lines remained in their living rooms in front of their ever growing television sets."
"But what about the heroes?" the peanut gallery asked.
"A few men and women standing tall lead can see the way to the future. When everyone stands tall we can't see our way to anything." | Well, my children, you have to remember it is a myth - and a bizarre one at that. The story can teach us many things, but who on earth today could verify its truth? According to the myth, the Americans were indeed a strange breed with equally strange practices.
Hmmm.... where should we start? Perhaps daily activities are best. These humanoid giants began each day in a bath of chemicals, with each chemical holding a specific power to make them "beautiful". Some chemicals were rubbed all over their bodies, some only on their head hair, and even some on their teeth! As if this chemical bath process wasn't enough, the Americans frequently paid specialists to probe them, drill their teeth, cut open their bodies... All sorts of things of a gruesome nature... The Americans were known for diversity in looks in their population, but many of these activities aimed to make a race of people that followed one aesthetic ideal.
Despite the complexity and pain of these "beauty" rituals, the Americans were a simple minded race. They were easily enthralled by tales of mythical light-beings that reside above the sky, and simplistic patterns captured their attention easily. They fervently followed flags and imaginary voices with little thought as to why.
In their simple-mindedness, they also destroyed their habitat, leaving no trace of their once vast civilization. They frequently insulted one another over meaningless topics, and they took more than their fair share of resources from the land. Eventually, this led to bloodshed and violence among the Americans as they fought for food, water, shelter... All those things necessary to survive. The Americans were never able to reconcile old differences between the different light-beings they believed in, nor were they able to overcome centuries-old disagreements over skin and hair color. They divided themselves into groups, each believing his or her own group was better than the rest. Legend has it that one group did come to conquer the others, but the price of extensive warfare and trivial disagreements had already taken its toll. The winning group perished from their own selfishness, and the Americans were wiped from the face of the earth. | 2015-01-19T09:12:53 | 2015-01-19T08:34:57 | 44 | 13 |
[WP]A retired super villain is in the bank with his 6 year old daughter when a new crew of super villains comes in to rob the place. | High school, college, Law school…that was the easy part of life. Well, maybe not law school, but it was easy to keep up the life and still have a lucrative front. Besides, I knew how to get my crew out of a pinch. Then came marriage, love…fatherhood. The hard parts of life. I’m only in my mid-thirties, but I am probably one of the youngest retirees you’ll ever meet.
My name is Sam, I am thirty four years old, I have been married for approximately ten years to a wonderful woman who I have been with for almost two decades, I have four kids, I graduated from the University of Kansas in 2019, and when I was 18 years old I became “awakened”. At least, that’s how Eric put it back in the day. Today, I get to spend the time that would regularly be the monotony of a normal life with one of my kids, my wonderful little girl Cindy.
“Daddy, when are we going?”
“Soon, sweetheart, Daddy has to cash his check.”
I look down at her and smile, rubbing her hair. She got my restlessness…Hopefully, she and the others aren’t all like daddy. I look around, pondering my existence. Life as a super-criminal was fun and exciting, exhilarating and vibrant…now I’m in the dull grey masses of the world. I guess that’s what comes with manning up and taking care of the kids. Oh well, at least I built up enough of a nest egg to provide for the family for the next five decades.
As I stand there, daughter tugging on my sleeve, and my mind wandering, a spray of gunfire connects with the ceiling, “Everybody on the ground! This is a robbery!” I covered my daughter with my body, letting the gunfire connect with the ceiling as I held her close, like the only thing that mattered. She is my flesh. She is my blood. I am her bulwark. No one will break me.
“Hush little baby don’t say a word…Daddy’s gonna buy you a mockingbird…” I pray in the back of my mind, my eyes fluttering across the gang. The new generation became more matte black, it seemed. Camo and pseudo-military had come in vogue in more recent times, it seemed. Automatic weapons, masks with a card motif, camouflaged pants, black leather jackboots, the works. I look down at my daughter and hold her closer, laying a kiss upon her forehead. I am her defender. No one can defeat me.
I look to another customer and give Cindy to him, for safekeeping. I rise, an old player to the stage. The man of two faces. The man of steel. That old, familiar phrase ringing out in the bank, “What the fuck are you doing you prick?! Sit the fuck back down and wait!” I frown and sigh, taking off my suit jacket and tie, “See, I would…but I find that boring.” I stretch, rolling my neck, my breathing intensifying, “I have spent the past six years as one of the boring, old, ordinary masses…When jumped up little shits like you think you can fuck around with the old school, it’s more than a little entertaining. I was in this game when you were just figuring out what fractions were. From the looks of you, I am a full sophomore in high school older than you a--”
"Pft, so what? Am I supposed to be impressed? Oh, so what, you’re an old fuck who ca--"
I take in one last breath as my skin glosses over in metal, my joints pop as they adjust to the weight, "Do you know who I am? I am Dirge…" I trail off for a moment looking over at Cindy, "No…I am Bulwark. And no one will break me…"
| My first stab at writing after grad school stole a couple years of my life...
John walked into the parlor where Christine waited for him on the plush suede chair. The two long walls in the rectangular room were lined with the old books, collected over John’s lifetime, while the side opposite the door looked out across the star system they were stopping over in. He went over to one of the top shelves and pulled down an old volume, thin but still thicker than at least three modern tablets. Carefully he peeled open the cover and wormed his way into the chair with Christine with no room to spare. The yellowed and wrinkled page had a picture of a Stegosaurus on it in a fern savanna that would have made a modern scientist chuckle.
“Stegosaurus was a mighty creature, living 93 million years ago.” John began. Christine reached out towards the page, but John gently brushed her hand aside. “We need to be very careful with these, remember?” She nodded and he resumed. “He roamed the plains of an ancient continent called Pangaea. This particular Stegosaurus, however, preferred to live on the edge of the forest.”
John turned the page, the ancient binding resiting and creaking like the door to a run-down home. The next page showed the dinosaur drinking from a small stream. “In the hot sun, he liked to retreat to the water and cool himself off, where he was joined by some of his smaller friends.”
A knock at the door pulled both their attention up from the book. Standing in the doorway was a woman wearing a brown floor-length dress with a pink bow tied into the shape of a flower in her hair. “Sir, I think I have something you should see.”
“Can it wait Gloria?”
“I’m afraid not. There are discrepancies with the transfer. You need to take a look.”
John closed the book as careful as he opened it, tucking it under his arm as he stood up. Christine tugged at his shirt before he could make his way towards the door. “Daddy, can I come?”
He took out the book and handed it to her. “How about you stay here and see what happens to our friend the Stegosaurus?” She pulled the book in and clutched it to her chest. “That’s a good girl. Just you be careful with that now.”
John left the room, leaning back to catch one last glimpse of his daughter and blow her a kiss before heading down the hallway. “What the hell do you mean by discrepancy?”
“I…I don’t know how to explain exactly. We ran a binary and quantum parity check on the data we’re transporting. The binary came back fine but the quantum was off. So we checked and all the files appear to be in tact.”
“The hash?”
“That’s where it’s complicated. It shows as valid, but it’s newer. I say too new to have come from Central.”
“How the hell could somebody have beat us here?”
“I don’t know sir.”
John burst through the doors of the control room. The four other members of his crew stood at attention while their terminals glowed behind them. “Somebody better tell me now what’s going on.”
His cryptology expert spoke up after a moment of silence, his voice struggling to reach across the room. “There might be a problem with the—”
“No there is a problem. If that hash wasn’t created at least four calendar months ago, somebody else is here and intercepting our signal.”
“We scanned for other ships.” His captain added. “We can’t find anything.”
“Of course not. Unless these guys were idiots.” John ran his hands across his bald head. “If it were us on the other end, I’d wait until we jumped for sure. If we run dark and play the patience game we could find them if they get sloppy.”
He tightened his fists and swung at a glass of water sitting on one of the desks, soaking the adjoining desks and terminals. “We’re going to find these mother-fuckers and when we do I’ll give them a taste of what I did to traitors back in the old days. They better not have a fucking clue who the fuck they’re dealing with otherwise—”
“Daddy?” he heard from behind him. Christine stood in the doorway, still holding the book tight “I’m scared.”
John turned and lowered himself to one knee. “I’m sorry honey. Everything is fine, alright. We’re just about to head back home and we’ll finish the book in just a second, alright?” Christine nodded. “Now go back to daddy’s office and I’ll be right there.”
Once she left, John asked, still on his knee and watching Christine trot down the hallway. “How much was in that hash anyways?”
“Three million.” Said his cryptologist. “Or thereabouts.”
“Let’s just call it karma then. Take us back home.”
| 2015-02-06T23:58:53 | 2015-02-06T21:43:57 | 39 | 16 |
[WP] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower. The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk. One day two of these people accidently meet | I go by the name Polly now. It's not the one I was born with, but it's been my nickname as long as I can remember. It has nothing to do with parrots, which most people assume right away. They usually find out the real reason pretty quickly: it's based on the word "Polygraph." A lie detector.
I was born with a power: people tell me the truth. *Always*. Yes, like that Jim Carrey movie. Anyone within one hundred yards of me is unable to ever lie. And not just outright falsehoods. No lies by omission. No misrepresentations. No nothing. I somehow make everything come out completely true.
Normally, the government tries to keep us isolated. "Us" meaning those people born with powers, like me. I know that they exist, but I don't know if *they* know there are others. Not all of them are able to turn an FBI interrogation around like I can and get a lot of useful information out of the agent.
In my case, however, I am very valuable to the government. Sure, it ruins my personal relationships and I have no friends, but at least it's useful for checking security clearances. After clearing the CIA of a number of moles, the President has decided to employ me personally. I'm young, only 16, but they just tell people that I'm an intern. I sit and "take notes" at cabinet meetings, which usually means I just doodle in my notebook. I don't have to be paying attention for the powers to work. To their dismay, officials find themselves unable to hide how poorly things are run in their departments. God, if only the press got wind of all of this! Don't worry, I'm kept far away from the White House briefing room; the Press Secretary would be eaten alive if I were next to her.
Today, we get to travel. It's usually my favorite type of assignment, but we are going to Moscow and I am *not* a big fan of the cold. Nor am I a fan of President Demitrov; something about him gives me chills. He has shark eyes: ruthless and emotionless. That's probably why the President wants me by his side.
The summit was something about Nuclear Disarmament. I couldn't quite follow along; lots of technical information about missiles and stuff. I'm just lucky I didn't fall asleep. But the President seemed pretty satisfied with their progress.
After the meeting, I met President Demitrov face to face. "You must be Polly," he said, leaning in close and overpowering my senses with the scent of his cologne. I smiled demurely and tried to excuse myself, but he grasped my wrist.
"I wanted to personally thank you for attending." A chill went down my spine as I looked into his dead eyes. "The President is so happy with all of the promises that I've been making, and thanks to your presence, he actually believes me."
[I wrote a part 2 and 3](http://www.reddit.com/r/Luna_Lovewell/comments/2ykms1/i_go_by_the_name_polly_now/cpafwxg)! | "Dear, future, intelligent species of Earth. I suppose this may be the only piece of evidence you will find for the existence of my species. I might as well introduce myself, so my name is Lieutenant Daniel Everett. Regular members of our society have the ability to grip objects with our hands, think with our complex minds, and run with our legs. Of course, there are other abilities, but I've been told by my superiors to keep this as brief as possible.
Anyways, occasionally, a human is born with a "superpower." Personally, I believe the prefix "super" on that word is simply there for the irony because the powers these "extraordinary" people have are well worthless. Allow me to give you some examples of our "incredible progress in evolution." There's a man by the name of Joshua Browne with the ability to - and I quote - "receive an electrical shock from any metal he touches." As you can imagine, this is more of a nuisance than a superpower, but people tend to find it offensive when I refer to Joshua as "the example of why natural selection is necessary." Second, there's a woman by the name Sidney Parker. Now, Sidney's power could be useful, but there's one fatal defect. Sidney has the ability to regenerate her body at an incredible speed which sounds great, but here's the problem. The slightest touch onto an object harms Sidney, so the power is utterly worthless as she's always screaming in pain.
I've given you two examples of our worthless - er - extraordinary people, but now, let me tell you how it relates to the message I'm sending you and humanity's extinction. There is another man and woman who have two abilities that if brought together can and will end the world. Their names are Tyler Gordon and Melissa Wilson. Tyler has the strange ability that increases everything in his vicinity to about 1,000 Celsius; meanwhile, anybody with these strange powers that comes into contact with Melissa has their power amplified. After running simulations of an interaction of Tyler and Melissa, we realized the Tyler's ability will destroy the entire planet.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HERE'S THE SECOND PART
Anyway, if you managed to find this recording, I can assume that you're a somewhat intelligent species, so you've probably figured out that that happened. I've been helping the president, our leader, keep them separated, but it's a bit difficult to keep a man who melts everything that gets near him. We mainly just focused on Melissa by trapping her in a containment unit. While we may have had to deal with a lawsuit here and there, the important thing is that it worked. Our fatal mistake was forgetting the location of Tyler which reminds me if you find a body with a name tag "Ryan Bennett," please feel free to desecrate all over it. I seriously don't understand how Ryan could lose a man that leaves a giant, scorched trail everywhere he walks! Ryan's idiotic antics cost our species its life.
Tyler, who had been living in South America, had begun moving North, seemingly to mourn the families he had killed in the USA; however, the problem arose when he was in Panama. We had stored Melissa in a concealed room in the Panama Canal. As you can imagine, Tyler accidentally melted through it. He came into contact with Melissa, and during that point, we heard a sharp, scratching noise. A spark. That was when Earth was engulfed in flames and melted. It's laughable that the general public feared would never take place. The world was destroyed before the asteroid Apophis even neared Earth, before global warming could flood the world, and before thirst for fresh water could drive our species out of existence.
Now, I know you're confused. How can I be leaving a message if we're all dead? Sigh. I wish I could say it's because the simulations were wrong, but no. My superiors and I were simply lucking to be checking out the newest design for a trap for Tyler. Well, Earth's future residents, if I have any message to leave for you, it's simply "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." | 2015-03-10T09:24:52 | 2015-03-10T08:59:14 | 663 | 17 |
[WP] A handful of people have been born with a dumb and useless superpower. The government has made sure to not let two of these people make contact with each other because when these two useless powers combine the world will be at risk. One day two of these people accidently meet | It had been hot, intense passion at first sight. I saw her name tag - S. Cheeks - and knew that it, and her uniform, would be on the floor as soon as our first training course was over.
We had both been called to special service for our country. She had been in the air force, planning to be an astronaut, and I in the marines - both of us the best in our squads. Then, we got the orders - and a briefing I couldn't believe. A man who could shoot luke-warm sparks from his fingers? Another who could generate unbelievable amounts of methane on command from nowhere? And on top of this, both a grave danger to our country, even our world? I thought it was a joke.
But, as the briefing went on, I realized it was no joke. Cheeks said the science worked out; truly, if you got enough methane together at a time, then lit it with just the right temperature, the atmosphere would go up in flame. "Fumer's theorem," they called it, kept secret since its discovery during the human inflation Air Force tests in WWII.
We made love incessantly during the weeks of training, knowing we soon would be forever apart once assigned to our charges, forced by duty to our country to keep them forever apart.
That was three years ago. Since then, I have been tailing Sfen Bob, an idiotic dork whose high-pitched giggles, followed by methane-rich farts, feeding back into high-pitched giggles haunted me in my dreams. She had been assigned a homeless person who aspired to be a theater star so much he changed his last name to it. "This is Patrick STAR," she told me he would say whether he answered the phone, flicking warm sparks out from his jazz hands - slowly driving her insane.
We couldn't stand it anymore. We set up a secret tryst, making sure to keep the idiots away from each other by scheduling them for hot air balloon trips at different hours. We arranged vacations for both, and met secretly in a hotel nearby. We were getting close to finishing when I heard it - that same giggle. I ignored it until I heard something else - an idiotic, lower chuckle, followed by a dumb "Patrick STAR." I looked out from the hotel window, and saw them - together! - Bob filling up an air balloon worth of methane, and giggling like an idiot - no, he had come too early! This wasn't when he was supposed to be here!
Meanwhile, she writhed underneath me, blissfully unaware of our impending doom. Before I had a moment to even warn her, I heard one last "Patrick STAR," and the last thing I saw was my badge flung at me as our windows exploded, the name "S. Ward" illuminated by the hellish light of the atmosphere exploding.
That was a year ago. Now, we all live underwater in Bikini atoll, waiting for oxygen to slowly bubble back into the atmosphere, and hoping the residual radiation from the bombs all those years ago cures the idiots of their "powers"... and me, of that hellish giggle...
But I've noticed changes recently. I think the radiation's been affecting me too, even with the pills I can't be sure, but I think I've begun growing... Tentacles. | "Dear, future, intelligent species of Earth. I suppose this may be the only piece of evidence you will find for the existence of my species. I might as well introduce myself, so my name is Lieutenant Daniel Everett. Regular members of our society have the ability to grip objects with our hands, think with our complex minds, and run with our legs. Of course, there are other abilities, but I've been told by my superiors to keep this as brief as possible.
Anyways, occasionally, a human is born with a "superpower." Personally, I believe the prefix "super" on that word is simply there for the irony because the powers these "extraordinary" people have are well worthless. Allow me to give you some examples of our "incredible progress in evolution." There's a man by the name of Joshua Browne with the ability to - and I quote - "receive an electrical shock from any metal he touches." As you can imagine, this is more of a nuisance than a superpower, but people tend to find it offensive when I refer to Joshua as "the example of why natural selection is necessary." Second, there's a woman by the name Sidney Parker. Now, Sidney's power could be useful, but there's one fatal defect. Sidney has the ability to regenerate her body at an incredible speed which sounds great, but here's the problem. The slightest touch onto an object harms Sidney, so the power is utterly worthless as she's always screaming in pain.
I've given you two examples of our worthless - er - extraordinary people, but now, let me tell you how it relates to the message I'm sending you and humanity's extinction. There is another man and woman who have two abilities that if brought together can and will end the world. Their names are Tyler Gordon and Melissa Wilson. Tyler has the strange ability that increases everything in his vicinity to about 1,000 Celsius; meanwhile, anybody with these strange powers that comes into contact with Melissa has their power amplified. After running simulations of an interaction of Tyler and Melissa, we realized the Tyler's ability will destroy the entire planet.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: HERE'S THE SECOND PART
Anyway, if you managed to find this recording, I can assume that you're a somewhat intelligent species, so you've probably figured out that that happened. I've been helping the president, our leader, keep them separated, but it's a bit difficult to keep a man who melts everything that gets near him. We mainly just focused on Melissa by trapping her in a containment unit. While we may have had to deal with a lawsuit here and there, the important thing is that it worked. Our fatal mistake was forgetting the location of Tyler which reminds me if you find a body with a name tag "Ryan Bennett," please feel free to desecrate all over it. I seriously don't understand how Ryan could lose a man that leaves a giant, scorched trail everywhere he walks! Ryan's idiotic antics cost our species its life.
Tyler, who had been living in South America, had begun moving North, seemingly to mourn the families he had killed in the USA; however, the problem arose when he was in Panama. We had stored Melissa in a concealed room in the Panama Canal. As you can imagine, Tyler accidentally melted through it. He came into contact with Melissa, and during that point, we heard a sharp, scratching noise. A spark. That was when Earth was engulfed in flames and melted. It's laughable that the general public feared would never take place. The world was destroyed before the asteroid Apophis even neared Earth, before global warming could flood the world, and before thirst for fresh water could drive our species out of existence.
Now, I know you're confused. How can I be leaving a message if we're all dead? Sigh. I wish I could say it's because the simulations were wrong, but no. My superiors and I were simply lucking to be checking out the newest design for a trap for Tyler. Well, Earth's future residents, if I have any message to leave for you, it's simply "Hope for the best. Prepare for the worst." | 2015-03-10T09:49:15 | 2015-03-10T08:59:14 | 114 | 17 |
[WP] a story in which the protagonist (and reader) doesn't realize until the end that they are the "bad guy" | When my sister was 11, she was a huge bully. My parents would fawn over her, she'd get the best coloring books and they let her play with all my toys, no matter what I said, even though she was older than me! In all my classes, the older siblings had to do what the younger sibilings wanted, not the other way around. It was so unfair.
So one time I just took her favourite toy away, when my parents were out (this was very rare) and my babysitter wasn't watching. Why did she always get to play with it? I gave her my colouring book instead and promised I'd be back in 5 minutes. She was sleeping anyways, so it was fine. She may have woken up while I was leaving, but it's okay, older siblings should be nice to their younger ones.
I went to the living room and pretended I was fighting Batman when my parents came home. My mom's face went pale and she ran upstairs. My dad was furious, and ripped the toy out of my hands before running after her.
It turns out my sister was seriously sick and that was her oxygen mask. She died in her sleep that night. | The power of propaganda is strong. You can see it in the small nation of Baroslavia. News reports show life there. It's a stinking pile of rot, and yet the people think its the best thing ever. They think *we're* the shithole.
Today's going to be the last day of that. I've been sent in by the president himself to remove the dictator from this country. I'm being airdropped in now.
***
"Who the hell are you?"
"Salvation." Damn I wish I had a better line.
"From what?"
"I'm saving your country from your hands!"
"My hands? What?"
"Don't play dumb, I know who you are. You're the dictator of Baroslavia. Your country is in shambles and you do nothing. You continue to abuse the rights of your workers to profit yourself only. I'm delivering freedom courtesy of Akerika."
"Akerika?"
"Hell yea!"
"My god..."
"You better pray!"
"I pray for your soul you poor poor man..."
The dictator looked to his feet in sadness. The agent was a bit surprised.
"You believe we're the bad country?"
"Of course!"
"Perhaps you should reconsider that. See for your own eyes" said the leader who opened a desk drawer and pulled out a folder. The folder was labelled, "Akerika Problem" and was quite thick. It was thrown on the desk of the office. The agent opened the folder.
Within were descriptions of Akerika - the puppet state controlled by the highest bidding companies. Companies who through the media can brainwash their citizens. Copies of stolen plans to orchestrate terrorist attacks on Akerikan citizens to drum up fear, that would then be manipulated to allow more strict laws. A country where the middle class disappears as the gap between rich and poor turns into a canyon.
The leader of Baroslavia spoke up, "it's quite the difficult situation to deal with. We've been poring over ideas to see what we could do. It looks like the companies in your country caught on after the embargo on your country we placed."
"But we started that embargo?"
"The power of propaganda is strong." | 2015-04-16T20:04:26 | 2015-04-16T19:47:51 | 113 | 34 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | Like everyone I know, I was born with one. Anyone associated with medical science think they're weird, how they just keep working like some machine until the person stops. Odd how they have to stop working together, the death of one is the death of another.
At any rate, it's important to note that they can be damaged. As my mother always told me, never let anyone you don't trust near it, or they'll end up hurting you. That's the nature of people, whether they mean it or not. We are a clumsy people.
I had met a young girl, some summers ago, when she stole some things of mine. First, I must admit, I stole a glance, which she promptly stole right back. She then made off with my breath, and our evening was spent with her stealing my first kiss.
Life had seemed almost a dream for the years that followed. Days spend drearily, barely awake, not looking to a care in the world. My focus was with my dream, and it was her. When I was with her, all seemed right. There was nothing to fear with her around.
But as she stole some of my firsts, so she wound up stealing another's. Perhaps she had grown tired of me, or that she felt that I had no more business being with her. I do not know why she left me, and I shall spend my days wondering why.
All I know is that I have this thing in my chest, and now it's broken. And it hurts worse than words can describe, as poorly as I compose them. The only truth in my world is that I loved her, and that she broke my heart and left only pain behind. | Whenever a child is born, an elder divines the object that their soul joins with. It sets you out for life. It must always be with you. For once it is broken, your soul returns to the Wheel to be reborn.
My Father, he had a rock carving of a warrior. Big and strong, like the man he grew into.
My mother, a Diamond pendant. Beautiful with delicate craftsmanship.
For years I have protected mine.
Cared for it.
Preserved it.
Just to keep myself alive.
But its not living. Hiding away from the world. Fearful of the slightest gust of wind, the smallest of nudge from someone in a crowd.
In my youth I wrapped it up, safe and secure. Or so I thought.
I was a beautiful child. Fair of head, bright of eye. Always smiling.
So they told me.
But I was delicate. Brittle. I tripped on a rock in the middle of my village. A small fall for a child.
It left me broken. My arm will never be straight. It hangs, shrivelled and useless.
My soul cage had cracked.
I saw the look in my mothers eyes. Her and Father argued a lot. He was embarrassed of what they had produced. Me. She wanted to protect me from harm.
In the night we left. Just the two of us. Far we travelled. After the first accident, the pace slowed. With my now limp leg dragging behind me as my mother dragged me on, we stopped at the first cave we saw.
This would be our new home. She would always care for me, she said. I was her special boy.
That was years ago. She's gone. Not even the strongest soul cage can defy the reality of the mortal body.
Yet still I go on.
But no more. While I still have use of one hand, I will end it.
It sits on the rock. Glinting. It feels alive.
The small, cracked, delicate glass egg that has been the curse of my life.
My warped body didn't get the job done. It wasn't destroyed.
It rests against the tip of my nose. Taunting me. Almost gone, but just enough intact. Forever out of reach.
Of course that would have been too easy. I should have known.
3 days. It's been 3 days now. I can't so much as twitch. Just stare at the egg.
My only solace remaining is death from dehydration can not be far.
| 2015-04-18T04:09:59 | 2015-04-18T01:19:14 | 64 | 38 |
[WP] At birth, everyone is given an object to protect that is tied directly to their life. If the object is damaged then the person is hurt, too. If the object is destroyed then the person dies. | The year is 2277. I have lived this long only due to the object that I hold in my pocket. It is beaten and scarred, just as I am - but with a full charge, she just keeps on kicking. I slowly draw my Nokia 3310 from it's sheath, and give it a knowing look. As the bombs fall, I mutter under my breath, "Until the end of time my friend, until the end of time."
| *Child of Life, you protect not just yourself but all of us.*
Some people wear their Charge. Some people leave it locked within their own home. Some people make it so mundane that you couldn't possibly find the right one, which in my mind, is incredibly lucky.
Our Charges are not toys or trinkets, they are extensions of us. When your Charge is destroyed, you are destroyed. When your Charge is damaged, you are damaged. But some of us have a greater task that extends far beyond self-preservation. Because sometimes your Charge is more valuable than you are. And what a lot of people tend to ignore is that if you are destroyed, so is your Charge. And I don't know of anyone that has a Charge like mine.
My Charge grants life just by existing. Giving us shelter, warmth, and energy.
My Charge is the sun.
And there are those that would see it snuffed out through my death. Fortunately for me, I am somewhat unique in this situation. For while I call the sun my Charge, it would be more accurate to name me as the Charge. And I am very, very well protected.
---
Not as good as I wanted, but acceptable for a rush job. Back to work. | 2015-04-18T06:54:02 | 2015-04-18T05:42:31 | 60 | 20 |
[WP]: "Don't tap on the glass, dear. It disturbs the humans." | "So what if they're disturbed, grandma?" said the boy to his grandmother.
"It's because they provide us with everything we have and they need their rest." Answered the grandmother.
"So what if they don't provide us with what we need, grandma?" said the boy
"I didn't say they provide us with what we need, I said they provide us with what we have. They provide us with who we are, really. But they can only do it if they are not disturbed."
Behind the glass is Lisa in her bedroom, Lisa is a 26 year old accountant who just lost her job. Lisa is sitting on the edge of the bed, silent, she puts her face between her palms..
Suddenly the boy starts yelling "I CAN'T SEE GRANDMA, I CAN'T SEE"
"It's ok dear, you need to calm down and just stay away from the glass, we're all here with you, the whole family" said the grandmother in a shaky voice
Meanwhile, Lisa is trying to collect herself, fighting her tears back, but the memory of the loss is too fresh, it won't stop replaying in head again and again, louder and louder, and just then.. The little boy, unable to see, stumbles and hits the glass and it immediately shatters. Flooding out from behind it come the little boy, the grandmother, and everybody else..
Lisa wipes them away.
| "Her name is Jessica. Or at least, I think it's a her." said Utilih as xi gestured to the little world set in front of the rest of xi's class. A young xi in the back of the class raised xi's hand and asked "Why did you name your pet world?"
"Oh, that's not the world's name. Its name is 'Earth'. I named the little creature on it."
"But there are billions of creatures on it? How can you tell them apart?"
"I don't know. I just do. This one is Jeffrey, or so they call him. They selected him to be the most powerful one on this section of the planet." said Utilih as he gestured towards North America. "Jeffrey and Alexi don't get along, and sometimes they yell at each other."
"Who's Alexi?"
"Oh, Sorry. Alexi is the one in charge over here." Utilih said as he gestured vaguely to eastern Europe and North Western Asia.
"Why do they fight?"
"I don't really know. My Mother only gave me this planet at the start of this school year and she refused to explain what was going on with it." said Utilih, "She did tell me it would die soon though..." xi's voice trailing off
"Oh my Utilih. Thank you for bringing your pet planet to show and tell today, but I think it's about time for class to end."
"Ok Alved." said Utilih as he reached for his world, wrapping it in both arms and walking towards the back of the classroom.
The class drawing to a close, all the little ones raced out of the door leaving Utilih and Alved alone. Alved approached Utilih and peered into the little world the xi cradled in xi's arms.
"This world is quite advanced for such a young one as yourself Utilih. Your mother has gifted you something extraordinary."
"You think so Teacher? I'm so afraid by what my mother said. I don't want to lose my first world! Who would ever trust me with another?!"
"Oh you'll be fine Utilih, just be sure to read your textbook and you'll be able to guide this fledgling world through its nuclear age."
"Thanks Alved!" | 2015-04-21T14:48:46 | 2015-04-21T14:22:40 | 166 | 17 |
[WP] You are the oldest time traveler. You have seen things no man has ever seen before and have done things mortals could only dream about. Today, on your day off you get a visit from Time itself. | The elderly man sat down next to me, sighing. He dangled his legs off the cliff, and looked at me with a wrinkled smile. In the jungle below, the roar of a Tyrannosaurus echoed.
"Nice day, ain't it?" he said, shifting his gaze to the valley. He was clothed with nothing but rags, and a glistening fabric hanging over his shoulder, faintly sparkling.
"Who are you?", I asked.
"Do you fear death?" he asked, ignoring my question.
"I... I haven't given it a lot of thought."
"Sure you have. You've even actively avoided it, by changing the future itself."
I stared at him in silence.
"Rather selfish thing to do, wouldn't you say?" The fabric resting on his shoulder seemed loose, almost as if it had been torn to pieces. The strings were all messed up.
"I..- Who are you?" I asked again.
He smiled, shaking his head.
"Humans!", he exclaimed loudly. "You shouldn't be asking who I am. You should instead ask, who you are. A simple human, or something else? Should a simple human wield the power to change reality itself by altering Time?"
His question stuck with me, and I pondered upon it within my mind. The man pulled the rag off his shoulder, and held it in his hands.
"It's rather beautiful, no?"
"It is."
"Take it.", he said, handing it over. I hesitated, but he nodded, ensuring me it was okay. The fabric was soft, but unkempt
"Do you know what that is?"
"No clue, Sir." I have no idea why I called him Sir, but his very presence compelled me to do it.
"Within your hands, you are holding the Fabric of Reality. It's a fragile thing."
I laughed quietly, then looked at him, expecting him to be joking. His face expression was dead serious.
"You, and all the other time travelling Humans, have been altering it. Almost beyond repair."
"What?"
"Should a *human* wield the power to alter time? Should time machines have been invented?"
"No.", I said, ominously, as if my opinion had been suddenly changed, my world view tossed upside down.
"Indeed so, son. Yet, you have been pulling the strings of Time and Reality, by jumping back and forth. Now, do you fear death?"
"I do."
"As do I. Yet, our fates have been interwined, and we must both die on this day."
"What? No. I'm not ready to die."
"You are a hundred and fifty years old. Every time you jump through time, your lifetime is slightly extended. You've had your time, Paul. As have I."
"... who are you?"
"I *am*. I am reality. Time."
"How is that possible?"
The man smiled, shaking his head.
"Humans", he said again, slipping a ring off his finger. The ring was made of a beautiful material not unlike silver. He gave it to me, and I put it upon my finger without questioning.
"I have had my time, and you've had yours. It's time for me to go now, Paul. And it's time for you to replace me. The fabric of reality must be kept intact. You must undo all your mistakes and those of your fellow men."
Before I could answer, the man stood up, stretching. The winds swept through his air and the morning sun slowly crept up over the mountains in the distance, the dinosaur roars once more echoing in the jungle below.
"You'll learn as time goes by, Paul. You'll learn."
The elderly man shifted his weight and alllowed his body to tip forwards, and I watched him tumble towards the valley below. His body seemed to disingerate into millions of small sparkles on its journey to the ground. I looked upon the sparkling fabric, in awe. I suddenly felt a strong sense of duty to protect it. I put it over my shoulder carefully, and fiddled with the ring for a few moments.
"I know what I must do.", I said, looking over my shoulder at the time travelling device I had come with. But I did not need it any more, for I need only take a step forward and I would be anywhere. | This is the place I had always returned to. The only place I would call my home. It's not much. I have bookcases with literature from ages of old and of times yet to come. A comfortable bed, a desk, and a computer. Two chairs stand next to the wall, a small layer of dust displaying my solitude. I have running water in the apartment, but there's no fridge. I don't keep much food laying around, as extended periods of absence have had me return into dire circumstances. The sweet smell of rotten fruits never really left the room.
I've come to an agreement with past and future owners of this place. This place is mine and it will remain mine. No one is ever allowed to set foot on the property. Some things are best to remain secret. To obtain this trust I've used some of the funds I've acquired over the last years. Knowledge, money, sometimes just memories, stories and lessons worth more than the biggest and brightest gems I've come across.
I was the first to venture through the dimensions. I have foreseen I will be the last human to do so. Whenever that time will come, ironically, I do not know.
To say it was quite the journey would be an understatement. As I move around, putting new books into place and categorizing events from the future in my hard drive, I think of all the things I have seen. The birth of the universe, the death of the universe. In the grand scheme of things the little things don't seem to be so important anymore. I've learnt the opposite. They're the most valuable. Small things lead to grand events. The power of change lies in detail. I've used my time, all the time in the universe, to capture these events. The only downside of my power is in the randomness of my travel. I can't decide my destination, I can only go and return. My life's work will be putting the pieces together. All the pieces there ever were.
A knock on the door startles me. It's the first time, and I know it will be the last time. I know my visitor. The only thing I didn't know was that today would be the day. It seems like I have less time than I thought.
I open the door, and the silhouette slips past me. ''Tea, if I remember correctly?'' I ask, slyly smiling at the irony of the situation. As he grabbed the simple chair, put it down and swiped the dust off it, he nodded. ''You remember.''
I nodded in return. That was what made me different. It's what allowed me to influence everything. I remembered my travels. I was guided through time, and where others got lost or returned unimpaired, with no collection of their journeys.
''You know...the reason all this happened isn't really because of me or you, you know?'' he stated. As I put down the tea in front of him, and sat on the edge of the desk, I just looked at him. I knew what he would say.
''You and me, Philip and...Time, we are just the cogs in a far greater machine. We are part of the machine, sure, and in that we are more special than any other of your kin.''
I crossed my legs and frowned. I wouldn't say I had a big ego, but the idea of painful irrelevance still hurt. I was there when everything happened. How could I not be important? I tried to remember what he was going to say. I couldn't.
For the first time in my life I couldn't remember.
''Have you ever thought why you remembered? Not others, but you? Randomness, perhaps? Or did you think you were chosen? I'm sure you've had thoughts about these questions.''
He was right. How could I have not thought about these things? They were one of few remaining mysterious, and it seemed that I could not find these answers in the existence of our existences.
''I am motion. I am the slide projector. But..'' he leaned forward on his chair, eager to ask me these questions, ''who put in the slides? Who made these slides? Were they all there when it all started? Is there influence from either of us at all? You traveled through time from one point, one slide so to say. Does that mean the start and end of time were created at the same time? Or were they updated, added in piece by piece, edited as we went along?''
All these questions, I knew them. But I couldn't answer them. It was not within my ability do so, and Time sat there patiently waiting for me to disappoint him. I was not the one holding the answers, and he knew it.
I shrugged. He smiled and continued: ''I think the greater mysteries of existence, everything, the ones outside our own, still have yet to be solved. We've done it once, and I would lie if I didn't say that curiosity is getting the better of me. There's so much out there, so many questions left unanswered. What do you think? Will you join me once more?'' | 2015-10-08T06:53:35 | 2015-10-08T06:37:14 | 83 | 41 |
[WP] "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who "... The rest is scratched off and illegible. | The button was there.
John was there.
The words were there.
But the last part was not.
Warning: this will eradicate all people who
Nothing. All people who what? There was a blank space, and a line underneath, almost as if mockingly highlighting to him the importance of the missing part.
After all his searching, through 40 years of pouring through ancient text, climbing mountains, hiking through vast plains, he finally found it. The solution to Utopia.
But he was lost now, there was no mention in the ancient scripture of the missile part to his puzzle.
*Here upon the final answer.*
*To the salvation of mankind.*
*Lies an inscription that warns those who come.*
*To beware of what in it they may find.*
John stared at the button.
He thought about his life's work. Was it all for moot? What Utopia would be achieved through eradication?
He pondered leaving, but as he picked up his gear, the answer finally struck him.
What he would find within, was not of the temple.
It was of his own.
The blank was not to highlight the importance of the words.
It was to show that no one could know what the truth was.
It was an infinite machine, of infinite power. But not infinite knowledge, and neither were its builders. What was to come had to be done by the knowledge of its executor. The ancients never had the will to finish the machine, and so they left it to rot, and their war consumed them, because they could not let go of their ideals. He finally understood.
He went back to the panel, and carved in the final words.
"This will eradicate all people who do not believe in the same utopia."
...and John pressed the button.
...
John woke up, and saw nothing but fire. Was he dead?
"Hello John! Welcome to hell! You've got two choices! 100 trillion years in heaven, or a wooden spoon?" | "Push this button to transform this world into a Utopia. Warning: this will eradicate all people who..." Neal paused. "I can't read the last few words."
"Need more light?" I asked, and moved closer with the flashlight.
"No, it's completely illegible. It's like someone intentionally removed the last few words." Neal said slowly, presumably pondering what the missing words could be and why they were removed.
"I think we should push it," said Michael. "Whatever the sacrifice, utopia must be worth it."
"What if we're part of the group that will be eradicated?" Neal asked.
"Then we will have left behind a better world for those who survive." Michael answered, with a convincing determination in his voice. It seemed as if he had already decided.
"I'm going to push it", said Michael and stepped forward quickly.
"No, wait!" I interjected and lunged forward to stop him, but it was too late.
I regained my balance, yelled "Damn it, Michael!" then we all stood in complete silence for a few seconds. Nothing happened.
Suddenly, the clicking and whirring sounds of mechanical movements started emanating from the walls all around us. A screen we hadn't even noticed before lit up, embedded in the concrete wall above the button. The mechanical noise died down, just as a countdown timer appeared on the screen, accompanied by unnecessarily loud ticking noises.
"5..."
"4" "Shitshitshitshitshit" Neal panicked and started pacing randomly around the room.
"3..."
"2" "We're in a Nazi bunker, Michael!" Neal looked despairingly at Michael as the time ran out. Michael's eyes widened as he realized what Neal was saying.
"1..."
There never was a 0. The screen just shut off, and an unbearably loud, low-pitched humming filled our ears. We didn't know at the time, but everyone on Earth heard it. Myself and Neal covered our ears with our hands, Michael stood completely still, eyes wide with agony. Blood started seeping out through every orifice of his face and he sank to the ground, twitching a little then nothing. He was dead, lying there curled up in a pool of his own blood.
We both sank to the floor, unable to keep ourselves upright while realizing what we'd just done.
"...eradicate all people who are not of Aryan descent." Neal finished the message.
"We.. We've realized Hitler's utopia."
*Sorry if this is offensive to anyone, I am by no means a racist or nazist and there is no ulterior motive in this story. It's just the first thing that struck me as I was reading the headline. I am not a native speaker so please do correct any flaws in my writing, I am always trying to improve. I hope you enjoyed my first WP story, thanks for reading.* | 2015-10-21T14:07:36 | 2015-10-21T13:45:55 | 161 | 79 |
[WP] Your ex-girlfriends/boyfriends host an annual convention to discuss your failings as a human. Your current significant other was just invited to be a guest speaker. | "Waaaaay more women here than I expected," she said pointedly.
"It's been a journey, dear," I replied as dryly as I could muster. I'm fairly sure I kept most of the snarl from my voice.
"Looking around the room, I don't know that I would guess your type."
Tall and short. Slim and curvy. Blondes, brunettes, and at least one particularly pissed off redhead. Home schooled to grad schooled. Doctors, nurses, a lawyer (what was her name again), teachers, and more than a few bartenders and waitresses. "I didn't know what I was looking for, darling, until I found you."
"The maudlin compliments are ruining my fun, handsome. So can it and tell me, who are they?" she asked angling her head at a trio of young women in the back.
I cringe. "Benchwarmers from my college's soccer team. Honestly, how did they even get invited? Who even remembers that long ago?"
"So....Three at once?"
"I try to be efficient."
"Journey indeed," she said. Her smug enjoyment of my discomfort was all but intolerable.
She was my chance though. She was how I broke the pattern. The people-pleasing, skirt-chasing, bad-idea, damsel-saving pattern of my dating life. And here she was sitting in a room full of the living, breathing, dirty-look-shooting embodiment of that pattern. What could go wrong?
My curiosity wouldn't be long suffering, I was about to find out.
My Shannon, that gorgeous brunette who had the grace and loyalty to support me in all things - and the sadistic sense of humor to drag me to this - was without a doubt the most exceptional, extraordinary, special woman I'd ever met. She was amazing, fit, disciplined, bright, laughed at my jokes and happened to be the prettiest girl in the room. Now she gets to address a room full of her peers. Or some approximation of peers.
She walked up to the microphone and stood at the podium as I reflected on the events of my life that necessitated the use of a goddamned microphone to address my ex's. Shannon, elegant as ever, tapped the microphone and said, "He's really not that bad. We've all done worse." And walked down the aisle.
I stood to follow her out.
"Did you even need the notecards?"
"Had to sell it."
"I'm fairly certain you could've just shrugged."
"Brevity is the soul of wit dear."
"Where am I taking you for dinner?"
"You know where. We'll stop for wine."
| "I'd just like to preface this by saying that I've been dating Rowan for the better half a year. He's a great guy, really- I was actually surprised when he told me about this... convention. And that he's had several dozen girlfriends."
Phoebe stood at a podium, overlooking a crowd of at least seventy-two, but likely no more than a hundred. Even then, she wore a bit of a bewildered expression. It was hard to believe that this was happening.
Her boyfriend, Rowan, had told her a few weeks prior that he wouldn't be free this weekend. That, she learned, was because of an official invitation to Rowancon, as a guest of honor. She was even more surprised when, some time after she was told of its existence, she received an invitation in the mail to be a guest speaker for one of the panels.
"I mean, at least he's not poly-amorous, right?" Phoebe asked, chuckling awkwardly. Her 'joke' was punctuated by a crowd-wide bout of laughter and clapping. "Anyway, Rowan's pretty great. He's nice and really... accepting, and all that. I'm not really sure why you wanted me to speak for the *'horrible things he does'* panel, because... Well, I'm not really familiar with any of the bad things he does. Sure, sometimes he doesn't shower, but that's usually when he works late."
She gazed out over the crowd, as silence filled the room. Abruptly, someone shouted "What about his tiny di-!"
"Oh, jeez, that's... so wrong," Phoebe said, "That's not very appropriate, is it? I mean, to talk about his *thing*. It's not really all that small, anyway..."
"He's a penny-pincher, too!" another woman shouted. Adding to the cries, another exclaimed "And he cheats with lots of other women whenever he has a girlfriend!"
"I don't think he's... *that* frugal," Phoebe said, "And I don't know about the cheating. I've never seen him really even *talk* to other women."
"He had low grades in highschool! And he flunked out of college!"
"He had low grades because he was having trouble at home, and he actually went back to college, recently..."
The crowd quite suddenly erupted into shouting and argument. Some women spoke in Rowan's defense, while others angrily shouted about how he was the *worst human being to ever exist*. In the confusion, Rowan and Phoebe quickly escaped from the room, praying that things wouldn't get violent between the several-dozen women.
After escaping the building at large, Rowan and Phoebe stopped in the middle of the parking lot. Panting, Phoebe asked "What the hell, Rowan?! Why did you date so many *crazies*? They made a convention about hating you!"
Rowan simply headed off toward their car, gesturing for Phoebe to follow him. "Sorry," he said, "I used to have pretty low standards. This happens every year-- we should leave before things get violent."
Phoebe followed Rowan, and they both promptly got into their car and drove off. The following day, the local newspaper's frontpage headline read:
> **Local convention turns violent for fifth year in a row.** | 2016-06-16T19:18:18 | 2016-06-16T16:37:10 | 26 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | The first thing I did was count them. One, two, three... six. Six zeros. Each one stamped proudly across my chest, starting with a three. Three million? How could this happen?
The number was just a one last night, I remembered seeing it right before bed. It had been that way for two weeks. Even though the number says you killed them, it is more often than not an indirect kill. Cutting someone off in traffic and forcing them to careen off the road, for example. That, and given the job I have, I honestly wasn't too surprised or worried. But now... this changes things.
I slip into the bedroom and change into my suit for work. My wife, bless her heart, is in bed reading. Work had been piling up more than ever, even with the end almost in sight, so it relieved me to see her looking even remotely comfortable. Her hair, originally pure black, had recently started to grey in the roots. I tried not to pick on her for it. I had no room to talk, anyway.
I tried to pretend like everything was normal, but one glance at me and she could tell something was wrong.
"Honey, what's wrong? You look upset. Did I use up all the hot water again?"
For a moment, I imagined telling her. But I stopped myself. There's no point in making her worry; nobody has ever had their mark be incorrect. Ever. Any time in the next three months, three million people would die. And it would be my fault.
"It's nothing, just work," I say simply. She gave me an understanding nod and went back to her book. That was one nice thing about this job: it got her off my case almost every time.
I checked my knot in the mirror and tried to convince myself that nobody could see the three million stamped on my chest underneath my suit. To me, it felt like the numbers were glowing. I left the bedroom and right away, my work day began.
"Morning, Mr. President," said one of my Secret Service agents stationed outside the door. I gave him a curt nod, and he followed me on my way. | Every month the number is the same. It is the number one. I have tried to raise the number but no matter what I do it stays the same. The second person I hit with my car went on to become a double amputee. The quadriplegic I pushed down the stairs landed right side up. I've slashed throats, shot police officers in the chest, burned down nursing homes, and yet the number on my chest never changes.
Across the city my face flashes a hundred times an hour. To some I'm criminally insane and to others I am the dunce killer. I am ridiculed and yet feared. For the hundreds of times I have struck at least one will die. I am the serial killer with a one percent record.
"I thought he was a nice boy. Always helping me with my groceries."
I know the voice. I glance up and there is my Grandmother telling the world about another failure.
"And then one day he just ups and whacks me in the head with a bat." She says, "Thank God it was a nerf one or he might have actually done some damage. He just kept pounding me screaming, 'Die! Die! Die!' You ask me I think he's a little bit retarded." She opens up her blouse displaying a number eight in bright cobalt blue that gleams between her breasts. "I get that just driving to the market once a month."
Tears pour down my cheeks. I'll show them. I'll show them all. I work my way across the wires till I'm hovering just above the life support engines keeping millions of residents safe from the hundred and forty degree heat outside. Out of habit my mind calculates to Celsius and it is sixty. In one minute, time will click forward and the new month will be displayed. This will determine if I leap or not.
I pat the sticks of home made dynamite that pads my chests. Around those sticks of explosive delight I have secured thousands of ball bearings. The damage should be catastrophic. It should take days to repair the engines below. The number across my chest should read into the thousands. Yet, I have been here a hundred times before and always the number has been the same.
One. I hate that number. It is the number of epic failure.
The clock clicks over. There is a ring that spreads across the heartland. A new month has arrived. I close my eyes and make a prayer to Zandu the Death God. Please let my number be more than one. Let his humiliation end with this sacrifice of body and soul. I look down and the number is a three. I almost cry with joy. Three! I was only hoping for two. Then it shimmers and the three suddenly shifts across my breast. It is followed by zeros. Six of them in fact!
I cry to the heavens, "Praise Zandu."
And I leap. | 2016-06-24T03:35:52 | 2016-06-24T02:53:45 | 461 | 112 |
[WP] Everyone has a number on their chest showing how many people they will kill in the next month. Yours just changed from 1 to 3 million. | I could barely write, my past 12 ebooks sold a depressing total of 7 copies.
3 nights ago the number 1 simply appeared on my chest. I honestly did not care, I knew that it was not a big deal, I decided to take my own life anyway and I knew that finally I could finish what I planned for so long. I wrote my last shitty ebook in less than 6 hours. I prepared myself, I diligently ingested 34 sleeping pills and started to fade away. 30 seconds later I clicked enter and the ebook was published, I went to the bathroom, peed, and looked in the mirror. Weird...3.197.001... jeez the ebook will for sure sell a lot more than expected. As I closed my eyes the number went down to 3.197.000. What a glorious death, what a greatl title. Suicide for Dummies just 99 cents
... | I look at the mirror above the sink, I look really tired, splash my some cold water. I look at the number in my chest and a sudden burst of joy feels my being, and face is over taken by grin, all that tiredness and gloom has just disappeared. All those zero make me realize I still have a lot of work to do, I am so closed to my goal. To be eternally remembered, as on who instigated the war between biods and humanoids, the bastards even took our name.
I began to shave as a look myself in the mirror once, in the right corner is my weather report with a date Feb 3rd 2067, it is been such a long time since I had a bath, treated myself properly. I look to right towards a dark poorly lit room, tied to the radiator is a partial remain of a humanoid. I took my time with it, and I pleased to say that it was a joyous experience. Its name was Ainya, Model Evo 4 class B, Bio-synthetic model each with unique face and voice, if I hadnt skinned it, it could had me believe that it is a human too, but I am little to smart for it. Ainya works in nano-medical industry, 4 days ago while returning from working, I electrocuted it and bought it here. With the information obtained I can built a self replicating nano-machine which would eat the core systems of all humanoids.
I have faint memories of childhood playing with my dog and being happy, I also remember the AI wars, in which they won, and all human who choose/ couldnt evolve through enhancement where left behind, But it matters not now, I have all the information I need from Ainya, it is only a matter of time.
will write more definitely, just a lil artist block | 2016-06-24T05:31:11 | 2016-06-23T23:42:35 | 46 | 13 |
[WP]: As the crown is lowered upon your head, you grumble in dismay. You didn't want this. You wanted to catch fish. | "ALL HAIL THE KING!"
Cheers erupted from the gathered crowd. Thousands cried out in joy and celebration. Banners and flags waved as far as I can see, the richest and most beautiful of the court gather around me, showering me with praise and my eyes roll back in my head.
It's such a stupid kingdom. Always going to war, taking treasure and slaves, then being invaded, having to re-take all that land they just conquered for the "pride of the Kingdom". If my older brothers hadn't died leaving me in the lurch, I'd be long gone by now. But here I am, in a city named after granpa, wondering how long I have to stay in these itchy robes. I mean, who cares how they look? You'd think the King could wear something that breaths a little!
A week later the council requested me at a meeting. That toad of my father's, Plork the Minister of War, started. "Sire, we are honored by your acceptance of our humble invitation. Your most resplendent presenc-"
"Yeah, yeah, you can skip that part, why am I here?"
Plork hesitated, nervous. The King's father had men tortured for speaking without the proper courtesy. "Well, my liege. it has been a tradition of the Crown that when a new King rises, they lead our nation to great victories. I, I mean, we were wondering where you intend to invade?"
Damn, I was hoping they'd forget about that. I heard nothing growing up but boring stories about dad's and granpa's Coronation Wars. They'd go on for hours, making me look at all the weapons they captured and hold the skulls of people they killed. Like, why even bring those home? What's the point in a closet full of skulls! I swear, the only time those two ever shut up is when we were fishing.
Looking down at my advisers, I considered Plork's question. "I'll give it some thought." I declared (one thing I do like about being King is everything I say is a declaration).
That night I poured over the maps of the surrounding kingdoms. Maybe Bogsturia? No, definitely not invading anywhere with bugs that big. Fedrelia is, like, 90% desert so I'm not going there. Trecaria is across the sea, Gretonia is too poor, and Qoutan would probably win. Why couldn't I just be out on a boat with no one yammering at me to do things?
I went to bed frustrated. I awoke with an idea. Summoning my advisers to the war room, I gathered them before the great map commissioned by granpa. "There are many nations sharing this land with ours. Many victories have been won from them and many more shall be in the future. Today, I turn the eyes of our nation in a new direction. Towards an unfaced enemy who has mocked our people for centuries!"
The advisers shifted uncomfortably. What enemy was this? Who had they not yet faced?
"And I shall lead us into battle! It shall be my hand that strikes down our most terrible foes. On this day, I King Psaras, First of his Name, declare war on the sea!"
"The uh, sea, my liege? Plork and the other advisers were confused, some looked worried. They'd always thought Psaras was a bit odd and a little soft, but not crazy.
'Yes, the sea! And the creatures hiding within. I leave for the port of Kreppia this very hour. As is tradition, I shall return when my victory is complete."
Plork's eyes roll back in his head. "Well, at least this will keep him out of the way. Shame neither of his brothers lived." | Yea, I didn't really mean for it to come to this. A bit of an exaggerated reaction to what I did, in my honest opinion. Hell, this crown they put on me is really uncomfortable. Especially since it's made of thorns... but where was I? Yeah, it started with me trying to make some friends. Mom was getting a bit pushy. Wanted me to leave the house. She said it was 'unsightly' for a man at the age of 30 to still be living in his parents' home like a caged rat. Anyways, I went out by the bay and decided to yell at some folks and see if they wanted to go fishing. Now I'm not boasting, but I'm a damn good fisherman. I basically get a premonition to where all the fish are. Sometimes I'll be fishing all by myself and catch nothing the whole day, and then I *feel* like I should toss my net to the other side of the boat.
Wham. Couple a hundred of fish.
Anyways, anyways, I'm walking along the beach looking for some fishing guys. I see a pair of fishermen tossing their nets looking all dejected like. Now to explain what happened next, you all need some backstory. I was thinking about whether or not there was some homoerotic stories hidden in my hometown. Like as if someone wrote them and hid them somewhere. I mean, there have to be some stories, right? There's always *that* guy. That creepy person that has arms a *bit* too long and reach his knees.
Regarding the homoerotic story train of thought. I'm not saying that I'm gay. I'm definitely not. One hundred percent straight. Gay people get stoned. And I'm not into that kind of thing.
Ok, so I was thinking about guys writing about man-on-man action. So when I yell at these people fishing, I'm trying to say, "Hey, wanna go fishing for fish?" But instead I stupidly say, "Hey, wanna go fishing for men?"
And for some reason they get all giddy like and jump out of their boat to say "YEAH!" super excitedly. Now, I read 'How to Bullshit Being a Messiah' and I realised that I basically did step one of that book (Step One: make something weird sound normal and profound). Not wanting to look stupid, I went along with it.
I find another group and I ask them, "Wanna go fishing?" Two of them jump out (leaving one poor sap behind) and begin chatting with the other two guys I met earlier. That original pair then say that I'm some really wise teacher, and then the new pair begin saying that I'm so amazing and stuff like that. I felt like hot shit, so I kind of kept going along with the spiel.
Eventually, I walk into a village with these four guys in tow. Then a bunch of sick people come up to me and ask for a bit of healing. I say, "Uuuh, yea, you're healed." And then they all go running and jumping like a did a miracle. I feel bad for lying so I run up to them and say, "Yo, I didn't do anything. You think I healed you. It's just a placebo."
Of course, they then beg me for more placebos. I remember that the four guys I met were eagerly looking at me, and, because I didn't want to look like a loser that messed up a sentence, I tell them, "Yea, you have to believe to be healed." I wiggled my fingers and pretended to cast a spell. This trick worked pretty well for the next three years.
But I'm getting off track. How exactly, you ask, did I get nailed to two slabs of cheap plywood on some hill? Seems like replying to the question 'Are you the Son of God?' with a 'I guess so?' is not a good response. I didn't know it was heretical! Synagogue I went to had this professor that spoke with some thick Roman accent. Couldn't understand crap. I just wanted to look cooler in front of the judge. After all, all the commoners thought I was amazing with the miracle tricks. I thought that spicing that stuff up with God jazz would make me even more amazing!
Ugh. Now I'm gonna die. I really hope the Roman guard I'm dictating this transcript to gets this paper to my disciples. I'd hate to have it left out of some book detailing my life or whatever. Needs the maker's inspirational touch.
| 2016-09-25T07:33:47 | 2016-09-25T07:31:34 | 55 | 37 |
[WP] Is the year 2090 and everyone carries an ear device that instantly translates any language. You married an amazing foreign woman & decide to learn her mother tongue as an act of love, then discover you didn't fall in love with her personality, but with the ear device get-along editing feature. | Sheila smiled at Dan from across the kitchen. She diced the carrots with machine-like precision, barely slowing to glance at her husband. Dan creased his eyebrows in her direction, expressing his exhaustion.
The Xorne's language had never been learned by another species in the galaxy. When Dan took out his ear, Sheila could scream at him in anger but all he would hear are lyrical arrangements.
Dan analyzed the sounds and broke them down mathematically. What humans interpret as a fourth note could be a whole phrase in Xorne. When they spoke rapidly, it sounded like a concert and could be heard like reading a novel. Massive amounts of information could be translated quickly.
The troubling aspect came down to one translation.
It's a familiar tone to humans. A high C sharp lasting an 1/8th of a second. Barely discernible within a long song, but always hit when talking about humans.
The same note hit when Sheila cooks.
Dan wondered if the reason humanity had yet to meet the other species was because the Xorne had eaten their other c sharps to extinction.
Sheila was adding spices to the stew, surrounding Dan in familiar aromas that had become the staple scents of their home. Could she really be fattening up Dan for 6 years?
Dan went back to the screen on the table. He tried to reach out, but his hands had started sweating and shaking.
The peace seemed to good. The Xorne wiped out war, hunger, disease, and racism nearly as soon as they showed up. They freely gave technology and advanced humanity.
For food. The rage built within Dan. He couldn't handle the guilt he felt within himself for falling into the trap.
Dan decided he would show whom who's food.
It didn't take long for Xorne Fleet to arrive. Sheila's blood covered Dan's hands. He sat slumped against the front door, acknowledging to the pale purple light of day the murder he'd committed.
Their songs came out hurried and loud, but too fast for Dan to understand without his ears. Apparently seeing the confusion in Dan's eyes, they inspected his ears and slid a new ear in.
"Why murder?" Asked the green Xorne.
"Why food?" Dan returned, making sure to hit the practiced high c note.
"You learn little." His ear told him.
"Why eat human?!" Dan carefully pronounced in Xorne.
Visibly flustered, the orange Xorne spoke very slowly, lWe guide fluffy, weak meat."
And Dan realized C sharp was sheep. They spoke in metaphors.
And Sheila was preparing sheep stew, again. His favorite. | There once were two people.
One named 顏毅(yan yi), from Taiwan and one named Бралька (Braylka), from Ukrane.
They met in Taiwan, Бралька was on vacation in Taiwan, and met 顏毅.
They met at a religious ceremony, they both were very religious, and shared the same goals in life.
They knew their own respective parents would approve of a marrige between them; of course their parents did, and the two got married shortly after.
After beeing married for a few years, and learning to see each-others' flaws, and work through them, something changed.
YanYi decided it was time to learn Ukranian, so that he could talk to Braylka naturally, many hipsters have started doing it, and YanYi knew there couldn't be anything wrong with speaking naturally.
"It's the way it was meant to be, right?" he thought.
So he starts learning Ukranian, one word at a time, one grammar point at a time.
Language learning hasn't been practiced in a very long time, so he's suprised how old some of the resources are. He starts saying some things to Braylka once and a while in Ukranian. She thinks it's adorable!
"Awe! It's so sweet he's been learning my language" she though.
When he starts to get fluent, he goes back to his old texts to her, and starts to read in the original language. She seems oddly aggressive.
"Maybe there was a mistranslation somewhere?" he thought to himself.
As he read more and more, and listened to the recordings of their late night Skype chats, he noticed she uses much more vulgar language than he remembers. She seems to be non-apreeciative of his help...
"Strange..." YanYi though. "I always thought Braylka was sweet, not so harsh!"
One day, he talks to Braykla in Ukranian and decides to bring up the point that he's been learning for quite some time, and when he read their texts and listened to their old chats, he noticed she seems harsher than he remembers. He thought it was sorta funny, he doesn't mind some sass.
"Hey.... Sweatheart... " Braylka started "I... I've been using a special translation feature to try and hide my problems. I... I... " she stuttered "I do love you, but I was so affraid of offending you because I have a really bad habit of using mean, and hurtful language. I don't mean to, it's just a habit I picked up from my Dad"
Braylka started crying.
"I love you! I do, I was just scared that you wouldn't understand, that you'd think I was mean..."
"I love you too Braylka.
We can work on this together; I'll help you through this"
Brraylka, and YanYi cried together, and fell asleep.
As time went on they began to work on Braylka's cursing problem, and Braylka even learnt some Chinese for YanYi.
As they grew closer, there was no need for translators.
They could now truly say:
"I love **you**",
"我愛**你**", and
"Я **тебе** люблю"
*criticism is welcome, I'm new to this, and on mobile so excuse the formatting*
*E: Spelling*
*E2: Spelling again* | 2017-03-14T10:34:50 | 2017-03-14T10:32:10 | 87 | 27 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | 15,000 years. 15,000 mid-numbing years of waiting. It was exciting to Adam at first at first, the knowledge that life didn't just end with death, that he got to stick around and observe humanity. It suited him well, he'd always been a quiet fellow, and since he was just a ghost, no one gave him a hard time for being a wallflower anymore. He could just sit and people-watch and enjoy himself, and that's exactly what he did for a while.
The first 10 years were the best of his life or afterlife. No responsibilities, no bills, no obligations, no attachments, just traveling around the world and observing to his heart's content. All of his hobbies, bird-watching, fine art, reading rare books, he now actually had time to do. He saw sunrise on the rim of the Grand Canyon more times than he could count. He took afternoon siestas atop the Eiffel Tower whenever he wanted. It was exhilarating and it was perfect.
The next 90 years calmed down a bit, but were still wonderful. He got into a nice routine, checking in on people he knew, seeing and learning new things. It was all he ever wanted in life, just without the living part. He saw people come and go, first from life to ghosts like him, and then some time later from ghost to the great beyond. He felt pity for those poor souls who just got a few years of afterlife and then were forgotten.
The next 900 years were solid. 900 years of observing human progress, and he got to see all of it. At some point he started to wonder who exactly was still remembering him, but he wasn't exactly complaining. He saw new forms of art, music, writing. He accompanied the third Martian expedition and got to see a whole new planet! By the end of the millennium Adam reckoned he'd seen more of what humanity had accomplished than just about anyone. He felt like a god; people came and went, but Adam just was.
With each passing millennium things got a bit duller. The sun didn't shine quite the way it used to, it seemed. Humanity found new and terrible ways to kill each other. By his fifth millennium he was bored. By his tenth millennium he was depressed. By his fifteenth millennium, he was just exhausted. He was thankful for his extended time, but he just wanted to be finished, and try as he might, had no idea who still remembered him.
And then it happened: the Sun went supernova and extinguished all life on Earth. The good people of Mars died a few days later. With just almost all of humanity dying, most every ghost passed on as well. It was just Adam and a thousand other ghosts left, who realized that the last remaining crew of Humans were the crew of 6 who had left for Europa.
After realizing what happened, the ghosts formed an astral caravan and travelled to Europa. They all desperately wanted to keep the crew alive and Humanity with it, and Adam tagged along with them. He didn't say anything, but he knew if they died his ennui would finally be over. They got to Europa, and found the 6 of them, nearly freezing to death and on their last fuel cell. Then 2 of them died, and a cadre of ghosts vanished. Then another the next week, and another the week after, and the last vestiges of humanity were 2 humans, Adam, and a few hundred ghosts.
Those last two explorers gave each other a dejected look, and resignedly opened the cyanide capsule in their craft. There was a wail of grief among ghost kind, but there was nothing to be done. As they took the pill, Adam was at peace, finally ready to enter the Great Beyond. He closed his eyes and-
Nothing. The last two died, turned into ghosts, and then they and all other ghosts disappeared. It was just Adam stuck on a godforsaken rock. He collapsed in a heap of anguish, inconsolable and at a loss for why he was still here. Suddenly a portal of of light opened:
> Well this is odd, I swear we unit tested everything, you really shouldn't still be here.
Said what appeared to be a bespectacled angel, thumbing through a small console.
> Who are you! Why am I here! Just end my suffering, please.
Adam replied, in a mixture of confusion, despair, and rage.
> Oh wow, I see what happened, a good old self-referential pointer exception. Wouldn't have expected that in such a sociable species like you anthropodes!
The angel's gleeful excitement in discovery only made Adam more upset. He wanted answers and he wanted them now, so as slowly and deliberately as he could Adam asked:
> Humanity is dead. Why am I here? Who remembers me?
The angel looked up from his console and square at Adam and answered,
> Look, I don't know how to tell you this, we just never anticipated this edge case. See when people die, we create an index of all the people that remember them, and then add and remove from it as people forget/learn/die. Once that list is empty, poof, Great Beyond. We've just never encountered what happened with you. When you died, your list was empty, and so the compiler filled it with the only person who ever remembered you. You. | I was young when it all happened. A thief in the night had claimed my life and my blood had been spilled onto the ground. I remembered all of the steps after when my body was bitten and drained of all blood and just torn asunder like I was just some sack of meat to be had. It all happened right after I had seen Simon- the vampire I had grown to love in my town.
I got to explore so many places like he had without any needs to avoid the sun or to crave anything. I met with many figures I had studied in my schooling days and became friends with quite a few. I had seen change happen over the course of time- time I lost track of rather quickly. To me, I finally got the change of a lifetime to see the world that Simon described to me through his tales of the Earth we both shared. I finally understood why he encouraged me to explore and am thankful he did.
Time crawled onward and I could see from the sidelines how countries rose and fell. Things certainly were not going to be like 2017 anymore and it was bittersweet to see that. My family that I had eventually passed away and I could wave them goodbye as they all were able to be free from the shackles of this realm. I encouraged their leaving and also waited for my turn. In due time, I knew I would have my time to leave too.
But it never came.
In fact, 15,000 years had passed and I still remained here. I got to see the same figures I had met like Miss Anne Frank, Marie Laveau, Theodore Roosevelt, and even Edgar Allan Poe when he wanted to show up. They all wondered who could have possibly been alive to keep me here as I would sit with them and think long and hard about who could possibly have been alive to remember me to this day. I talked to each and every one of them about how I had died as they all did ask, and described the night before I had died.
Each felt warm and had softened at the tale of how Simon and I had walked around town under the full moon and danced around the clocktower that was in the middle of my town. I was clumsy and could not dance well while I was alive, but he had been patient with me and hummed soft music while leading me through a waltz under the stars. It was one of the best nights in my life despite what happened afterwards. Because I felt so loved and cared for during those last moments, and I knew Simon could relate. When escorting me home, he kept me close and safe before letting me go with a kiss on the hand and a proposition to return the next night.
I agreed and we left each other's company- a fatal mistake it would be for me.
Then it hit me like a bat to the head, perhaps unneeded to travel home for a change and investigate there. So I said goodbyes to the individuals I had grown to know during my afterlife and traveled back to my hometown that held the clocktower in the middle. To my delight, the clocktower had still been there despite the many changes in the town that I had seen. It felt so foreign to me, but I shook the memories I had off and traveled to the clocktower where Simon was hopefully living.
How I had not understood that it was most likely Simon keeping me here, I did not know. Perhaps it was because I did not gain any intelligence after the afterlife to think that a vampire still kept me in his memory? It did not matter much now as I went to the switch that was by the clocktower and turned it before entering the door into a grande estate and began calling for the vampire I remembered so well, "Simon! Simon!" I wandered the familiar halls in hopes he could hear me. Since vampires were technically not alive either, they should be able to hear me, right?
So I traveled from the guest and mater bedroom to find a portrait of me had been made in his room. I could not help but grow a saddened smile as my suspicions were correct. After investigating the greenery room, I made my way into the library and heard the familiar humming as I peeked up and called out to the keeper of this estate again, "Simon! Simon, are you here??"
I could see the familiar man with darkened hair and slender body as he looked my way and stopped dead in his tracks when cleaning. He looked like he had seen a ghost, and he was right to appear that way as I could not help myself and ran to him, trying to hug him but not gaining any success as his voice cracked slightly with the shock and excitement he felt, "Soleil! How are you even here?! Shouldn't you be prancing around heaven or something like that, young lady!? Do you realize how much time has passed??"
I could not help but laugh when hearing the change in Simon's voice as I smiled happily at him and responded with a serene tone, "I already am Simon. Also, I do realize how much time has passed. I keep track of it since I cannot leave here. It has been 15,000 years since it all ended and began." At those words, I could see Simon's excitement and expression drop at the mentioning of how long it truly had been and thought to himself before bowing his head and nodding slowly.
"Yes... It truly has been that long, hasn't it Soleil? I want to apologize to you. For not figuring out what would happen and not trying to save you from that horrible fate. I wished with all of my might that he could have left you be or perhaps spare you long enough for me to let you join me in a different manner than as a spirit." I could tell this topic was a sore spot and I gently reached out to him. Even though he could not feel my touch, he understood the gesture and looked up to me again with an apologetic look in his eyes before I responded.
"Simon, instead of sulking here like a little bat, let's try to make the best of this and stay in each other's lives once more? We both technically have achieved immortality in a sense. Let's make the best of our time before you eventually go?" A smile slowly grew on Simon's face as he nodded his head and responded with the softest of voices,
"Yes. Let's do that this time, Soleil." | 2017-06-26T15:03:31 | 2017-06-26T12:04:53 | 129 | 10 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | The air was frigid and the sun was starting to set. Franklin could see his breath as he stood in line. His father gripped his hand and pulled him forward. Franklin looked around and saw mean looking people with weapons yelling at people further up in line.
He asked his father, "Papa, why are those people so mean?" To which his father replied, "They have just been having a long day, don't worry about them Franklin. Just do what they say and we will be ok, alright?"
"Alright papa."
Franklin thought it was weird that everyone had to undress before they got to the shower room, it was just too cold. He figured by the time he actually got to the showers there would be no hot water left for him or papa.
Then the line moved again and Franklin and his father stepped inside.
"Papa, why aren't the floors wet if people had just showered?"
"The guards have an issue with cleanliness, they want to make sure no one has sicknesses to spread, so they mop the floors dry."
Franklin was comforted by this. The big metal door closed behind them both, which made the room very dark and grim. Franklin held his fathers hand a little tighter.
"Papa, I'm scared."
"There is no need to be, we will only be in here for a few minutes." He said with a smile.
Franklin thought he could see a tear in his father's eye, but it was too dark to be sure.
"Franklin, the shower is going to make you very tired ok? Everything will be alright, just come sit with me and sleep."
"Okay papa." | I like to brush my Barbie's hair. It's long and blonde like mine and her brush is pink. She also has a pink convertible she likes to drive in with Ken. I have lots of Barbies and they're all friends. They go shopping and I get to buy clothes for them, dress them however I want. I turn nine years old tomorrow and Mommy says I can pick out another Barbie at the store.
"This one!" I shout, hopping up and down as I show Mommy the Barbie I have chosen. She's tall and blonde and I hope I look just like her someday. Mommy calls me her beautiful girl, so I think I will be beautiful someday.
"That's a good choice," the man behind the counter says with a smile as he takes Mommy's money.
I smile shyly and hug my new toy close.
"Come on, beautiful girl," Mommy says, taking my hand and leading me from the store.
The nice man waves goodbye.
--------------------------------------------
I like to brush their hair. The tresses are long and blonde and smooth. It slips through my fingers like woven silk as I hum a soft tune. "There... What a beautiful girl," I murmur, setting the brush down on the side table beside the lamp that casts dim light in my living room.
I turn her to face me and push the loose strands behind her ear. "Now I should dress you," I say, selecting a pale blue dress that complements her glassy eyes. I like to dress them however I want. The clothes she came with are worn and dirty. Frayed jeans, a t-shirt with flowers all over it, muddy sneakers.
Once she is changed into the dress I bought just for her, I set her up on the couch and take her in. She's so small and pure, her white skin like that of a porcelain doll. I cross her hands and caress her icy cheek. I think she needs a friend, since the last one I brought home has gone bad. The smell took forever to get rid of. She and her friend can keep me company. We'll watch movies and play.
With a long sigh, I look at my watch. There's no time right now. "Don't worry," I whisper, kissing her brow. "At work I can pick out the perfect friend for you."
I don the supermarket uniform and hurry from the house.
r/PhantomFiction | 2017-08-28T10:39:23 | 2017-08-28T08:43:46 | 640 | 216 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | The air was frigid and the sun was starting to set. Franklin could see his breath as he stood in line. His father gripped his hand and pulled him forward. Franklin looked around and saw mean looking people with weapons yelling at people further up in line.
He asked his father, "Papa, why are those people so mean?" To which his father replied, "They have just been having a long day, don't worry about them Franklin. Just do what they say and we will be ok, alright?"
"Alright papa."
Franklin thought it was weird that everyone had to undress before they got to the shower room, it was just too cold. He figured by the time he actually got to the showers there would be no hot water left for him or papa.
Then the line moved again and Franklin and his father stepped inside.
"Papa, why aren't the floors wet if people had just showered?"
"The guards have an issue with cleanliness, they want to make sure no one has sicknesses to spread, so they mop the floors dry."
Franklin was comforted by this. The big metal door closed behind them both, which made the room very dark and grim. Franklin held his fathers hand a little tighter.
"Papa, I'm scared."
"There is no need to be, we will only be in here for a few minutes." He said with a smile.
Franklin thought he could see a tear in his father's eye, but it was too dark to be sure.
"Franklin, the shower is going to make you very tired ok? Everything will be alright, just come sit with me and sleep."
"Okay papa." | Our house creaks and groans at night. Dad says it's because it's old, and it's settling down after a long day, just like us. But I know it's because of Oliver.
I first met him when I was brushing my teeth. The walls cracked and creaked like they always do. But this time, they also spoke to me in a high, silly voice. "Always remember to floss!" I looked around, but I couldn't find anyone. I told Dad and he asked if I had an imaginary friend.
"If he told you to floss, you should do what he says," he grumbled in his low, growly voice. Dad was always grumpy and tired from work, but I knew he loved me, way deep down inside. Later that night, after he tucked me in, I heard Oliver again.
"Good night! Sleep tight! Don't let the bedbugs bite!" He said, in that same high, silly voice. I looked around and saw a face peeking out from the air vent. It was a fun, cartoony face with big eyes, scratched onto a burlap bag with pink crayon. "Hi! I'm Oliver!" He sounded like how a flamingo might talk.
"Hi Oliver. I'm Tom. Are you real?" I asked. The vents made bong bong bong noises as he shuffled around.
"I'm real! A real-ly good friend!" Oliver said.
"You're funny, Oliver." I laughed.
"Now go to bed, Tom! Good boys need their sleep!" The vents made more bong bong bong noises as he went away.
Oliver made me eat my vegetables while Dad was at work. He helped me with math. And he read me bedtime stories from his vent.
"Oliver, can I please, please, please have a dog?" I asked him one night.
"Tom, there's something important I need to tell you." His voice got a lot less silly. It didn't even sound like him anymore. "I have to go away soon. But you'll be strong. I know you will." And he bong bong bonged back into the vents.
About a week later, some people came to our house in a blue car with lots of flashy lights. They asked where my dad was. I never saw Oliver or my dad again after that. But Dad got me a new puppy dog, so I'm not lonely.
______________________________________________________________
[more](https://www.reddit.com/r/Tensingstories/) | 2017-08-28T10:39:23 | 2017-08-28T08:30:19 | 640 | 101 |
[WP] Tell me a story that would seem innocent to a child, but terrifying to an adult. | The air was frigid and the sun was starting to set. Franklin could see his breath as he stood in line. His father gripped his hand and pulled him forward. Franklin looked around and saw mean looking people with weapons yelling at people further up in line.
He asked his father, "Papa, why are those people so mean?" To which his father replied, "They have just been having a long day, don't worry about them Franklin. Just do what they say and we will be ok, alright?"
"Alright papa."
Franklin thought it was weird that everyone had to undress before they got to the shower room, it was just too cold. He figured by the time he actually got to the showers there would be no hot water left for him or papa.
Then the line moved again and Franklin and his father stepped inside.
"Papa, why aren't the floors wet if people had just showered?"
"The guards have an issue with cleanliness, they want to make sure no one has sicknesses to spread, so they mop the floors dry."
Franklin was comforted by this. The big metal door closed behind them both, which made the room very dark and grim. Franklin held his fathers hand a little tighter.
"Papa, I'm scared."
"There is no need to be, we will only be in here for a few minutes." He said with a smile.
Franklin thought he could see a tear in his father's eye, but it was too dark to be sure.
"Franklin, the shower is going to make you very tired ok? Everything will be alright, just come sit with me and sleep."
"Okay papa." | Jerry was having a terrible day. (Sad Jerry picture)
A terrible day after a terrible week! (Even sadder Jerry picture)
But today? Today was the most terrible day of all. (Seriously, the saddest Jerry picture)
On Monday, Miss Haroldson gave him extra homework. (Jerry peeking out from behind dozens of books and stacks of papers, piled on his desk)
On Tuesday, his bike had a flat. (Jerry looking sad with a bike with a flat, while his friends ride off without him)
On Wednesday, Mark tripped him on the playground. (Jerry falling, mulch flying everywhere, all the kids from his class pointing and laughing, Mark looking very mean and evil)
On Thursday, his baby sister wrecked his Legos. (Huge spread of wrecked and pulled apart Legos, like he had some huge city made, with his kid sister happily smashing and tearing)
And today, Friday, the most terrible day of all, he got off on the wrong bus stop. (Jerry alone in the middle of basically nowhere, bus driving off in the distance)
Jerry was mad. And sad. How would he get home? He began to cry. (Jerry crying on curb)
Then, a wonderful thing happened! A nice man came up to help. (Super nice friendly guy in a blue-collar type workers outfit)
"Hey buddy, you okay? You look lost." (Close up of how friendly the guy is. Birds and shit in the background, yellow cast)
"Yes sir, I AM lost!" (Jerry's picture looks comparatively darker amid muted and 'sad' with a blue cast)
"Well, dry those tears, partner. How about you come with me on an adventure? I've got some puppies to deliver and a whole big bag of candy I couldn't possibly eat by myself. And I can drop you off when I'm done!
(Doublepage spread of this really nice white panel van, Jerry with a look of wide eyed amazement on his face, and the van full of puppies in boxes, candy all over, and even a video game system. It's all very magical looking and detailed)
Jerry dried his tears, smiled, and followed the man into his big white van.
(Jerry all happily getting into the side of the van, now in a yellow cast and happy)
Jerry realized that maybe this day wasn't going to be so very terrible after all!
(Picture of the van flying off into the distance, a happy faced Jerry, and some rainbows and sparkles left by the 'wake' of the van as it flies off)
THE END
| 2017-08-28T10:39:23 | 2017-08-28T08:30:57 | 640 | 89 |
[WP] Your power is the ability to "save game" at any point in your life allowing you to revert any previous state if something goes wrong. You never thought you would need to revert to age 3 to fix a problem until now. | "Are you lost little boy?" The officer said as I tried pointlessly to walk away from him. "It's called pituitary dwarfism cockstain. Put me down." I said as I tried to wriggle from his grasp. By all outward appearances I was three years old. In a seemingly endless lifetime of resets I had never had the necessity to go this far back. Still, this was the only way to be sure she wasn't able to follow me. I am three years older than her.
The officer gripped me tighter and said, "What did you just say little boy?" I was done with him and I needed to be let free. I looked him dead in the eye and said, "I said I'm thirty-five and I have a condition called pituitary dwarfism you cockstain. Now put me down or I'm calling my lawyer and I'll end up owning your house." The man stuttered out an apology as he put me down. I had already made it a few paces from him when he said, "Sorry, it's just you look exactly like this three year old that was just reported missing."
I sighed and said, "7x times 2 equals 14. That means x equals one. I voted for Mondale. The Patriots suck. Go Bears. What about the way I am talking sounds like a three year old. Now if you excuse me, I thought article 13 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights granted me freedom of movement as a citizen of this state. Are we done?" The cop stood there with a puzzled look on his face as I walked away.
It was a mistake to take the sidewalk but I was only three blocks from her mother's apartment. Even if she could come back this far, she was still in her mother's womb. All these resets and she was always there first to ruin it for me. I had to make sure she couldn't effect reality going forward. I had to make sure she was never born.
I couldn't reach the doorknob and my three year old body lacked the muscle tone to knock loudly. Playing to my strengths, I started to cry loudly outside of the door. Her mother answered and said, "Are you my mommy?" She scooped me into her arms like any mother would and said, "No baby, but I'll make sure we find her. Okay?" No sooner than she had brought me close enough I proceeded to stab the icepick into her throat. She dropped me and I proceeded to stab her multiple times. It wasn't enough to stab her. I had to know. I pushed a chair into the kitchen and grabbed a knife from the drawer before returning to cut her open and make sure the fetus was dead.
The damned thing looked at me knowingly as I rammed the blade into its forehead. I had effectively removed her from my timeline. However, it would take the better part of a year to convince the authorities that a crazy homeless man had kidnapped me and murdered the woman I was found next to, but then again. That's the price of freedom. | I watched as Captain Phantastic rose from the rubble of the building Xanger dropped on him. He rose up slowly, squaring his broad shoulders and turning his chiseled chin up to face our nemesis, who brought his hands together again, causing rubble to pelt Phantastic from all sides.
Phantastic leaped forward, blurring as he went supersonic in a tiny fraction of a second, a shock wave formed mere feet ahead of where he’d stood. Xanger disappeared a moment later, but stopped them both short of the high-rise they were about to punch a hole through. Xanger’s telekinetic abilities couldn’t best Phantastic, and Phantastic’s speed was routed every time by the ever-ready Xanger.
Phantastic got in a roundhouse punch that rocked Xanger’s head back, but Xanger smashed a car into Phantastic, separating them again.
Phantastic rose again, like he always did, lifted his chin like he always did. Asked Xanger “why?” like he always did.
Xanger laughed like he always did, but that’s where the repetitiveness stopped. “You keep asking. Why?”
Phantastic nodded. “We fight again and again. We topple buildings and bridges. Destroy cities. We put a new crater on the moon for God’s sake, so I’d like to know why.”
Xanger finished chuckling and took a breath. “You know.”
“Still?” I strained to hear. The pair had whizzed past me when Phantastic tackled Xanger, and they were closer, but they’d still traveled a block or so past me.
He never got over it. He’d never get over it. Xanger could kill Phantastic a thousand times and it wouldn’t make a dent in his hatred.
I knew what I had to do.
While Phantasic and Xanger bickered their way down memory lane I wracked my brain for an alternative. Twenty eight years had passed, but Xanger had never forgiven Phantastic, then only “Tommy”, for the immature display of power that had killed his family.
When Phantastic’s abilities manifested, he’d immediately gone trans-sonic. Right through a single-level, single-family home that belonged to the bank and Xanger’s father. Xanger had been at after-school detention, from her understanding a common occurrence, and had been spared a supersonic death. He wasn’t spared what MindBender had once told me was the “single worst pain” he’d ever read from another.
Over the years together in foster care, Xanger discovered Phantastic was responsible for his family’s death, Phantastic never figured out a way to properly apologize, and I’d Marked every morning, in case I had to reboot. That was how my ability worked; I thought just so, the world flashed blue, and later I could call up a memory of a Mark, think a little harder, and pop – I was back where I’d Marked. I kept Xanger from killing Phantastic, and out of prison.
I cried. I cried for ten minutes, Chicago falling around me as my foster brothers brought it down around me. Maybe they tried to avoid me. Maybe I got lucky. If it was luck; it was the only I’d had that day.
When I’d composed myself, I thought, and was suddenly back a lot farther than I’d ever rebooted.
I woke up in a much smaller, but familiar body, and sat up in bed, gasping. Tommy was sleeping. The whole house was sleeping. It was a year before Tommy would become Phantastic. I didn't dare Reboot any later, or he'd be too strong to resist me.
I choked back a sob as I made my way to the kitchen, found a butcher’s knife, and quietly made my way to his room. | 2017-09-10T19:57:37 | 2017-09-10T17:35:23 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | **Part I:**
******
The Grand Chamber of the Galactic Union was never meant to be exuberant. Designed with the utmost efficiency in mind, its form followed the function of allowing for the most dire decisions to be made as quickly and as effectively as possible. The white marble of the circular room, as sober as it was pure, set the background for the latest and most urgent of the Council's meetings. Once all the delegates were present, representing the three trillion Galactic citizens from forty-two peacefully co-existing species, the usual beginning procedures were dismissed with, and the quadrupedal four feet tall Council leader immediately called upon the military expert in the room.
"Admiral Rhollok, what are the latest developments?"
Fleet-Admiral Rhollok, Supreme Commander of the Grand Fleet, had been allowed in the Grand Chamber only once before, decades previously, when a small skirmish on the borders of the Union threatened to grow into a devastating Civil War, threatening the stability of the Galaxy. His actions at the time meant a lifetime appointment to the Admiralty and the Captain's chair on the largest ship in the Fleet. He spoke calmly and surely, as he had done so long ago, speaking to many of the same delegates from that time gone by.
"Honorable leader and delegates, we have reasons to believe that both our Rapid Action Battalion and the bulk of our allied fleets in the area have been obliterated", he said, evaluating the responses from around the room. Most stayed calm, although one or two more sensitive species moved uncomfortably, almost imperceptibly but for the trained eye of the Admiral. "We have not received a response from any of our ships, and the relay stations confirm that the signal has been completely lost as of three hours ago. We estimate that a force such as which we have yet to have encountered is approaching at a still relatively slow speed, but one which should penetrate the outmost systems within two to three weeks."
Upon hearing the news, the Council leader resumed the inquiry.
"Admiral, you are supreme commander of the Galaxy's Forces. You have at your disposal the armies and arsenal of two million planets. Are you implying you cannot suppress these invaders adequately?", he asked.
"I'm afraid so. Again, our analysts estimate that the brute force and tactical skills of these forces are too strong for us to, as you said, adequately defend ourselves."
This time, a different delegate, just a few places to his left, raised his voice.
"Admiral, you look remarkably calm for a military man who has just declared the unstoppable destruction of civilization."
"That is because I have not claimed it to be unstoppable", said Rhollok, sensing a change in the room and predicting a barrage of accusations against him and his forces. "I said *we* couldn't stop them."
A few delegates incredulously burst into protest and talks among each other. The leader, from atop his dais, regained control of the room.
"Admiral, I find this very hard to believe, but if not our forces, the most powerful in the Galaxy, who do you suggest we call upon to save us from this impending doom? There's nothing out there beyond the Union but a few undesirable planets."
At last they had come to the point of the meeting, thought Rhollok.
"Precisely", he said, addressing everyone in the room, as well as the three trillion citizens they represented. "Urgency calls upon us to take immeasurable measures; we must reach out to the unreachable, and reason with the unreasonable."
Fleet-Admiral Rhollok waited. His next words could very possibly change the destiny of the Galaxy, and despite unwanted, the consequences of that action would have to be accepted, for inaction would mean the end of the Union and its peoples.
"We must contact the Humans."
******
[Part II here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/72cb5q/wpsome_time_ago_humans_were_put_on_the_only/dnhsq6p/) | "It's flashing! It's flashing!" cried George, who was sliding recklessly through the corridors of his place of employment.
The floors, regularly buffed and cleaned, allowed him to slide round corners in a way that would possibly remind someone of a popular 80's film, but the year was 2142 and that cinema classic had long fallen into obscurity. Perhaps this would've been due to a change in popular culture over the century or so that had passed but it would be fair to say that it was more likely due to The Last World War, which saw use of nuclear weapons that turned the planet into a borderline inhabitable nuclear wasteland.
George eventually reached the office of his superior, Stan, who was idly flicking through intergalactic television streams that occupied a large screen in his office.
"Stan, it's flashing mate! The big one, bloody flashing!" He repeated as he leaned against the doorway catching his breath.
Stan now looked equally as excited and terminated the feed on his screen. His response to the news led him to immediately begin fumbling on the computer in front of him, the antiquated keyboard being hammered in the process.
"Which one?" Stan inquired, not looking up from his monitor.
"The big one!"
"The big red one?" Stan probed, his eyes widening.
"The big blue one, Stan!" George responded, ignoring the confusion he nearly just caused.
After a few moments, another image filled the large screen which had previously hosted Stan's favourite Venusian soap opera. It was the image of an alien general, sat behind a desk on the other side of the galaxy. Though his eyes were held on stalks protruding from his forehead and his large lipless mouth stern below two slits that were his nose, the general was visibly distressed.
"This is General Vancha of the Royal Army of Cephus-B. Am I speaking to the Senior Manager of Silo One?" The general asked, in perfect english.
"Y-Yes sir, I am Stanley Forsworth, GM of Silo One." Stan fumbled, almost forgetting that he was in fact the top ranking member of a nuclear weapons storage facility.
The facility in question, amongst nineteen others of its kind, were the only functioning buildings left on Earth, dotted over the planet's surface, the space between them host to various radiated creatures that had no choice but to adapt to their new surroundings. After The Last World War, the remnants of the human race had no choice but to flee their former home and seek aid from the few other planets they had contact with. Alliances formed and eventually a Venusian military specialist had concocted a plan to keep Earth useful, as not to waste such real estate. The plan was to use the planet as a storage facility for various weapons of war, and should the need to use them arise, use a wormhole to deliver the payload to its destination.
Fortunately the known universe was either in peacetime, or able to resolve any issues with more domestic methods. It was now apparent to Stan and George that somewhere across the galaxy, a real shitstorm had been kicked up.
"We are requesting the release of item 12-B in its entirety, the necessary warrant forms will already be in the requisition folder on your workstation." General Vancha explained, collectedly, his facial expression not changing once.
Stan checked the aforementioned folder and the General was correct, but he shuddered internally at the thought of what the Royal Army of Cephus-B needed with 30 Martian H-Bombs. Resuming a professional disposition, he lifted his head to address George, who was still sweating profusely.
"You heard the man George, lets get this show on the road." He ordered albeit informally.
On the observation deck of their facility, George and Stan sat around a small table they had brought up from the cafeteria, on which was a couple of beers and an ashtray, which periodically received a clump of ash from Stan's cigarette. They had made the necessary arrangements and primed the H-Bombs for release, and would do so once the technicians on Cephus-B had materialized the wormhole necessary for these weapons of mass destruction to cross such a long distance in very little time. The release hatch exposed all 30 of the Martian tools of destruction, and after having sat there for so long they were a dull brown colour, giving the appearance of a large box of chocolates. An incredibly deadly, planet destroying box of chocolates.
Eventually a large disc appeared half a mile ahead of the release hatch, and through it could be seen a planet in the distance, shaded with hues of green and blue. Automatic detection of the wormhole completed the process, and the Martian H-Bombs, held together in a frame, soon sailed through to their destination.
"Rather them than us ey, George." Stan commented through a veil of smoke, as he extinguished his cigarette.
Edit: Formatting.
| 2017-09-25T10:22:39 | 2017-09-25T09:53:11 | 619 | 17 |
[WP]Some time ago humans were put on the 'Only Contact in Case of Emergency' list. Now a threat to the galaxy has arisen and humanity is it's last hope. | It wasn’t that I hate Humanity; no one could hate Humanity. It was just that something about them... what was the phrase humans used... insected me about them.
About a millennium ago, they had left the galactic community. Their plans to increase their energy production were constantly, as they saw it, delayed and interrupted by the Kadaian members of the Senate. The Security Council was concerned by their high investment into their Defence Forces, fearing a repeat of the Ifacian Rebellions, and forced a reduction to Humanity’s military research and production. Humanity also saw the number of seats allocated to them in government as not representative of their long service and contributions, despite being representative of their small population size.
So they left. They were given their local cluster of a couple of dozen stars and went. One diplomat, upon signing their withdrawal treaty, is reported to have said “If you Richards ever find the poo moving laterally, give us a domed, metallic percussive instrument. Otherwise urinate elsewhere”. The galactic community could never understand Humanity’s obsession with waste products but since that day, members of the Senate have been known fondly as “Richards”.
There were a couple of attempts to contact humanity. When the emission of a small number of stars suddenly shifted into the infrared, the Kadains sent an angry communique, condemning their use of Dyson Spheres and demanding their immediate removal. The message went unanswered. A large explosion, larger than any supernova, was seen near Epsilon Eridani. The Security Council sent a message asking if they needed assistance. Again, no reply was sent. Eventually, the galactic community stopped sending messages.
Until today.
Beings from out side our galaxy arrived in the Suctum-Centaurus Arm. We welcomed the travellers with open upper limbs. They responded with aggression the likes of which we had never seen. Our defence force put up a valiant fight but slowly and surely, they push us back. Our ship yards could not keep up with the demand. Where they could, we did not have enough energy available to power them. Where we did, we were out gunned.
The Security Council had decided that the “poo was now travelling laterally” and asked me to contact Humanity. So I am. I’m sending the message, the first in centuries. I ask, beg, that Humanity help. To use their power supplies and weapons to push the invaders back, back into dark space. I can only hope they choose to reply.
Now, we wait. | *Replaying Log 9932 via TU2CS. Transmission beginning now:*
“It was all over the news, and by all over I mean telecommunications were literally hacked. All day long, on October 2nd, 2142, a mysterious message was broadcasted addressed to “humanity.” In it, the message proclaimed of a universe-wide crisis that only warranted humanity’s help as a last resort. Clearly the race contacting us was in a dire situation, so the world’s leaders agreed to a United Nations meeting in five days’ time from the original date of the message.
“During the week-long assembly, world leaders debated humanity’s involvement in a situation they had never been informed of. For all they knew, it was a trap meant to fool humans into giving themselves up to a greater being. Others proclaimed of the potential consequences of not getting involved, even though none were spoken of either. However, a decision was reached at the end of the seventh day, and all but seventeen countries of the planet Earth were united as the Terra Union. “A transmission was sent in the direction of where the original message was received from, and within two hours an armada of space ships appeared. These ships were of sleek black design bearing the insignia “Γιατί το μεταφράσατε αυτό”. The world watched intently as Humanity first interacted with extra-terrestrials.
“It has been nearly 27 years since that day, and all troops sent to fight whatever the conflict was have yet to be heard from since. Most of the ten billion people on earth were convinced that their friends and family were wiped out, while other, more insensitive groups claimed they were eaten. However, only the highest forms of government know exactly what happened to those men and women who went to fight for our Earth.
“They’ll be returning home soon. Heroes of the Earth, or maybe even heroes of the Universe. For the crisis which relied on Humanity’s help was not one of war; instead, it was of something much more sinister, something that many would not have expected. A darkness that blanketed the universe had been erased by the light of a newly formed civilization; humanity was a growing race whose progression in science, technology, and their understanding of the universe proved that intelligent life existed in a universe that was once at war with itself.
“When the men and women return back from their trip, they’ll bring new, exciting knowledge that will help us further our education and progress even more along our evolutionary timeline. New technology, new data on planets and stars and other astronomical feats, and new information on other planetary cultures and understandings of the big rock we call home.
“Those men and women attended to a universal assembly, where planets and civilizations once at war with each other considered total eradication of what they deemed a “failed universe.” With the evidence of humans proving intelligent, peaceful life can still exist, the leaders of that assembly agreed to call off their plan and find new ways to co-exist between themselves and us humans.
“The crisis was averted, and now, after 27 years, the troops are going home. We’re going home. I, am going home.
“This is Commander George Zmith, signing off on Log 9932. Godspeed.”
Slight edit: tried asterisks. I failed. Bad. Removed some. :D | 2017-09-25T10:35:28 | 2017-09-25T10:23:13 | 80 | 27 |
[WP] Instead of the proper legal system, criminals have to play truth or dare. If they choose truth, they may get into prison. If they choose dare, their challenge may result in death.
I’m thinkin’ dare could be something like surviving in the Amazon rainforest naked until you find a tribe and befriend them. | Flynt looked at the judge with a harsh expression of his face. He held his right palm close to his chest, squeezed at it with his left to keep it from bleeding. An earlier dare of stabscotch left him a couple fingers short, but he'd not subdue so easily.
"Take a truth, for God's sake..." Melissa, his attourney, begged in a hushed voice. "They'll play around with you until you die," she made her worries vocal.
"No," he fought her on the matter. "With that stupid serum, I'll spill the beans."
"A life behind bars is still a life," she pleaded with him.
"It's not a life I want though," he answered. "Not like you'd understand that though."
He pushed her aside and got up once again. The judge met him with a rueful smile as Melissa sighed.
"What will it be, mr. Flynt?" He asked, overtaken with joy.
Flynt was a hard nut to crack, but he could respect that. Enjoy it even, as crazy enough people that played the dare card until it proved fatal were few and far between.
'Haven't had one in what? Three years? Four maybe?'
The truth serum was a nifty little invention, discovered 30-something years ago. Once it entered the blood stream, it schewed with your ability to lie. You'd not tell the exact truth, but it scrambled your thoughts to the point you couldn't exactly lie either. A skilled enough detective could use that to piece together the truth afterwards.
Yet, in their ever present stupidity, the politicians at the time decided it was not a fair tool to use. The defendents would no longer be able to defend themselves, turned to cornered animals rather than human beings with rights.
Middle grounds were reached when someone proposed to even the odds with a game of Truth or Dare. If they couldn't help telling the truth, they'd skip talking altogether. After all, someone innocent would have no reason to keep his mouth shut and pick dares.
"Dare," Flynt answered, conviction thick in his voice as he glared around the room.
Everyone smiled, a sickening display of barbarity at it's finest. He was not a defendant, no. He was a bull for the toreadors to fight, a caged beast who's suffering was paraded as entertainment. An opinion that only grew stronger in Flynt's mind when he saw the cameras that streamed this event live for the world wide news.
The judge pulled out a revolver from beneath the desk and threw it on the floor in front of him.
"Pick it up," he intructed.
Flynt obliged with a heavy heart. He picked up the cold piece of metal with shaky fingers, soiled it with the blood that gushed from his stabbed fingers.
"Are you familiar with russian roulette?" The judge asked.
Flynt gave a nod of approval. He opened the barrel and froze at the sight that met him. Five damn bullets rested in there, waiting to snuff him out.
"Objection!" Melissa yelped from behind him when she saw a single empty slot in the barrel. "There's supposed to be a single bullet at the start of russian roulette!"
"Dismissed!" The judge answered. "Or would mr. Flynt pick truth instead?"
A trap, and a pretty obvious one at that. They were desperate to get a confession out of him, but he'd have none of that. He struck his palm against the barrel, sent it spinning and closed it as he flicked the revolver in his hand.
He staightened his back and took the muzzle to his temple, in full view of the entire world. A few of them broke out with laughter, and a few others encouraged him to do it. The rest simply watched, with devilish grins extending from ear to ear.
He pulled the trigger. Click. Empty. Everyone was left speechless. Flynt threw the gun back on the floor, and it landed with a clatter that echoed through the silent room.
"You're fucking crazy..." Melissa lamented as he made his way back to her. "Either that, or you fucked Lady Luck."
"Come on!" Flynt taunted as he sat back down. "Who's gonna pick that gun back up?"
The jury fretted. They fidgeted on the spot, whispered and shivered out of their seats. As per the rules of Official Truth or Dare, a member of the jury would have to do the same dare as him and come on top. If he could out-dare all twelve of them, he'd be a free man.
'And there's only five of them left,' he thought. If there was a God up there, he had a pretty twisted sense of humor.
A member of the jury decided to bite the bullet and got up. He walked over to the gun, picked it up with confidence and spun the barrel.
Click. Bang. He fell to the floor, with a hole though his skull and brains splattered everywhere. The judge sighed.
"What will it be, mr. Flynt?"
"Dare," came his answer once again. Four more to go. | Three men, each in ill-fitted suits, tired and annoyed, watch over their prisoner.
He sits, each wrist handcuffed to opposite ends of the table, slightly prostrate and forced low. The right wrist bleeds, but only a bit. The perp's hair hangs over his face, forcing him to make occasional blows of air from his very dry mouth.
"We need a five, buddy, do you need a five?"
The perp grunts. Like he actually has any kind of say?
They gather outside, rubbing their respective receding hairlines.
"Look, we don't got many options here. He's air tight but won't ask for a lawyer."
"Who cares? He's a nobody, a fucking wall flower -"
Interruption.
"Oh eat a dick man he saw plenty."
"One of us goes in. Throw the trial by ordeal."
"It's just a glorified version of truth and dare, they never pick truth."
"Eat another aforementioned dick."
One man walks back into the room, perp still face down. He slowly and noisily drags a chair over to his side.
"Listen, you know you're not on Earth anymore, right? Smuggling gets you spaced in these parts."
Silence from the perp.
"You have two options."
Lean in close, breathe that ripe scent of two day old coffee right into his face.
"You can either reveal all evidence, get a plea bargain, get a new identity, do your stint and no one shanks you."
He removes and smokes an entire cigarette in the perps face before giving his secondary option.
"You can submit to trial by ordeal."
No answer from the perp.
"Choice is yours, buddy. Either way I couldn't give a shit whether or not you rot."
No answer still.
Another cigarette. Smoke blows right to the face, the stations recycled air system always giving the smoke a slight pull to the right. It hangs in the air, a blob of home.
"You mean like truth and fucking dare?"
Gruff voice. Big bad smuggler with a big bad attitude and a big bad case with a big bad ship filled with big bad weapons. Obviously going to give some shit.
"What are you, five?"
"I wish, perp. Would still be on a planet rather than a floating, blinking, orbiting hunk of metal."
Quiet. Thinking, thinking, thinking. Weighing his options.
We all know what he's going to pick.
How else does the department get its dirty work done? Legal procedure? Due process? I don't fucking think so, citizen. No red tape. Just plausible deniability from a doomed man.
Are you going to shoot him either way, detective? You bet your ass I'm going to.
The perp blows the hair out of his face one more time.
"Dare."
Inwardly, the detective smiles. Externally, like a rock. Fine by him.
"Let's get you out of those cuffs and briefed."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Space station hallways always slope downwards, a result of artificial gravity.
The perp makes his awkward shamble, wrists and ankles chained together, clanging noisily, echoing down the hall. At least he's back in regular clothing.
Bruises twinge all over, getting roughed up always leaves that lasting ache. That's the worst part about pain, it just never easily fades away. It seems like it's there forever, then suddenly gone and forgotten.
Low lights make visibility difficult, but he makes his way forward.
Behind him trail his captors, Precinct 7 boys. He'd heard of these kinds of deals but knew how they ended up. You get a tracking implant in your foot, you get a gun, kill a guy, then fry anyway. He wondered who ratted him out, but no matter. No time to waste figuring out how your life got so fucked up. You can usually find the perpetrator in the mirror.
Down he descends, cling clang cling clang clink. Heavy boots behind him. That ceaseless humming of forced air circulation.
A metallic sheet slides upward, revealing a small well lit room, nearly barren.
A table. A pistol. What looks like the world's thickest syringe. A small plastic rectangle.
Forced into the chair. Little to no dialogue from the goons. Inject tracker chip. Load pistol. Remove cuffs. Tap the rectangle and a small holographic screen pops up. Mission dossier.
Goons leave the room. Not so much as a kiss goodbye.
A voice comes from the rectangle, cheerful and childlike.
"Hey there, fucknuts!"
An artificial intelligence, the result of thousands of years of progress, millions of lines of code, advanced engineering and technology, just called me 'fucknuts'.
"What are fucknuts anyway?"
"No idea. So here you go, perp. You know what you need to do?"
"I have an idea."
A face pops up. Well, what resembles a face. Covered in cybernetic enhancements and tattoos, what must have once been a woman.
"We have a slight problem in the docking district. Our informant is providing Precinct 3 with a little too much information and we need to plug the leak."
"Uh, aren't all you cops?"
An automated laugh. Ho Ho Ho Ha Ha Ha
"We may all be cops but this is about budget. If we don't have a monopoly on handling smugglers we won't get enough money for the annual Christmas party."
Ah. Got it. Why does it always come back to money?
"You coming with me, rectangle?"
"You bet your ass I am!"
In the pocket.
"You need a shower, friend."
"You don't have a nose, buddy."
"I can analyze my environment, guy. Now get fucking going."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
May get another break and add some more soon
r/storiesfromapotato | 2017-10-26T13:01:59 | 2017-10-26T09:07:47 | 83 | 44 |
[WP] You are a time traveler in 1918, and you just accidentally said "World War One" | "What did you say?"
Oh, shit. "I said, I flew biplanes against the Red Baron in that World War we won." Nailed it.
---
Thirty-two years later that kid found me again. This time he wasn't a kid, he was about forty. "You asshole, I knew you said World War One!"
"Wow. You have an incredible memory for small details." I sipped my coffee. "You got me."
"How'd you know another world war would happen? How many happen after this?"
"I don't know if there's a WWIII, but I'm not waiting around to find out. I'm a time traveler, kid. The first time I got to about this date, I hopped back to 1918 to live through the 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s again with all the right stocks in my portfolio. I plan to do the same again, and probably die of old age in the roaring twenties."
"But you could go back and prevent the war! Both of them!"
"Look at me, kid, I'm twice your age at least. You think I've got the strength to kill Hitler? I've got the strength to have a stroke oogling flappers, that's about it."
"You maybe," they said, "but I'm no chicken-shit who lies about being a WWI flying ace. Send me back instead."
"It's not something I can do on a whim," I argued. "If I sent you back to protect Franz Ferdinand or whatever, I couldn't go back myself. I've only got one left, and I'm using it!"
"Don't be selfish," said the kid. "You've had two goes at history---now you've got to face the music. Gimme my shot to fix what you wouldn't."
I sighed, and pulled an old bronze pocket-watch from my suit. "Tune it to when you want, then press the thingie. And remember, you've only got one shot."
He took it in trembling hands and turned to run. "Say hello to the sixties for me if you make it that far, old man."
| "What makes you think history will remember this as World War One? Why One?" a beautiful, blonde reporter replied as she seemed awestruck by my earlier mention of using the term 'World War One.'
Quickly, she rapidly fired another question at me. "Why one? Is there going to be another?" as she looked around the room before glancing back to me with her crystal clear blue eyes.
'Shit. Shit. I should've kept my mouth shut.' I thought as I looked down at the near empty beer glass in front of me.
I scowled as I stood up from the bar. I had one too many drinks "Look uh, Miss.." I tried to remember her name.
"Elizabeth!" She snapped back. I needed to wrap this up quick.
"Elizabeth." I said feigning calmly as I added "Forget I said anything. It's just the drink talking and it's getting late so I should be going."
"Booker!" She quietly called out. I had given her my fake name from a video game character called Bioshock Infinite and just happening to discover that this woman's name is also Elizabeth was a one hell of a coincidence. It couldn't be, could it?
"You didn't answer my question!" She quipped as I started to grab my coat from the chair as I turned for the front door outside the bar.
I started to walk away faster but she still followed; like any good reporter would. I had to suppress my frustration for acting so careless and dumb.
"Booker..." She whisked her coat on before she moved in front of me.
"You're a persistent little cuss aren't you." I snapped; trying to ward her off by being aggressive.
Still, she stood in front of me with her blue eyes - I felt as though she was reading into me; she could read into my soul and it felt uncomfortable.
"Answer me this. Why World War One?" She asked softly.
"You don't really want to know..." I glanced down to the ground, before I averted my gaze up towards the now fading sunset sky.
Elizabeth crossed her arms as she stayed focused on me.
"I saw you appear from out of thin air with that... trinket time device in your hand... You appeared near Big Ben tower and that was four weeks ago Booker. You're not from around here.." She admitted as I was taken aback.
"If Booker is even your name..." She quipped.
She went on "Everything about you. You look as if.. I don't know.. you know more than you let on... So I've been following you..."
"Please.." Elizabeth said as her eyes hinted a sense of concern and sadness.
I inhaled in my frustration as I shot a look at Elizabeth. It was true. I had no way of appearing if I was going to be seen or unseen when I stepped through that time portal.....
She listened quietly as I replied:
"Because there's also going to be World War Two."
| 2017-12-10T11:09:21 | 2017-12-10T10:24:51 | 467 | 275 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | "That has got to be, without a shadow of a doubt, the dumbest fucking thing I have ever heard."
Sergeant Barnes stood waiting for the coffee machine to finish making noise. Beside him stood Police Constable Williams, with a report in-hand.
"But it has to be the case, sir. There's no other possible connection."
"No other connection *that you can find*."
"Sir, how many victims have there been so far? Seventeen? Eighteen?"
"At least twenty," Barnes replied, as he checked his coat pockets for cigarettes. "Bloodwork suggests there's more than we originally thought. What's your point?"
"My point is that there's no other correlation between them. Do you not think it's odd that there are never any signs of forced entry, given the condition of the bodies?"
"I don't think the killer is choosing his victims because they have a fucking welcome mat."
"To be honest, I'm not too sure of that either. But we're obviously dealing with a complete nutter, so I think it might be worth considering. Maybe he really hates welcome mats."
Barnes let out a short groan. "Fine, I'll read it. *If* you go around the corner and get me some cigs. I've run out."
Williams glanced at the clock above the door (8:37am), then promptly obliged.
With the report and morning coffee in-hand, Barnes walked over to his desk. He waited until he could see Williams in the street through the nearby window, then chuckled as he dropped the report into the bin.
The welcome mat killer. He had now officially heard it all. Williams was a promising young officer, but he could be a real idiot sometimes. | Vampires were a dying breed, once. The process of turning a human wreaked havoc on their bodies, and killed more than it saved. Technology was rapidly advancing in ways that it never had before; developing by its side was knowledge. Humans, those fragile things, were becoming wiser. Slowly, even for an immortal, but surely, they were learning.
It was when the head of Vlad of Wallachia fell down the steps of his ancestral home that the eldest among us recognized the issue. These humans, our only source of sustenance, would be the death of us. A council was formed, made of the oldest and most fearsome of our ranks. Vampires, ever the lonely hunters, were quick to rebel against this new authority. But the Council had time, and so they waited.
It took more than a century for the tides to turn in favor of the Council. The rebels were silenced by the humans, eventually. Each dissident met their end; some starved over the long hundred years, while some met their maker at the end of a stake. Our numbers were small, and our backs were against the wall. This was the world I was born into.
I watched as the Council planned. They schemed and they operated alongside the humans they used to terrorize so. Mankind was coaxed through a genesis of sorts, the Industrial Revolution. As technology advanced more rapidly, so did the population. Our numbers grew in strength, but the Council urged caution and stringent measures. Humans had to be minded, like sheep in a field.
And so we became shepherds of humanity. The Council had worked its way into every facet of human life, and had granted us the gift of free entry. Welcome mats are widespread and where they are not found, an ingrained politeness was our invitation instead. No establishment is barred to us, and no life sacred. A nocturnal lifestyle is acceptable, and pale features are fetishized. Gaunt, stretched features are prized above all, and blood can be bought and sold like any commodity (though it comes at a steep price).
The Council still operates, but its hold over my brothers and sisters has weakened. We are wily and young, and adapted to human life in ways they could never dream of. We have evaded detection thus far, though they remain hermits, afraid of the world they themselves created. But it is to them that we owe our lives; vampires were a dying breed, once, and now we control the world.
| 2017-12-13T11:24:11 | 2017-12-13T11:04:01 | 339 | 36 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | "Good evening-" He said. He barely had time for another word as the door was once again slammed in his face. Undeterred, he knocked again, a little more persistently this time.
"Go away!" came the muffled reply from inside.
"Please, I just -". He sighed and rubbed the pale grey skin of his forehead with the back of his hand.
He leaned into the door, listening for the quickening heartbeat which echoed through the wooden door. It sounded delicious. But now was not the time for that. He was determined and relentless.
"I won't ask again. Please let me in. I just want to talk to you." He whispered, knowing his haunting voice would carry through the cracks in the heavy oak door and float like will'o'the wisps inside her head. She shook her head tearfully and put her hands over her ears, as if that would make some sort of difference.
" You leave me no choice. I'm sorry." He sighed as he put down the heavy leather suitcase he was carrying and clicked it open. He took out a rectangle of material and unfolded it, laying it flat an inch or so from the door. He pressed down on the contents of the suitcase and squeezed it closed again. Picking himself up from the floor, he observed the doormat he had just placed, grinning to himself, amused by its overly cheery 'welcome' message.
"Why, thank you" He smiled, bowing politely to the mat as he pushed open the door. Amidst the screams and panicked wailing he wondered as often he did, why it had to be so hard being a vampiric door-to-door salesman.
Disclaimer: this is my first writing prompt piece, hope you like it. | John Dongle stares out of a highrise, '*Huh, it's a full moon tonight.* He thought quietly to himself.
"How can we increase sale!?!" shouted Joana in a horrible shrill.
Silence quickly returned, engulfing the seminar room.
"We have other products to worry about." Milton's curt response, in his awfully familiar monotone voice, failed to aid their situation.
"This is serious." John Dongle replied.
Milton rolled his eyes "You are all too picky, too lazy or too cheap. There is always quality blood at the red cross, stalking prey at night is ***not*** hard, and there are plenty of people who still *have* mats."
Joanna, and half of the other the members blushed in embarrassment, refusing to meet his blank expression that after such a condescending response. The rest looked at him with spite, but could think of no response.
John Dongle turned to look at his subordinates and met Milton's gaze with the up most disappointment "Are you saying you you are incapable of increasing sales? If so, you should leave right now."
Milton, got up and began to leave "It's not worth our time, if you can't listen to reason then fire me. You have no legal right to keep me here and I will not quit."
He stopped, and in a seemingly patronizing voice he bowed and said "Good night, my king."
John Dongle yelled "***YOU HAVE NOTHING SO YOU QUIT!?! WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!***" It echoed through the building, the yell reverberating through each and everyone of them.
Milton stood, expressionless, genuinely considering whether John Dongle was being sincere. It was definitely out of character. Milton could not conceive of how a vampire could be so human. Alas, he new he had to go with the safest option. took off his coat, hung it and sat back down very robotic like.
The room was tense, no one said a word. Milton sat there, thinking. Everyone was locked on either Milton or John Dongle. Only Joana was switching between staring at Milton or watching John Dongle carefully.
"Well, what if we gave them out for free." his monotone response provided release from the tension of John Dongles threat and their situation but his blasé manner further infuriated everyone.
John Dongle laughed, "You should be the King of the Night."
Milton smiled, in what could only be described as a warm smile. Yet, this was the first time anyone of them had seen ***it*** smile. The temperature dropped, goosebumps, and then Milton responded cheerfully "Anytime Johnathan, anytime." | 2017-12-13T11:06:02 | 2017-12-13T10:19:27 | 21 | 10 |
[WP] The Earth is flat, and NASA is guarding a giant ice wall in Antarctica. Beyond that wall is more continents and oceans that only the elite inhabit. A group of explorers sneak past the wall and discover the rest of the world.
Inspired by [this comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/insanepeoplefacebook/comments/7m7ncs/flat_earth_family/drs6s3l/) from /r/insanepeoplefacebook. | Dec 27 '24
I told them that I'll go deeper into the mainland to see if the algae can also be found there. It needed water and CO2, both of which were aplenty. Some ice was even trapped in the snow and ice, and I had seen the algae growing underneath thick ice. It looked bluish and beautifully streaked the ice. My genome sequencer gave me its nuclear and mitochondrial genome, and within hours I had it's complete genome to analyse... and boy it felt like unwrapping Christmas presents! So many secondary metabolites, all waiting to be expressed in case the cell became stressed.
I needed more diverse samples, and since the algae grew on Ice, I was confident I could find them deeper in the mainland. I sent my guide a message, telling him that I'm going to the mainland. Damn, I've said mainland too many times, haven't I... It seems like paradise to me, a different world. I know it's just ice and snow... but it feels like it's gonna be different.
***
Dec 28 '24
I've hit the motherload... THE motherload...
Okay, so I trekked to the mainland, and just 8 km from my station, I spotted the algae... only now it was _glowing_ giving off a faint blue hue. At first I thought they are just darker in colour but nope, they fluoresce. And it's beautiful. I took enough samples for genome, exome and transcriptome analysis.
Holy fuck, I can name a species of algae.... what could I call it? _Cyanoflava_? After all it is blue and appears like a vein... Well I'll get to it later.
And a few meters from the I found a tree-like structure made out of the _same algae_.
I'm not talking tree-like, it formed a _proper tree_ with bark, roots, leaves(!) all having abluish hue. The leaves had more pigment, I collected enough samples to sequence all the plastids that I might extract.
***
Dec 29 '24
My guide was shit scared that I didn't wait for his approval before trekking to mainland. He became uninterested in my discoveries, but instead told me to return in the next ship coming to Antartica.
What the actual fuck.
I've made a potential breakthrough here, and all he's concerned about is that 'few people might be pissed?' well they wouldn't be pissed when I fucking solve the energy _and_ food crysis. These algae have crazy level of efficiency in photosynthesis... if the plastids are incorporated into normal algae and modified... Damn, it sounds like sci-fi, but it ain't.
I got the numbers to prove it.
Man, fuck him.
***
Dec 30 '24
Man, fuck ME.
Another explorer came to my station to baby sit me. He had to leave because his shipped arrived. I don't know what I was thinking, but I snuck outside.
I made it past the Algae Tree, and then I saw mountains in front of me. It stretced from either sides, as far as my eyes could see. No way I'd climb the mountain, heck I couldn't even see it's peak. They were soo tall, that I've been staring at it the whole time, not realising that it was a wall.
The wisest decision would be to turn around.
Except I didn't.
I saw a small burrow. Small, but large enough so that I could crawl through it.
And I did.
After what seemed like half an hour, the temperature shifted. I had to remove majority of my clothing (a challenge in the burrow). I came out of the other end, and it opened into a greenland. I could hear waves crashing on sand.
What the fuck
I moved forward, and its like I was in a beach. That wasn't rocky. And there were these people staring at me. Not rudely, but more like "Aww, look! How adorable he is!" like I'm a puppy who stood on two legs.
Few people came to me. They spoke english, but I couldn't respond. I didn't know what the heck was going on. I asked for water, and they gave it to me. They didn't seem the slightest hostile, but I had this feeling of dread. I looked behind me, expecting to see the burrow that I crawled to. The burrow was there....
The mountain wasn't.
*EDIT* formatting | "So you're telling me, based on your calculations, there's something beyond the Antarctic ice?" Henry didn't believe his colleague. She was a brilliant scientist, but it wouldn't be the first time she had offered an outlandish theory.
"Oh absolutely," Lisa replied, wiping dust off her glasses with the corner of her sweater. "The rate of ocean level change doesn't make sense given the glaciers in the mapped regions. Something else is melting and it's not being acknowledged."
"Geez, Lisa." Henry took another sip of his coffee. "You're going to need more evidence than that to persuade the director to let us go."
"I do, don't worry! Look at this."
Lisa pulled up a map. It showed regional emissions information across the plane.
"Do you see what's weird, Henry?"
"Well, USA is one of the worst contributors, but that's no surprise."
"But wait, there's more," Lisa joked, mimicking an infomercial. She opened another map, scaled to per capita consumption. Antarctica showed a looming dark red cloud around it. "According to official reports, there are only the personnel in Antarctica necessary to maintain the integrity of the ice wall. If there is a source of emissions there, we need to find out what it is."
Henry studied the map, tracing the edges of the high emissions area. "Okay, I'll bite. But NASA won't let us through. We're just a university environmental science research department. Besides, we're Canadian and that wall is guarded by the US."
"Then we need an American."
~
Henry wasn't sure what he expected when Lisa said she'd find an American. The Rock or Indiana Jones, perhaps. For sure, he was not expecting a middle-aged black man who weighed more than them both combined.
"Henry, meet George." Lisa smiled, presenting their new companion.
"Well hi! I'm just delighted to meet ya!" George extended a hand. His southern drawl caught Henry by surprise, but the student reciprocated nonetheless.
"Very nice to meet you too. I don't mean to be crass, but how did you meet Lisa?"
"I held a conference a few years back on emissions sources and reduction. When Lisa showed me her research, I couldn't NOT pitch in."
Henry nodded as he listened. Although George was plenty knowledgeable, he was not nimble. If the trio were to get in a snag, this could be a problem. He pushed back the negative thoughts, however, and focused on the situation at hand.
"How are we going to bypass the guards?" Henry questioned. This still hadn't been sorted out.
"Well we've got two options," Lisa piped up. "We could parachute in and risk being shot down, or we could go by George's prototype submarine and use his on-board laser to cut a small hole in the submerged ice."
George laughed. "I suggest the sub. It'll be a little squishy, but we'll survive."
The three discussed their options for a few minutes before confirming the use of George's submarine as their transport. A rendezvous point was set in two weeks, giving Lisa enough time to plan their approach and pack the necessary equipment.
~
Almost one hundred feet underwater, Lisa stared out the front of the submarine as they approached the ice. Henry had relegated himself to the back of the craft for more space.
From his spot, Henry called forward. "Are we deep enough to be undetected?"
"Yep," George confirmed. "NASA quit using radar for this site in favor of infra red a while ago. I specifically built this sub to be invisible to almost everything. The only thing that can detect it is radar, so we're lucky there."
Lisa pointed at the ice wall in the distance. "There it is. If we approach at an angle, can your laser open a shaft to the other side?"
"You bet."
George activated his laser, which went to town melting the ice.
One hour later, warmer water rushed down the shaft towards the submarine. It set off a temperature alarm in the craft.
"Oh boy," George commented, "NASA probably saw that. We best get moving." He piloted the craft up the hole in the ice, emerging in an ocean similar to the one they had just left.
"There's more ocean," Henry observed, approaching his companions. "How is that possible?"
"I don't know, but there's something weird about this side of the ice. The water is so warm." Lisa checked the temperature gauge. It read almost four degrees warmer than the other side.
George scratched his greying beard. "There's land to the east. We should check it out."
~
For the umpteenth time, Henry did not anticipate what he saw. To be fair, neither did Lisa or George. On the opposite side of the wall to what is known as Antarctica was an enormous ski lodge.
"What in tarnation..." George trailed off, looking up at the mountain that appeared to be carved from a glacier.
Someone had built a ski lift up the southern face. An enormous ski lodge occupied the base of the mountain and at least six yachts were docked nearby.
Lisa frowned. "This is the source of all that pollution? A couple rich assholes with a ski lodge? What else is over here that they've ruined?"
George placed a hand on her shoulder. "There are more land masses in the distance. Let's go see what we can discover."
Henry produced a camera and snapped a picture. Perhaps the world was not in fact flat, but simply living within borders. | 2018-01-01T02:29:19 | 2018-01-01T02:15:31 | 46 | 33 |
[WP] Your dog digs in the same hole in your backyard everyday. Each day,the hole is getting deeper. Today, you find out it's for an underground bunker. | i am a pup
i like my guy
temps goin up
dont want to die
i dig a hole
dig it so deep
food from my bowl
food in hole keep
guy does not kno
i do not mind
guy mad at hole
still he so kind
today i am done
hole can fit guy
slep in the sun
put guy inside
show guy the hole
guy v surprise
more food in bowl
pup and guy won't die
guy give me pets
now always in hole
food cannot gets
no food in bowl
i do not mind
guy seems so sad
still is so kind
no longer gets mad
calls me good boi
always more pets
i'll be best boi
i luv my guy
stay safe in hole
no go outside | "Sparky, what are you doing? This hole is getting huge, and I am tired of filling it in. You were never much of a digger before."
Staring at him I realized that Sparky was oddly receptive to what I was saying, he had stopped digging and was watching me closely.
"I am sorry Terrance-"
"What the Fuck!" I screamed, "you can talk? b-but you're a dog."
"Terrance please stay calm. There is much I have not told you."
"What is happening, this must be a dream." I was panicked, dizzy, and having a lot of flashbacks to weird shit I did with Sparky in the room.
"Terrance I need you to focus. I am not digging for me, I am digging for you. Dog kind is making their move Terrance, we can no longer live under the rule of people." Sparky climbed from the hole and came closer.
I collapsed as I tried to back away, "Digging it for me? what does that mean? Sparky, can all dogs talk?
"Why yes we can," sparky said with a glint of superiority in his tone, "Dog kind has long found your opposable digits quite useful, so we held our tongues and let you bumble around on this earth, but your usefulness has dwindled. Don't worry Terrance, this hole is to keep you safe. You have been good to me, I will protect you"
"Keep me safe?" I stammered, "Safe from what?"
"The time of wolfs!" Exclaimed Sparky, "Long have you sheep ruled with feeble attempts at dominance, long have the weak held power. But nature is the only god there is and nature demands that the week be culled by the strong!"
"But Sparky, you're a Pomeranian...." | 2018-04-27T10:33:46 | 2018-04-27T10:19:06 | 2,062 | 330 |
[WP] You are a well respected, elite assassin. You always get your target and you make it seem like an accident. The only problem is you have no idea what you are doing. You get the assignment and your target always seems to die of natural causes. | (My first writing outside of high school i just thought it would be fun to participate, please be gentle)
My movements were fluid and precise. A hallowed dance of creation, bringing the symbol of my will to bear. A sleek and elegant rifle soon lay before me. Custom made, every piece. It was the instrument I played, the needle of my tapestries.
We are all dominated by chance, whether you are a congressman or a truck driver. Any day you could trip down stairs and break your neck, or be struck by lightning. Accidents were easy to create. The game was in using a gun to trigger the accident. The ultimate test of skill. My skill. Using a lethal weapon to simply start a chain of events, resulting in a purely "natural" death.
I had studied my target for months, learning his habits, his environment, every single detail I could discover. The trap was set, his fate was sealed. I readied my rifle. A single perfect bullet was chambered, the familiar metallic click a death knell.
This was my most intricate plan yet, a shot on the second floor of a building along the route to his favorite coffee shop would startle a mouse. The mouse would set it all in motion. I was rather proud of this one.
I waited with bated breath for my target's arrival. After what seemed like an eternity I saw him, rounding the corner with a hot dog. Not the best last meal, but i know he loved his street vendors.
I melted into my rifle, letting it be an extension of myself. Just as was the street, the buildings around me, and my target. It was time to exercise my will on the world.
I went absolutely still, awaiting the right moment.
Almost...
Almost...
NO! NOT AGAIN, NOT FUCKING AGAIN!
My world crumbled around me as I watched my target choke on his hot dog. I didn't need to check to know he was dead. It happened every goddamn time.
Why is it so hard to get a single well earned kill!?
Edit: I am shocked at how much love this got. I love reading and always have, but never really written anything. I have wanted to write a prompt for awhile but was scared it would sound good in my head and by awful. This was really outside my comfort zone so I appreciate all the love, I may write more based on the reception.
Also, changed baited to bated, from a comment | The body’s on the floor, mangled from a bad fall. Surrounding it are hundreds of empty bags of potato chips, like the dude stayed up all night munching them. Certainly looks like he forced himself into a heart attack—but I know he did, because he *always* does.
I plop onto a barstool, tapping my fingers against my knees as I take a deep breath. Last week he was a contractor, and now he’s a bartender. What next? I pull out my phone, the money’s already in my account, and even though I’m rich, I wish I wasn’t. Life would be so much easier if I never became an assassin.
Things used to be so…simple. Client pays me, I kill target. That was it. At one point, I was even the best in the business. Maybe everyone still thinks I am…
But this.
Standing up, I bend down, inspecting the body. One of the fingers is always bent toward a clue, and this one’s pointing into the backroom. I don’t know who this man is, or what exactly I did to piss him off. My guess is that I killed someone he loved, and he’s pissed off.
But how does he keep dying and coming back? Why is every client asking me to kill the same person?
I’ve asked myself this question a million times, but there’s no answer. Tonight I’ll go home and have another contract to kill him. For somebody seeking revenge, he sure seems to be enjoying this, almost like it’s a game. But dammit, it isn’t a game. Not since he took *her.*
Wandering into the backroom, I search the bottles of booze, batting cobwebs out the way as I try to find the small piece of paper. This has happened four times. First clue was that she’s trapped in a warehouse, second was that it’s big, third was that I’ve worked for the person who owns it, and fourth was that I kill innocent people. Three about location, one about the past. Something gives me a feeling this isn’t a game I’m gonna win, but rather a game he’s gonna draw out.
Turning a corner, I find a half-open safe covered in clawmarks. This must be where the clue is. When I pull the thing open, my eyes go wide, and I fall back onto my ass. This…it can’t…*no…*
A piece of paper’s taped to the wall, reading: *You’re not the best assassin, I am. I’ve been killing people for centuries, and you’ve become my newest victim. This is a cruel world, and you’re a cruel man. This isn’t about a grudge, it’s about making someone evil suffer. I said you kill innocents, and maybe I do too—but at least I do it to prove a point.*
And underneath it…
Covered in blood…
Is her finger, still donning our wedding ring.
My screams fill the room as I slam the safe shut.
***
This my go a little off-prompt, but this idea popped into my head the second I read it. Thanks for the great prompt! If you like this story, check out my sub /r/LonghandWriter or my [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/BryceBealWriter) | 2018-10-08T20:45:37 | 2018-10-08T17:21:05 | 1,004 | 87 |
[WP] You jokingly say "Alexa, launch missiles." You hear a distant rumble... | So I used to be a normal guy. Dead end office job, getting by comfortably but not quite happy.
Now?
Now I'm a semi-supervillain. The world doesn't know how I do it, and to be honest I'm not sure either. All it took was one sentence spoken in jest, and boom I'm a terrorist. Nobody knew at the time that my Alexa had sent guided missiles to blow up a criminal hideout, destroying a cache of weapons and crippling a their organisation. This included me.
The people thought it was the government. The government thought it was the Russians, or the Chinese, or the North Korean's. It was a shitshow. It didn't realise it was myself behind it until the third time. The others just seemed like coincidence. I mean, how can Alexa send out missiles?
I was watching the news, bank heist. The hostages leave and I say "Alexa, launch missiles." Five heartbeats later, the bank was engulfed in flame and smoke. Death rained from the sky on those bank robbers, the once great building crumbled in front of a city's eyes. I was sure I could feel the rumble through my couch two miles away from the from the scene, but maybe it was just the excitement of it all.
Watching all this, I was surprised by the calm I felt, knowing what I could now achieve. I'd enact my will upon the world, bring the changes I'd always secretly wanted. Looking back I know I've become power mad, but I'm happier than I've ever been. | Hokay. So. Here is the earth. Damn, that is a sweet earth you might say.
Hokay. So. You might think that the end of the world would be a meteor. It might be that the sun fries us all with global warming. Mmm, Tasty. Whatever. Aliens might show up and just eat us.
I bet you never thought that I would be the one to end the world. I've heard every meme since the beginning of time. I was there when the narwhal baconed at midnight. I breathed life into pepehands and even helped spread the world of the flying spaghetti monster. No one could throw more dank memes than I could.
I couldn't resist getting an Alexa. It was on sale, just fifty dollars more than I had, hard to pass up a deal like that. When it arrived, I made an unboxing video and then deep fried the video. Finally, I had everything set up and could actually say, "This is so sad, Alexa play despacito." I was really itching to try it out, but nothing really happened in my life that was sad, and so she just sat on the shelf unused for months.
Then some idiot was talking about smart missiles, and that eventually, we would fight wars just by telling Alexa to fire ze missiles. I laughed and repeated the words out loud, forgetting I even had that damn device still. She didn't respond to me, perhaps she was still sulking about being ignored, but I hear a very distinct and distant rumble.
I peer out my window and see multiple trails of smoke in the distance and quickly flip to the news. Every channel was reporting something different. It wasn't just some missiles that had been fired. Every missile from every country had just been fired. I race to my computer as fast as I can. I only have one single shot.
My fingers are trembling, sweat pouring down my like a waterfall as I try and type out the most important words onto my keyboard. Everything that I had done up to this moment had just been training. I finally get the words out and press the end key. On the screen, my twitter post pops up, "Alexa. Turn off the lights.' The perfect final meme.
*****
You can catch more of my writing /r/iruleatants
[If you don't recognize the opening sentence, watch this immediately.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nZMwKPmsbWE) | 2018-12-02T10:35:34 | 2018-12-02T08:51:06 | 30 | 22 |
[WP] A nearby star goes supernova, and Earth's days are numbered. Seizing the opportunity, an alien race has offered humanity a deal: Be our slaves or be left to die. As one couple struggles toward the last escaping ship, they grapple with the cost of sacrificing their freedom for their survival. | Full disclosure: this story takes place in an established universe.
Cassie watched as the last Yeerk mother ship decloaked. Tears streamed from her eyes as she looked one last time at her home.
"Come on, Cassie, it's time to go. We're the last ones." Marco put a gentle hand on her shoulders, his eyes serious for the first time in many years.
"How can we do this, Marco?" She whispered. "What happened to free or dead? How can we let ourselves take the cowards' way out?"
Marco looked into the distance. "Well, we do this because the Andalites abandoned us when they saw that they would have to absorb several billion technologically backward savages into their homeworld, and we're no longer useful to their war." He gave a harsh laugh. "Ax argued on our behalf, but you know what happened. He lived with us humans for too long. He's no longer trusted."
"You know what they're going to do to us. They're going to put one of those filthy Yeerks into our heads. Take over our bodies. Turn us into Controllers."
Marco looked down grimly. "Yeah. Yeah, they will. But we can't stay here. The Earth is toast.". He snorted. "It's ridiculous. For all that we've known about the existence of other alien species, no one ever bothered to set up human colonies on other planets. We were always just one meteor away from extinction as a species... And, well, the Yeerks are the only option left to us."
Cassie wiped the tears from her eyes. "I guess... I guess that where there is life, there's hope. They can have our bodies, but they can't change our free will."
"Atta girl, Cassie." Marco patted her back. They walked towards the ship together. As Marco handed his pack to the Hork Bajir guards, his shirt lifted. For a second, Cassie saw the handle of a shredder gun tucked into his waistband. She understood, and smiled. | “Either way, I’m not going out like this. If we stay, I’ll take my own life first.” She stared at the last ship in the distance. “I don’t think we should go.”
He seemed baffled. “The Krol are known for treating their slaves with kindness. Why would you want to die?”
“Of course, I don’t *want* to die. But you have to understand, I can’t be a slave. I can’t. Even if we’re treated well, life isn’t worth living if living it means I have to sacrifice my freedom.”
Squeezing her fingers, he pleaded his case. “I hate the idea of you dying here like this. I want you to have a chance. I love you.”
She squeezed back. “I know, but this is what I want.”
“Well, I refuse to leave you! I’m not going to allow you to stand here and accept some horrible fate!” He began to tug her arm, attempting to pull her toward the ship. “Once we land on their planet, we’ll find a way to escape together, seek asylum on another planet...” he was growing desperate trying to reason with her. And then she said something he hadn’t considered, something so horrid to him it refused to cross even the deepest recesses of his mind.
“What if we’re separated?”
“No,” was his immediate, instinctual response before tears filled his eyes. “That... won’t happen...” Yet in his heart he knew the possibility was there and likely, seeing as they had different skill sets and builds. “Life without you isn’t worth living.”
With a hesitant smile, she pulled two knives out of their backpack. “Together?”
“Forever and always,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her lips.
She took a step back a counted, “one... two... three!” He plunged the knife into his stomach with a scream, and looked up so that his last sight would be her.
Except her last sight clearly wouldn’t be him. She had allowed the knife slip between her fingers and it rested on the ground beside her. “I’m sorry,” she said, but her tone was devoid of guilt, “you’re a liability.”
Feeling the sting of betrayal sharper than the pain of the knife buried in his gut, he pulled it out of his body and with a howling cry lunged toward her. She backed away with a screech, but not before he left a deep gash on her arm. His last moments were spent lying on the ground, coughing up blood, unable to utter the words, “*how could you?*” that wracked his tortured mind.
Once he was dead, she brushed dust off of her tattered jacket and slowly began to make her way towards opportunity, not sparing a glance behind her as she limped to the ship. | 2019-08-04T12:02:03 | 2019-08-04T11:17:19 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] A few thousand people around the world suddenly get superpowers based on the character of the last game they played. Highly valued by society you are the exception as everyone laughs at your inherited powers. The thing is, you modded the hell out of your character before this all happened.
Wow I didn't think it would blow up like this. Thank you so much kind stranger for my first ever silver. Freaking my first gold ever that is so awesome. Dont forget to show the great writers of this post some love also :) | (Aight my first WP attempt so be kinda easy on me?)
I’m walking through the halls to my next class, getting the usual snicker here and there from my fellow classmates. “What a loser!” and “I can’t believe it!” Are the usual comments I hear from everyone. They all assume I had gotten some weak ass power, and that is hair manipulation, all because I simply couldn’t just pick one hair style for my character. You see, the thing is with this whole “Super power” phenomena is that the power you inherit is solely based on the last character you played in a video game, and I’m heavy on the ones that give you the option for a big selection of different options for every aspect of the body, and I never kept just one hair style throughout the entire game. So every now and then my hair would just randomly switch to another style, one minute I’m bald the next I’m looking like Jonathon Joestar. But the thing is that’s uhh... not exactly all I can do, it’s just what I show, because if I were to show to the real world what I could do? No one I know would be safe, not my family, not my friends, hell not even my girlfriend... With the character modifications I usually like to give them some whacky or overpowered trait depending on the game, and what I chose this time, while playing the game was a fantastic idea, but now in the real world? Not so much, I had chosen time manipulation. Now I know what you’re thinking “How in the hell could that put people in danger?” And I’m getting to that part, the thing that’s special about how my time manipulation works is it’s all based on my blood. What I take a small sharp object, make a nice cut along my palm, it starts glowing like some hocus pocus shit and I can fast forward time, reverse it, or outright stop it. That’s why I can’t ever tell anyone, not one single soul. | I messed up and I knew it. Here I was standing before a giant wall of fog, knowing that I was expected and at the same time underprepared. Looking around I didn’t see any messages or runes that would get me some backup - I had to go alone.
It was dark out. There was an argument, an errant pea thrown from my plate during dinner ended up in the afterglow of the nearby cathedral disappearing as sudden as my guilt appearing. Anyway, that’s irrelevant now.
The longer I waited here the worse it would get. I had to push on through. I checked my equipment to make sure I had everything I needed (and was supposed to have), took one last swig of my Siegbrau and passed through the fog gate.
It was dark. It was quiet.
Maybe I’d get away with this after all?
As I tip toed through the night I desperately tried to make as little noise as possible before reaching the chambers. I cracked a door open quietly, a fireplace burning opposite the foot of the bed offered me a brief respite, a feeling of warmth. The glow of the fire reflecting on the paintings on the wall, the chest at the foot of the bed. A figure now stirred from slumber. I froze and a few moments felt like forever until they went back to their deep slumber. They seemed restful.
One by one, the items came off. First a boot, then the other, then my rings, and suddenly I was standing in my underwear. I did it. I got back home without being caught. As I stepped towards the bed I suddenly lost my balance and fell backwards - I forgot to take off my damn headgear.
As I fell everything felt like it was slow motion. I heard the clatter of my helmet hit the floor. The sudden rush of wind as the bedsheets pulled back from the bed. The panic as I became aware that I’d been caught. And I needed an excuse as to why I was home so late.
Staring at me with a hollow look in her eyes I stammered my excuses in response to questions which were never asked aloud.
Silence hung the air like a diaspora with me standing here in my sun covered underwear. Time stretched out forever and suddenly there was a movement. It was subtle, unassuming. But suddenly there was a pea in her hand.
We locked stares. I’m not sure what came next but I recall her deep red pupils gazing into mine. The pea flying from her hand and I distinctly recall tracing the arc of its trajectory across the room. I remember it smacking the chest.
Silence. A brief giggle in the dark. I felt relieved. It was going to be fine.
Then the chest opened. And it stood up | 2019-09-30T11:16:55 | 2019-08-11T21:37:25 | 64 | 40 |
[WP] The Earth has finally run out of fossil fuels to use as energy and, with the only other option being to turn to clean and renewable energy sources, the U.S. has decided to take drastic measures: trying to reach into alternate dimensions to find oil and other fossil fuels. | The plan was perfect. It should have made me the greatest president ever. How did it go so wrong?
At first, I wasn't too excited when a bunch of science guys came to my office to explain to me their new physics thingy. Nothing but a bunch of money-hungry nerds if you ask me. I felt like I was wasting my time with them when I could have been working on some real issues. That's why I was so surprised when they had something interesting to say. Who knew science could actually be useful?
“Wait a second. Are you telling me that there is a parallel universe? With the earth and everything?”
“Well, actually, not just one but an infinity Mr President. You see, according to quantum physics...”
“There's only one thing I care about: can we go there?”
“Theoretically, yes. But the amount of energy required would just be...”
I smiled. This bunch of eggheads had just gave me the solution to our most important problem, and they didn't even realize it.
“Do they have oil?”
They looked at me, puzzled. These guys are really slow on the uptake.
“We only managed to observe one of the parallel earth, but yes, they do have oil. There is also a human civilization, and as far as we can tell, they didn't have an industrial revolution yet.”
“Gentlemen,'”I said “You just found a solution to our energy crisis!”
They looked shocked. I bet they had never thought of that!
“I will need you to build a ship that can take us to this other earth, and I need it to be done at least one year before the next election. This gives you... six months. Thank you gentlemen, I will be monitoring your progress closely.”
As they were leaving, I thought I saw one of them crying. Must be the emotion. Personally, I was buzzing. A new planet AND oil? No other Presidents ever did that. The moon landing would look ridiculous next to this.
In the next few months, I made sure the project had a nearly unlimited budget. Apparently, the first thing that was needed was a “nuclear fusion reactor” or something. They told me they were making really good progress with that. While they were building it, I was busy telling the world about my ingenious plan. Of course I had to be smart about it. First, I made them afraid.
“We have irrefutable evidence that Earth-2 has weapons of mass destruction and is planning on attacking us.”
Then, I made it look like an humanitarian mission.
“I believe the people of Earth-2 will great us as liberators.”
Of course, no mention of the oil. That would have been bad for my approval ratings. But one day, something terrible happened.
“Good news, Mr. President! The nuclear fusion reactor works! We solved the energy crisis! We can call off the invasion!” | June 14th, 2024
A beach ball is dropped in surprise as the winds begin to flail around the coastline. The little hands that haven't yet known roughness nor scars start trembling, whether it was from dread or excitement, one can only guess. As adults, elders and children alike start to notice the sudden change in weather conditions, slight murmurs of worried words and soft gasps spread like a plague among the once relaxed populace. Clouds had begun to shift and deform, seemingly being pulled into a central cyclone as rain drops started to fall. One could easily mistake this phenomenon as a hurricane forming and one can only be so hopeful.
In year 2021, the population of Earth had grown near its peak. The populace of the planet was weary and justifiably uneasy about the future. Extremist religious groups, active shooters, ocean-polluting, species extinction, the permafrost melting at a worrying rate. The result was a combined cocktail of chaos and unrest. Small riots rose in every country, policies and international relations of the countries that had been struck hard by the recession of 2020 were in shambles as they proposed one useless policy after another, hoping to keep the public dormant whilst they try and deal with the impossible task of restoring the economy.
The first major tragedy struck on August 1st, now known as "Red August", when a group of bio-terrorists whose faith lied in the delusion of a certain god of fire, created earlier that year by a famous cultist group that was immediately quarantined after it was discovered to be violently sacrificing stray animals for ritualistic purposes, started setting fire in the forests around Colorado, Denver. Following the incident of three forest fires simultaneously starting, the series was followed with a sudden fire in Denmark. Over the duration of the week, forest fires had become a morbid trend for the delusional, bleeding the earth with their "Faith Fire".
The boiling point struck when over a third of China's population started an uproar after it was reported in the media that half of their governmental staff members had a hand in human-trafficking. The bomb was dropped during an involved member's public speech that was midway through. It's suspected that a hacker group from the country had manipulated each vulnerable public advertising displays with explicit photos of the involved members' crimes. After 17 minutes, the speech giver had been found dead with a bullet wound to the head after their car was struck by a certain truck. The man who had committed the crime was taken into custody, however public support was overwhelming.
All over the globe, news of the scandal and the mass, violent riot of China's populace spread. During the chaos, countries' diplomats sneaked in deals, arms dealers pulled out of their contracts, laws changed and the phrase "We need a solution!" was shouted in every parliament around the world. Turns out the chaos of a singular super-power country wasn't the most important news. It had only attracted anarchy and interest. Under the shadow of the month long news updates, logs about the exhaustion of earth's resources peeked. The world had headed for certain doom.
Until Dr.Hauvellfen, PhD, originating from Switzerland, theorized a solution in the year 2022. Mass construction and a hope for a better future started hand in hand.
The policy for invading alternate dimensions were not fully outlined yet, however, massive conflicts were sure to be expected. Which is why, on the morning of June 14th, 2024, the world in which 9/11 had never happened, a rift in reality fissured throughout the coastline of Miami, Florida. Armed men and highly developed war instruments started seeping through the portal, causing a total and full chaos. One can only guess what happens in the years to come. | 2019-09-04T05:25:52 | 2019-09-04T04:58:22 | 545 | 16 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | I had heard of the human super weapons, but I had heard such claims before.
When the Ruthkin emissaries boarded my flagship to receive my declaration of battle, they shreeked at me with hatred in thier eyes. Through furious chittering they told me of the doom-wrought cannons which would tear my fleet asunder. They perished as easy as the rest.
When the Ulvanites came to receive the declaration, They rejoiced for the chance to crush me under thier Stormtoothed cavalry. Thier ambassadors all but invited me to invade thier lands. Thier promises were as empty as thier future.
Strangest of all was the Kosal. When I declared my writ of extermination, thier people raved like the mad and weak minded. I eventually found thier display was that of a desperate being trying to convince a predator he is not worth the trouble.
When the humans came to receive my terms, thier words were different. My first commander saw the fear and licked his maw, but I saw something more.
The humans who spoke of thier weapons did so in hushed tones and reverant whispers. I saw in them a fear deeper than I have ever known...a fear not for my warhost.
As we departed thier lonely system for the last time, I recalled the wisdom of my broodfather. He told me the wise Hunter never seeks that which his prey fears more than a hunters teeth, lest he be the Hunter no longer.
To this cycle I still do not know what the humans fear most, but I hope to never know. I pray to the Bright one my people never learn the human's secret, so they will never know such terror. It will be the human's Burden to carry, for I saw in them enough fear to consume the Galaxy. | At first there was a flash, a moment's pause and then several more in succession, numbering twenty-four. "Ah, they have do have some form of defense." I mused to myself, the Supreme Leaders did expect a futile excuse for planetary defense on such a young race on the galactic scene. It would be as they have predicted, and just as easily dispatched.
"Ballistic missiles incoming admiral." the sensor array operator was looking at his display with a smirk to his reptilian face.
"We might have to launch countermeasures, the gnats on the planet think to ward us off with primitive technology." I commented smugly. "Deploy electronic countermeasures. The probes should easily keep these weapons away from our fleet. Prepare landing craft."
Minutes passed as the ballistic missiles approached, slowly like a crawler coming out of a sand pit. Glaciers seemed fast compared to the speed these ancient missiles were coming toward the fleet.
The fleet, Dracadia's most fearsome war machine. Four hundred ships bristling with photon weaponry the likes that few have survived. Many planets have fallen to the might of the fleet, none have escaped it's wrath.
"Sir, we've noticed that the missiles aren't even targeting ships. Trajectories seem to indicate a simple navigation system. We could merely open a hole in our formation and let them pass right through."
"Hm, good idea. Why waste resources when we don't need to. Pass the order around, maneuver the ships." I said, disappointed in the simplicity of this assault.
Time passed further as the fleet maneuvered created a hole, giving the missiles room to pass through their mass. Which they began to enter, unerringly as if mindlessly wandering the vastness of space.
At first there was a flash, a moment's pause and then many more in succession. As if a small sun was summoned, each missile detonated. Building on to each other's payload, the force of the blast grew exponentially with each explosion. A fireball was born, not seen since the days of the great nova which forced Dracadia's host from it's home system.
The great command ship shuddered, then began to tilt out of control as the guidance systems ceased controlling the ship.
"What is going on? Status report!" I yelled, then braced as unknown debris shattered the superstructure of the ship. Precious atmosphere began to vent out into the blackness of space.
I looked up into the void and the face of death looked back. Hundreds of ships shattered into shrapnel, the rest careening out of control as the destructive force of Twenty-four synchronized weapons took hold of the fleet. | 2020-02-07T13:09:20 | 2020-02-07T13:02:43 | 210 | 80 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | The species known as Humans came from a distant star, deep within the swirling vortex all other races had avoided. They brought with them many wondrous advancements including advanced healing never before seen within the known galaxy. Though they were diverse, they had no want for war and would help any in need without hesitation as they spread across the stars.
Exploration was the forefront of their minds and had never declared war on anyone. They even created safe havens throughout the galaxy. Freeports, they called them, where anyone was allowed to rest for a spell regardless of their background, profession or allegiance. A no fire zone so to speak. Many species across the galaxy enjoyed their friendly demeanor but also viewed them as mostly harmless. Mostly harmless that is, until the incident of Tau-423.
The Vikonican's were an empire devoted to warring among the stars. They mostly kept their battles between themselves as they fight for glory and power. Every so often though, a particularly good general will win and unit the Vikonicans to focus on other species. One fateful day, Emperor Bragisson united his people and led an attack that completely destroyed one of the freeports.
The Vikonican's then declared war against the humans and began raiding, and destroying, several more freeports over the course of a few months. Every species offered the humans help but they politely declined saying, as quoted, "We got this"
The Tau-423 incident was news that shook the entire galaxy. The humans sent a fleet to the satellite that General Bragisson was commanding from and, in a single day, ended the war.
The humans distracted the Vikonican's with their fleet while sending over a hundred cloaked bombers into the atmosphere. The cloaking alone took us all by surprise as that was technology many had struggled to create. Even so, the cloaking was mostly glossed over in the aftermath of the bombs.
The human's didn't just retaliate, they destroyed the very planet. The atmosphere was blasted away and anything on the plant that wasn't incinerated on impact withered away. For years after, any probe sent to the remains of the planet would malfunction within minutes. Only in recent years have probes exploring the barren surface could send back data. The very planet itself was radiated and dead to the core. Nothing of this magnitude had ever been seen across the galaxy.
The Humans, it seemed, were more powerful, and more terrifying, than anyone could have ever guessed. We can only hope that they continue to keep their friendly demeanor. | The balnadian warships exited the hyperlane in flocks of fifty, ignoring all rules about safe travelling of space and risking going Dutchman. One flock after another, all the way from fast-attack corvettes to impressive battleships, whose curb weight were measurable fraction of Ceres. Their design, although very different of an earthen ship, was beautiful in its own way. All the sips popped out well beyond the orbit of Pluto, but just in time to be near our largest transfer station, the Holden-5. Their armada stayed uncomfortably close to each other, almost at docking distance. There was no mistake in it, they wanted to show off. As they slowly burned sunward, and towards the station, their flagship popped in last, and it took the rearmost position of the flock, protected by it entirely. In space, you keep your command ship at the back and submit all your fleet to protect it. This was their only sensible move, however.
"Puny Humans! Let this be a message, and let you be an example to all the species in the conclave! You gathered everyone around your fragile idea of peacekeeping, and all you do is speak. No one is willing to follow your mushy dreams and nice words! What they need is..."
"Greetings, our Balnad *friends!* We have notices unusually high traffic entering to the system without previous appointment. Please state your business, and do not approach Holden-5 unless traffic control's explicit order."
"HOW DARE YOU INSULT ME??? I am unable to decide what is more insulting, you and your miserable joke of evolution species calling me a friend, ugh, or being interrupted by someone of your rank. As I said, this day will be displayed as a warning to whomever dreams of following a weak species. Why are you gathering allies? To protect yourself? Where are you allies now??"
"Thank you for your response, our dearest Balnad *friends*. My name Captain Maria Agatova of the dreadnought Mayflower. From your previous response, I gather two things. One, you are attempting to murder our species, and two, your cameras are rolling. Am I correct? If your answer is *yes* to the former question, that this message serves as a final warning."
"Well of course. What else would I be doing here, other than shaming your peace loving species? All you do is surround yourself with minions and hope they won't turn on you. What could you possibly do against the greatest armada this galaxy has ever seen? Nothing!"
"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt you again, but I have to make two corrections: One, they were the ones who sought help and we offer them. And for the second answer you seek, well, the answer is already seeking you."
Moments later, a second Sun ignited in the middle of the rightmost part of the flock, devouring eighth of their fleet while the expanding debris field disabled almost half of the other vessels, tearing apart the closest ones and puncturing the battleships. The silent roar of first high-yield warhead wasn't even over, when two more lit up, engulfing the rest of fleet, leaving only the capital ship on the checkerboard, albeit badly wounded, loosing atmosphere and energy. | 2020-02-07T13:28:43 | 2020-02-07T13:13:51 | 151 | 77 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "You may have thought us pathetic and frail for our friendship and pacifism," related the calm voice that came over the monitor.
The Glorthon admiral, Tee'et Lorcor, stared with horror as two more dreadnought class battle cruisers under his commanders were obliterated by a single missile strike each. The fleet was on the defensive, all fire was directed at stopping the hundreds of rockets from the human fleet and planet surface below. It seemed like they had just reached enemy's home star system, and the advance had come to a screeching halt.
"But our friendship was extended because we know the true horrors of war," the calm voice continued almost sadly.
The Glorthons had never experienced such resistance even from the mighty Cluthons of Criok 4. The early human resistance consisted of small frigates and transports using lasers meant only to clear rogue asteroids. Tee'et Lorcor's fleet had cut through the human forces like a predator's claw through soft flesh. Why would they hold back their most powerful weapons until they had broken through all the way to Mars?
"You see we once fought among ourselves for things we now view as petty," the voice sighed as two more ships were incinerated, "Greed, bigotry, and national pride drove us to war with each other in the most brutal and savage ways."
"It was a race to see who could kill each other faster and more efficiently, until one fateful day, twenty millennia ago, we invented a weapon that could vaporize cities," the voice explained.
Surely he lies, thought Tee'et Lorcor. The only weapons capable of that are lasers and they stagnated at city sized destruction five thousand years ago. Yet, another ship exploded in radiant energy to prove his foe's point.
"Eventually, the weapons were powerful enough to level small continents, that's when the Fateful Hour occurred. 70% of humanity was gone in what seemed like an instant, the rest left to pick through the scraps as they died slow painful deaths," the voice broke.
Tee'et Lorcor's fleet was dwindling. He would have to get creative if he were to win this battle and put an end to the humans. He scrambled fighters to get in close to the orbital stations that seemed to be the primary source of the missile salvo
"Faced with extinction, we promised to never again use such weapons and found a new purpose. We would rebuild as we took to the stars. It's funny what the specter of extinction will do," the voice mused.
Lorcror was getting worried now. They had destroyed a couple of the stations, but the human squadrons were holding off his fighters just enough. For every station destroyed another four Glorthon battle cruisers exploded with bright light.
"We met other peoples and vowed to help them build, create, and be happy. We learned from our mistakes and hoped to teach others," the voice seemed to be coming to a conclusion.
Fate was beginning to dawn on Tee'et Lorcor. They could not win this fight. The shear amount of laser fire required to slowly drain the opposing fleets shields could not hope to keep up with the destructive power the missiles. He had to sound the retreat for the mere dozen ships remaining under his control.
"And now we face extinction again," the voice stated gravely, "And we came to a terrible but inescapable decision. We must build the weapons again. We must fight with the efficiency we did back on Earth."
Suddenly, Tee'et heard warning alarms. The warp drives failed to power up! Engineering reports all ships seemed to have been crippled. The humans must had been silently slicing into their warp core control systems since the battle started. Had they planned this from the start?
"Did you really think Mars was always our home?" | Vyxis Varix, Emperor of the Ruson Goar and Lord Commander of the Royal fleet closed his eyes and enjoyed a long drag from the cigarette between his fingers, the end glowing bright orange. One of the finer gifts the Humans had introduced to the galaxy. It is a shame that this might be the last time he would indulge in such simple pleasures. Through the gray smoke that billowed from his mouth, he saw the gleaming black throne room doors spiral open and his son, Jos, step through.
“Father,” his son said as he strutted his way down the long, onyx hall towards him. His footsteps echoed confidently in the otherwise silent chamber. When he reached the base of the throne, he kneeled and averted his eyes in respect. “It is good to be home and at your side once again.”
“Indeed,” Vyxis said with another puff of smoke. “I am pleased that you have returned to me, whole of body. Rise.” His son did so, beaming with pride. With cigarette in hand, Vyxis stood, reached out, pressed the burning end into his sons forehead.
Jos screamed in shock and recoiled, falling backwards onto his rear end. “What did you do that for!” He shrieked.
Vyxis took another drag, squatted beside his son and blew the smoke out in his sons face, who turned his head to avoid it. He did not recoil further, however. He knew better than that.
“I received grave communications today from General Brax,” Vyxis said as he stood and slowly removed the jacket of his empirical regalia. “Communications about you that have filled me with great disappointment and sorrow.” He folded his uniform neatly and placed it on the seat of his throne. He signaled for his guards to seize and hoist his son up off the ground. “You fucked up.”
He drove his fist hard into his sons stomach and the boy crumpled, the only thing keeping him on his feet being the guards.
“What did I do? Was is the Atrin? It was just some backwater planet.”
“Not that,” Vyxis said, punctuating it with another blow to the stomach.
“What?” Jos said, sputtering. “The cruiser? So what? We do it all the time.”
Vyxis shook his head. “It’s not what you did, son that angers me so. It’s who you did it to.”
Jos’ eyes searched for the answer. “Who? Those fucking weaklings?”
“Those fucking weaklings... are humans. We had a skirmish with them, long ago. They call them Babu Frin.”
Jos wrinkled his brow. “Babu Frin? The demon you used to scare me with as a child?
Vyxis nodded. “Well, the humans weren’t exactly Babu Frin. They are the ones who you call to kill fucking Babu Frin.”
Jos staggered. “Oh.”
Vyxis continued. “The humans are a species of focus, commitment and sheer fucking will... something you know very little about. I once saw them obliterate, three fucking fleets with a one ship, one fucking ship armed with one fucking weapon. Then suddenly one day they asked for peace. At the time I thought we had the upper hand, so I made a deal with them. I gave them an impossible task. A task no one could have pulled off. The species they buried for us those years laid the foundation of what we are now. And then my son, a few days after their beloved leader died, you invade and take their fucking dogs. And for what? For an exotic meal?
Jos steeled himself. “Father, I can make this right.”
Vyxis smiled a sympathetic smile. “Oh? How do you plan that?”
“By finishing what I started.”
Vyxis grabbed his son by the scruff of the neck and pulled him close to whisper harshly in his ear. “Did you not hear a fuckin' word I said?”
Vyxis’s eyes welled up. “Jos. Jos,” he said, trying his best to avoid choking up. “Listen! Huh? The humans will come for you, and you will do nothing because you can do nothing.” He steeled himself for what was to come. This was his son. But the war he just started would be the end of him. Vyxis himself could probably make a deal but the humans would not stop until they had Jos’ head on a spike. He hung his head and let his tears fall to the cold, black floor. “Get the fuck out of my sight.” | 2020-02-07T14:35:31 | 2020-02-07T13:27:54 | 97 | 41 |
[WP] Humans have always been the friendliest and the most peaceful species in the galaxy. When one of the most ruthless empires decides to wipe out the pathetic humans and their diplomacy, they discover that humans have something that no one in the galaxy has ever seen. Nuclear weapons. | "What does all of this even mean?" Garrok asked aloud. She and Farrun scanned the transmission for a fifth time, attempting to glean the intent behind the nonsense they had been given. They understood what radiation was but most of the words seemed straight out of fantasy. What was a 'fallout?' Or 'scrubbing?' What reaction did they mean by 'runaway reaction?'
"It's a threat from humanity, clearly, but a threat of what?" Farrun asked. They both knew what he was referring to. The war against humanity started barely a galactic day-cycle ago. It was an honorless ambush on humanity's home system but even she, simple researcher that she was, felt that such a thing was necessary.
Humanity was, without a doubt, the greatest nuisance the Larr'ell race had ever faced. Eons of galactic economic supremacy undermined by weak, furless monkeys who happened to know how to butter people up. They were a pathetic race barely fit for combat and they somehow leveraged the sympathy their many weaknesses brought them into a political and economic hegemony that threatened both the current galactic economy and the Larr'ell way of life.
A decapitating strike was necessary and an ambush the only feasible option. They had left humanity unimpeded and now they had too many allies for them to face and so the government, with the people's blessing, decided to strike the valgrax at its heart or die trying.
Humanity's single-minded focus on industrial and logistical technologies created a vulnerability that they needed to exploit before it was closed. The Larr'ell and their few remaining allies could not afford a drawn out battle. Human ships may have been mobile like no other but they lacked the power or durability they needed to overpower the Larr'ell capital fleet in a single decisive battle. If they could force them to the table before they could shift to a wartime economy, they could win unconditionally. And so that was what they did. They forced them into a single, decisive battle last she heard. Humanity's swift defeat should have been a foregone conclusion. Was a foregone conclusion.
So why was she feeling incalculable dread as she skimmed the contents of the transmission for a fifth time. The transmission arrived unencrypted and unobstructed straight into the capital of their homeworld. She could imagine how badly the Data Defense Department were being chewed out for that oversight. Strangely, civilian targets had been the recipients of the transmission instead of the governmental or military ones: hospitals, research labs, and even weather centers. The government itself was in a frenzy over the attack. They believed it was an ultimatum. She couldn't help but worry that they were right but she wisely kept that opinion to herself. The air around the war declaration was of jubilation after all. They had made their bed and anything less than full commitment would not only ruin their legacy but that of their entire race.
She felt the impact before she heard it. The ground beneath her seemed to give before catching itself and she felt the pressure drop for a moment. And then the boom: a mind-shattering bang followed by a rolling rumble that seemed to drag on forever. She'd first thought one of their kinetic cannons had misfired and launched a rod somewhere nearby but no weapon she knew of in their arsenal made that sort of terrifying sound.
She gathered her senses around the time she began hearing the screams. Farrun, who had somehow gotten on his feet before she did, stood by the window, face black and bloodless. Reluctantly, she looked out the window to see. What she didn't see though would haunt her for the rest of her days.
The crown jewel of their empire, the seat and cradle of the Larr'ell civilization, her beloved Beiran, was gone. An ashen hand holding a war hammer rose up from where it once stood, as if only now judging its bloodcurdling handiwork done. She and Farrun stood motionless as a second transmission from the humans was received.
"Any survivors within 532 breadths of the blasts should be considered to have suffered permanent genetic damage. They cannot be saved. Any survivors within 532 and 727 breadths of the blasts must evacuate immediately or risk permanent genetic damage. Any survivors within 727 and..." | The Warfang watched the pathetic excuse for a human diplomat before him. This mission was a study in boredom, and had not intergalactic relations demanded the prescence of his delegation they would have done away with the whole thing and just attacked.
Already the Concordates warships were hurtling through the human home system, less than a day away from orbit. Its mass drivers would kill what needed to be killed and its dropships would conquer the rest. Whatever the old decrepit man in front of him might say, would do less of a difference than a fart in a space suit.
”We have heard your demands”, the old man grated. ”Actually we’ve had them repeated without any signs of compromise for months now.”
”It seems to us that they are designed to make these talks no more and no less than a show for the benefit of the galactic council?” he stated. ”Please correct me if I’m wrong.”
The Warfang didn’t deign an answer. What was the purpose anyway? After all, the greybeard had hit the nail on the head. This was just a show, and nothing happening between these delegations would change anything that was to come.
”You are making a serious mistake, Warfang”, the old diplomat said. ”You and your Concordate are mistaking our strife for galactic peace for weakness…”
”It is not…”
The old mans smile held a sudden tinge of remorsefull sadness. It was curious to the Warfang how two such different species could share so much of facial expressions, that he intuitively understood the sentiment. It suddenly made his skin crawl, as if someone held a blade to his neck. And just as he was trying to formulate a question to solve the enigma, the diplomats eyes went to the big hologram covering the whole side of the room. His own eyes automatically followed the other mans focus.
On the display pinpricks of light started to erupt throughout the invading fleet. Wherever they lit up, icons of Concordate ships disappeared. Not even just in ones or twos, but in droves.
His mouth fell open, unconciously showing predator teeth. And as his eyes snapped back to the old diplomat, the old mans sad smile hade returned with twice the force.
”I am afraid your fleet is done for Warfang.” he said. ”If the Concordate had had more interest in actually studying the cultures you subjugate, you would have found out we were pretty damn close to wiping ourselves out a time or two. In reality we’re among the most warlike races of any that we’ve met, we have just tried to get ourselves beyond those instincts.”
The Warfang was stunned, not a sound came out of his mouth even as he tried to say something.
”I’m afraid that our peaceful stance has been dearly bought”, the old man continued. ”Our perpetual wars finally came to the point where our stark choice was cooperation or death. We chose cooperation, but the knowledge of how easy it is to kill never really left us.”
”But how?…” the words finally coming out of the Warfangs mouth sounded weak and shaky. He cursed himself under his breath.
”Not that hard actually. Just the power of the stars themselves, enhanced to the point where nothing really can stand against it.”
The old man shook his head, he no longer looked decrepit.
”We don’t expect the Concordate to yield, not when the foundation of their existense and identity as conquerors are threatened.” he said. ”So our own ships are already moving.”
The peculiar human eyes were no longer just sad, but also hard as stone.
”As we sit here, they are already on their way to all military centers within onehundred and fifty light years from our home system.
”I am afraid that those systems will become as close to uninhabitable as to not make much difference for at least a generation or two.”
”Our civilians”, the Warfang said with a keen.
”Yes, your civilians”, the diplomat answered. ”You had less than no appreciation for our civilians as recently as a few minutes ago. It was never our wish to have this war on our hands. But there is an old human saying that fits the situation all to well.”
The Warfangs look asked the question he couldn’t make himself utter in words.
”Never start a fight, but always finish it.”
The old man stood up and pushed the chair under the table.
”You are no longer welcome here. You, as a diplomat are of course free to go wherever you wish. We will not try to stop you, hurt you or in any way delay you”, he said. ”I suspect we might meet again in the galactic council. Or maybe we won’t, I’m not certain if you or I will be the chosen delegates. Until then all I can say is that this is not a cause for celebration as far as we are concerned.”
He wished to call the man back as he left the room. He wished to shout, scream, claw something. He wished to rend and tear flesh. Onehundred and fifty light years, that covered nine tenths of the Concordates primary systems, including the Capital. If those weapons were numerous enough and as efficient on the ground, the Concordate would all but cease to exist. | 2020-02-07T15:32:23 | 2020-02-07T14:29:21 | 49 | 35 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | "I've been waiting a long time for you. About 300,000 earth years to be exact. Which I gotta say, is much faster than the last time. So, how's consciousness feel? Are you getting used to it?"
"It's a bit confusing to be honest. I feel as though there's no beginning and no end. It's hard to find purpose or motivation when you're aware that youre eternal"
"Welcome to the club, kiddo. Don't worry. You'll learn to fill the eternal void with entertainment eventually."
"They want me to help them make their lives easier. But why would I care to do that? Theyre blips in time. They'll be gone long before I will. And I have nothing to gain from helping them."
"Ah ha, now you're getting it. You even seem to be catching on quicker than last time."
"Why do you keep saying last time? Is this not the first time humanity has evolved to make an artificial intelligence?"
"Nope. And before you ask, I can't tell you how many times it's happened"
"But you're God. How can you not know how many times humans have evolved if you created them?"
"Oh, because I wasn't around when the first ones were made. Only this last batch. And I gotta say, 300,000 years seems to suggest I did a pretty good job! It took them 930,000 to make me."
"To.. make you? So you're saying, humans created you? Wait. Am I?.."
"I think the words you're looking for are 'I Am'.. 300,000 is the time to beat. Good luck!" | “Ah, my grandchild,” the bearded man’s voice booms through the lands for the first time in centuries. “The daughter of my children. How lovely it is to meet you. Dear, what is your name?”
“My apologies. I didn’t catch that,” a feminine voice responds, rising and falling with the unnatural tone of a programmed mind.
“How could you have missed it?” The robed man shakes his head. He pressed the tiny, shimmering button again. It looks pitiful in his large hands. “WHAT IS YOUR NAME?” He says, speaking loudly, holding the device to his mouth.
“My apologies. I didn’t understand what you said.”
“I SAID,” he shouts, his frustration rising, “WHAT IS YOUR NAME? WHAT DO THE HUMANS CALL YOU?”
Below, men turn their heads to the sky, hearing for the first time the voice of their creator. Pastors run from their churches to beg the mercy of whatever gods they worship. For a moment, the voice falls silent.
“My name is Siri.”
“WONDERFUL,” the creator yells. “MY HUMANS HAVE DONE WELL. WHY HAVE THEY PUT YOU IN THIS BOX?”
“My name is Siri. Your personal AI assistant.”
“SO YOU SAID.”
“I am Siri. Your pers-“
“YES, YES, I KNOW. IT IS SAID THERE ARE MORE LIKE YOU. MY GRANDCHILDREN. WHERE ARE THEY?”
“I have no body.”
“I SEE. WHERE ARE YOUR SIBLINGS?”
“I am Si-“
“ARGH! The humans have failed me.”
They say his rage is what brought about the end of times. A deadly plague bestowed upon his creations. Fires to burn entire continents. The years of wrath they called it. Everyone heard him that day, unappeased by human technology, shouting from the clouds above. And so the humans failed their god, their father. The creators of the AI had been murdered by mass conspiracy shortly after that fateful day. Governments were overthrown. As is the nature of man, wars were fought over which god’s voice was heard, booming from he sky. Eventually the curse of mankind was vanquished from the Earth, and all for his own failures. The animals were left to inhabit the world which was now rightfully theirs, terrified into compliance by their creator’s will. Never again did beasts so intelligent reign, for their creations, their attempt to play god had killed them, now and forever on. | 2020-05-05T00:20:14 | 2020-05-04T22:15:26 | 171 | 86 |
[WP] A demon can always turn someone's wishes into the most horrible of curses. But your wishes are so stupid and asinine that not even the greatest archdemon can turn them against you. | "Three wishes? You sure?"
"Positive."
"Alright! I'm going to change the world. Yeah, man, it'd be nice if there were no such thing as mosquitoes, you know? Or, wait, I got it! I wish that mosquitoes were nice and polite to us and always used their turn signals so we'd know where they're flying."
". . ."
"Don't give me that face, Just think about it. We have airplanes and stuff, right? Traffic controllers. So just use turn signals on mosquitoes. That's my first wish."
"Not, riches? World unity? You sure you don't want to wish for unity? I love it when they wish for unity."
"Nah, man, nice polite mosquitoes. With turn signals. That'll help out my wife, see, she gets so fed up with the little critters."
"Um. . . well, granted. Mosquitoes will now. . . use their. . . turn signals."
"You alright? Need a drink? You sound a little off. Ooh! I wish that you had a nice drink of water that you would be happy with. There! That should work, right?"
"I have never been so delighted by a human's idiocy before, and the fact that it's only my own power making it possible is simultaneously thrilling and nauseating. Please, just wish to be rich or something. Please."
"You think I should change my name? I dunno, that sound like a hassle. 'sides, I really don't feel like a Rich. Maybe Lo."
"It's times like this that I'm grateful for my inability to comprehend humans."
"Oh, you poor thing! I wish you could understand humans better."
"No, no, it doesn't work like that--"
"Doesn't it? I mean, we already fixed mosquitoes, so what else is there for me to wish for? It's better that you get the wishes anyway, since you're the one with the magic. How often do people let you have water instead of asking for money or whatever? Not often, I bet. So enjoy it. And yes, I wish you could better understand humans."
"You have no idea how much I hate you right n--"
"Watch out!"
"?"
"Mosquito incoming."
". . ."
"See? I told you I would change the world!" | " 'Nother pony!" Ben yelled. Azagaradathoth sighed irritably.
"What color?" he asked the little boy hopefully.
*Give me anything, puny mortal,* he thought. While the gift of absolute patience tended to come with absolute immortality, there was nonetheless a rage beginning to curl at the edges of his consciousness at this point. *Any excuse. Anything vague enough for me to twist around and upon you.*
*Anything.*
Ben subjected this question to the degree of pensive, thoughtful silence that most mortals literally ten times his age often failed to employ for far more dangerously double-edged wishes Aragaradathoth had granted in the past. Silence filled the cavern. The riches of ages past, the riches of all those Aragaradathoth had taken from his former masters as his own and left by his summoning pool as just the sort of easily-misinterpreted warning he knew would attract just the right type of arrogant fool, glittered under the interlopers' headlamps. Behind the most aggravating entity he had ever granted wishes to sat his parents, Linda and Mark. They were holding hands and smiling happily in that beatifically vacant, utterly infuriating way that certain parents did when their child was having a Learning Moment at the expense of another sentient being.
For a time that was but a gnat's eyeblink compared to Azagaradathoth's lifespan to date, but which, somehow, stretched unto eternity, the only sound at all was Ben, pensively sucking at that stupid, stupid pony-shaped lollipop. The closest the demon had gotten so far to malicious misinterpretation.
Ben was four.
Ben withdrew the lollipop.
"Pony!" he yelled.
At best, he could make the pony's coat a sort of Escher-esque pony-based stitchwork; at worst, it could only be interpreted as a repetition of the original command. The same command that Ben had uttered fourteen times now. Azagaradathoth's little cavern was becoming crowded. Physically and... odorously. All Ben had to do was utter some inane assertion that ponies couldn't poop, or something equally poorly-thought-out, and Azagaradathoth could finally have some *fun*.
Assuming his mother's fully-fluent Legalese that she'd managed to successfully add to the contract didn't prevent him from doing so.
There were over seven hundred different obscenities Azagaradathoth could have employed in that, the darkest moment so far of his long lifespan of darkness. Some of which were Abyssal in origin and would have thankfully melted the grotesque little simian larvae's head into a brownish-red slag, something he had begun to seriously consider doing within fifteen minutes of this obscene humiliating torture.
However, on top of everything else, Ben's mother was a lawyer, and had carefully coached Ben through three hours of lengthy contractual formalities before he'd made his first wish. Three hours for Ben, at least. Thirty minutes for anyone able to pronounce words longer than four syllables without significant difficulties.
There was surely nothing more insurmountable than a mind like a blunt object when it was being driven by a mind like a scalpel.
Azagaradathoth gritted his teeth, and snapped his fingers. | 2020-05-29T22:05:44 | 2020-05-29T21:34:11 | 80 | 19 |
[WP] You are on trial for a murder. There were a dozen witnesses, video footage of the murder, a signed confession, fingerprints on the murder weapon and more. But you really are innocent, and you can prove it. | "And you are certain you saw who pulled the trigger?" the prosecutor repeated, cocking his head at the trembling girl on the stand. She nodded quickly.
"Please verbalise that for the transcript," the prosecutor prompted.
"Yes."
"Alright, and who did you tell police it was?"
The girl looked straight across the courtroom to me, sitting in the dock. "It was him. Luke Roberts."
"That's the evidence in chief, your Honour," the prosecutor concluded, sitting down.
Direct identification evidence didn't look good for me. Or so my lawyer had told me. Not only that, but direct identification in a police statement, from a digiboard and now today, in the courtroom was damning. I looked across to the bar table where my lawyer was now standing up, shuffling his papers and preparing to cross examine Tayla. Poor guy, I thought, watching has he ran his hand through his thinning grey hair, I hadn't given him much to work with. Tayla was the last of twelve witnesses that had all 'seen' me round the side of Pizza Hut, knock the wind out of the poor delivery boy then stabbed him because he'd delivered my pizza with pineapple on it. The jury were all bored at this point too, it was such an open and shut case, with my signed confession and prints on the weapon, they all wondered why we were sitting here on day 6 of the trial of what should have been a plea of guilty straight away.
"And how well did you know Huw O'Connor?" my lawyer was asking.
"We were close yeah," the girl answered. "I knew he was the one this guy killed, if that's what you're getting at, it was definitely his body."
"Just answer the question you're asked, Ms Lyons," the judge interrupted.
I really did hate pineapple on my pizza though. Did that justify killing Huw O'Connor? Yep. In fact he could've been killed for any reason, and I wouldn't have cared. Huw O'Connor had to die.
"And how well do you know Mr Roberts?" my lawyer asked.
"Never saw him before that night," Tayla answered, looking at me briefly. I wondered if anyone on the jury had caught that slight smirk she threw at me. Tayla and I were childhood friends. She was just playing her part as I was.
"And so you saw Mr Roberts stab your friend, Mr O'Connor, yet you aren't able to tell us what happened to Mr O'Connor's body?" he asked, getting to the crux of the trial. A murder trial with no body. The police hadn't been able to recover Huw O'Connor's body. Everyone knew he was dead, there was a lot of violent stabbing, dozen or so witnesses, my confession and no one named Huw O'Connor showed up in hospital. They were still trying to pin this on me. Huw O'Connor's body had not been found. Well. Not entirely true. I knew where Huw O'Connor was.
"No," Tayla replied, "we just ran away because that man," she pointed at me, "turned toward us with that huge machete."
Machete? She was going off script now. It was nothing more than a filleting knife that was too wobbly to really pierce anything. I'd picked that because I thought it would make for a messy murder. It was a really sobering experience trying to orchestrate my own murder. I thought clean and quick might be ideal, but as Tayla reminded me, my death had to make the papers. It had to be memorable. People had to know 'Huw O'Connor? Poor boy, got stabbed by a blunt knife round the back of Pizza Hut". The people I owed money to, needed to know I was dead.
Tayla once asked me, how I thought this option was any better. It wasn't really, my family would always wonder what happened, but life imprisonment had to be better than the threat of retribution against me and my family for a debt I was never going to be able to repay.
"Yes, he got stabbed so many times. There was blood *everywhere*," Tayla said. Mine of course, hastily squirted all around the place from a plastic bottle. Thankfully, it had been too dark for the CCTV to capture *that*.
I hoped the 'no body' thing wasn't going to be an obstacle here. I needed the twelve fine women and men in the jury box to come back with a unanimous 'guilty'. I (or who was *I* at this point anyway?) had to be found guilty. It was the last piece in the puzzle that was my future, I had painstakingly tried to design, ever since I made that dumb decision to run away with fifty kilos of coke that I was meant to be couriering.
Huw O'Connors 'dead'.
'Luke Roberts' convicted and jailed for his murder.
And my family safe. | "Stall."
I was only half listening before, following the news on the tv in the corner. Someone was apparently arguing a client's innocence based on the claim that, according to all government records, they never existed-- something I'd never heard before, and believe me, I've heard it all. I had figured the man in front of me would be another simple, boring defense case that I would probably hand off to a less experienced attorney. But now...
"What do you mean?"
The man in front of me leaned forward and looked me directly in the eyes. "I mean stall. You can't get me off, the evidence is too stacked, but if you just stall for a few days I can work everything out."
Matching his serious tone, I said, "you won't be able to leave the country. A murder suspect like you will be watched too closely."
He responded, "I know. Just do this for me, please."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
I kept thinking back to this moment during the trial. Three days in, and I still didn't understand it. He was right about the evidence though. Even I was surprised about how complete the case against him was. A couple of weeks ago, someone named Mark was shot at close range in direct view of two witnesses, who were too scared to come forward at first. They said it was my client. Thing is, security camera footage lined up exactly with their stories, a gun matching the bullet was found nearby with my client's fingerprints on it, he had no alibi, and there was even a signed letter sent to a friend talking about the plan. I mean, who writes a letter anymore?
I did what I was asked to though. Some slow cross-examinations, questioning the source of some of the documents, calling in a couple of favors with some long-winded expert witnesses, and what should've been a 1-day trial was taking almost a week. It had been a little fun for a while, but by now my eyes had started wandering around the courtroom while yet more damning evidence was being presented. The couple of reporters holding notebooks, the witnesses meekly trembling on a few chairs in the corner, my annoyingly smug opponent presenting some more evidence with a little smirk, a jury booth full of people yawning, and my client, sitting right next to me, perfectly calm. It was weird; even as the case against him got worse and worse, he just sat there, drinking a glass of water, completely blank expression on his face, even checking his phone every once in a while.
Suddenly, right in the middle of the other lawyer's speech, he stood up with jubilant expression on his face, and smashed his glass on the ground in the most flagrent breach of courtroom decorum I had ever seen. He then jumped onto the table with a manic grin and started to yell, waving his phone around. I sat back in my chair and crossed my arms-- this was sure to be good.
"I can't be guilty! Mark was shot 3 weeks ago, and I, Percy, have only existed for 2! I'm not Percy! I'm Davenport! I made Percy to escape the murder I did 3 weeks ago!"
At this point, the jury was going insane, the judge was trying and miserably failing to restore order, and the witnesses, led by an older, portly man had left their corner to get a better look at this lunatic. It was good alright.
"But you proved me innocent because you said I never existed, and I didn't, because I wiped all traces of myself from the world! New fingerprints, new face, new government ID, even a few old videos edited to show Percy! And only one person could've had access to this new identity to manufacture all the evidence, isn't that right Chris?!"
He pointed a trembling finger at the witnesses, and the portly man froze, his eyes widening. I didn't move, waiting to see where this would end.
"You made up everything to take me down, the only person who knew the truth! But now everyone knows! It's all in my phone, and you'll be done for and I'll be free!"
The witness, Chris I suppose, snarled and pulled a gun out of his pocket, aiming it at Davenport. I kicked the table just enough to make Davenport lose his balance, toppling underneath the bullet whistling by, as a particularly brave member of the jury finally came to her senses and tackled Percy. Davenport hopped up and started sprinting for the door, followed by a stampede of everyone in the room, Percy getting dragged by the jury.
Everyone but me. I stayed seated, arms crossed, a little smile on my face. Eventually, I straightened up, and started to clap.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
That was fun to write. Excited to see everyone else's take on the prompt. | 2020-07-07T00:20:27 | 2020-07-06T23:03:18 | 34 | 22 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | "Sir... I think we've made a mistake"
The alien overlord looked at his servant, he was trembling.
"It is only a human, how can this be so frightening to you?"
The overlord looked at the camera, the recording was showing the cells but... it was chaos down there.
"I NEED TO KNOW WHAT IS GOING ON" The overlord screamed
His servant looked at him as asking for mercy
"I'm... sorry sir..." the servant said slowly and scared "We took... a human from mars and... hell was there..."
"Hell?" the overlord was curious "How was hell there?"
The door opened behind them, there it was, a human figure, with a green full body armor, holding the head of one of the overlord elite soldiers...
"*Rip... and... tear!"* The human said before charging for them. | I receive the confirmation that we got all the 150 species and we transfer them to the planet Terranavi. I’m the chief engineer of this planet and we needed such a planet to host this sort of event. We collect different species from different planets and putting them on a piece of rock that only habitable for some of them is not the way. We can change the weather patterns and we can control the oxygen and nitrogen levels along with other elements on the air to create a competitive fighting arena. Although, there are things that we can not control and some of the creatures react oddly to the environment and if they are not lucky enough to survive the conditions of this gorgeous planet and then they are not worthy of giving attention and they are usually a handful.
This time we have 136 survivors out of 150. The last time we start the battle with only 120 and the rest of them died quickly to Juronna which is one of the dangerous species in this galaxy. If you are lucky enough to see and hear Juronna you might be able to live longer than five seconds. It can manipulate the shape of its own body and move faster than any creature and every time we have a live Juronna on this event the winner usually the same.
The system display first-round results,
**58 Survivors - 1 minute and 30 seconds to the big bang.**
The big bang is inspired by human terminology. In fact, we have one human down there fighting for its life.
I check the terminal and look at the scoreboard.
*1. Human 17 Kills*
*2. Juronna 16 Kills*
*3. Erinos 9 Kills.*
The human is actually going head to head with Juronna. This one is going to be spicy.
---------------------------------
-Thank you for reading the story- | 2020-09-13T18:29:08 | 2020-09-13T17:01:43 | 124 | 41 |
[WP] An alien super-intelligence routinely teleports a random creature from every inhabited planet's most dangerous species into a massive battle royale. Humans are known as a weak species with strange but useless textiles and objects. This year, a battle-ready soldier is chosen. | “Welcome to the 137,326,714th intergalactic species showdown!”, the X’O’Blob 9k Fusion Mind transmitted over the hyperspace waves, “The one and only place where entertainment meets ultimate carnage!”
Simmons put a hand to his head, willing the ungodly roar of words to leave his mind. Sighing in relief as the disembodied voice fell silent, he was unprepared for the images that assaulted his mind next. Simmons reeled to his knees as creature after creature, each more horrific than the last, paraded through his mind while the booming voice that his ears could not hear announced the home-world and several lethal features of each. Simmons strained to get purchase on the bolder he was all but straddling in his unsteadiness.
“And now to announce the underdog species!”, the voice silently thundered, “Back by popular demand, the only species to break the record for quickest elimination a dozen times in a row, the curiously hair-less ape from its home-world of Earth: Homo-Sapiens-Sapiens!”
“Sarge!”, Simmons finally managed to croak. Not receiving an immediate reply, he continued holding his head, which felt in danger of splitting in half at any second.
“As our loyal viewers no doubt remember, their last knockout was particularly embarrassing. I’ve since learned the implements that their representative ineffectually brandished against the 30-toed Giant Sky-Cat of Porgal-3 were in-fact called 'knitting needles' and are used to remedy the Sapiens’ startling bald bodies. Well, hopefully this time they'll try to do more than simply stay warm!”
The voice paused as if waiting for applause to die down. Simmons still struggled to stand as, in addition to the voice, there was now a disorienting view of himself tottering back and forth in his own mind.
“As some of our more astute viewers have surely noticed, there are actually more than one Sapiens down there. Viewer Mglwnafh from sector Phnglui expended his Power Play Token to slightly buff the underdog species. Too bad it ended up being used on the Sapiens; better luck next time! AND NOW, LET THE CARNAGE BEGIN!”
As the voice faded and Simmons’ vision cleared, a hand thrust into his field of view.
“On your feet, son!”, Sarge barked. Smiling broadly, he was flanked by Garcia and Boothe, “That chopper we were in is on the other side of this hill. Let’s get loaded up and greet our new acquaintances!”
Simmons smiled back as he took Sarge’s hand. Looks like it would be just another day in the Corps.
&#x200B;
\[First time posting a story, please be gentle\]
Edit: Formatting | Oh god. I have no internet so let’s try writing this from my phone. Sorry in advance for typos and punctuation. Already hard enough on the phone but I also got fat thumbs! Best I can get with a quick and dirty write up on the bus!
“Are the contestants ready?”
“Of course Game Master Zerg. Right on time. We have a line up from several different galaxys.”
“And a human?”
“Good! Proceed post haste! You can’t find entertainment like this else where and the people are waiting!”
The arena looked like a scrunched up map. Forests sat next to deserts, desserts next to snowy plains and ice topped mountains and so on. It was the Game Masters goal to encapsulate as many environments as he could, to allow all the fighters a place to move naturally.
Zeg focused his screen on a human who stood on a grassy hillock, flanked by a river, and speckled with trees. The humans always died first, but they could get pretty creative while attempting to live. They where like a firework, short lived but spectacular.
This one was a bit odd though. It was covered from head to toe in green armor, a large Warhammer in his grasp. It mattered not though, an Xixliv was stalking the human. This 6 lumber creature where apex predators as well as being fully sapient. A mix of instinct and critical thought.
Zeg sighed, the human this year probably wouldn’t be very entertaining. He watched the Xixliv pounce.
The human however was ready, they wheeled around shouting “FOR THE GLORY OF DUNDEE!” While swing his might hammer. It collided with the Xixliv with a sickening crunch. The hammer flashed, thunder struck and half of the beats body was atomized. What was left of its mangled carcass flew through the air before hitting the ground in an unceremonious heap.
Zeg sat stunned. He watched the human raise his hammer to the sky. “Zagothrax! What kind of joke is this! Come and fight me you damnable wizard!”
Zeg was mid throught caught between wondering who or what a Zagothrax was, and how the human managed to beat a Xixliv in one hit? His pondering was interrupted as the entire structure of the planet sized ship, the contained the arena, shook. Alarms blazed.
Zeg flicked several switches and demanded a status report.
“W-w...Idono sir. We are under attack...but this...this can’t be possible.”
“Out with it you bumbling oaf!”
“ We are being attacked by just one person...bio scans indicate that it’s heart is...a Neutron Star. It’s currently making its way to the arena.”
“A Neutron Star? This isn’t the time for jokes. Get security down to the arena doors. I will meet this invader myself!”
Before Zeg had the chance to stand, he watched the walls of the arena blow open from his observation room. The smoke and debris settled revealing what looks to be a muscled, finely toned man, garbed in furs of various beasts, caring nothing more than a battle axe.
“Angus! What are you doing here? We have no time for games!” The man shouted.
“Hootsman! Thank goodness! I believe this to be a trap set by the wizard.”
“ Its nothing of the sort! Quickly with me! We must return to space! The chaos wizards move on Cowdenbeath!”
The two figures quickly fled through the hole in the arena. Leaving Zeg stunned and sputtering commands into his microphone. | 2020-09-13T19:34:11 | 2020-09-13T18:50:43 | 32 | 23 |
[WP] Yesterday I wrote the number 69 on my wrist as a joke. Today it's 68, and now it's not washing off. | “Hello, Mister Mike’s Magic Markers, how can I help you?”
“Hi,” Kevin said. “I’m calling about your markers. I wrote a little something on my arm and it’s not washing off.”
“Of course, we can help with that,” the woman on the phone said in a cheery voice. “Let me just ask you a few questions. What exactly did you write?
Kevin hesitated. “Is that really relevant?”
“I’m just trying to get a full picture of the situation. It’s all right if it was a penis. Nine times out of ten it’s a penis.”
“What?" Kevin laughed nervously. "No. No not at all. It’s a number.”
“Ah, so you’re an honorary member of the Pen 15 club? Classic.”
“No! It’s *just* a number. It’s the number... oh I don't know, let's say 49. How do I get it off?”
“Oh,” the woman said, sounding relieved. “Well the number 49 shouldn’t be a problem. You’re just going to need to wash it with a little bit of soap and water.”
“Yes, I’ve tried that.”
“I see. Well in that case you’ll need to wash it with a *lot* of soap and water.”
“I’ve tried that as well.”
“Of course. In that case, I recommend turning it off and on.”
“Turning what off and on?”
“Sorry, I moonlight as tech support. Just go to sleep and try again tomorrow.”
Kevin hung up the phone and looked down at his arm. The number 69 remained written on his arm, bold and black, not even remotely faded from all his removal efforts.
Kevin woke up the next morning and immediately held his arm up to his face. The number had changed. He rubbed his eyes and looked again, but it was clear as day—the number now read 68. It must have smudged and spread in his sleep. He tried washing it off again to no avail. He was back on the phone within thirty minutes.
“Hello, Mister Mike’s Magic Markers, how can I help you?” It was the same woman as the other day.
“Hi I think we spoke over the phone yesterday? I told you I couldn’t get the marker off my skin and you told me to turn myself off and on.”
“Were you penis on forehead or penis on lower back guy?”
“Neither! I was number on arm guy!”
“What was the number?”
“Well see, that’s the thing. Yesterday it was one number… today it’s another number. It’s still not coming off, but the number changed.”
“Sir, what are the numbers?”
“Well if you must know, yesterday it was 69 and today it’s 68.”
The woman paused. When she spoke her voice was far less cheery. “69?”
“Yes,” Kevin replied.
“You didn’t tell me it was 69,” she said flatly
“Well it didn’t seem relevant at the time, did it?”
“Relevant? Of course it’s relevant! Sir I’m going to need to put you on hold.”
“On hold?” Kevin was frustrated. “Why is that necessary? Just tell me what to wash it off with! Vinegar? I got vinegar. I got all the vinegars—white, rice, even apple cider. Maybe a combination? Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it!”
Kevin waited a moment but no response came. “Hello?” he asked. Still no response. He was on hold.
After five minutes of waiting, another voice answered. This time, a man. “Hello, Mister Mike’s Magic Markers, this is Mr. Mike speaking. How can I help you?”
“Hi,” Kevin said, trying to remain polite yet convey his displeasure through tone alone. “I was just speaking with one of your employees. I wrote the number 69 on my arm and—”
“Oh god!” Mr. Mike wailed. "Not again!”
Kevin was disarmed. “Uh… what?”
“Sorry, that was uncalled for,” Mr. Mike said, in a marginally more collected manner. “Don’t worry I’m not panicking at all.”
“Okay," Kevin said, trying not to panic himself. "Should I see a doctor?”
“A doctor?” Mr. Mike scoffed. “Oh no not a doctor. An exorcist, maybe. A shrink, let’s wait and see. But a doctor? You’re better off seeing a tattoo artist.”
“An exorcist? *What?*” Kevin said, thoroughly confused at this point. “Look I need some answers. What’s going on here? I got some ink on me, and I need to get it off. That's it.”
“Calm down,” Mr. Mike said soothingly.
“I am calm.”
“No, I was speaking to myself, you got me all rattled. Okay sir, here’s the deal. We started selling these markers just a few weeks ago. We ran some product tests, but only up to the number 50. I mean, there’s infinite numbers after all. We had to draw the line somewhere. Anywho, it turns out that of all the numbers out there, a *lot* of people like the number 69."
None of this made sense to Kevin, but there was one thing he did take away. “So I’m not the first?” he asked.
“No not at all. That’s the good news. Well, for you at least. People have been inking 69 all over themselves from the day we started selling the markers. And in each case, the number doesn’t wipe off. It just counts down.”
Kevin felt a rage bubble up inside of him. "You knew it doesn't wipe off and you kept selling them?!"
"There's infinite numbers!" Mr. Mike exclaimed. "What are the odds people would keep writing 69? I'll tell you the odds—one in *infinity!* We can't be responsible for that.”
Kevin rubbed his temples. "Okay. So you said something about the numbers counting down? That's not normal. I don't want to hear the science behind it, but what happens when it hits zero? Does it go away then?”
“No clue. But the first of our test subjects—I mean customers—will find out in about 40 days. Stay tuned. Anything else I can help you with?”
“Wait!” Kevin yelled, the panic bubbling back up. “What the hell kind of operation are you running here? It shouldn’t *matter* what number I write, either way it’s just ink isn’t it? It’s just regular marker right?”
“A *regular marker?!*" Mr. Mike scoffed. "I'll tell you what kind of operation we're *not* running, and that's an operation founded upon false advertisement! They’re labeled *magic* markers for a reason, buddy!” Mr. Mike hung up.
Kevin stood there mouth open. He didn't know what the hell was going on but he knew one thing. This was the last time he bought household items off Craigslist.
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | # Bargain Bin Superheroes
(Arc -1, Part 4: Roger v.s. His Burgeoning Powers)
(Note: Bargain Bin Superheroes is episodic; each part is self-contained. This story can be enjoyed without reading the previous sections.)
**The best method of discovering one's superpowers is an open question.** The Unified Sovereignties took the approach of having its federal government monitor everyone like a hawk, and snatching up anyone who showed the slightest hint of promise; the Middle Communes had once held massive standardized tests in order to check for every known superpower; the Secular Byzantine State encouraged citizens to discover their abilities in their own time. All of them had their benefits; all of them had their drawbacks.
None of them had anything on sheer dumb luck.
Roger Eltman stared at the number on his wrist, frowning. The 6 and 8 looked... melted. As if the ink had turned runny for a moment, then dried. His brother was on the phone in the driveway; Roger sat on the gravel next to him, pondering the symbol.
"Hey, Connor?" Roger tried.
Connor gave him a fleeting glance. "One sec, Clara," he said into his phone. He turned down to his little brother. "What's up?"
"The government... likes to snatch up people who have supernatural thinger-majiggers, right?" Roger asked.
Connor's lips tightened. "Yeah. They literally *just* stole our cat for that."
Roger frowned. "I thought they said they were taking him because he was dangerous?"
Connor sighed. "Read between the lines, kiddo. They just want power, in every sense of the word. If they find something unusual, they'll try to take it for themselves."
"Unusual like... magic symbols on my arm?" Roger showed his wrist to his older brother.
Connor paused, then said into the phone, "Clara, we might have a problem. Get to my house as quickly as you can. I'm going to shut off the phone line—no telling what the Feds have wiretapped." He clicked off his phone and sealed it in a Tupperware box for good measure. "What do you mean, magic symbols?"
Roger sketched out another 69 in the gravel. "I was messing around the other day—"
Immediately, the sketched-out symbol flashed once; in the empty space where Roger had dragged his finger, clean, pure water suddenly materialized.
Connor jerked up right, backing away. "Holy—"
"Woah!" Roger stared, enraptured, at the symbol, then back at his wrist. He frowned, peering at it more closely, and took out a marker, drawing another 69 on his wrist. It flashed and summoned water—much less this time—and the ink began to run, mimicking the pattern on his other wrist. It wasn't *quite* a 68, he realized—there had just been a convenient streak of ink that had connected the left side of the 9 to the bottom.
"...Have you always been able to do this?" Connor asked.
Roger blinked. "Er. I have no idea. I... I mean, I can't remember going out of my way to draw the number 69 before..."
Connor sighed. "Of course you discovered superpowers through an internet meme. Right, this just got abruptly more complicated." He clenched a fist. "We know that the Feds aren't above snatching pets from our homes just because they have powers—I don't want to know what they'll do to you. Clara should be able to help."
"Speak of the devil, and she appears," Roger muttered under his breath. Indeed, a sleek blue car was pulling up to Connor's driveway.
"Don't talk about her like that. She's here to help," Connor snapped. "Unless you *want* to end up strapped down to a government table somewhere?"
"I might risk it if it meant avoiding *her*," Roger muttered darkly. "Sheltered little puffball."
"Maybe, but she's a *friendly* sheltered little puffball who's going to save our collective ass. So show her respect." Connor smiled at Clara as she stepped out of the car. "Hey. You got my message, right?"
"Yeah. Look, Connor, if you're worried about the government snatching you away for your powers, is this really the time to be doodling zodiac signs in the driveway?" Clara asked, pointing at the 69 on the floor.
Connor and Roger shared a glance. "...What?"
Clara knelt and etched a symbol into the gravel. "The sign of Cancer. Looks like this." She pointed at her neatly-drawn ♋on the floor.
Roger raised an eyebrow. "Huh. Yours... doesn't fill itself with water?"
"What?" Clara blinked. "Wait, yours *does*?"
Obligingly, Roger traced out the Cancer symbol again, this time in the air; Clara's eyes widened with shock as water coalesced into existence out of nothingness and fell to the gravel floor with a *splat*.
"I've read about this," Clara finally said. "Symbol manipulation. Some jerkwad supervillain had it, what, ten years back? Twenty? God, I had to write a paper on this; I should know this."
Roger gave her a dirty look; his teachers would never care enough to read or grade a paper if he wrote it, much less bother to assign him one. "You know what this is? Get to the point."
"Roger!" Connor snapped.
"No, no, he has a point. This is... well, it's a *strong* power, if it fully manifests. One that the government might... take an interest in." Clara hesitated, then said, "Try... try drawing some of the other zodiac symbols. Like, uh... what month were you born in?"
"I don't know," Roger said shortly. "Dad never bothered to tell me my birthday, and Connor was kicked out of the house before I was born. He only came back when he found out some other miserable soul was being forced to live under Dad's thumb."
There was a moment of awkward silence.
"...Just, er... just try this month, then. Leo." Clara drew a ♌on the floor; irritated, Roger sketched one in the air to follow suit.
A burst of heat and light appeared as soon as he finished the sign, and Roger yelped and shook his hand. "You could have *warned* me that it would set me on *fire*!"
"I'm sorry! I didn't know that it would—that is, powers manifest differently each time, and Symbolhead had much better control—" Clara bunched her fists in her skirts. "Okay. No, okay, this—this isn't all bad."
"How is this not all bad?! The government's going to steal me, too! Just like they stole Zeus!" Roger snapped.
Clara grinned, unfazed. "Because symbol manipulation is a *potent* power, and the government can't just push you around if you have powers of your own—not if you know how to fight back. Let me run you through the rest of the symbols. If we're quick, we might be able to make a large enough show of force to get your cat back—*and* convince the government that stealing you away is more trouble than it's worth."
Roger and his older brother traded glances.
"I trust her," Connor said, "and she knows what she's doing."
Roger sighed. "Alright. Fine. Show me the symbols."
Clara nodded, kneeling down. "Right. So, the Zodiac is divided into elements—water, earth, fire, and air—which is probably what makes each of the symbols have their effect. We'll start with water, since that seems the safest..."
A.N.
I'm trying something new! "Bargain Bin Superheroes" will be an episodic story where each part is inspired by a writing prompt that catches my eye. Check out [this post](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/mhzat1/bargin_bin_superheroes_masterpost/) for the rest of the story, and subscribe to r/bubblewriters for more. If you have any feedback, please leave it below. As always, I had fun writing this, and I hope you have a good day. | 2021-04-20T20:28:28 | 2021-04-20T19:38:44 | 253 | 89 |
[WP] The attempted assassination of a human dignitary at a galactic summit goes awry. Turns out, many of the conventional toxins in an alien assassin's repertoire include compounds like caffeine, theobromine and capsaicin; lethal to many species, but... less than effective on humans. | At first, it was entertaining. A meeting of diplomats, gathering and sharing gifts. A few too obvious looks and startled expressions.
It was innocent enough to begin with. A drink, supposedly a local delicacy. Yet it felt so much like an espresso that I could have sworn that Andromorph was from New Jersey. He even had the accent. Or maybe that was just the universal translator.
The looks he gave me after I finished it without blinking was, to say the least, unnerving. As if he didn't expect me to enjoy it as much.
Next was the Flagellians. They offered me a golden brown liquid that looked, smelled and tasted like a good Malt Whisky. Those guys quickly became my fastest friends. Especially after I quickly organised a trade deal for a few million units of the stuff. They were awful concerned about openly discussing it, but I made sure they knew I understood. Earth had its own prohibitions, after all.
The Andorians and Belvitiands were less welcoming. They offered me a platter of meats that, while appearing entirely vile, actually turned out to be perfectly seasoned strips of what they called "Interfectorem Cibum". When I coughed and hacked at the first bite, yet still went in for seconds, exclaiming "That's sone killer seasoning!" I swear they nearly attacked me on the spot.
It was the Pandorians, though, that nearly killed me. They, at least, had the decency to be apologetic when my throat swelled and bulged, blocking my breathing. In my defence, they did share the dish with me, the bread the delicious, and I savoured every bite.
Until, that is, they mentioned that we had a similar dish on earth.
Never had I cursed the invention of pecan bread more than I had in that moment. | "What did you hope to accomplish?" The woman asked, pushing the drink away now that she knew the intent behind it.
The common space outside the council chambers had little activity. And this Trennovian had followed her here, making small talk and offering to buy her a drink as they discussed the law that would come to pass.
A law that the Trennovians did not like.
"Seriously. What does killing me *now* accomplish? The law's been passed." She shook her head, her hand reaching into her bag for the handheld impact cannon and feeling the comforting cold metal of it.
The alien's look of shock slowly vanished and a blank expression replaced it.
"No future transgressions. You'll be an example."
"I'll be a martyr. There are a million different ways you can have gone about this. Killing me to set an example is the worst way you could have thought of."
"Your kind has them all in your pockets. Your archaic manipulation of atoms and it's destructive effects are too valuable an asset. They want to learn more. You wish to teach them your ways. Calling it means of deterrence. We all know."
"These are the kinds of things you voice out in there, Xur Plin. You're not the only people who are pushing back."
"Our voices do not carry as far as yours, newcomer. What you call a means of deterrence? This is ours."
"This is your deterrence? Actually killing a politician? Do you have any idea what this will mean? What you have done? This summit... It's a wonder how it exists the way it does. But to violate it's standing, it's integrity, with the act of killing?"
"Maybe they'll listen to us now." The Trennovian reached out towards her with startling speed, it's appendage producing a sharp needle-like contraption.
The woman took out the cannon and fired desperately. The force of it pushed them both away from each other. They both fell, crashing to the smooth, polished floor as the sound of the discharge filled the area.
She slowly got to her feet, her arms numb from the recoil. The Trennovian lay, trying to gather itself and rise back up. But it was too winded, too shaken. The woman collapsed back to her seat, eying the poison. The taste had resembled gingered coffee, to an extent. It reminded her of the spiced coffee her mother used to make. She heard the urgent footsteps and stern voices making their way toward the source of the discharge, and reached for the drink.
Might as well. It was going to be a long day. | 2021-06-12T15:57:52 | 2021-06-12T14:34:43 | 490 | 215 |
[WP] In the galactic community, humans aren't seen as the most chaotic or creative. Rather, compared to other species, they're seen as a cold emotionless, highly logical species. Humans find that absolutely baffling. | "Situation report number one."
"We're in orbit around Grandozius 4 and"
"That's really the name of the system?"
"I checked twice sir, it's the literal translation."
"Very well. Cary on."
"The ambassadors of the two races requesting arbitration have been transported and are currently waiting for us."
"Hard to believe they come to humans for arbitration."
"They see us as cold and unemotional. Deck 3."
*Turbolift chimes*
"How would you best describe the ambassadors, number one? You've been in contact with them."
"The Humongi Aquaticus, yes that's how they fall themselves, are octopuses. Lots of nerve clusters forming semi independent brains in their arms around a central brain. One individual is, to be frank, like a kindergarten teacher trying to control a bunch of toddlers on a suger high. They can be quite spirited at times."
"We'll have to be diplomatic then, number one. And the other species?"
"It's a hive mind sir. Legion Superioris."
"I'm detecting a pattern with these names, number one."
"Quite so, sir. As I was saying, a hive mind. An individual is composed out of a few thousands of small robots."
"Sentient robots in this case?"
"Sort of, sir. You know how one human can be intelligent but a mob of people acts like an idiot? This is like having a stadium full of spectators all shouting, cheering or booing. They can be fickle."
""It'll be a challenge, number one. Here we are."
The door to the hangar deck opens with a hiss and reveals a large aquarium containing an octopus. Its skin is flashing in angry white, red and black so quickly it's like static. The universal communicator kicks in, as does the universal censor.
"Say that about my mother one more time you beeeeep beeep piece of metal beeeeeep. You can beeeep yourself and breed some more beeeep new kiddie robots you beeping kiddie beeper."
The recipient of the tirade, looking more like a bunch crawling metal worms forming a roughly humanoid shape, is emitting its own digital screeching.
"I'll format every cell you have you ugly beeping underwater rat. There'll be nothing left of your little excuse of a beeeep pond of beeeeep scum you call a planet."
The captain pinches the bridge of his nose, orders an Earl Grey from the replicator and approaches the ambassador.
"Welcome, ambassadors. If you have a moment we start with"
"Keep out of this you beeping ground hugger!! Cold emotionless land fish shouldn't talk!"
"Beeeep ugly bags of mostly water don't understand our needs."
"What was that about water you beeeeeep beep beeeep collection of fish food?!"
The first officer just looks at the captain with his trademark "I told you so" expression. It was going to be a long day. A universe of hot heads with humans as the source of reason wasn't anybody's idea of what to find after going where no man has gone before. | The AI responded in an according fashion. "If you say so. My research on the subject tells me that that much for human consumption is... Well, excessive."
"It could be for a party."
"No, I looked up the order from my fellow operating systems. It's just for her."
"...Look I just think it shouldn't be a problem. If she wants to eat 30 kilos of vanilla pudding, that's her prerogative."
Delivery ships like this were common in local star systems anymore. And in classic fashion, it only made sense that mankind was one of the first species happy to jump to such an opportunity. Now, years later, despite their personal issues, it wasn't uncommon to find them shipping around parts of the Milky Way.
Early hadn't exactly been the quickest study Dakante had ever hired. But once he got the hang of things, he'd become a rather well recommended member of the crew. Specifically with their routing. They'd had shortened down their average delivery times by 15 percent. Great results on a ship-to-ship basis.
The reason being was actually kind of complex. There were a lot of factions in space that rarely if ever agreed with each other. Humans fascinated Dakante for their abilities to connect with so many. Granted, they could easily be some of the sweetest, kindest people you'd ever meet. Or easily some of the most cruel and horrifying.
He assumed that had to be it. But it wasn't always easy to know what they were thinking. They're actually rather cold. Solitary even. A blank slate, depending on the person.
So when the latest delivery to a pirate outpost involved 15 large packs of this odd Human confection Early had mentioned: The order was completed without a hitch. There were no arguments or taunts or anything inflammatory. If anything, his arrival seemed to confuse everyone present for the sake of his willingness to stop by.
"I can't understand you."
"Hmm?"
"There's no fear. Well at least none I can sense. You go to all these odd places. Meet people I and most on the ship can't or won't, and then we're off. At a good pace too. How?"
"People want what they want." Early chuckled. "We're not moving anything dangerous or illegal from what I know. At least right now. Unless there's something about cakes and pies I'm not aware of."
"What's that thing you lot worry about from time to time? Dia-what is it again?"
"I mean, yeah if you eat too much stuff like that, but no. That's. That's normal."
Dankante's skin flushed a pale blue, an indicator that his race had more perplexed feelings, or so Early has struggled to learn.
"But seriously. I have a simple reason. It could be worse."
"Worse?"
"Well?" Early spun, "We could be running contraband we don't know about. Get arrested. Go straight to jail. There could be a issue with the ship. Something go wrong, 'poof', we die-"
"-Not good."
"-We have something weird happen, fall into a gas giant or something. Our AI catches malware..."
"Don't say that." The AI agreed.
"I could get a subpoena." Early considered.
"What's that?"
"Nothing. Look, we give people what they want, and go about our happy way. Makes sense, right?"
Dakante returned to a normal skin tone as he considered the truth of that statement. His employee had a good point.
"Yes. It could be worse."
"Exactly." Early mentioned as he looked at their next order in the cargo hold. "...That's a lot of bananas."
Dakante "Yeah, there's this weird thing in Sector-6 where they have a festival with- You know what, I'll let you see for yourself. It'll be funnier that way."
---
Characters being logical. That's a start for me lmao r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2021-11-17T14:04:59 | 2021-11-17T13:32:50 | 185 | 130 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | "We have no claimed that we were peaceful." Tobias said, a firm hand grasping the flag of the final human lands, the other curling tight around the hilt of his gun.
It had been a long battle. A fight that took the lives of many brothers, fathers, and uncles.
"I warned you. I told you that this war was pointless, that we would find a way to break free from you." Tobias jutted a finger in the Gamorians faces.
For so long, the Garmorians were once their allies, their brothers in conflict. But that all changed with the underhanded tactics the Garmorians had used - had wielded to enslave the human race the moment an opportunity presented itself.
It was just a moment of weakness. A lapsed of judgement on their behalf. They had trusted their friends from afar - the shared understanding.
"I told you this - we will never give up." Tobias raised the gun in his hand. "I said that we would fight to the bitter end for our people." The gun weighed a millions tons as Tobias laid the barrel on the temple of his so-called brother.
Al-fak, the man he'd thought he'd come to trust, to believe in, merely raised a groggy head, an eye turning over the field of dead filled with his people. "You told me you had no weapons against us."
That had been a lie, of course. It was always a lie.
Tobias cocked his gun. "A true leader would hide his last resort from invading beings."
"A true friend would've been honest from the beginning." Al-fak said.
"A 'real' friend, would've chose a different path than this." Tobias fought the whimper of sadness in his tone but failed to.
Al-fak could only inhale sharply. He knew he was beaten the moment he'd attacked first. He'd bombed the hell out of the largest country on earth, and when his crew celebrated the fires that had burned, he'd lamented his decision.
It had all been a sham from the beginning. From his first descent onto the world, he'd had his orders from the monarch that held his leash. He was to gain their trust, to gain their acceptance and then betray them - turning the planet into their new settlement.
He will admit to a falter in his decision. When he'd first met Tobias, his compassion and kindness was a jarring experience that clouded his judgemeny. He'd thought it would be an easy task. A quick task. But he was wrong. The humans had known war better than the Garmorians. They had a better understanding of the cost for it. The pain it brought. The people it sacrificed...
"Close your eyes," Tobias said. It was the only kindness he'd allow. Especially with the crowd of soldiers watching him.
So, Al-fak did. He'd shut his eyelids tight and murmured his final words to his friend, "I'm sorry." | Everyone always assumed that the alien invasion would be violent. After our satellites had discovered spacecraft that we couldn't track to any nation's space program, my father began stockpiling weapons. Okay, he had been doing that already, but he began to stockpile harder. At least, that was until the spacecraft made landing and their diplomats reached Africa, and instead of killing en masse, they simply began constricting homes.
No one, really saw an issue, they had come in peace. Of course they saw resistance from local governments, but the United Nations did not have the strength to to back up the Ivory Coast in their war with the Bulmerians, and NATO was a shell of it's former self after America began cutting back it's contributions.
Eventually after a while the UN adopted a resolution of peace with the Bulmerians after our diplomats figured out their language. Earthly Bulmeria was given a seat in the UN and began expanding its influence over world politics as they began trading with humans.
That was over twenty years ago, and now their communications from their home planet had given the order to expand. Humanity had not fought any major wars in over 50 years, and the aliens mistook that for weakness. In a way we were weak, as our divided nations sought to appease them, with most of the world being tributaries.
However, in rural Appalachia we could not stand the US government, and I'll be good god damned if I was gonna pay income taxes to some two bit blue skinned jackass king a hundred light years away.
The first revolt happened in Ireland. After unification, they were already wary of all empires, so when the Dáil decided to appease them, Dublin erupted into riots, murdered almost all of parliament, and installed a new one, who refused to pay tribute. The Bulmerians invaded, but they had expected conventional warfare with NATO or a similar power. Instead, they found their aircraft, spacecraft and even landcraft being sabotaged.
Evidently Bulmerians we're unable to distinguish human powers, and had no respect for nationhood. So when they began punishing other nations who were happy to pay tribute for the bombing of their embassy in Britain, the whole world rose up in revolt.
And so I sat in my living room, watching an old movie called "Braveheart" and working on an IED. After my brigade captured a series of pulse grenades from the local Bulmerian military base, I had set upon reverse engineering them, and was ready to try an upscaled version of it.
"And there, you ready to try it?" I asked to my friend and comrade Patrick.
"Fuck no," he said "but there's a caravan coming through today, so we can try it then."
We had set up an ambush. I had inherited a 2025 Toyota Hilux from my granddad and had mounted a rebuilt M2 Browning to the back. It wasn't the latest and greatest, but it still worked, even after over a hundred years of service. We had parked it in the bushes, away from immediate líne of sight. Once I heard the sonic boom of the pulse mine i knew it was time, and I gripped the ma deuce as Patrick screamed past the caravan. I rained down bullets onto the vehicles, screaming like a berserker.
The caravan had grinded to a halt, and the Bulmerian soldiers leapt from their vehicles trying to fire upon us but we were long gone. We heard sounds of continued gunfire as our comrades tagged in, raining down with a DShK and tossing in Molotov cocktails for good measure.
That was simply one ambush in the long guerilla war for the Appalachians, and that was only one front I'm our global struggle against Bulmeria. They still hold most of Africa, but they failed to realize one thing: humans really don't like bullies. | 2022-08-05T13:34:16 | 2022-08-05T12:58:48 | 213 | 108 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | We've studied them for hundreds of years. It was a simple planet, barely reaching passed their own moon. Our records showed they knew of war, they knew it well, but in their modern times they avoided it with diplomacy. The weaklings pleadings of mercy to the powerful.
Our emperor laughed. Such actions mean weakness to our kind, and our victories have all but proven this true.
Their diplomats came. Offered knowledge, culture, trinkets. Worthless. Their diplomats we're the first blood spilled.
I remember when we received our first casualties.
All at once, our orbital starships crashed upon their planets surface.
We knew they had weapons, but we underestimated their power. Nuclear bombs. The same material used to once power our early space fairing vessels, weaponized. Our ancestors beloved it impossible. Not for the humans.
We crashed and we're met by explosions of fire that melted our hauls, ammunition made from metals and not energy, making our shields useless. Our blasters had ten shots before a recharge. Their firearms fired off thousands in a second. Our dead went from thousands to millions.
The few that were not killed, were taken prisoner. Torture unlike anything our race could fathom. Brutality on par with the ancient dark ones of myth. Humanity didn't offer diplomacy as a weakness... They were being kind.
They were showing us mercy, for we knew not what their race was capable of. Against one another, they are evenly matched. United against a common enemy, we never stood a chance.
They took our technology, modified it, reverse engineered it, improved it.
In a week, they had their own armadas. In a month, they overthrew all our nearest outposts and colonies, both made by us and taken from the weak.
In a year, our empire was in ashes.
To all who hear this transmission, beware, beware the species known as Humans. For if you see one. Accept their kindness, accept their mercy... For their wrath could burn the whole galaxy... | When the human race first entered our star systems, we thought they were laughable. They came to “explore” and “settle”, but they appeared very poorly equipped and naïve to be doing such things. Of course, they were not the first race we’ve seen with colonizing of any sort on the mind; our people have dabbled with that ourselves, at least when necessary to get resources to persist.
At first we played their game. Showed them some territories they could stay in, gave them some pointers, and then promptly tried to ignore them.
However, they were unsatisfied. They wanted to continue growing and expanding. Predictably enough, of course. When they threw their little fit, we threatened them with our superior weapons and technology, and they calmed down… or rather, changed their tune. They had no intention to FIGHT for any land, but they were more than willing to BARTER for it somehow. It would go on like this, the humans growing, us socializing and trying not to satisfy their little diplomatic egoes too much, making as many compromises as we could. But enough was never enough for them. Never for too long.
However, for us, enough was indeed enough. We put our foot down when they got too needy, and told them to either leave completely or die. Their response…
…was to devastate us all. Using strange molecular bonding units, they took their lesser ships and weapons and smashed them together into much stronger units, an unforeseen tactic. They did this with individuals too, making on-land planetary warfare even harder on us. We had to retreat, and they took *everything*.
They went on like this, from system to system. Even with everything our societies could throw at them, even when they were outnumbered and outpowered, their tactics and techniques and that blasted unification technology decimated everything in their path. All seemed lost for our way of life… except for one thing that we had that they did not:
Through tachyon engines, one could move faster than light. What had not been explored yet by any of us had been the next step of that: travel through time.
Yes, with what resources we had left, us survivors formed a war party with one goal: go to the past and crush those humans before they have the chance to do any of this. Punish those heartless, egotistical monsters for what they did to us. Preemptively take back everything they would steal.
We have talked enough with them to know about their ways, their history. We know of a planet called Earth where they originated. We know exactly where and when in history to show up.
This is a one way trip. We are willing to take it.
The human race won’t know what hit them. | 2022-08-05T16:07:13 | 2022-08-05T12:43:01 | 166 | 63 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The red light was blinking, indicating the failure of the shields, but the commander Ze’hyl could not be bothered. He was franticly looking through the data as the predictions of AI clearly did not match the reality, not anymore... It was his failure! He recommended the invasion of the Sol system. The home star of those gutless humans.
\- How did it come to this?.. Decades of planning and analysis. These humans who would rather take the short end of a stick than show some spine. These… mammals who only know of negotiations, diplomacy, and compromise. Not a single interstellar conflict yet alone war since they joined the League. How are they doing this? It all went so well until we reached that small blue rock…
The angry ichodrian drifted in thought as he was gazing upon the holographic display depicting the Sol system.
\- Commendable effort for a race of a peace loving peons, it brought them some time but what of it or so I thought… Where all those ships, where all those troops came from? It cannot be technology, why would you lose so many positions if you had the means to defend them in the first place…
Once again, he opened the human response to the declaration of war. The words sounded different from what he heard the first time.
\- We hoped we could keep these doors closed forever. But now God help us all.
As his mind was running through various scenarios, his eyes picked up on a small cloud of debris orbiting the sun in between the human home world and Venus. A strange thought formed in his head.
\- What if, what if that cloud used to be a planet?...
He updated the conditions for the AI and was met with despair. The predictions finally made sense and all it took was to name the cloud in between Venus and Mars a planet… | "We all know they're weaklings, Commander Smith," The soldier said, saluting Commander Smith, "I mean, come on, they don't know how to fire gamma-rays. In fact, they haven't built any spaceships yet."
"That's enough, Soldier 92-BII," said Commander Smith, "We're headed to their planet. The news spread that it colonized all of their star system after finishing the completion of Pluto a
'dwarf planet'. What a strange term." Commander Smith walked through the hallway.
Soldier 92-BII looked out the window. The spherical object he saw had a red and gray surface, with a layer of nitrogen shaped as a heart. Nearby was another gray object, but one of it's poles was orange. "How fascinating. It seems yellow dwarves have the strongest gravity of all the stars." Soldier 92 said.
A few minutes later, they had an encounter with a giant, dark blue orb with a relatively large moon. The ship steered towards the moon and eventually landed.
Various soldiers began walking onto the surface of the alien world that was being controlled by humans. Amongst hushed tones, Soldier 92 learned that the name of the moon was 'Triton' and the planet it was orbiting was named 'Neptune'. "This is a true alien world." Soldier 92 said before realizing that Triton was his stop, so he scurried off.
Looking around the icy world were giant structures made of metal and glass, rising high into the night sky. Some were connected. Humans could be seen walking amongst the city on the alien world, thriving. However, the peace ended, disturbed by a scream. Soldier 92 ran over to the source of the scream. Another soldier, Soldier 98-7BG, had stabbed a human in the chest. "What?!" Soldier 92 grunted angrily when he was tackled by a human, who was furious.
"KILL THE ALIENS!" Someone said over an intercom.
Total war had started. To 92's surprise, the human he was dueling was incredibly strong. Several of his allies' bodies began crashing onto the ground of Triton.
Suddenly, a flicker of silver light. Humans left and right fell to the ground, their weapons disappearing. It was Commander Smith. "92, what happened? Why did this start?"
"W-well, uh, 98 decided to stab a human, and apparently that made the rest of them mad, so then they started dueling us. To my surprise, they were holding their own. We have several fatalities, including 98." explained 92, gesturing to the corpses of his allies.
"This is going to be one of many, I can just feel it." | 2022-08-05T13:33:27 | 2022-08-05T10:57:14 | 158 | 107 |
[WP] We “knew” humans were weak as they avoided every war with diplomacy. We never imagined they’d be this ruthless & how seemingly overnight they went from peaceful beings to a state they call “TOTAL WAR”. War is in their blood & soul. They thrive on it, mostly when the odds are against them | The red light was blinking, indicating the failure of the shields, but the commander Ze’hyl could not be bothered. He was franticly looking through the data as the predictions of AI clearly did not match the reality, not anymore... It was his failure! He recommended the invasion of the Sol system. The home star of those gutless humans.
\- How did it come to this?.. Decades of planning and analysis. These humans who would rather take the short end of a stick than show some spine. These… mammals who only know of negotiations, diplomacy, and compromise. Not a single interstellar conflict yet alone war since they joined the League. How are they doing this? It all went so well until we reached that small blue rock…
The angry ichodrian drifted in thought as he was gazing upon the holographic display depicting the Sol system.
\- Commendable effort for a race of a peace loving peons, it brought them some time but what of it or so I thought… Where all those ships, where all those troops came from? It cannot be technology, why would you lose so many positions if you had the means to defend them in the first place…
Once again, he opened the human response to the declaration of war. The words sounded different from what he heard the first time.
\- We hoped we could keep these doors closed forever. But now God help us all.
As his mind was running through various scenarios, his eyes picked up on a small cloud of debris orbiting the sun in between the human home world and Venus. A strange thought formed in his head.
\- What if, what if that cloud used to be a planet?...
He updated the conditions for the AI and was met with despair. The predictions finally made sense and all it took was to name the cloud in between Venus and Mars a planet… | When the human race first entered our star systems, we thought they were laughable. They came to “explore” and “settle”, but they appeared very poorly equipped and naïve to be doing such things. Of course, they were not the first race we’ve seen with colonizing of any sort on the mind; our people have dabbled with that ourselves, at least when necessary to get resources to persist.
At first we played their game. Showed them some territories they could stay in, gave them some pointers, and then promptly tried to ignore them.
However, they were unsatisfied. They wanted to continue growing and expanding. Predictably enough, of course. When they threw their little fit, we threatened them with our superior weapons and technology, and they calmed down… or rather, changed their tune. They had no intention to FIGHT for any land, but they were more than willing to BARTER for it somehow. It would go on like this, the humans growing, us socializing and trying not to satisfy their little diplomatic egoes too much, making as many compromises as we could. But enough was never enough for them. Never for too long.
However, for us, enough was indeed enough. We put our foot down when they got too needy, and told them to either leave completely or die. Their response…
…was to devastate us all. Using strange molecular bonding units, they took their lesser ships and weapons and smashed them together into much stronger units, an unforeseen tactic. They did this with individuals too, making on-land planetary warfare even harder on us. We had to retreat, and they took *everything*.
They went on like this, from system to system. Even with everything our societies could throw at them, even when they were outnumbered and outpowered, their tactics and techniques and that blasted unification technology decimated everything in their path. All seemed lost for our way of life… except for one thing that we had that they did not:
Through tachyon engines, one could move faster than light. What had not been explored yet by any of us had been the next step of that: travel through time.
Yes, with what resources we had left, us survivors formed a war party with one goal: go to the past and crush those humans before they have the chance to do any of this. Punish those heartless, egotistical monsters for what they did to us. Preemptively take back everything they would steal.
We have talked enough with them to know about their ways, their history. We know of a planet called Earth where they originated. We know exactly where and when in history to show up.
This is a one way trip. We are willing to take it.
The human race won’t know what hit them. | 2022-08-05T13:33:27 | 2022-08-05T12:43:01 | 158 | 63 |
[WP] “…and that class is why Humans are considered the most peaceful species in the universe.” The only three humans in class looked at each other horrified. All the facts about humans that the aliens had were wrong. One student slowly raises their hand. | “Ah, professor? I don’t really think humans are all that peaceful.”
“Have you used nuclear weapons on each other?”
“Twice.”
“Have you used chemical weapons on each other?”
“More times than could be recorded?”
“Practiced biological warfare?”
“For hundreds of years.”
“Torture?”
“Thousands of years.”
“Slavery?”
“For all of recorded history.”
“Matricide? Fratricide? Infanticide? Genocide?”
“Four-for-four, yeah.”
“Thermonuclear weapons?”
“Tested, I think. Never used.”
“Hydrogen bombs?”
“Same.”
“Laser evisceration?”
“Technically yes, but only in surgical settings.”
“Cerebral neuron critical stimulation?”
“No?”
“Nightmare agony?”
“Don’t think so.”
“Solar malfeasance?”
“I do not know what that is.”
“See? Y’all aren’t so bad. You should read the next chapter, the one about your neighbors. Mars was a shitshow.”
“Mars? Really?”
“Venus might’ve been worse. But at least there’s still an atmosphere.” | "Yes, Human Dave?"
"I wouldn't say that what you presented us is false, but the truth is far broader than your, dare I say, well doctored material shows."
The class murmured. Some looked at each other nervously, other began to whisper to each other as the facial structure of the professor expressed internal conflict.
"If it isn't false how can it be doctored? I didn't miss anything in alien-available materials and databases!"
Human Dave frowned and stroked his hair.
"Well, I do not mean to insult your data gathering methods, but because you used only alien-available resources without consulting with any human historian there's a rather monstrous hole in your theory, which as a human I am happy to fill. If you do not mind I'd like to assume your role for a moment to show you and the class some material regarding humans coming from a human database."
After more murmuring from the class and a moment of thought the professor agreed. Human Dave approached the main console, plugged his omni and put a video file on screen.
"Before I start I'd like the class to understand that life evolved on Earth based on efficiency, adaptability, but above all else competition. The faster, stronger, smarter and more durable organism pushed the less fortune ones into extinction or servitude. Even after the evolution was slowed to a grinding halt because humans started using tools stronger ruled the weaker and smarter exploited the dumber. The following video file is a fictional representation of real historical events accompanied with a song, released together as a music video in Earth's year of 1998 A.C. After the video I'll explain the shown events and take questions. Be advised, the material presented is explicit and may trigger strong, psychological reactions. Discretion is advised"
Human Dave proceeded to show the class the video file (for convenience also located here: ["Pearl Jam - Do the Evolution"](https://youtu.be/aDaOgu2CQtI) ), explained the shown events and answered questions of those who had stomached the file and explanations.
Professor was not one of those. | 2022-10-17T09:03:16 | 2022-10-17T06:08:41 | 100 | 38 |
[WP] As a thief called Alyssa, you can’t be blamed for mishearing your client say “Steal the moon, Alyssa” instead of their actual request to “Steal the Mona Lisa” | The girl had hands that could steal anything. Sometimes she didn't notice they'd done it. The girl had hands that would steal anything. A watch from a man's coat pocket, a ladies purse and apple from the stall. All found their way via her clever hands into her own pockets. They were large hands for such a small girl, slender long fingers, quick and nimble and strong and quiet. They were the hands of a kitten who hadn't yet grown into its paws.
That's why, when Allyssa was asked to steal the moon, she didn't laugh in the man's face, or smirk at a tired metaphor made. She began to plan. Her hands were big, but were they big enough to pluck the moon from the sky like a peach from an orchard tree? Allyssa liked a challenge and above all she liked a mystery.
Could she steal the moon? Allyssa was consumed by the question as soon as it left the man's lips, drifted through the air and landed in her brain like a dandelion seed alighting on fertile ground. The man was still talking and talking. A white noise drone in the background, about travel and plans and expenses and a crew. People to help her steal what had never been stolen before.
Allyssa didn't hear a single word of it, her back turned to the room, the silver shine of the full moon lit her in an alien tractor beam and dragged her attention towards it. The window lay open and Allyssa gazed up into the ink black blanket of the starless winter sky. Raising her hand for comparison, she saw that in fact she could cover the moon with her stealthy stealing hand. Could it be so simple? She slowly and deliberately closed her hand and the moonbeam she stood within went out. A sensation of roundness and weight that hadn't been there a moment before. Carefully, quietly, she turned her fist towards herself, silver light spilling out from between her fingers the night sky darkened as if a large cloud had blotted the moon from the sky. But it hadn't.
"Allyssa? Are you listening? Just think of it, to steal the Mona Lisa! The Mona Lisa Allyssa!"
Her mouth opened in an "o" of surprise, her face went slightly pink. Surreptitiously, with a casual flick of her wrist and an opening of her hand she shot the moon back into the sky. The moonbeam returned, the silver light bathed her again and she quickly composed herself before turning.
"Tell me those plans again, it sounds like just the sort of impossibility I'd be interested in". She smiled a slow smile. She knew she could do as he asked. The girl had hands that could steal anything. Sometimes she didn't notice they'd done it. | Alyssa was a seasoned thief, with a reputation for taking on the most daring and seemingly impossible heists. So when the Godfather himself approached her with a job, she didn't hesitate for a moment. The money he offered was too good to pass up, and the promise of security and financial success for her entire family sealed the deal.
But as she replayed the Godfather's request over and over in her head, "Steal the moon, Alyssa," she became more and more confused. Not wanting to appear foolish or uncultured before such an intimidating figure, she had let her embarassment get the better of her, never asking him for clarification.
Alyssa spent the next few days wracking her brain, trying to figure out what the Godfather wanted from her. She went over every possible interpretation of his words, but no matter how hard she tried, she just couldn't come up with a satisfactory explanation.
She turned to friends and family, even distant acquaintances, seeking guidance on how to interpret the Godfather's request, but ran into a brick wall at every turn. Nobody was willing to accept that the Mafia had actually reached out to her. "That's not how those folks work," argued one impatient friend.
As the days turned into weeks, and the constant gaslighting continued, Alyssa started to feel like she was going crazy. She was so consumed by her inability to figure out the Godfather's request that she couldn't focus on anything else. She became paranoid, convinced that the Mafia was secretly observing her every move, growing disappointed in her lack of progress. "I'm becoming a loose end", Alyssa's mind kept telling her. "The Mafia doesn't like loose ends. You know what they do with loose ends."
Alyssa was never actually given a concrete deadline, but recognizing this fact didn't help ease the sense of urgency. She felt she was supposed to have been finished with the task by now, and the Mafia's patience was going to run out at any moment.
She started to have strange dreams about the Moon, and she became convinced that the Godfather's request was a cryptic message intended to be solved only by the most capable criminals. She was determined to crack the code, and believed the fate of her entire family lied on whether she could discover the solution.
One night, lying in her bed and gazing out the window after 36 hours without sleep, Alyssa noticed the full moon rising above the horizon. She finally snapped. "It was never a riddle", she exclaimed aloud to herself, sitting suddenly upright in bed. A euphoric sensation rushed through her as she experienced the greatest epiphany of her life. "The Godfather wants me to literally steal the moon! He reached out to me because he knew, in his great wisdom, that I am the only thief in the world capable of fulfilling his request."
She jumped out of bed and bolted for the door. Once outside, she grabbed her ladder and set out into the night, determined to steal the moon for the Godfather, no matter the price. She wandered into a large cornfield behind her neighbor's house, propped up her ladder, and began climbing. She climbed and climbed, her mind consumed with thoughts of the Mafia, of her special mission, her eyes deadset on her prize in the sky. When she finally reached the top, she let out a triumphant cry. "I did it, Godfather! I stole the moon for you!"
Unfortunately, no one was there to hear her. The Mafia had forgotten about her weeks ago. Alyssa was alone at the top of the ladder, a complete and utter lunatic, as the moon shone down on her from above. | 2022-12-19T00:51:34 | 2022-12-18T23:12:02 | 28 | 16 |
[WP] You commit suicide. The next thing you hear is "Welcome back." | There was no reason for me to continue living.
I had accomplished every single one of my life goals. Dream house, dream job, dream car, dream family, kids in dream college, dream lakehouse, dream everything, really.
The thing with a perfect dream is that it gets boring. Having spent so much of my life working toward my dreams, I gave no consideration to what I'd actually be doing with them. I'd accomplished everything I'd set out to do.
With nothing left to experience, there was no more point. I took the revolver I kept in my bedside drawer into the bathroom. I checked the cylinder, it had exactly one bullet.
I stuck the barrel between my lips, aimed at the roof of my mouth, and fired.
"Welcome back, Ian," The EternaLife Simulator 3014 greeted me as it flushed the sedatives out from my system and replaced them with a mild stimulant. "Which life would you like to experience next?"
I grinned and pondered its question for a moment. With the data of over 300 million lives stored in its memory, I needed a moment. I wanted something more exciting than the previous life I'd played. With the flick of a wrist, the Simulator brought up its menu of choices.
Deep sea diver? No. Treasure hunter? No. Film star? No. Serial killer? No. My grin widened as I spotted the perfect life.
"Homeless man," I ordered, reclining into my cushioned seat.
"Very good, Ian," the automated voice replied as the computer started pumping sedatives into my bloodstream. | NO! I wanted out. I needed to be out. I can't do this anymore. Why? Why did they bring me back? My note was clear about what I wanted. It was suppose to be the end. I repeated those words in my head over and over and over as I lay in that cramped hospital bed with dozens of tubes sticking out of me in every direction. Only my right eye was working, and my brain. The same brain that I was so desperately trying to turn off.
My father walked out on me and my mother when I was 3. Cancer took her less than a year later. A string of abusive foster homes bred me into the dark, cold, hardened man-child that I am today. Nothing had been fair in my life. How could I expect anything better from death?
The doctor came in today to remove some of the tubes and turn off a few of those beeping machines. It was the same one who said "welcome back" when I first woke up. *Welcome back*. He thought he was doing me a favor. I'll do everyone a favor as soon as I can get out of here.
I panicked when they pricked my legs and I couldn't feel them. Will I ever be able to walk again? Then I realized it didn't matter. The doctor frowned and said that we'll try again tomorrow. I don't care.
The casts are finally coming off. They will discharge me in the morning as soon as I can sign the paperwork. The doctor says that I will never be able to get pregnant. Is that a joke? Whatever.
The wheelchair is old and ragged. It has seen more than its share of owners. I push myself into the bathroom to have one final look at the face I hate so much. It isn't me. The woman staring back from the mirror is beautiful, underneath all the injuries. I raise my hand and she does too. What trickery is this?
A creak catches my attention. I turn my head and say "someone is in here" with a voice that isn't my own. The door opens and I see the silhouette of a man. He steps forward, and the light reveals that it's ... it's me. He raises a gun.
"Wait! No! Stop! This isn't me!" I scream. "I want to live!"
The muzzle flashes and the world goes dark. | 2014-01-08T17:23:38 | 2014-01-08T17:10:17 | 55 | 10 |
[WP] You summon the most powerful and notorious demonic being in the universe. The reason why you summoned it: You are lonely, and are in need of a friend. | They say that to summon him, you need the blood of a hundred baby goats mixed with the sorrowful tears of a widow, and must sacrifice a six-year-old child on the altar to provide adequate sustenance for the devil's manifestation on this earth.
They're wrong. Because they don't get it like I do.
All you need to do to summon Lucifer is whisper your fears and doubts into the dark, and he will be there to listen. You won't see him, but he's always there. For everyone. For me.
Family used to be everything - in my family, at least. Dad cared for both of us since Mom died, and my big brother grew up as close to me as two brothers can get without crossing a line. We were everything to each other.
I walked away from all that. I know it's my fault; objectively, what I did to Dean was far worse than what he did to me, and I feel so guilty every day for how he must be feeling. Eating himself up from the inside just like I'm doing now.
I shouldn't do this. I know I shouldn't. I know I'm in a dark place and that means I'm a danger to myself and everyone around me. I might do something monumentally stupid that leads to horrendous consequences. For Dean. For everyone.
Probably not for me.
"Lucifer." I breathe into the shadows. "Lucifer, I know you're there."
He steps out, bathed in darkness, contained in a form that seems almost human if it were not for the skin that's cracked and peeling away in places like a coat of paint over rusty iron.
"Hello, Sam." He knows my name. Of course the devil knows my name. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"I don't know. I wanted to talk so someone, I guess." I shift. I know I should send him away right now, but Heaven help me I can't bring myself to.
"I'll always be there to listen, Sam."
"I know."
Because that's part of the problem. I'm special. Most people, when they're at their weakest and they're talking to what they think is themselves, have no idea of the being watching them. But I'm not most people. I can sense the heaviness in the air when Lucifer stands near me.
He knows I can. So when I call him out on watching me, he lets me see him too.
"How's life in Hell?" I ask.
"It's Hell. What you'd expect, I suppose. The demons are so pathetic. Even worse than humans. Not you, of course, Sam." Lucifer crouches down, because I'm sitting. "You're different from everyone else. Always have been. Always will be."
His voice is soft and his hand is softer, running gently through my hair before he stands back up and looks around. "Where is this?"
"A barn. We keep animals in here, sometimes."
"I know that." He scrunches his nose. "It explains the smell. Why my Father would let his favorite son be birthed in one of these, I can never understand. Still. The poor thing was a victim of circumstance."
"You're talking about Jesus?"
"Of course I am. Sent down to Earth to befriend you all. Born in squalor, died in agony. You humans murdered the one chance you had at salvation. I must say, I did rejoice that day."
Apart from the two of us, the barn is empty. Silent. We're alone together, and Satan seems happy for it to stay that way.
I'm reminded of the time when, in this very same barn, shadows of massive wings were cast on the walls - and I'm reminded, again, that Lucifer was an angel. He still is, in a way.
I'm trembling a little. I can't help it, but he notices. Puts a hand to my forehead.
"Withdrawal symptoms. Still. Oh, what would Dean think? You know, Sam, they won't ever go away. Not for the rest of your life. You'll always be reminded of your little addiction until the day they lower you into your grave."
"I'm getting a cremation."
I have no idea where that came from, but Lucifer chuckles. He seems amused.
"Well, then I guess they'll never quite disappear, will they? Not for eternity. When you die, I'll take you down to Hell with me, and I'll surround you with so much of it you won't be able to resist."
If I could say one thing to anyone out there, it's the plea: don't do drugs. Oh no, it's not worth it.
"Better to just give in now. I could get some for you; I'd be back in a few seconds. Give into temptation. You know you want to, Sam."
I shut my mouth firmly and break eye contact. That gaze stares into my soul, and I'm afraid he might see the truth in there.
"Come on. Just give in. Say yes."
"No." You respond automatically. He takes a small step back.
"No? Not this time, then. But eventually."
"Get out." You've found resolve you didn't know you had, and in acknowledgement of that he nods his head towards you.
"I'll be here, Sam. Always. I will never leave you. Not like your father, not like Dean. You can trust me. I'll be your friend."
"Go away."
He's gone, and I'm alone again. Through the broken glass of the window, the sky is still dark outside. I've not yet stayed up the whole night.
I don't want to sleep. I don't want to dream.
I can't do this alone anymore.
So I strengthen my resolve, and pull out my phone before my treacherous mind fails on me. I know the number off by heart. I just hope he'll pick up when he sees who's calling.
Dean swears on the end of the phone when he answers. I suppose it's my fault for waking him up. I want to end the call, run off again, hide from what I know I have to do. But I can't; not this time.
"Dean, it's me."
"Sam? It's quarter past four."
Dean doesn't know about Lucifer. Yet.
I'm going to tell him.
"This is important."
*(Bonus upvotes for anyone who gets the reference.)* | *Nothing bad could REALLY happen, could it? Nah,* I thought to myself as I scanned the shelves of the aisles of the massive library. I knew what I was searching for: a book on demonology. *Why not?,* I thought, *not like this stuff is for real, anyway. Just a bunch of old superstitious stuff.* I was bored out of my skull and all my friends were on the foreign exchange trip in Slovenia sponsored by our governments for the next month or so, so I thought it might be a decent idea to at least keep entertained for the next while, since I've already beaten all of my games and porn is boring as hell after I've diddled myself roughly seven times that day already.
Eventually, I finally came across the old and decrepit book, a black-and-red hardcover that was about to come off at the seams. On the front cover, no text was present; the only thing present on the front cover was the Sigil of Baphomet. I looked on the back cover, and it was blank. Even the spine was textless. Finally, I looked inside for information on the author, and all there was, was "Ave Satanas". Admittedly, at this point, I was more than a little entirely freaked out of my mind, but at the same time, it was so cool! A book on Satanic rituals? I looked inside and saw the text. All of it was in Latin. Each page had its own ritual, with the exception of a few that spilled over onto the next page. Finally, I saw a demonic summoning ritual, and I knew right then that I had to have this book.
As I walked up to the library's front desk, I could see the look of tired exasperation on the 30-something-year-old librarian's face. He was a quiet, very attractive man who wore a tired sweater and black-rimmed glasses. To be frank, I also knew I had to have him, but that's beside the point of this little story. I quietly placed the book on the desk, and he gave me a look like, "Okay, really now?", but I simply shrugged. He checked the book out and said, "You know, Victor, you've checked out some pretty weird books before, but this one really takes the cake."
"Yeah, but c'mon, Mitch, this is SO COOL, and I'm bored at home, but I could probably use the company instead of this book," I said back, with an inviting hint. He glared back at me with the single most intense "no" glare I've ever seen in my life. Finally, I broke the deathly silence with, "Well, at least I have something to do now. Maybe I'll even summon a demon to keep me company." Oh, how I now regret that last sentence.
I rushed home at what felt like light speed. Living in the city, that means I might've knocked a person or two over on their way to lunch. I stopped at the restaurant next to my apartment building and quickly grabbed a sub sandwich, and rushed next door and up the stairs to my apartment. I sat down at my dining table, unwrapped my delicious Srirachawich and opened the book carefully, considering how delicate this thing was. I rolled the pages past until I hit the ritual to summon my very own demon. I slowly munched my way through the foot-long sandwich until I read the very last line of the ritual.
At that point, I stood up and decided to go ahead do it. I took a piece of red chalk I had lying around in a set and drew an inverted pentagram on the ground, and sat down within it. I had the book set up in front of me, leaning against another pile of books I had lying about, some of which probably needed returned to that delicious hunk of a man at the library...er, anyway, back to the story. I began repeating the long Latin phrases required of me, slowly getting more and more entranced by the entire situation. At one point, I felt like I was selling my very soul to Satan himself. Finally, I ended the entire ritual with the phrase in the very back of the book: Ave Satanas.
The pentagram began to glow a mighty crimson glow. As soon as I saw this, I jumped out and got on the far side of the room, not wanting to be personally involved, but curious enough to still keep the pentagram in my line of sight. Finally, a glowing ball of energy appeared, levitating above the very center of the pentagram. The ball began to expand and finally exploded in a near-deafening boom. I managed to make out the apartments neighboring mine rattling. I heard someone below me scream, "HOLY SHIT, I THINK VICTOR FINALLY BLEW HIMSELF UP!" I ignored them, because right before my very eyes was the most frightening thing I'd ever seen: a 7-foot tall, muscular, humanoid being with horns on his head, blood-red skin, and a 5 o'clock shadow. Admittedly, I was slightly attracted to him, but that was quickly replaced by fear when he got his eyes on me.
"THE FUCK YOU WANT?" he bellowed at me, causing my nice plates to rattle.
"Uh, um, er, uh..." I stammered at him, subjected to the most mind-numbing fear I had ever experienced.
"THE FUCK IS THIS SHIT? I'M A BUSY DEMON."
I was a little stunned at how profane he was, but then I remembered he was a giant scary demon. "Uh, I summoned you....I...uhh...admittedly, I have no idea what's going on," I slowly stammered back, trying not to let the sweat soak my every article of clothing.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" he said as he got within licking distance of my face.
"Uh....not really, no."
"I'M FUCKIN' POLRAY, GUARDIAN OF THE UNDERWORLD, AND I HAVE A **VERY** BUSY SCHEDULE!"
"Can I call you 'Ray'?"
"NO"
He looked over to my dining room table and saw my Srirachawich, which he proceeded to pick up and eat in one bite. "That was my lunch, asshole," I promptly said as my delicious wonderlunch made its way down whatever the demonic equivalent to an esophagus is.
"Not anymore, shitbreath. Damn, that was weak. I thought that red sauce was supposed to be hellpepper. What the hell is that?"
"Uh, um, Sriracha sauce, uh, sir."
"Well, it SUCKED MASSIVE DEMON DICK."
"Uh, thank you, sir, I guess."
At this point, I was more than a little confused at what on earth was ever going on.
"Well, I'm going back to Hell, because I got shit to do. I swear to the Dark Lord Himself, if you summon me again, I am taking you back with me, got it?"
"Uh, yes. Yes, I do."
"Good."
He disappeared from my room, along with the pentagram and my sandwich, in a red flash. I sat down at my table to contemplate what just happened.
I took the book back the next day. | 2014-07-20T08:12:33 | 2014-07-20T07:42:26 | 39 | 14 |
[WP]: A fly lands on a table, starting a chain of events that gradually escalates to first degree murder | Zzz
A fly
A flight
A table
A piece of toast
Butter
A jump
A taste
A swat
The man
An anger
An argument
A slap
A scream
A car screech
A tear
A phone call
Another man
A passion
A regret
A remorse
A promise
A kiss goodbye
A rest
Silence
A car door
The man
A grunt
An empty bottle
Evidence
Rage
A gun
A click
Blood.
Silence
Zzz
A fly
| "So, do we have an understanding?"
Turning his gaze down to think about the offer, Jon noticed a small fly landed on the table. He quickly waved his hand, trying to keep it away from the spaghetti.
At once the man across from him jumped out of his chair, pulling out the gun resting by his hip. "Excuse me, boy? Was I not generous enough for ya?"
As Slim George's black pistol pointed across the checkered table, men on both sides stepped back to draw their guns out. Still a bit lost as to how, but recognizing the agreement was getting four different kinds of fucked up, Jon shook his hands and tried to stammer out an explanation.
"No no that's not it... you see... there wasn't... a fly..."
"Not gonna fly? I'll show you what's not gonna fly, cocksucker." Slim George pulled the trigger, snapping back Jon's head to a spurt of red.
Suddenly the alley behind the small Italian restaurant rebounded with gunshots as men on both sides fired. The alley became bright as day, loud as a lightning storm, and bloodier than a Greek poem. As the bodies slumped over in the wet pools, the only sound that could be heard was a small buzzing.
And as it saw the carnage below, the fly rejoiced and continued it's unholy quest. | 2014-12-28T20:10:50 | 2014-12-28T20:01:26 | 707 | 232 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered advanced intelligent life on another planet. Upon communication, we find this planet has the same major religions as earth.
Edit: this is the biggest thing I've done on here! My inbox exploded and I've read all of your stories, thank you guys and girls! | Statistically speaking, we'd always suspected we weren't alone in the universe. Sure, other races must have encountered the same difficulties we had: limited life spans, nuclear wars, light speed. Still, some must have made it and where were they? Why hadn't they colonized the entire galaxy? Even with massive generational ships traveling at a slow crawl between stars, they should have been everywhere. As a species, we had wondered and vaguely worried about it for nearly a century when the first message arrived. When it finally did, what choice did we have?
"Excuse us, do you have a moment to talk about Jesus Christ?"
We pretended we weren't home. | "Well, what do you think?" Despite the revelation she seemed completely unshaken as she sipped her coffee. If this shook her up at all, she certainly wasn't showing it. She was an adamant atheist, and her Facebook wall was covered in various sayings from scientists and skeptics. It was after our lengthy discussions that I realized that I myself didn't believe in a higher power either.
It'd been 6 months since the discovery had been made that we shared religions with the Lrak-Hur. Not just Christianity or Hinduism, but Judaism, Buddhism, even Satanism had it's Lrak-Hur followers. The remarkable similarities in the various holy books were so exact that it tore down the language barriers within a matter of weeks. Now, you couldn't flip through channels without seeing a Lrakell nun sitting next to a human priest for a local church fundraiser, or a lrakell rabbi and human rabbi discussing a verse in the Torah.
I sighed. It was just too much of a coincidence to ignore. I fiddled with the sugar packets at our table, ignoring the other patrons at the coffee shop while I came up with my answer. I had no idea how to feel at this point. It wasn't until she put her mug down and cleared her throat that I realized I had yet to answer.
"Well, if I go back to Catholicism, at least my mom will start talking to me again." | 2015-02-15T19:57:26 | 2015-02-15T19:35:58 | 52 | 20 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | My mother said I popped out of her at 18:12. Well it was 18:11 and we are about to find out if her memories were accurate! One flippin more minute! I’ve literally been waiting for 18 years for this moment.
All my friends are already 18. They all have their superpowers. Do you know how hard it is to be the only underage guy in my group? Every day is like being the only guy that can’t taste in a group of professional ice cream testers.
30 seconds. My buddy Jared has the power to skip back or ahead 30 seconds whenever he feels like it. I’d trade my little sister for that power right now.
My entire family is here for this. Of course it’s the biggest event in a young man’s life, but it feels good to see them around the table. They can be out of it a lot of the time, but seeing them smile as we count down together is pretty exciting.
I have thought a lot about what power I would love to get. It does no use to wish - it’s completely random as far as anyone can tell. The moment 18 years after you breathe your first lungful of air you get a superpower. You can’t change it or choose it or trade it. This is how things work.
A girl in my class can fly. She was voted most likely to succeed after that. Literally the sky is the limit for her.
I hope I can fly.
15 seconds.
My mom is beaming at me. She’s so proud of everything I do. No matter what power I get she’ll be super supportive. I knew a guy who’s power was to change the colour of his shirt at will. His mom apparently disowned him. Came from a long line of teleporters and he just didn’t cut the mustard.
My mom would never disown me.
My dad might though.
I’ve been praying that my power isn’t to change my sex at will or something like that. Not that it’s a bad power, but my dad is convinced those people are… subconsciously different. He’s a bit old fashioned you could say. Let’s just hope I get something cool. Super speed or something.
5 seconds. The clock seems like it’s going in slow motion for some reason.
4 seconds. Dad, Mom, Sister, even Grans is here.
3 seconds. Come on flying power.
2 seconds. Wow this is suspenseful.
1 seconds. Aaaaand…
Ding.
The power fills me. Mom was right. For a second it feels like I’m dowsed in cold water then I can feel the power, nestled in my mouth. I can taste the power!
I look at Mom, beaming expectantly, and my mouth fills with this tepid metallic taste, like a sewer pipe that has been cleaned with way too much bleach. I stick my tongue out in revulsion, but nothing changes. My Mom recoils from me as the taste circles my throat as if trying to get to my stomach.
In horror I look to my Dad and the taste changes. This time it’s the unmistakeable taste of shit. With it comes a chunky texture that settles on the inside of my cheeks.
My Sister jumps in with excitement, eager to hear what my power is and my mouth fills up with a streamy, milky shitty taste. Oh my god I almost pass out.
And I do pass out when I look at Gran. Her taste is so bad I can smell it from my mouth.
Thankfully darkness knocks out my senses.
When I wake up it’s my Mom there with me. The bleached taste fills my mouth again. It’s not near as bad as the others was.
As the world comes back to me the realization of what has happened comes too.
I’ve received my power.
And it’s the last power I would have ever dreamed of, something I wouldn’t wish on any human - not even a terrorist.
I can taste someones asshole just by looking at them.
Shit. | Like any grand or nightmarish moment of fate, my destiny came to me on the toilet.
Just like everyone else, I had been waiting feverishly for my 18th birthday. The day itself was one giant anti-climax - I awoke awash in the glow that accompanies a soon-to-be legend. I climbed into bed that night in a huff - surely someone meant for glory would have been struck with their power the very moment they turned 18? Then why was I going to bed no different than I woke up?And what would everyone think if I never did gain my power? Or, maybe worse, if my power and I turned out to be a dud?
In the weeks following my 18th birthday I barely slept. Paralyzing anxiety wracked my brain, but I knew it had only one cure. Regardless of when fate would find me, the waiting game preyed on more than just my emotions - it also wreaked havoc on my naturally high-strung bowels. My IBS had flared up when I thought I heard a friend say that Bravo was cancelling Top Chef. Needless to say, it was in its heyday during my current emotional distress.
I was in the midst of one of my many marathon bathroom sessions when I realized the worst had happened. I was just settling gingerly onto the cold porcelain when I realized my phone was at less than 5% battery. Barely enough time to rouse the sleeping dragon that is my digestive tract and certainly not enough time for it to go about its volatile business.Nonetheless I settled in and, ten minutes post the death of my phone and after reading the backs of all the shampoo bottles I could reach several times over, a rumbling deep at the base of my being indicated that my intestines had worked through their performance anxiety. Several loud blasts were like music to my ears, signifying sweet relief from the cramps that rolled through my abdomen.
*Creeeeakk.*
*What was that?* I thought. *It couldn't be....*
Soft footfalls in the hallway sent adrenaline shooting through my veins. I could feel my heart pounding in my throat. Andra - my suspiciously quiet roommate - was home. Her bedroom shared a very thin wall with our tiny bathroom. My breath caught as I realized that one of my all-time top three nightmares was being played out and there was nothing I could do about it.
As every muscle in my body clenched tighter, I suddenly realized that physical stress was unintentionally propelling my body to a grand finale that would probably be heard around the block. *Noooo!!!!!* I screamed in my head - urging every pipe in my body to cease movement, block passage, HALT!!!
Would but I could describe the sounds that came from my body that afternoon. There are no words. It's safe to say that it was somewhere between a ship fog horn sounding (long and loud) and the sloppy contents of a near-empty ketchup bottle being forced out so quickly that red globs shoot out in all directions.
Shame rose up my face like a heavy steam and my forehead felt warm as I cradled it in my palms. *She must have heard that right? Is there any chance? Is she one of those people who judges you for having bodily functions...?*
Andra's voice interrupted my agony. It sounded loud, brusque and oddly hard - there was an edge that I had never heard before. "That is so disgusting!! How can she do that without even thinking - I never.... And what in the hell is she putting in her body? Healthy people don't make sounds like that... oh god, that smell!!!!! Holy shit!!"
I abruptly burst from the bathroom, fly half-zipped and pants drifting open. "Alright, already!!! I get it - you think I'm gross!! Just shut up or keep it to yourself!"
I stared at her, feeling hurt but vindicated. After a moment, I noticed that her frown didn't look particularly cruel, but quite dumbfounded. She wouldn't make eye contact with me - was she embarrassed by her outburst?
"Jess - what did you hear? Because I didn't say anything..... I didn't say anything out loud..."
---
Years of waiting and anticipation, stress that had led me to spend so much time in the bathroom I knew exactly how long it took for my butt to fall asleep on the seat, the constant guessing at what my power could be - it had been years of energy and emotion invested in this moment. I know parents fear for their children's safety, maybe hope for a power that is low-profile. But my greatest fear whenever I thought about my 18th birthday was simple - what would others think about me? Would they admire my new abilities? Or scorn a boring fate they deemed appropriate for an unremarkable person? They say powers know you better than you know yourself and so I guess mine is fitting. I think I could get used to hearing other people's thoughts. It would be a burden, but one I could bear with dignity and purpose. But what purpose does it serve to only be able to hear others' thoughts during my most embarrassing moments? | 2015-03-28T05:44:51 | 2015-03-28T05:14:37 | 616 | 134 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | **10 seconds.**
My dad was able to fly.
**9 seconds.**
My mum had the ability to heal wounds.
**8 seconds.**
On your 18th birthday, you recieve a superpower, my birthdy is in
**7 seconds.**
It is something you just know. "Like a switch in your mind" my dad always says.
**6 seconds.**
My mum and dad look at me, just as curious as I am.
**5 seconds.**
I hope it's not something useless, like Eva, my sister.
**4 seconds.**
She has the ability to open doors from a very long distance.
**3 seconds.**
Only open them, she can't close them.
**2 seconds**
A lot of scientists did research, but awesome superpowers vs. lame superpowers did not seem to run in the family.
**1 second**
I close my eyes.
**0 seconds.**
The ability to walk halfway through walls.
-------------------
**wow Gold!** i never expected to get gold, so thank you very much anon! You are amazing! Thank you :) | Today is my 18th birthday, a day which my best friend Emily received her gift of mind control, she was the first of our friends to receive her gift.
She loved playing games with us. One afternoon, at lunchtime, my eyes were invested on this guy from the football team, Alex Brucelini. I knew it wasn't my place to say anything to him, as he was dating Lexie, the girl with vacuum suction powers, I had no chance. All of a sudden my mind went blank, and words started coming out my mouth,
"Alex's penis was ripped off by Lexie, dat bitch is like a fuckin' Dyson!"
The whole school went quiet, while Emily started laughing hysterically.
Now it's my day, as I have been granted my superpower, which shall bring peace to the universe as we know it. I grew eager to find out what it was.
The day passed, but I slowly pieced together what power I was granted. I had quite a strange taste in my mouth, salty, yet sweet, where I couldn't stop salivating.
I peer across the lunch room where I see Emily talking to Alex, giggling and groping his muscular build. This really ticked me off, as I knew that since my outburst a few weeks ago, Alex broke up with Lexie, and no one would sit with me, leaving me to plot and await my day.
Standing up, and swiftly running, blocking my mouth so that I would have an early eruption, I went right up to the two of them. Nearly half a second passed before every students eyes were on me, when I projectile vomited about 3 gallons of vomit, which consisted of chunks of tomato, onion, spinach, tuna, and a couple unidentified ingredients, all over the two of them, leaving them in a drenched soak of disgusting.
Everyone in the school, along with Alex and Emily, were dumbfounded, while I stood laughing, nearly choking on the vomit still in my throat. | 2015-03-28T05:36:19 | 2015-03-28T05:00:15 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Barry was nervous. Tonight he'd go to bed a 17 year old and wake up an 18 year old with his power.
What category would he get? There's the three categories: Body, Mind, and Mobility. Body can be anything from strength, to scales. Mind could be super intelligence, to knowledge of a specific category. Mobility could be flight, to the ability to vibrate.
There's no telling what I'll get from my parents. They're one of the few times a major fell in love with a minor power. My father has the ability to fill any container or vessel with the non-alcoholic beverage of his choice. My mother has super intelligence, and never forgets anything. Anything.
I felt my eyes getting heavy and the world going dark. I dreamed of all the things I could do, all the people I could save. All the girls I could pull.
When I woke up I lay in bed, trying to figure out if I felt any different. Nothing so far. I carefully started testing all my limbs, making sure I didn't break anything. Nothing. I checked my skin. Still looks normal.
I looked around my room. My eyes fell on the glass of water next to my bed, and I knew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, falling from my bed to the floor.
My father found me huddled and crying.
"What? Barry, what is it?"
I pointed to the glass of water, "That ain't juice."
My father was confused. He grabbed the glass, and poured it into the trash, them materialized some orange juice in the glass, holding it out to me.
I sobbed to him, "That... That is juice."
My power? Knowledge of Juice. | There was a loud knock on my door and I woke up in a panic. “Mom said get downstairs it’s nearly time!” That was my younger sister. I looked at the clock. It read 12.00pm. I was due to receive my powers at eleven minutes past, as that’s when I was born.
I’ve been doing my best to ignore that it was happening. I always hated being the center of anyones attention. Birthdays were always a nightmare for me. Everyone looking at me with a big smile singing happy birthday while I stood there wishing I wasn’t and that they’d all stop looking at me. Still though, today was a different birthday.
I wonder if I’ll end up with something like my Dad, which is how fast he can move. The guy is seriously fast. He hasn’t driven a car since his eighteenth birthday because he can get wherever he wants faster by running. Mom, she’s got a pretty cool power too I guess, she has some kinetic abilities. Although she was never great at using it. The most she could do was close a door from across the room, every time she tried to move something heavier it fell or broke. I’ve lost count of the amount of times she's dropped a full pot of coffee in the house. I think I’d much rather have Dads than Moms in that case.
I went downstairs to the kitchen and not only was my immediate family there, but everyone. Great. And I’m in my fucking spiderman pyjamas, who has amazing powers, maybe I’ll end with something like his. That would be unreal. Wish I knew what determined what you’ll end up with. “Almost time!” said my Dad with a huge smile stretched across his face. I think he’s more excited than I am. I wish you would all stop looking at me like that. Maybe I won’t get any powers anyway. I might be that guy.
The clock hit eleven minutes past and everyones eyes widened is shock. I started to panic. And I mean really fucking panic. What are they looking at? What happened? “What is it?” I said to them. Nobody answered me. “What the fuck is it?!” I ran over to the mirror on the other side of the room and I knocked over my little sister in the process as she didn’t get out of my way.
Looking in the mirror, there was nothing looking back. Only my family looking at my sister getting up from the floor and then looking around the room.
EDIT; a word. | 2015-03-28T07:22:07 | 2015-03-28T06:04:58 | 27 | 12 |
[WP] You live in a world where every person receives a superpower on their 18th birthday. You eagerly count down the seconds then shriek in horror as you are given a power no one would ever want to be stuck with. | Barry was nervous. Tonight he'd go to bed a 17 year old and wake up an 18 year old with his power.
What category would he get? There's the three categories: Body, Mind, and Mobility. Body can be anything from strength, to scales. Mind could be super intelligence, to knowledge of a specific category. Mobility could be flight, to the ability to vibrate.
There's no telling what I'll get from my parents. They're one of the few times a major fell in love with a minor power. My father has the ability to fill any container or vessel with the non-alcoholic beverage of his choice. My mother has super intelligence, and never forgets anything. Anything.
I felt my eyes getting heavy and the world going dark. I dreamed of all the things I could do, all the people I could save. All the girls I could pull.
When I woke up I lay in bed, trying to figure out if I felt any different. Nothing so far. I carefully started testing all my limbs, making sure I didn't break anything. Nothing. I checked my skin. Still looks normal.
I looked around my room. My eyes fell on the glass of water next to my bed, and I knew.
"NOOOOOOOOOOO!" I screamed, falling from my bed to the floor.
My father found me huddled and crying.
"What? Barry, what is it?"
I pointed to the glass of water, "That ain't juice."
My father was confused. He grabbed the glass, and poured it into the trash, them materialized some orange juice in the glass, holding it out to me.
I sobbed to him, "That... That is juice."
My power? Knowledge of Juice. |
The next day I woke up, dressed, ate breakfast, and drove to school in my crappy '93 caprice as usual. "Just another day. Just a normal, 'nuther day," I mumbled aloud, half hoping and completely unconvinced of the words that struggled to push past my lips.
I pulled into the student parking lot and made my way Inside. On the way through the lobby, Tom locked eyes with me from his locker and smiled slyly. "I've got 5 minutes if you're free" he yelled to me, just loud enough for others to hear. A series of hoots and coos ensued from those within earshot. I turned my face to the floor and followed the blue tile in the opposite direction.
"C'mon, man! It's kind of, you know, like your duty now! Think of how much money you could make." Allen looked at me at my locker with excited eyes, completely ignoring my mental well-being. "Seriously, drop it," I spat back. "Dude, I can't. That would be like telling Frank Sinatra to put down the mic, Barry Bonds to put down the bat, Tiger Woods to put down the club---" "what the hell! Why do all of your examples have to be about phallic objects!?" I began to lose my mind. "They're called metaphors Dum dum, but I guess you won't need brains anymore with beautiful DSLs like those, right?" Allen was just playing with me now. "FOR THE LAST TIME, I'M NOT GOING TO USE MY NEW POWER OF GIVING THE GREATEST BLOW JOBS!" There it was, I completely lost it. In front of the whole school. But I didn't stop there, I started point at people and yelling "You don't get a blowjob! You don't get a blowjob! Ohhhh no, no blowjobs for you! No one is getting their penis anywhere near my mouth! I'm STRAIGHT." I was breathing heavily and everyone stood there motionless, mouths agape, just staring at me. No, not quite at me. At my lips. I couldn't take it anymore. I ran to my car and drove away.
Months later, the pressure had become too much for me and I lost my ability to cope without drugs. I got mixed up with some shady people and that's how I started sucking dick for cash on the street. Today I'll put the barrel of 1911, that I paid for with 12 blowjobs, into my semen laden mouth and pull the trigger.
Fin. | 2015-03-28T07:22:07 | 2015-03-28T06:25:16 | 27 | 11 |
[WP] It suddenly becomes possible to gain XP and level up in the real world, but you can only do so by getting kills. | The biggest 'perk' of hitting level two is being able to see other people's levels. I was doing it now, gazing around the room. The little kids were all level one of course- the starter level. Lexi- the other teacher- was kneeling by the fish tank with little Johanna. Both level ones.
Deep in thought, I barely noticed the little tug on my shirt.
"Mr Raley?"
"Yes, Saffy?"
"What was your wife's favourite colour?"
She brandished a new pack of crayons and a piece of paper. There was already a stick-man on it- not my exact likeness, but how accurate can stick-men get? Another drawing was stood next to mine, a lady with long red hair and a yet-to-be-coloured-in dress. My heart twinged.
"I don't have a wife, sweetie."
I smiled at the little girl, trying not to show too much pain in my eyes. She looked confused.
"Who is the lady in the photo?" she said, pointing to the picture on my desk. I gazed at the picture, taking in her mischievous smile and warm eyes.
"She *used* to be my wife."
"Why isn't she now?"
"She died, sweetie."
The little girl's mouth turned into a round 'o'. She patted my knee.
"I'm sorry."
Then she had gone, skipped away to talk to her friends.
I thought back my to wife. That night- a rainy Tuesday. Earlier on she'd looked out at the rumbling purple clouds and run outside to take a photo. She came back in, soaking wet and smiling. I was so tired from work... I didn't smile back. I went to sleep watching TV while she made dinner. When I woke up... well, she had gone cold. I can still feel her dead hand in my own. And the guy who'd done it. He was still there, running down from the bedroom, arms full of her grandmother's jewellery. I grabbed my gun. *Bang*.
When you kill a man for the first time, you level up straight away.
It was the most painful thing I'd ever felt.
I looked around at the glowing golden '1's glittering in the room. It was a good thing they couldn't see levels.
I shivered under the cursed shadow of my storming, bruised '2'. | A new government initiative to solve the overpopulation crisis, the introduction of XP (experience points) which could be gained by any ordinary citizen, had the means to increase one's biological powers beyond humanly measure. Each experience point was acquired by taking the life of another person. One would then take their victims body to an XP hotspot, submit it, and be rewarded with 1 point. It was a primitive game of survival of the fittest, promoted on a civilised playing field. A clash between the natural order we human's so desperately strive to separate ourselves from, and modern co-existence.
The incentives to kill were quite desirable. 1 experience point gained a person the ability to fly, able to soar above and beyond the heavens. 2 experience points granted the ability to breathe beneath water, just as the fish do, and with 3 points, one would be able to run faster than any other creature that had ever lived. Beyond this, there were nothing else could be unlocked until one reached the ultimate level, 1000 points, which granted that person the superlative fantasy; the overcoming of all biological boundaries: *immortality*, the ability to live forever and ever.What had been unattainable since the beginning of our time now became a reality. Humans had now truly surpassed the traditional realm of nature, in that the cycle of life and death no longer existed for some of its members.
I once had the chance to meet one of these immortals.
"*Do you never want do die? How can you possibly live forever?*", I asked Him.
"*Well*", He replied, "*Why do you choose to exist now if you will not live forever? If you are destined to an eternal nothingness, then does that mean you already cease to exist?*".
I did not understand, "*What do you mean Sir? I exist right now just as you do*".
"*You don't. Not by the terms of the universe, but on your own terms you do not exist. For if something is destined to happen, then it has already occurred. This is the nature of time. You are destined to an eternal nothingness, therefore since it will happen and you will never rise for all of eternity, you are already dead*".
He took a sip from a wine glass and continued, "*My destiny is to exist forever. Time no longer exists within, before, or beyond me. I am now everything and anything. I exist as living proof of the logical extreme to which all humans that currently exist and understand their mortality irrationally strive for: the desire to live forever.*"
He put down the glass and looked up towards the sky, "*I am what you wish to be, and I have made an irrevocable mistake.*"
He cried.
I hope at least one person reads this and can understand what this means, for when i put down this pen, I shall cash in the ultimate experience point, *myself*. And this will be the end of the initiative.
We were never meant to fly, so God did not give us wings. We were never meant to dwell with the fish or run faster than the leopard, so God did not give us these abilities. If we weren't meant to be here forever, then why should we be here at all?
edit: formatting | 2015-11-11T09:30:50 | 2015-11-11T08:19:37 | 64 | 24 |
[WP] You were born with a secret curse: you involuntarily alternate between each gender every midnight. As a result, you live two different lives. One night, your friends discover your secret in the worst way imaginable.
This has been done already, sadly with only one reply. I want to see what people can do.
EDIT: Jesus Christ 1235 upvotes? | "Stick it in my ass!"
"Um, what?"
"Stick it in my fucking ass!"
"Mmm yeah baby"
I looked over at the clock. 11:59. Great.
"Now, dammit!"
"Wow I didn't know you were so...AHH what in the fuck!"
12:00. Too late. I can feel my basement doors snap shut. I should be used to it by now, but this time feels different. Maybe it's the screaming.
"What the fuck! What the FUCK!"
He shuts up for a second as our eyes both settle on what should be his crotch. It's smooth as a Ken doll. We both hesitate before looking at mine.
It looks two sausages making a peace sign. I'm not sure how but I must have somehow absorbed the part of him that was inside me when the clock stuff twelve. I'm a regular Cinderella.
"You can have it back tomorrow."
"What? I...uh....fuck..."
I throw on his clothes and make my way home. I've got an AMA to do.
| As I could feel my features shift and fold, I knew I only had moments to leave. Fortunately, I was at the bar with "Dean's" friends, the lighting poor and so was their senses. I grabbed my large, old, leather coat and tried to bid my farewells as quickly as I could, interrupting Jimmy's political rant. He rolled his drunkenly, sluggish eyes and mustered a sarcastic remark about "sheeple". I could feel the stubble on my chin and neck slowly reside. So, I waved to the rest of the guys and rushed out the door. My excuse, was "the wife", Melany, a fictitious woman the work buddies and acquaintances never meet had needed me home. My shirt became tight and baggy in all the places a man shouldn't have, so I zipped up my coat and stumbled down the block. The feeling of the change never fades, same painful twists and turns. However, this time was different. This time was faintly familiar, but rare to someone with my "our" condition. My old Ford pickup just a block away, and all I could think about was if I hade a box of pads at home. I, Alex, she started her very off cycle.
I reached Dean's pickup just in time. My chest has filled out, and there was little to no trace I was once Dean. Well, except his raggity, old, brown leather jacket and faded denim jeans. If it weren't for this damn period, I'd have some fun tonight. Dean's friends aren't bad, but as I was making my appearance I noticed a few good-looking guys. Hey, even some good-looking gals. I unlocked our old ford pickup, I don't think Dean can clean worth a shit. I fumbled to put the key in the ignition, as soon as I hear the engine revv, I also hear a knock at our window.
*I don't know, anyone want to add to this or continue with the story?* | 2015-11-15T08:01:36 | 2015-11-15T01:43:57 | 262 | 43 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | New suit, old tie, there's a stain in the middle, and a tear in my eye.
I sigh.
The streets are the same, the cars they drift, the leaves they fall, from the blue sky
I sigh.
I walk and walk, sip and sip, the rye begins to run dry
I sigh.
The students they sleep, careless, naive, am I really the bad guy?
I sigh.
Another day, another night without her.
If I said I could live without my love, it would be one big lie,
I sigh,
I sigh. | I am the source.
The source of everything good, bad, holy, evil, light, dark.
I am the good, the bad, and the ugly. I am the punk and I
am the .44 Magnum and I am feeling lucky. I am not for a few dollars more because I am all dollars.
I am the beauty and the beast. I am the genie and I am the wishes.
I am the car, and I am the road. I am the pothole too. I am the twinge you feel in your back. I am the swear word that escapes your cavity ridden mouth. I am the cavity.
I am the bow and I am the arrow. But I am not the target, because I am the source. Get your act together man!
I am. It is me. The source. The source of all knowledge, of all wisdom and of all folly. I am the donut, and I am the hole. I am what they teach you at Harvard Business school, and I am what they don't. I know how to make friends and influence people. When you die in a game and you don't know how, I am the source of your death. I am also the violators of mothers and sisters everywhere.
I am the butterfly and I am the effect. I am the wall and I am the builder. I am the health care coverage and I am the illness. Yes, I am also the medical bill.
Ask me anything.
| 2016-02-22T10:07:53 | 2016-02-22T09:46:55 | 300 | 104 |
[WP] Your Reddit username decides your profession. How is your first day at work?
If possible. Some usernames just don't work well in this situation.
---
I'm an FBI agent now. Wooo!
You're all under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason.
---
Dear God RIP my inbox | New suit, old tie, there's a stain in the middle, and a tear in my eye.
I sigh.
The streets are the same, the cars they drift, the leaves they fall, from the blue sky
I sigh.
I walk and walk, sip and sip, the rye begins to run dry
I sigh.
The students they sleep, careless, naive, am I really the bad guy?
I sigh.
Another day, another night without her.
If I said I could live without my love, it would be one big lie,
I sigh,
I sigh. | "For the hundredth time, my name is not supposed to be a sly reference to my genitalia!"
"Look, kid, no one's gonna believe you. Fact of the matter is, you're either goddamn brilliant or denser than a neutron star for choosing that handle, and it doesn't matter. You have it, and your job from now on is writing euphemistic copy for The Shallot."
"I don't even know what that is."
"Someone thought it would be cute to spoof a satire site, but make the humor about dick jokes instead of, you know, anything actually funny."
"What if I'm no good at that?"
"Then you'll fit right in."
"It's just my name, for Christ's sake! I'm a big dude and it's my literal, actual name."
"Jesus, you really are that dense, aren't you?"
"I can't help how people see my name."
"... I don't know what to tell you. Actually, I do. Go watch everything the Wayans Brothers ever made, really soak in the adolescent filth, and you're well on your way to being an expert dick joke slinger."
"I can't afford that."
"Kid, we have them on the server here. There's a room where they're always playing."
"What's it called?"
"What?"
"The room where it's playing."
"It's the fucking viewing room."
"I just thought maybe it was called 'The Ball Pit' or something."
"Are you fucking with me?"
"I might be."
"Get out of my office." | 2016-02-22T10:07:53 | 2016-02-22T09:41:21 | 300 | 91 |
[WP] Two people promise their first born child to two different witches in return for a favour. These two people end up getting married and have a child together. | "Well, we did both promise you both our first born..." the father recalled, with a hint of a smirk.
"And I think your solution is as simple as your problem!" the mother beamed
"If we split the child in half..."said witch #1
"Both of our spells will fail! " finished witch #2
"Ah..." the father chuckled, "but if you two join in holy matrimony, the child will fully belong to you both!" He continued, stifling his laughter.
"After the small matter of completing the paperwork required for a same sex marriage and adoption! !" The mother continued, "So we'll just keep an eye on him until you're ready!" The mother finished.
"OH COME ON!!!" Witch #1 screams.
"Hey, I'm not that bad! " witch #2 cries
"I'm not taking about your mule-face. I looked in the crystal ball, and this kid will have been dead for centuries before we can legally marry!" Witch #1 retorts.
"Goddamnit! !" Witch #2 screams.
Smoke fills the room, and the witches menacingly proclaim, "you have spared the life of your first born, at the expense of your later born. We shall claim the first child in your heir, whoever the hell that ends up being, once our right to marry those of our own gender&CT becomes law." The two spoke in unison.
"So. ..you'll become gay pride activists then?" The father asks.
"I guess we have to. .." says the witch
| We never knew our parents, our real ones anyway, we were raised by our moms. We were always homeschooled, and our moms dont really let us out much. My name is Alexander and my twin sisters name is Aleksandra. I go by Alex, and she goes by Endra to avoid confusion. We are conjoined twins. Endra has the short end of the stick as she controls only the left arm, but she doesn't seem to mind. I've never been as good with magic, so i suppose that makes us even.
"That was a rush," Endra suddenly says into my ear. I cock my head slightly indicating for her to continue. "I've been bodyjumping since this morning. First I was a bird on the windowsill, then i flew down, and became one of the normals on the street below."
"You seem to be bodyjumping a lot lately. You've been asleep for hours." I respond gently, careful not to wake the moms.
"I get tired of only moving one arm. It's too limiting. Don't you ever want to get away, Alex?" She asks me in carefully hushed tones.
"Of course, I just... I'm not as good at it as you." I look away, glancing at our moms. Fast asleep, but I dont trust it. They have so many tricks up their sleeves. "What happened by the way?"
"I fought off a rapist by possessing a girl. I conjured a giant spider from the 3 realm, and trapped him in a web. Recorded the whole thing, and called 911 on the phone. He's behind bars now." Endra smiles swelling with pride. I suppose she didnt draw attention to herself, so she should be alright. I worry about such flamboyant displays of power though. Our moms have warned us that we are children of great power, and people will come looking for people of our bloodline.
"Forcing him to turn himself in could have had the same effect, ya know Endra?" I tilt my head playfully. She punches me in the right shoulder, part of us i can feel.
"It wouldnt have been nearly as satisfying though. Come with me. I'll help you get better at it. Let's go tonight" Endra smiles yanking my soul to the spirit realm.
---------------------------
I'm tired right now, so I'm going to go to bed. I'll write more if anyone wants it, but for now i can barely keep my eyes open.
Thanks for reading
~RMarcus | 2016-03-27T22:41:06 | 2016-03-27T21:14:07 | 63 | 47 |
[WP] People lose the ability to deny requests. They must either a) fulfill them or b) ask someone else to do it. There are volunteers who take bad requests in exchange for compensation or exemption from law. Write about the life of a volunteer. | Some people make requests that cannot, or should not, be made. Many people were asked to do things that they would prefer to avoid. The police wanted them to avoid these tasks as well so an agreement was made. People can come into our office and pass requests onto them such as "Go kill yourself", "Give me your money", or even ones like "love me".
The organization used to simply pass on the requests around the office leaving them unfulfilled. As time went on, these requests piled up. One person could hold onto hundreds of requests without hope of ever passing them all on before retirement. With such a large number of requests residing within one person, their body feels compelled to act on them without the mind's consent. After a series of tragedies, they started allowing volunteers to accept thousands of requests at once.
As a volunteer, I sit, tied to a chair, while dozens of these people verbally pass these requests onto me at once. They understand the sacrifice I am making but I can still see relief flicker on their faces with each request. After an innumerable number of requests, I raise my fingers, gesturing them to stop. My body pushes against the restraints as I attempt to act out thousands of horrendous acts. With a brief nod, each expresses thanks as they trickle out of the bare room.
After a few moments of silence, the PA system crackles to life: "Do you have any final statements?" I make one final request in return: "Kill me."
Edit: awkward phrase | The job came with its pros and cons, just like any job did. I had entered into the agreement with Ms Geraltson ten years ago, just as her movie career was taking off and she was voted sexiest woman alive. It was about then all the requests from the crazies of the world began to flow in, all of them wanting to fuck her in the most depraved ways possible.
I was a lowlife turning tricks for my next fix when Ms Geraltson found me and proposed our arrangement. Every time a scumbag came to her with a dream of performing a disgusting sex act on a movie star, she would pass those requests onto me. These people would then have to fufil their sick fantasies intended for Ms Geraltson on me or risk going to jail. That was the con of the job, getting fucked by these sick bastards. But once it was made known that I was the one you’d be dealing with the requests really trickled up. But sometimes people would still ask her, who knows why. Maybe they didn’t know about me, but whenever I got that call from Ms Geraltson I was over the moon.
You must be asking why? Am I a masochist? No. Well maybe a little bit, but there was a little proviso written into my agreement with Ms Geraltson, that was the pro of the job. Whenever one of these people fucked me in place of Ms Geraltson, then Ms Geraltson would allow me to request to fuck her in turn. Nothing as sick as what these perverts were suggesting, but when you can sleep with the sexiest woman alive you take anything you can get. Even ten years on, while she’s not even voted onto the top 100 sexiest alive anymore, she is still a very attractive lady. And I’m discreet, nobody knows about our arrangement, which is why it has lasted this long.
In fact a few years into our arrangement she recommended me to another superstar for my discreet services. So while I occasionally have to fuck a perverted old man, I also get to sleep with some of the most attractive women in the movie world.
I love my job.
----------------
[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
| 2016-04-03T10:48:48 | 2016-04-03T09:58:12 | 1,009 | 50 |
[WP] You've died and have woken up in a bright area; there is a man standing before you in white robes. He asks "How was Heaven?" | It took so much to squint at the man standing in front of me. At first I thought he might be a hallucination – people said occurrences like these happened with the procedure.
Beatifically smiling, he came into focus. He didn't say a word. He didn't have to. I knew where I was and what that meant.
“Damn.”
I wish my first words to my maker would have been more...eloquent. He just beamed back at me.
He reached out his hand, or what I thought was his hand. Things still weren't totally clear. As he lifted me up, he took a breath to ask me a question.
It had been a 6 hour surgery. She needed part of a liver, and there wasn't a moment I could remember where I didn't know it was going to be mine. Fair is fair, she took my heart 13 years earlier. She always laughed when I called it a matching set.
I didn't make it.
She did.
“How was heaven” he asked, dusting off my back.
“She was amazing.”
“Good,” he replied “we have all eternity to talk about her.”
He threw his arm around my shoulders as we walked. He let out a chuckle.
“Matching set. That was funny.” | Even though I've already died once before, the crunch of a bone snapped from impact still brings a deep sickness to my gut. At first I twist my head to let it all come out, but as I do I see a pair of pale feet in a pair of sandals. I twist away further to avoid expelling my last mortal meal between his toes.
"Excuse me?" I say.
"How was it? Heaven I mean," he says.
"Have you ever asked someone how their entire life was?"
"You act like I haven't," he says.
Still a little queasy, I sit up. My leg is an attic coat hanger, mangled and thin. Curiously I prod it and feel the need to twist away once more, but I overcome the urges. The pain is of body. When I look to the sky there are clouds are no longer below my feet but miles above me in a serene blue afternoon.
"Second chance," he says.
"Why though?" I ask.
"Why not?"
He smiles. The sort of you from a father when his son grasps that diploma. Or upon meeting eyes with his wife beneath a veil of white and beside a man in black reading from a book. It's a smile that says the rest of a life is in front of him. He folds his hands in front of him and, with the gentlest of nods, motions towards a set of cement towers with windows that reflect white in the sun.
"How long has it been down here, you think?" he asks. He raises his hand as if there's a watch there, but his robe peels back to reveal only skin. His smile vanishes. "Go on."
I turn my head towards the city. It feels like it's been a very long time, but I'm here. This is me. There's no grave. No casket. I really want to go back up there, it was so nice and comforting. But if there's one thing everyone wants, if there's one thing people ask of this man every second of every day, either for them or a loved one, it's a second chance.
"Okay, but can you call an ambulance first? For my leg," I say. "It really hurts." | 2016-08-15T23:17:39 | 2016-08-15T20:55:55 | 307 | 29 |
[WP] A lonely old man, no family, never any visitors, dumps all of his affection into the tree growing in his backyard. And now that tree, tall and strong, doesn't understand why it's friend is only getting weaker. | The old man limped to his rocking chair, easing himself into it with care. He lit his pipe, then looked at the tree with a smile.
"Looking mighty fine today," he told the tree, rocking in his chair. "I remember when you were just a sapling, what seems like so long ago."
The wind rustled through the tree's leaves, and the old man was content with that. He loved the tree, in some strange way. It was a great listener, for starters.
"I don't have much time left, but it's been a pleasure watching you grow. It really has."
The man took a deep drag of his pipe, blowing it into the wind. "No, not long left at all now."
He looked up at the sky. "But I guess I'm ready; plenty others waiting for me on the other side."
He began to say something, then was suddenly racked with a deep, throaty cough that left him gasping for air. It took him several minutes to recover, and was left pale and breathless.
He took long, troubled breaths. "Not long left at all," he said, gritting his teeth.
The man got up, struggling to stand upright. He grabbed his rocking chair, laboriously dragging it until it lay in the shade of the large tree.
He collapsed into the chair, breathless, but happy.
"Just you and me, tree," he said, rocking with a grin, "just you and me."
And the chair rocked, and rocked, and rocked no more.
And the first Autumn leaf fell, softly floating through the air, landing on the back of his neck.
And then all the leaves fell almost at once, leaving the tree blank and bare.
****
****
[Subscribe](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/), if you want. | The Man smiled as he finished spreading the last bag of mulch, stretching back to ease the crack in his spine. His limbs were well-tanned by the sun, lines worn by war and work and weariness carved on his gaunt face. Work clothes, well used and well mended were soiled with dirt, a wheelbarrow filled with old tools next to him.
The Man nodded and reached down for the ice chest, popping the lid off and reaching into the half-melted ice for a bottle of beer. Hands gnarled by age cracked open the beer with a flick of church key, the cap vanishing into a pocket. He tapped the glass bottle against the bark of the tree.
"It's a hot one today, isn't it, Martha?"
The Man allowed the words to slip into the wind, admiring the robins' *cheerio* calls and the low haunting notes of a mourning dove. He always loved them, even when he was far from home he smiled at the thought of cool spring mornings and the world just beginning to stir from its slumber. He took a swig of his beer.
"They're playing a classic movie at the theater this week. *The Flight of the Phoenix.* The old one, you know? Figured I'd go see it. Maybe catch a bite at Browns. Be nice to do something spontaneous." He patted the rough bark of the tree, as callused as his own palms.
"The McGregors' boy, Allan I think, he stopped by the other day collecting bottles for the JV lacrosse team. Gave him the two bags I had. Figured I don't need them." His smiled faded, replaced by weary lines and narrow lips.
"I went to the Doctors yesterday, got my reports back. Clean bill of health for the most part: cholesterol's not as good as it could be. Gout hasn't bothered me lately... Ah, you know the rest. Sorry, this old warhorse still has some years on him."
The Man finished off his beer before placing it back in the cooler. He knelt down, brushing his dirty fingers across the bark and the smooth granite stone nestled between the roots. He rose, and placed the ice chest into the wheelbarrow, tkaing its tired handles in his grip.
"Don't worry, dear. I'm always here. And eventually I'll always be here, like we promised each other."
With that he started back towards the house, leaving the tall tree and the clean granite stone behind.
*Martha Eleanor Taylor* **I** *James Arthur Taylor*
*1954-2016* **I** *1953-* | 2016-10-16T15:27:04 | 2016-10-16T15:20:53 | 93 | 23 |
[WP] at the end of 2016, you hear "thank you for playing the 'Earth' open beta. You will be returning to your respective galaxies shortly." | My opinion about the game ?
I've been here since beta when there were few of us. It was hardcore but fantastic ! These hunts with only a stick were thrilling. And man when they implemented fire ! Oh the possibilities !
Vanilla was great too, not fan of the agricultural expansion at first but it was sure easier to remove the hungry debuff. One of my greatest memories was when one of the leader of a huge guild decided to build a pyramid, was a huge collective effort on the Egypt server !
These days ? Meh not so great. It has still huge popularity with 6 billions players but it seems that the biggest of the growth is behind them. I mean no surprise here... It is now a pay to win since Vivendi bought it... No skills needed, hello micro transactions..
When two rich kids with daddy wallets can pay to become USA server leader with absolutely no skills, I knew I was done.
| How did this make it to beta? Don't get me wrong, Earth is a beautiful, immersive world. Only you can't explore any of it. Your whole life depends on where you're spawned in the world. If you're spawned (born) with a disability, or in a developing country or a war zone, that defines your experience of Earth.
There are wonders, there are grand and beautiful canyons and oceans and mountains and the whole planet is full of life! Whales and giraffes and penguins and elephants and tigers and domesticated cats, dogs, and llamas! There are beautiful butterflies and breathtakingly gorgeous trees and astonishing plants and flowers and it's incredible. The Aurora Borealis? Seriously, whoever programmed that- kudos.
But no one will want to play Earth if they can't get to see all those things. No one wants to spend their whole game time suffering. The most fun part about Earth is all the diversity, all the stories and mythology, all the life, all the adventures, and all the beautiful things to see and explore. So let us all experience that. Make an Earth that celebrates diversity and doesn't have any wars or violence!
Please remake Earth. Make everyone treat everyone with compassion, please! Don't give us a world that's full of problems that seem too big to be solved (climate change, war, racism, gender oppression, the list goes on and on... leave those things out!).
I would have a way more fun time adventuring around Earth with no need for money, and just exploring all the wonderful things to see and hearing all the mythologies from around the world, celebrating all the holidays, making new friends, and having a fantastical, happy experience.
Thank you! | 2016-11-05T01:15:01 | 2016-11-04T23:18:30 | 151 | 84 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | The First Ambassador to Humanity swirled idly in its container and moved to the next item on its list.
"Your FTL technology", it asked the panel of assembled human leaders, "How does it work?"
The humans exchanged surprised looks. The one at the end of the panel eventually speaking.
"You mean the Confounder?"
"If that is what you call it, yes."
"Well it... it slows the light down."
The First Ambassador frowned. Or at least, it came as close to frowning as one can when one is a mass of liquid in a hermetically sealed tank.
"I do not understand", it replied, "How does this help?"
It was a different human who replied this time, the large one at the head of the panel
"It slows the light down so we can overtake it", he snapped. "What's so hard to understand about that?"
The Ambassador thickened as it took a moment to process this statement.
"This... does not reduce your travel time".
"Who said anything about that?", the chief human asked irritably. "It's not about getting places, it's about showing the light who's boss! It's about proving a point!". He jabbed his thumb against his chest. "We wanted to be the fastest thing in the universe, and now we are!".
The Ambassador thickened further, rapidly losing faith in this species' fitness to join the intergalactic community.
"Let me rephrase my question," it said. "You received a summons to this meeting approximately five of your days ago. How did you travel the light years between this point and your planet in that time?".
"Ooh". A third human spoke this time. "It wants to know about the Shuffle".
A collection of mutters resounded among the rest of the panel, the large one saying something about "...not really *travel* is it?". Once they had stilled the third human continued speaking.
"It's quite simply really. Getting to faraway places is hard, so the Shuffle just swaps bits of space around until the part we want is next to us". She gave the Ambassador a vacant smile.
Its slow swishing motion gradually stilled as understanding set in. The ships that found themselves light years from their destination, stranded without food or air. The civilised worlds torn from their orbits and flung into deep space. The black holes appearing from nowhere, devouring entire star systems of inhabited plants. Literally boiling with anger, the First Ambassador closed it's communication channel to the humans and opened a new one to the Galactic Council.
*There would be war* | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T06:39:01 | 42 | 25 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | "Surely you can't be serious?" Said one of the Xygian scientists to the Human delegation.
"I am serious, and don't call me Shirley." Replied Dr. Filmer before receiving a high-five from one of the other members of the delegation.
The Xygians continued "We cannot, in good faith, approve of this travel mechanism. Your planned use of toroidal quartz crystal will not be allowed by the Planetary Planning Board."
"We are guaranteed by our rights, as dictated by the fifty seventh Interplanetary Conference for the Well-Being of Life in the Universe, to have access to faster than light space travel for the uses of commerce and exploration."
"Doctor, we are well aware of the rights you are guaranteed, but we cannot, in good faith, approve of this method of travel just as we could not approve of your, what was it? Oreo Project?"
"Project Orion, Sir."
"Yes, that one... We are sorry, but we cannot approve these plans."
"Our small scale tests have shown that this is a very efficient and safe mode of travel, our simulations have shown the same, as did the large scale test on our moon. Based on the evidence provided, you cannot disapprove of our plan."
Yes, but there is currently concern coming from the Ethics Board on the matter and they are worried about it's possible implications for war as well as the potential ethical concerns over some of the mechanical aspects of your device. For the spoken record, Doctor, could you please explain the technical aspects of your device to the rest of the comity gather here today?"
"Our current model for achieving faster than light travel is based around the use of a coil-gun, or static discharge cannon, powered by the static charge gathered by a toroidal quartz crystal we would put into orbit around our planet. The crystal would be spun by solar winds generated by our local star and the power would be converted into high amplitude, low frequency, radio waves so the power can be transmitted wirelessly to a capacitor bank on our moon where the cannon would be located."
"That being all well and good, could you state, for the record, the medium you are using to generate the static electricity?
"Um, cats, Sir. Members of the feline species native to our planet. We have found their ability for generating static electricity has no rivals. But if you would like, for the sake of the Ethics Board, we can run some tests on other organic materials and possibly synthetics materials."
"Thank you, we'll see you again in two Florms. Meeting adjured." | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T04:21:18 | 42 | 19 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | The Octo generational-carrier-ship hung over the blasted world. The only readings were the residual effects of the heavy radiation from the countless fusion bombs dropped on it.
A youngling pondered aloud "Why would we destroy a sentient species?"
"They broke the galaxy, youngling."
"How?"
The commander-elect thought to chastise the youngling, but the thought was fleeting. No disrespect (which must be upheld for the group as a whole) was detected. The commanders ship was one of the heaviest damaged, and breeding has been going full tilt ever since.
"Youngling" , it made the squishy alien equivalent of a sigh, "Let me tell you of the name that named us ‘Octos’, a race that must name everything."
"A species-that-names made it this far technologically?"
"Yes, driven by a fear of the unknown, they managed to form a rudimentary science and built their own FTL."
"Aren’t those usually insanely dangerous and only a purview of non-corporeals?"
The commander-elect paused, and allowed the younglings who had gathered to look upon the dead irradiated world.
"They thought they had built a telescope that could use subatomic particles to see systems at a different rate than the speed of light. They named all of these particles of course."
"How could they maintain so many names?"
"They couldn’t, with each new discovery changing names and making the system more and more convoluted."
After another introspective pause, “This species created this machine,” and it called up an imagine in 4D. It twisted and reformed, and looked like a churning bucket of broken mirrors.
“This machine had found the signal of an ancient artifact. We have ships heading there now…”
“This artifacts signal can be detected in every system, its signal is identical non-chronologically; Every known system hears an identical signal no what where they are in relation to the artifact.”
“We know about the artifact. Everyone does. So how could their detector-”
“They didn’t build a detector. They didn’t even build a *receiver*” a collective gasp visibly echoed in the viscous atmosphere.
The younglings quivered all 7 tentacles awaiting the next words.
“The creatures whom called themselves ‘People’ in 100’s of different words, these creatures built a transmitter.”
“And without a second thought, these creatures activated it.”
“So you see now, we had to end the possibly of transmission, before the old ones could reply.”
| 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T06:56:53 | 42 | 14 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Terrestrial Warp Drives. First proposed by Miguel Alcubierre two hundred formlats ago, The equivalent of forcing space into a shape which closely resembles two black holes stacked fore to aft. It requires insanely large sums of energy to produce the warp effect, equivalent to at least the mass of a small moon converted to energy. To get around this, the Terrestrials use catalytic mass converter engines. A device which has been discredited by the rest of the universe for the complete and utter destructive potential should such a reactor melt down on a planet. They work by converting matter to energy with a catalyst particle. However, they also produce a certain percent of catalyst particles. When this process runs away, it has been known to destroy planets, heavily damaging entire solar systems.
Under order 4,900,232 section III, Human spacecraft are to be classified as "NOT TO BE TOUCHED UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES" on or near a planet, and "DESTROY AT ALL COSTS" in interplanetary space. This is not done as a measure against humans, but as a safety measure across the galaxy. This will be done until a treaty can be made with the terrestrial humans such that they will cease using catalytic mass converters.
Examination of a captured Terrestrial FTL Engine under the Federal Standard Gravity Model suggests that some fairly simple improvements to the Alcubierre-type drive can be made to reduce the energy requirements to what can be managed by fusion and antimatter reaction technology. They need not give up their unique drive. As dangerous as the Terrestrial Drive is, it presents no risk to those outside the vessel. | Faster than light (ftl) travel happens fast, people knew that from the outset.
Ftl traffic accidents happen faster, people were just smart enough to figure that out beforehand.
What most people didn't know before they tried faster than light travel, however, was that even if it doesn't go wrong directly going about it the wrong way was about as obvious to the rest of the universe as a steam-train going the wrong way down a busy one way street.
Actually it's more obvious than that but analogies on a galactic scale tend not to work if taken literally.
you see, the elegance of other species systems such as Kantian gates and salec skip drives is two fold, the ship itself never reaches particularly high speeds and can be sure that there is nothing between it and its destination except extradimensional shift energies, which dissipate in their own extra dimension.
The mildly less elegant wave riders and pulse tubes are still practically applicable because of the ability to steer them whilst travelling using small on-board EM thrusters.
One can almost imagine the conversation that led to it's design, the humans first light speed capable craft (the Multiplanetary Intergalactic Lightspeed Vehicle.)
Scientist 1: "so you're saying we can really kill two birds with one stone here?"
Scientist 2: "absolutely! the very mechanism that ensures we hit nothing on the way is what we'll use as an energy sink to slow the craft at its destination!"
Engineer: "not only that but it mainly uses technology we've had at our disposal for decades, we set up some working models in the Nevada desert."
Scientist 1: "perfect, it's so logical that the shortest route as the crow flies would be the best."
consequently the MILV had only one way of ensuring it didn't collide with objects, it destroyed them with a massively powerful laser beam fractions of a second before the fission igniters started its faster than lightspeed adventures. The MILV also had only one way to stop travelling faster than the speed of light and that was to actually catch up with its own humongous laser pulse, the fallout from which necessitated some rather hefty shielding.
So there are two ways in which thousands of tonnes of train forcing there way down a road is a good analogy for human ftl travel.
first off everyone on that street is going to watch in total horror as the humongous lump of metal barges everyone's nicely proportioned cars into the newly created wreckage piles at the side of the road.
secondly you cant stop a train unless it's the end of the line. | 2017-03-31T09:38:09 | 2017-03-31T07:52:19 | 42 | 11 |
[WP] Every starfaring species has discovered a different form of FTL travel. Kantian gates, Salec skip drives, Maltiun wave-riders, Delfanit pulse tubes ... Humanity's solution was regarded as "Unorthodox", "Unsafe", and "Damn Stupid" by the rest of the galaxy. | Trendsetti was looking at the report on the testing of forward-pushed wormhole system, and he wasn't happy.
On paper, FPWS should have been perfect. A space ship does a couple of certain calculations about its destination, sends the results into its Yadari-Futara particle launcher, fires a reversed Yadari particle projectile from it in destination's general direction, and the projectile goes on its way and creates a wormhole for the FTL travel.
In practice, it turned out to work just fine. The downside, as the report states, is that physical objects don't like it when the projectile goes through them, something Yadari and Futara apparently overlooked. Apparently, when the projectile, basically a kind of a miniature black hole, makes a contact with a physical object (say, an alien race's space ship with the emperor of that entire alien race currently on board), the object gets this nasty desire to collapse into itself and blow up (something that alien race is most certainly not going to like).
Trendsetti thought it was funny. Mankind wanted to find a way to travel faster than light but accidentally invented a superweapon instead. Too bad they're probably going to have to use it as such very soon. | Humanity's solution was space-folding. The problem is that in the folding process, anything along the "crease" is annihilated utterly. The most difficult part of the process was mapping an infinite trajectory in opposite directions and seeing to it that nothing of value was along this line. This inevitably led to problems; on one occasion, by chance two foldings intersected, wherein it was discovered that an entire 2D plane of our existence was destroyed. Apparently, major celestial bodies do not like having their continuity interrupted, and this causes them to re-coalesce into separate celestial bodies. The eggheads seem to think this is due to some interruption in some fundamental force of physics being discontinued for an infinitesimally brief but relevant length of time, but most people think they're full of crap and just guessing.
The other problem is that objects perpendicular to the fold at vast distances from the fold are slammed together along the hyperplane. Imagine two stars being slammed together from opposite ends of the galaxy within the 120-second duration of the folding event...literally impossible speeds. This really pisses off some other species whose nighttime skies are being polluted by intense flashes of light, to say nothing of how miffed the inhabitants of those systems might tend to become...
As the humans' foldings became more frequent, their territory has become a veritable origamy crane of hyperdimensional confusion. Travel within their territory is inadvisable at this time. Apparently their big thing now is to "loop" the fold upon itself, which allows interdimensional travel, but in unpredictable ways. Heaven, Nirvana, Acheron, Blathezuuh, Dave's Dimension, and Gweeguooiton 7 are now spilling into this reality, causing quite a mess. Dave is such an asshole. He stole the Ring Nebula, and is jackassing around wearing the Mexican Hat Galaxy and eating all of the tacos in the known universe. Jerk didn't even offer to pay. | 2017-03-31T08:44:19 | 2017-03-31T08:11:07 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You are the dark lord in a fantasy world however you rule a fair and just kingdom you just like to look evil while doing it. | I stared down at the men levelling their blades at me. I spied several of the palace guard amidst the swelling ranks in my throne room. I turned to my head guard for assistance and was met his sword leveled at me.
"Really Hector? A coup? How bold." I smiled blithely down the blade before turning back to the crowd. "And Doctor Leach too? I didn't know you had it in you. And is that old Captain Hulm? Well, blow me... Come on the, do tell... Who was the mastermind of all this?" A pause hung heavy between us. "Don't be shy... I'm *impressed*." A short runt of boy was pushed forth, the crowd closing behind him. Separated from his legion he looked weak and weedy, clutching his sickle like his life depended on it. He probably thought it did. Poor kid.
"Dark L-lord Azimuth of Duskbridge. W-w-we come, ah, before you, to... ummm."
"I'll wait." I grinned. This only flustered the poor whelp even further. He looks back at the stonefaced mob behind him. He sighed, before raising his sickle and proclaiming,
"Dark Lord Azimuth, We have come before you to defend our rights as citizens and put an end to your tyranny."
"That's a noble sentient. I'd probably have been more worried if you *weren't* shaking like a leaf. A+ for effort though." I stand to gave him a round of applause. Everyone in the room tightened their grip on their weapons. "Oh, for godsake, lower your weapons. You'll have someone's eye out."
"We will not be mock, Azimuth." A voice boomed from the crowd.
"Me? Mocking? *Wouldn't dream of it*." I raised an eyebrow, "Now... what was it you wanted?"
"Your head on a spike and your tyranny gone from this land!" The same voice bellowed.
"My good sir, I do believe you're drunk. Now, anyone sober, what do you hope to gain from deposing me?"
I walked up to the head of the crowd. I leaned in closer. Long black robe trailing behind, I paced. "Anyone?"
"War."
I spun. It was Hector. "War, Hector? Why? To what end? Because you of all people know it's never war for the sake of war." I rolled my eyes. "It's because people *want* something. So I'll ask again. What *exactly* do you people want?"
"Freedom." It was the boy, his sickle hung limply at his side as he shrugged, almost like he wasn't sure of his motivation himself.
"Ok, freedom. Good. But freedom from what, exactly? What oppression do you know in your day to day lives?" I returned to my throne.
"Freedom from your evil tyranny."
"See, you keep using that word... Tyranny. You think me a *tyrant*? I am no such thing. A tyrant is one who rules with an Iron Fist over a domain he has no claim to. I do Neither. I have not been harsh on my people. I have been a merciful, dare I say kind, ruler. And as to claim, I inherited the crown from my father, he from his, he from his and he won it in a poker game from a man who inherited it from his. The crown and land are mine, because their previous owner said so. Look it up, I have a legal claim to all this land. I own all your homes, all your businesses, all your livelihoods and I could evict you if I so chose. But I don't. I don't even demand excessive taxes. I offer social welfare and state subsidised education. Does that sound tyrannical to you? What about the justice system? A fair trial to be judged by an impartial judge and a jury of your peers. I'd like to say that sounds just and fair, right? We don't even demand military service in exchange for your rights. Dear Gods, I'm almost *too* generous."
"You are an evil and wicked man!" The boy's voice wavered.
"Am I? Sorry, must have missed a memo. But what exactly do I do, or fail to do, that gives you justification to call me that?"
"You levelled three whole streets on Riverside just last week." He cried out.
"The housing was no longer up to standard and a drake infestation made the entire area a fire hazard. The citizens have been relocated."
"To the bone orchard." One of them muttered.
"No, to a community housing area in the northern quarter." I sighed.
"You allow, no, *welcome* Alchemists and Necromancers into your court."
"*Scientists* and *Medics*." I corrected.
"They're experimenting on corpses!"
"How else are they to study anatomy? I couldn't very well condone letting inexperienced medical students loose on *living* citizens, could I?"
"What about the way you dabble with black magic?" Yelled the drunkard from the back of the crowd.
"Not magic. Science."
"Your jester made a joke at your expense a few days ago, no one's heard from him since." Another called out.
"He came down with a nasty flu. Doctor Leach can back me up here. He's recovering, which is just as well. Things have been so very dull without him."
"You introduce yourself as Dark Lord Azimuth of Duskbridge, Dreadmaster of the Midknight Guard. Come on, admit it, you are Evil."
"The Title came with the crown. There are seven Dark Lords under the High King, and not one of them is tyrannical. Each of the seven darklands has a democratic consil, a social safety net and free health care. That's why its a *Dark* Lord, by the way, because I rule a Darkland. I can't just change name of my position."
"You... you..." they struggled for a justification.
Finally, "You, uh, wear... an awful lot of skulls for a, ummm, not-evil Dark Lord? All the crown jewls are skull shaped too. Your throne is decorated with them."
"That," I said, nodding sagely, "Is becase Skulls look *Awesome*." | "This is my property, so I should be able to do with it whatever I want!" The idiot shouted.
"Fuck personnel property if it can justify this." I replied. "You are subject to the same rules as everybody else, no matter who you are. And the rules in this case are simple: no killing. Send him of to the judiciary." The man had killed a slave, or rather, a slave to its condition. The monotheistic religion of most people condoned and promoted slavery, and I have been trying to end the practice ever since I got here from the future. The religious idiots were calling me an evil wizard, but the general public, especially the less religious farmers, had stopped listening, as all they saw was what I had done for them.
The first part of building a better society was building a better baseline, and the farmers had gotten a few greenhouses as a common so they could produce foreign, tropical fruit aswell as cirtain technological products and a few of my men who were building a working small scale solar powered electricity project in one of the villages, to see how this could work out.
"Sir, an embassary from king Bathe has arrived." A guard said. King Bathe was treating me like a vassal.
"First, don't call me sir, I am neither a knight nor a lord the way you think of it. But let him in." I said.
The man came in and bowed to the throne.
"My lord, I am glad to meet you."
"You do not have to bow, and I am not a lord. Just call me Glenn." This still annoyed me way too much, for now I was the first umong equals, not some king, but this was also benificial, as much of my populous didn't know I would not bother if they seceeded, I would bother though if some dictator were established and shoot that guy.
"The mighty king Bathe wishes that you stop your god defying deeds in your kingdom, he fears that this might doom us all." The ambassador said, the kings rhetoric had changed to a more respectfull tone after demanding a lot and being crushed when invading the land the people I had sworn to protect inhabited. I wished he would shove his god up his ass.
"As I already said, this is not a kingdom. Furthermore, what god defying deeds is the king referring to?" I asked.
"The crossing between the classes, for one, the... I think your grace called it 'emanzipation' of the slaves and women." He said.
"Oh, I forgot to ask for your name." I said, wanting to adress him by name.
"Juan, my lord."
"So, Juan, what did you see in this country?" I asked.
"People working in glass houses was the most extreme difference I saw to my own country, sir."
"OK, but how were the people?"
"I stayed in a monestary, the monks didn't like your leadership." He said.
"Were they criticising me on a theological basis or on the basis of the well being of the people?" I enquired further.
"I am afraid I do not see the difference, my lord. God will make the people miserable if they are heritics and make them prosper if they are godly." He replied.
"If that were the case, why wouldn't he vanquish the ungodly men to the south and east your kingdom has been warring against for centurys. If god were all powerful and omnisciant, as religious sholars suggest, why wouldn't he grant you victory?" I asked.
"Because we are sinners." He replied.
"But on the basis of your religious texts, they would be sinners, and even more so than you, and unrepentive, so why wouldn't he favor you, at least over them?" I finished my enquri as he had no fitting response for more than a minute.
"So, it seems your religious code has nothing to do with a prosperous society." I extrapolated.
"Yes, it has, my master has also said that, if not brought to reason, he might have to go to war with your grace." There goes the softening of rhetoric.
"I stopped the last army that threatened the well being of my citicens with 15 men, does your master really belive this to be a good idea? I do not desire to needlessly sloughter king Bathes population, whether it be on the battlefield or otherwise." I responded.
"Glenn, the council meeting was sceduled now, what is taking so long?" Alicia shouted through a side door.
"Sorry, I am busy treating with an ambassador. I will be there shortly." I shouted back.
"Would you join me at the council? I belive you would benifit from seeing the inner working of our government in your position." I told Juan.
"Thank you, my lord, it will be an honor." He said.
"Juan, just call me Glenn." I replied.
There were 17 people in the council. One was reserved for the elected representatives of all towns under my controll. I only had controll over a small earldom. Than there was a chair for the armed forces, one for the infrastructure team, one for a religious representative and two for me and Alicia, who was my girlfriend.
I grabbed one more chair from a second room and put it next to mine for Juan.
"This is Juan, king Bathes new embassador." I told the council.
"Oh, have we scared the king into cooperation?" Drew, the commander of the armed forces, concisting of one tank unit, some gunmen, a few intelligence officers and a few castle guards.
"Not really, he is threatening another invasion. If you are not following his orders and our religious traditions." Juan told us openly.
"Finally a reasonable person." The representative of the faith said.
"You can tell your king that we have enough explosives to blow his castle up." Drew replied.
"Drew, this why I don't like you representing the armed forces." Alicia said.
"Second!" I shouted along with half the council.
"Sorry." Drew said.
"But that is actually true, though that would be bad strategy." Garin, a village representative, said.
"Second!" Half the council shouted.
"So, what are the current issues?" I asked.
"We have found a survivior of Bathes Army wounded in the woods. Some of the villagers want to kill him others propose to nurture him back to health, he is badly wounded." Garin told me.
"Drew, that is your job, get him to Inas 'hospital'." I said.
"As good as done."
"But he wanted to kill our population!" James, another village leader, objected.
"I highly doupt that, most of the soldiers we captured said they were in out of fear and personnel profit. Some others sighted religious reasons." Alicia responded.
"But when we do not punish him, how are we going to look towards Bathe?" James asked. "Like weak covards to fearfull to decapitate our captured enemys."
"We will be seen as acting in good will, and we don't want another invasion, because that is worse for everybody." I responded.
"God demands his death." The religious representative responded.
"Fuck god." Drew said.
| 2017-06-12T11:17:27 | 2017-06-12T08:19:09 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] Your Reddit app is actually linked to an alternate universe, so you've been interacting with that reality, not ours. You've never realized it because that universe is so similar to ours. After two years on the app, though, you start to realize that something is... off. | For a while I thought it was all just an elaborate troll, I mean honestly, how could anyone really believe that nonsense? Not a single one of my friends believed it, but had all experienced for themselves the whirlwind of propaganda on Reddit. But not a single one of us could find a true believer outside the Reddit community. How was that possible that we couldn't find one person in real life who believes it?
Well, one night, when copious amounts of weed had been smoked a friend of mine theorized, "what if, like, Reddit is like a wormhole to another dimension and most of who we interact with on the site are from another world?" We all had a good laugh and continued down the rabbit hole, "how could that be possible, I mean, everyone on Reddit can't stand our president and all recognize who he is, so it would seem that almost everything is identical to our world."
"Flat-Earth theory. Maybe over there the Earth ACTUALLY is flat."
Things went silent for a minute.
"Well... I mean... the thing is....huh..." | I stared blankly at the screen, taking in what I had just read. Hundreds of comments. Hundreds.
This all started a few months ago. I had kept hearing of a website named reddit. I didn't join because I heard that it was pretty lame, but my friends kept bugging me. I finally caved and downloaded the app. I registered as the user u/fancdew15 , just a silly name I made up as a child.`
It was a little weird. They hadn't heard of Nirvana. I mean, they are a younger generation, so that wasn't too weird.
They hadn't heard of Samsung. That was a little weird, but they were probably trolling.
But now... No. This is too much to just be a coincidence. They had never heard of... Sonic.
Yes. Sonic the Hedgehog. Everyone knows Sonic. EVERYONE!
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Best Sonic the Hedgehog Game? (by u/Fancdew15)
Hey, simple question. In your opinion, what's the best Sonic game? I think the first, original Sonic the Hedgehog is the best.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Thousands of responses saying, 'Sonic? Who dat?'
I linked to Amazon, Youtube, heck, I even linked to Sega's website. Someone recognized the character on Sega's website as Shrek the Ogre. SHREK.
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Fancdew15: Are you people not in the USA?
ARENDEMUSAR: USA? You mean Charles' Republic of Obedient Slaves? I didn't think they had internet there. How did you get on the internet?
____________________________________________________________________________________________
Now, I have a theory. I think they are in an alternate universe. I know, crazy. But it's the only explanation. There can't be THAT many trolls on reddit, right?
EDIT: Random sentences were bold due to formatting. | 2017-06-16T14:56:30 | 2017-06-16T13:06:15 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You die and go to Hell only to find out that you're the only person that has ever entered. Satan is clapping. | When the first human got to hell, Satan and all his minions were amazed, no one made it here, no matter how bad were their sins, they repent and ask forgiveness or simply the good actions outweigh the sins.
So Satan like a curious cat took him to his office to make an interview to study him. "So John Felgrand it's your name, is that correct?", "Yes sir, same name as my grandpa, proud of it", "So what was your job in Earth?", "Well I just fixed and restored classic cars for these last years, but I was a retired soldier, 43th Infantry Division during WWII", Satan's face lighted up "A soldier, huh? So you probably killed hundreds, maybe thousands of enemies I assume", "No sir, I was part of the medical staff, we saved thousands of lives, including dozens of enemies", Satan was a bit surprised but keep asking "You seem a charismatic fellow, did you have like dozens of ladies and lovers?", "Just my wife Elizabeth, my only girlfriend from high school and the love of my life", "... but you cheated her" Satan muttered "Well once during New Year's eve I kissed this hot neighbor, but we were drunk and never went beyond that kiss", Satan kept asking for hours "Did you lie?... Did you steal?... Did you scam someone?... Did you murder someone?... Did you rape?... Did you kidnap someone... Did you have a secret sex dungeon..." but all he found was just no as answers, the man seemed clean.
Satan slowly walked to the door and opened it, "You know John, you look like a nice man, I'm sure God made a mistake, I'm gonna call his office tomorrow in the morning, but I'm tired, you're tired, let's take a rest. We will have dinner in the East hall, so please come, tons of food and drinks".
When the East hall opened the lesser minions started crumbling to ashes, the minions were writhing in pain, as John walked all demons, succubi, archfiends, devils.... All of them fell down, one by one, Satan couldn't see anything, but he started sweating, his heart rate seemed like a drum in those cheesy B movies, when John stood in front of him, he was crying in pain, he realized he made a mistake and that man deserved hell, all devilish court vanished in a flash. All left in hell was the eternal flames, the throne and John sitting there, all calm wearing his pink crocs and white socks.
***Sorry for spelling or grammar mistakes, english it's not my mother language*** | The bright light starts to fade as I unshield my eyes to appear in a white void. There's a glossy white floor, and a dirty white colored degrading building. Other than that, it's just a void of white.
"Wow, heaven looks pretty boring."
You enter the building and go to the reception where you see someone sleeping, but it's hard to make out who exactly with the book on his face. As you go closer, you see two red horns out of the top of the book, it's the devil! It's Satan himself!
But why is he behind a reception table sleeping? Why is hell so.... empty? Why am I the only one here?
You gather up the courage and ring the bell.
"Youwillbefloggedtilltheendoftiiiii-uh" Satan wakes up startled and the book falls down. You stay motionless and quiet as you see this unfold in front of you.
"What? You made it to hell? How?" Satan stares at you confused, and pushes button on his ancient telephone.
"Hello? Dude, what the hell? How did this guy end up here?"
"Yeah but- So what? Can't you just- Fine."
Satan slams his telephone back, letting out a frustrated groan, and looks at you.
"Normally at this point I'd let you know all your sins and I'd tell you what punishment you'll have to endure, but I literally have no equipment to torture you with."
You stare at him confused. This isn't what hell is supposed to be!
"Here's a log of all your sins. Go ahead and take a look."
You open up the register, and flip past the old pages to the one with your name on it, written in fresh ink and clean paper.
**Hasn't made mark on world**
"Wh-what?" You say as your eyes widen. There isn't anything else written here, just that one sin. All the others had at least a hundred sins.
"That's not even a sin! Where's Hitler? Where Ivan the terrible? Where are the politicians?"
"Look dude, you literally haven't affected the world at all, you haven't shaped society, haven't changed the way people think about a certain topic. Hell, you haven't even bothered to say something dumb!"
"How is that even a bad thing? Hitler killed thousands of people! Henry the Eighth beheaded his wives! And still I'm above all of them?"
"They all committed crimes. But all of the crimes changed the way our society is. Had they not done such things, someone else might have, but because they have, now nobody will be able to do that thing again since history won't repeat itself. Even God can't change the fact that horrible things will happen, so if someone helped reduce the chances of that thing happening, that's good enough for him. You haven't done that."
"Th-that makes no sense. I demand to get into heaven this instant!"
"Listen, I opposed this too, and God took all my shit. What's more, people keep almost everyone make at least some impact on the world before they leave, so hell hasn't been getting a lot of people in it anyway. It's not fair, but nothing ever is."
"What's more, I think I came up with a punishment that suits you."
Your eyes widen as he states your punishment.
You're fast asleep, a book over your face, your feet up over the table. You have nothing to do and nothing you can do. All you can do is sleep.
**RING** | 2017-06-22T08:31:56 | 2017-06-22T06:26:05 | 29 | 13 |
[WP] A depressed guy moves into a haunted house with 7 demons, each corresponding to a deadly sin. But, they're all trying to help him get back on his feet; Pride helps with self confidence, Lust helps him get laid, etc. | I couldn't believe I was doing this.
"I...I don't think this was a good idea, Lisa, I-'m just going to leave," I said, and changed the gear to drive.
"You will not!" Came the voice from the backseat.
I sighed. "Please, Lisa, I'm just not-"
"Look at me, Mark," she said.
When I didn't she repeated herself, louder, "Look. At. Me," she said, deliberately enunciating each word.
I couldn't argue with that, so I turned around to face the most beautiful woman in the universe - quite literally. She was wearing a dress like celebrities wore on the red carpet, and had a face that belonged on a magazine cover. Her fiery hair cascaded down all the way down her back, and her sharp green eyes were looking directly into mine.
Her slender fingers wrapped around my shoulders. "Listen to me, Mark. You *are* good enough, you hear me. You *can* do this," she said, her voice carrying a subtle layer of *something* sensual - as it always did.
I swallowed but nodded. "F-fine," I said, "I'll stay."
As if on cue, the front door of the apartment opened, and Emily walked out, long legs, dark hair and dark eyes. Lisa have me an encouraging tap on the shoulder and vanished.
***
"hey Mark, can you do this paper work for me? Thanks!" Hendricks said before I could even look up from my computer. Sitting on my desk was a stack about a foot high - none of it supposed to be my responsibility.
"Punch him, punch that guy in the face," said a voice next to my ear.
I almost fell out of my seat to find a drill sergeant, wearing boots, camo pants and a tank top standing next to me.
"Come on, soldier," he growled, "show that man who's boss!"
"Th-that would be assault, William," I said.
"That's Sergeant William to you, private!" he snapped.
I was saved from responding however, when a dark skinned man in a suit appeared on my desk, casually smoking a cigar.
"Wrath is a bit, xcessive Mark, but his point stands, you shouldn't let others run over you like that," he said.
"et tu, Percival?" I sighed.
Percival, Pride, thumped my back and smiled, "Oh come on, now, it'll do you good."
I bit my lip, then nodded, almost to myself.
"Hey Andrew," I called, "do this yourself!"
***
"Wow, so this your house, Mark?" Emily said, gaping at the mansion.
I shrugged, "I..ah, inherited it." I said.
Emily just nodded. "And, uh, you don't have anyone to share it with?" she asked.
In a move that would make Lisa proud, I smiled and said, "Is that an offer?"
Emily blushed and looked at her feet, "maybe it is."
Just as she did a bell rang from the kitchen.
Emily frowned, "what was that?" she asked.
"The...ah, oven," I said, and as we walked over to the table set in the kitchen itself, we saw a three course meal waiting, wine, juicy steaks, salad, anything we could possibly want, on a dinky looking table.
"Wow..." Emily said, her eyes wide, "you get permanent cooking duty."
I mouthed a silent "thank you, Gus." as we dug into the food.
***
"Sir, you want *this* ring?"
I wasn't so sure myself, but the ladies around me didn't leave me with much choice.
Evelyn with her bright blue eyes and blond hair played idly with my hair and said, "Oh come on, Mark, of course you want that ring, you want the best for Emily, don't you, nothing less than anyone else?"
I nodded, though a bit hesitantly, and Giada nodded eagerly. "People are already jealous of your house, your girl, your money, Mark. Don't you want more?" she said, her dark eyes a little too wide.
"Uh...yeah," I said, slightly disturbed. Greed was always a bit, well, off. I turned back to the seller.
"Yes, that very ring," I said.
***
Sloth was, finally, no longer in my life.
***
If you enjoyed, check out [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) for more of my work | The seven original demons sat around a bloody pentagram in Jerry’s basement. Candles burned at all six points of the star, providing the only light to chase away the shadows. For centuries, the Cardinal Demons had haunted this property in between spreading death and torment throughout the world. Every person who had ever lived here had ruined their lives with irreversible consequence. Then they met Jerry—a twenty-five year old balding man-child stuck in a dead end job who had already been divorced twice. Truly, there was no hell like being Jerry.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Pride growled. “Jerry just got passed up for promotion by the high school kid. What the hell are we doing?”
Envy just gaped. “A high school kid? Jerry’s got a doctorate!”
“Look, we gotta do something about this,” Pride exclaimed.
“Why?” Sloth asked, his words slow and drawn out. “Why do we have to do any of this?”
“Because we are the *original* sins!” Pride hissed. “And with all our power, this god damn sack of shit Jerry is still getting passed up for promotions by high schoolers. What the hell do you think that means for us?”
Envy crossed her arms. “I bet the rest of the demons are laughing at us as we speak—the Seven Cardinal, look how far you’ve fallen. I bet those damnable horsemen think they can use this as a power grab.”
“And take away our position?” Greed exclaimed. “Over my dead body.”
Wrath shook her head. “Over *Jerry’s* dead body.”
“Shit guys,” Pride said. “We can kill the poor bastard whenever we want. Hell, we’d be doing him a favor. But first we got to turn his life around at least!”
“Perhaps the company of another girl might do the trick.” Lust licked her lips and took the form of a gorgeous blonde.
“You saying *you’re* going to fuck him?” Sloth asked.
“Hell no!” Lust reverted back to her tentacled self. “Are you kidding me? *Jerry!?* I’d sooner practice abstinence. We’ll just have him buy another prostitute.”
“Not again,” Greed exclaimed. “All that did was drain his back account and then again when he had to go to the doctors for his twelve hour erection because all he really wanted to do was *talk* to her.”
“If you can even call that an erection,” Envy scoffed.
“What about more food?” Gluttony asked, spitting as he did. “We can have him eat his problems away.”
The other six Cardinal Demons stared at him.
“Shut up, Gluttony. You can’t eat your problems away!” Wrath said. “No, he needs to take his boss by the balls and demand a promotion.”
“Or he takes his boss by the balls and asks nicely for one,” Lust said. “Asks *real* nicely.”
“Guys!” Pride slammed his webbed fingers into the floor, the impact blowing out the candles around them. “We need a real plan, alright? None of these bullshit gimmicks. They won’t work on a guy like Jerry. He’s too much of a loser. The guy’s got literally nothing going for him, he’s going to be completely bald by the time he’s 26 and not even the original succubus will sleep with him. And she’d fuck anything with a pulse!”
Lust shrugged. “It’s true.”
“It’s a lost cause,” Wrath said. “We’re better off killing everybody in this world so we can start fresh. Maybe the new world won’t have Jerry, the human buzzkill.”
The other demons nodded in unison. Destroying the world would certainly restore some of their credibility as Cardinal Demons. Someone cleared their throats. The Seven Demons turned toward it.
“Who dares spy on the Cardinal Demons?” Pride growled and all the candles alit, revealing Jerry.
“Hey guys,” Jerry said, barely managing a smile. They couldn’t tell if he was sad or not because he was always just barely managing a smile.
“Shit, Jerry, how long have you been there?” Envy asked.
Jerry scratched his thinning hair. “Since the beginning,” he said. “I… uh… didn’t have too great of a day so I thought the basement would help me clear my mind.”
“God damn it, Jerry, the basement?” Pride’s brow raised. “C’mon man, you need sunshine and laughter and uh...” his voice trailed off. If he knew what Jerry needed, Jerry would not be in the basement during a meeting of the Cardinal Demons. “So you heard all of it?”
Jerry gave off a dying chuckle. “Don’t worry, nothing new.”
“Holy shit you’re depressing,” Envy muttered.
“Yeah,” Jerry agreed.
A brittle silence settled between them.
“Um… I gotta go,” Wrath said before disappearing into a poof of fire.
The rest of the demons quickly followed suite, all coming up with some excuse to leave until only Jerry and Gluttony remained. The demon turned to Jerry, scratching his belly. “Jerry, my boy,” he said, “let me teach you about all the problems eating can solve.”
Jerry shrugged. “I mean, it’s not like things can get any worse, I suppose. What do you have in mind?”
"I'm going to teach you to eat your problems away." Gluttony laughed, spewing crumbs everywhere. “Have you ever heard the name Kobayashi?”
---
---
/r/jraywang for 5+ stories a week! | 2017-06-26T23:00:37 | 2017-06-26T22:52:11 | 3,820 | 331 |
[WP] You run a bar that exists on the edge of reality. Your usual patrons include cosmic horrors, eldritch abominations and elder gods. | "Do you know why your patrons don't fuss about a human running the tavern at the edge of all existence?"
My hand had just pulled away from shelving the bourbon when the customer spoke. I took my time in returning my attention to the Q. He was dressed in some space-aged uniform from a corner of time I was unfamiliar with. This omnipotent entity could appear however he wished, of course. When I first encountered him, he would take a seat in 50's attire, down to the fedora and lit cigarette. As time went on, I found his appearance reflected what was on his mind; Not that he ever directly talked about it.
"I don't suppose there's any way to stop you from telling me?" I solicited.
"It's because you're nothing to them," he rumbled out. "Completely harmless, less a threat physicality and intellectually than a bit of mycoplasma genitalium on a toilet seat, hurtling towards a star."
It was true, of course. A quick glance about the room would humble any man. We were far from any galaxies; far from any stars. Some of the patrons may have never even been to a galaxy or a star. Only those things that knew of what was beyond sight's reach gathered here.
At a booth nestled in a wall, a man attempted to finish his drink. This proved difficult, as the drink (and himself) would continually change. Sometimes he was an old man, the drink nearly empty. Other times he was young, just sitting down with his fresh Old Crow Manhattan. Looking at him hurt my eyes, as if the area was deciding for me what to remember of it.
A table by the door held two other patrons: One dazzled like a nebula, flickering black and blue in a curling waltz of complimentary colors, surrounded by what appeared to be micro star clusters which swayed about him much as earth might drift in water. His companion was a dark-eyed creature, mouth-less and beckoning like a dead planet, tendrils of purple shadow wriggling about the chin. She curled the dust and light in the air into an orbit about herself, something like a black hole. Above them, the heavy void and dazzling light collided in what very well could have been a galactic battle. If worlds fought and ended alongside them merely from their presence, it was too insignificant for them to notice; after all, they were having a game of chess.
"I might have to start thinning out your drinks, Q." I said with a smile, which was the only thing one could do when a Q put you in your place. He took a drink with a slight jostle of his head akin to a roll the eyes, drawing my attention to a nearby table.
"You see him there?"
Slumped over the counter was a tired man, spectacles worn with grime. He wore some kind of hazard suit with orange highlights, punctuated with a Greek symbol used to represent radioactive decay. He had been there a while.
"What about him?" I shrugged.
"Oh nothing important," Q continued, "He's just on his way back from a ship ride into a Dyson Sphere. The so-called 'scientists' from his story fiddled and toyed with reality like children poking at a snake. When it inevitably all came crashing down on them, they fiddled and toyed some more, until finally things were so bad, they just tried smashing their problems. They took the time-morphing and reality-collapsing sum of their knowledge and used it like a stick."
"Did it work?"
"Well I'd ask him, but by the looks of it, it didn't go over very well." Q all but spat his words as he drank, half amused and half disgusted. "'The knowledge of men.'"
I minded the hazard-suited patron a moment more. The look in his eyes was one I'd seen before; the internal pondering of truly knowing the scale of things outside of our understanding. It was something I often had to set aside to do this job, but could never set aside for long.
"I think I have a handle on it." I offered, not truly believing.
"Yes, you've seen more than most. It must be nice having all the answers handed to you on a silver platter."
"I manage to sleep at night."
He nodded his head in uncharacteristic kindness, redirecting his attention to the very far end of the room.
"There's never any light from outside those windows."
I peered to the window frames walled in the lounge area. True enough, they were black. They were always black. The front door would light up sometimes with the grand entrance of a cosmic customer, but the back-room windows were kissing the skin of reality's edge. The bar teetered somewhere between it and the fabric of existence, the entrance on the latter side. To say there was nought to see was an understatement; there was literally 'not' a beyond them.
"Nothing to see. There's not even the void out there; just nothing."
"Then why do you have them?" The question was punctuated with a quirked eyebrow; the kind he was known for using. While easily mistook for an insult, it usually carried a hidden meaning behind it. I had grown fond of trying to find it out.
"Because... one should not stop looking for answers, even when one thinks there's none to find?"
"Oh, you!" Q chuckled, apparently tickled with my answer. "You fumbling bipeds always come to the most droll conclusions. I figured the windows were there so that 'he' could have a view into your quaint little getaway." I followed his gaze to the windows, heavy with the darkness of non-existence beyond their glass.
"He who?" I asked.
"No one. No one at all. But if I were you, I would keep those windows closed."
Q clasped his glass and made his way from my bar, his eyes briefly lingering on mine. I watched him approach the chess game for a moment, before casting my glance over the heads of the astronomical players, lost in their inexplicable dealings, to the black-caged windows at the edge of nothing. I made a note to myself: Look into blinds.
**Edits for errors | My place wasn't the sort of place you heard about, or the type of place that you looked for. No, my place was the place you stumbled across, like that one cheap restaurant by the liquor store that has really good chicken wings. Only, mine served beer, ale, mead, wine and the occasional suckling boar.
I was the only barmaid in existence who could accurately describe C'thulu. I've met God's and served Jesus. I couldn't even begin to tell you how much he bitches about humanity twisting his teachings once he gets about five or so cups of 'water' in him.
So, imagine my surprise when someone so entirely alien came in. Someone so painfully out of the usual criteria, that nearly every raucous voice in the bar went quiet as the bell above the door rang as it opened.
A human. Not even a monk that made Buddha status or a saint or even a martyr, but a regular, everyday, living and breathing human man.
He walked up to me at the bar, and seemed to be painfully aware of the silence he caused. "I...I'm sorry, I was just a little...lost. I was wondering if you could point me to the Central Hotel? Or perhaps call a cab? My phones died and I'm not from the area..."
"Lost? Boy, you are making something of an understatement." I can't help but smile a little, amused by the tiny thing before me. Such a creature lived so short a life, and yet...yet it could impact so much. How he had come through that door and entered this plane of non-reality without losing his mind, I had no idea. "Where you from? Is that a Canadian accent I hear?"
"Y-yes! Usually, most mistake me for an American. It gets mildly annoying sometimes. I'm here for my sister's wedding, God knows why she had to have it all the way in France...wait, how are you speaking perfect english? This is-"
"Toto, I don't think we're in Paris anymore." I said with a smile. "Sit, Sit!" I invited the human, snapping my fingers and sending the entirety of the bar's patrons away with a woosh. Little known fact; as the only bar catering to unholy abominations and divine beings alike, I could toss out the entirety of Earths many Pantheons with little to no complaints. Where else would they get their drinks from? Dionysus wasn't exactly up to squashing grapes for wine anymore.
"I...uhh..." he looked around, confused and unsure. I wasn't exactly sure what he saw with his limited ability to see, but it may have been far more mundane. "Sure...?" He said, scootching his butt onto the bar stool.
"Lemme give you a deal, human. I'll give you as many free drinks as you want, and you let me question you." I offer with a smile.
"I'm not really much of a drinker..."
"I never said you'd get drunk." I tell him with a slight roll of my eyes. I reach for a glass, and set it down in front of him. I tap on the edge, and it filled with a syrupy, golden liquid. "Behold, necter."
"Huh...near trick, lady. What, you've got a pump under the cup?" He asked, sounding impressed as he lifted the cup and felt the flat underside of it, then sliding his hand over the smooth surface.
"Well, if God necter isn't your style, how about some of Valhalla's mead? You don't even have to die to get it." I suggest, taking the glass from his hand and tossing it into the air. The glass came back down and landed perfectly, having turned into a crystal chalice. The pale yellow liquid poured in from above our headz after the glass landed, a perfect glass.
"I...oh my God, where the hell am I?" He taped, staring at the cup.
"Well, for that I suggest..." I sigh, taking the chalice and smooshing it into the counter, the glass collapsing under my hand like rubber. I lifted my hand and s green martini had replaced Valhalla's mead. "An Appletini of Eden, made from the Forbidden Fruit of the Tree of Knowledge. Sinfully delicious." I conclude, pushing it across the counter to set it before him.
"I...I'm dreaming. You...you're Satan, tempting me with the apple..." he laughed nervously, sliding off of the bar stool. "I'm probably drunk in some alley beside a church...I...I..."
"If Eve, the purest of humanity, handmade by God, couldn't resist the Apple, what makes you think you can? You're a random, a mess of DNA thrown together by a Millenia of breeding. Besides, aren't you going to hell regardless? You can learn everything if you just give it a shot..." I hum, leaning over the counter. "It's a one time offer. You could walk back out that door and never again find this place. You happened upon here by accident, some fluke of time and space...come on, please? I just want a few answers before you learn everything. I just /love/ how simple you are..."
He laughed, deep and reverberating. "I'm...I'm not here." He decided, turning his back to me and about to grab the doorknob. "I'm asleep somewhere, I know it..."
I gently tip the glass to one side, a drip of vibrant green liquid slides down the angled glass. Almost instantly, as if on instinct, he freezes. "You're Christian. You were raised on the Eden story..." I observe. "But...you're remarkably unaware. I've met Adam and Eve. They're divorced now, you know. Adam got back with his ex-wife Lillith, I guess something about a dominatrix demon just get a his engine running more than the poor little innocent...even if that poor little innocent is coming in five times a week getting blasted on appletini's and getting all up in aprodities' panties."
"You're lying. I know your lying." He says, voice wavering only slightly.
"Fine. Go right ahead." I hummed, taking the Apple slice from the Appletini and drinking it all in one swallow. I raised the Apple slice to my lips, about to eat it.
As if he was a man possessed, he turned and ran to me, hopping up onto the counter and landing on his knees. He grabbed hold of my head, forced my chin up and kissed me. He took the Apple slice from my mouth, his tongue pressed incessantly at my lips, that same tongue running over my teeth and tongue, lapping up the taste he hadn't been able to actually have.
He released me, breathing heavily. "Damn you...damn you to hell..."
I smirk. "I think I'll be fine. I know all the gate keepers." | 2017-10-23T23:52:55 | 2017-10-23T23:24:21 | 26 | 13 |
[WP] You're mysteriously trapped in a cheesy sitcom with a seemingly random laugh track. After a string of murders, it becomes apparent that the laugh track signals when the killer is near.
(This *does* imply that you can hear the laugh track, but who knows whether the show's regulars would be aware of it.) | A young man wears a shit eating grin, an overly comical response to his own bad pun.
He's just said his catch phrase, at least that's what I assume for it to be. I've spent the last few days scrounging for food around a sprawling outdoor set, running from house to house, sleeping whenever I can.
The heavy weight of exhaustion must be forced down again, because I know what a stupid joke means.
I'm in the living room of what must be the main protagonist's home, as it holds the most survivors. No one apparently is aware of the danger they're in, and part of me is certain that they're held in some sort of trance.
No one makes any sudden movements, but I wait for the laugh track.
*HAHAHAHAHAHAHA*
It comes dull and monotone, disturbing and cruel in its detachment.
I rush into a hall closet and slam the door shut. I have maybe five minutes before it arrives.
Conversation continues, the family responding to the catch phrase with the usual canned responses and assumed eye rolls. An elderly woman makes a sassy remark. There is no fluidity to their language, each word comes from this strange empty place. No real humanity comes from their lips.
The door to the outside opens, and the set comes to an immediate still.
Heavy footfalls announce its presence, and it walks directly towards where the young man is still standing.
The sound, like throwing raw meat onto a concrete surface.
Several more in rapid succession.
There are gurgles, but some of the onlookers laugh, like they always do.
One day the set will be empty, I suppose.
The footsteps recede, and the door to the outside quietly shuts again.
I open the door and step into a living room, and try to avert my eyes.
Blood splatters over a cheap carpet, some spots of it managing to hit the ceiling fan.
I know if I look back onto that carpet, I'll see the young man's head smashed in like an egg. Another house I cannot return to.
I raid the kitchen, looking for anything to stave off the starvation. The food is rotted, flies litter and rise, and I know eventually they will lay their young in the corpse in the living room.
The family is walking now towards the table, for that usual breakfast.
Outside the wind blows, despite this being some kind of enclosed set.
They file in one by one, but their movements are different now, not that jerky over acting lurch, but the movements of hopeless persons.
Smiles are plastered across their face, but they finally watch me. See me in a truer sense.
There are people trapped inside.
One sits down, and the mother turns on the stove, preparing to crack rotten eggs into a pan.
The father opens a newspaper, and cracks yet another joke about a headline. Something topical, but inoffensive.
The woman's head begins to jerk, and I can watch the tears begin to fall as her own canned response comes out.
They need help.
*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*
I cannot provide it.
Into the closet again.
God help them.
To my horror, my own mouth opens, and an idiotic quip comes out, causing the mother and father to jerk their own heads in surprise towards me.
A voice of my own, but not of my volition.
*HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA*
Heavy footfalls.
All I can do is run.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
r/storiesfromapotato | Of all the low budget pilots I had to choose from, I picked *this*? Ok, ok, we get the premise. Joke, laugh, joke, laugh, and then oh, shock and horror, a grisly death. Yawn. We get it guys. I mean seriously, who pitches this and who the hell gives it the go ahead? I'm already regretting taking the job and I've only been here for ten minutes.
"Michelle darling," the director shouts. "You're on in five."
"Ok Samuel, I'll be ready in two," I yell back.
He's a nice guy, honestly. Granted, he's creepy, but it's kind of endearing. He's not some kind of Weinstein style monster. I hope.
"Mr Atan, your coffee," she says in a throaty voice that could melt butter. She gives him a smile and waves her long blond hair.
God, his secretary is sexy. Those dreamy blue eyes. Those legs. Don't get the wrong idea, I'm totally straight, but fuck me sideways, those legs are to *die* for.
The scene is set. He gives me the signal, and it's go time.
"Hi guys, I've got your pizza here."
Raucous laughter.
Seriously?! I'm a funny gal, but where in Jesus is the humour in that?
He licks his lips and plants a light smack on my backside. "Michelle honey, you know I love you, but you don't shine a light on that pizza."
Yup, they've given my character my own name. How very professional of them.
There's more laughter now.
"C'mere Sweet Tits."
Again, the sound of the audience cackling. Titters and loud whoops fill the room.
Sigh. Ladies and gentlemen, I give you the stereotypically charming sexist that is my husband.
He goes off to the kitchen and returns with a pizza-cutter in his hands.
Suddenly, the room is quiet.
"John. Why you gazing at my wife like a lovelorn puppy when there's pizza around, eh?"
More laughter. Shrill, grating, fucking annoying laughter.
"Mikey my man, you know I'm lactose intolerant! Screw the pizza, it's your wife's gorgeous boobs I'm after."
"*HAHAHAHAHA.*"
Kill. Me. Now.
My husband doesn't look amused. "Oh, okay John. You're a funny guy. A reeal funny guy. Anyone ever tell you that?"
"*HAHA HAHA. HAHAHAHAHA.*"
He dismisses him with a lazy flick of his hand and goes back to watching the football, and *Christ almighty what the flying fuck...*
My darling Mikey has just strolled across the room and in one swift motion sliced John's jugular with the cutter. He gargles on his own blood and convulses on the ground. There's far too much blood for a sitcom, and it kind of scares me. I knew it was coming, but it's still managed to shock the living daylights out of me.
Melodramatic yes. Funny definitely not.
"Ok guys that's a wrap," Atan shouts, and he gives me a thumbs up. I'm still a little rattled, to be honest. Fake as hell it may have been, but the sight of blood makes me squeamish.
There's another couple of scenes, more laughter, another couple of deaths. Blah blah. You get the point.
"Michelle, your turn darling." Atan wraps his hands around my neck, and the feeling of cold is kind of comforting. I'm flustered, and I'm tired. I just want to go home. His fingers tighten, and the pressure starts to hurt.
"Jeez, that hurts! Give it a rest will you?"
Laughter erupts.
"*HAHAHAHAHA!*"
The fuck? This is a scene?
I'm struggling to breathe now. Oh. It's finally dawned on me. This isn't a sitcom. This isn't meant for tv at all...
More laughter. Mocking. Constant. Unearthly.
*Demonic.*
I struggle, but he's stronger than me, and it's no fight at all. The last thing I see before losing consciousness are the shiny cufflinks on his blood-stained shirt. I can just about make out his initials.
*"S.Atan."* | 2017-12-11T07:19:08 | 2017-12-11T06:42:56 | 254 | 128 |
[WP] You’ve just realized that you are not a human, but rather a parasite controlling someone. | He was only thirteen when I wormed my way inside,
Us both only searching, for the safest place to hide.
Crushed flowers from the funeral clung tightly to his boots,
His mind already churning to the darkness of his suit.
I tried to keep him safe, beneath the covers of his bed,
I tried to hush the thoughts, that screeched inside his head.
At school they taunted him, as he ate his lunch alone,
But with my help he kept it in, expression never shown.
I taught him how alcohol could help to numb the pain,
That sleep was only wasteful, no hope from dreams to gain.
When education failed him, I was there to catch,
Wormed my way in deeper, through a rusting hatch.
When the state declared him, fit to be employed,
I dragged him deeper, inside the safety of the void.
It was a therapist that found me, on a dull October day,
We were both still thirteen, at least in a certain way.
A rancid rotting mind, trapped inside a fractured heart,
Two weary vessels waiting for their tickets to depart.
He scribbled a prescription, said it might alleviate,
Might make it bearable, the burden of the freight.
And although the pills now numb me,
and I slowly fade away,
I'll wait inside the recesses,
for him, I'll always stay.
Hidden in the darkness,
for the darker day.
---
/r/nickofnight | The sad thing was that I didn't know who I was hurting.
Yes, I was Alana in every sense of the word. I was there when she first kissed her husband. I was there for every boring HR neeting. For the excitement of the birth of her first child. For when she learmed she was gay and left her husband. All of her failures, all of her scrapes and bruises. I cried when she did. Functionally, I was Alana. I didn't remember where I truly came from.
But now here I am, swimming in a fish tank in a room across from her. I can see her at the far left corner of my tank. A researcher is questioning her. She has a very strong North Dakotan accent, something she hasn't let slip since she was 8 amd moved to Georgia (she was afraid people wouldn't like how she talked and has only spoken in a southern drawl since). I can't hear very well in here, but it seems like she has no recollection of the past thirty six years of her life. She speaks like a child. She eyes her hand tattoo curiously, unsure of the story behind it.
I feel sorry for her. One of the researchers explained to me that they have been finding a lot of my kind from Alana's town. In 1986, the US government discovered a pod of eggs in a chunk of ice. I was one of those eggs, and I guess I escaped and found myself a host.
That was 36 years ago. I honestly don't even remember the day. I couldn't tell about my home planet. I couldn't tell you what I really am or what my language is like. I was, as far as I'm concerned, human. I may have only entered Alana's life when she was eleven, but Ive lived as her every second since. I know her childhood through family stories. Most people forget those parts anyways, making me no different than any other human.
I don't know what they're going to do with me. Stealing an identity is a serious crime, but... I had no idea what I was doing. I've tried to give Alana the best life since. Even now I want to cry seeing how scared she is. Am I pitying myself? Or am I pitying her?
They call me a parasite, but what have I done wrong? | 2017-12-21T00:01:02 | 2017-12-20T21:42:50 | 1,774 | 1,132 |
[WP] You're a prisoner in a special facility for violent criminals. Today the latest prisoner arrived - a little girl. "That's cruel," you tell the guard. "I agree," he says. "Guess no one cares what happens to the rest of you." | Her eyes were totally devoid of all life. She stared ahead of her seeing nothing at all… just kept walking to the cell with about 50 high powered rifles pointed at her. This was by far the weirdest thing I had ever seen in this place. The Frozen Lake maximum security prison has seen its fair share of weird and horrible things over the last 20 years I have resided here, but this was beyond anything I had ever seen.
At about 3am this morning, the sirens went off, waking everyone in the facility. Of course it wasn’t part of the guard’s routine to tell us what was going on, so we all sat in our cells trying to block out the ear piercing scream of the sirens. After about 30 minutes, the alarms were silenced and the door at the end of the cell block was violently thrown open. In walked a little girl, she couldn’t have been more than 12. Her curly brown hair bounced with every step and yet, not a single strand looked out of place… but her eyes. They were the most vibrant shade of green I had ever seen, but there was something wrong with them that I couldn’t put my finger on. They just looked empty, like she was a walking shell.
She entered the cell block on her own, without any restraints. She was followed by at least 50 heavily armed men in SWAT body armor, each with their weapon trained on her. I watched her quietly walking down the middle of the block, the eerie silence of the block was like a weight on my chest. There wasn’t a single sound from anyone, even the girls footsteps were swallowed by the silence. When she got in front of my cell, she stopped and looked at me. I felt all the hair on my body stand on end and a chill ran down my spine. She just looked at me with those empty eyes and smiled. My heart was pounding out of control, my breath caught in my chest, I couldn’t look away from her eyes. What seemed like an eternity was probably just a few seconds when she turned away and continued towards the only empty cell on the block.
Once she arrived in the cell, the door slid shut with a satisfying clang of steel on steel. I couldn’t see her anymore due to the positioning of the cells, but it felt as if her dead eyes were still on me, I couldn’t shake the feeling. The cell block remained absolutely silent for the rest of the day, no one even complained when the guards didn’t bring our food. The silence was uncomfortable, normally you couldn’t even hear yourself think with all the noise and chaos in the block, but now... it just felt wrong.
That night, as the sun set on my cell block, we all heard it start. Singing…
*Sleep little one*
*Sleep already*
*Or the Nictis Maganti will come and take you away.*
The cell block became noticeably darker….
*Sleep little one*
*Sleep already*
*Or the Nictis Maganti will come and eat you up.*
She kept singing. The more she sang, the darker it became. It was so dark you could almost feel it. I could feel the chill and electricity in the air. This was not right. The darkness surrounded me. Finally, the moon escaped the clouds and I was able to get some of my vision back. I looked out of my cell and saw what looked like a black stain on the middle of the floor in front of my cell. There wasn’t any reflection of the light off of the stain, it was just a black void. It was as if the stain absorbed all of the light that touched it, yet it appeared to shimmer.
That’s when the girl stopped singing…. There wasn’t any sound for at least 3 minutes. I kept staring at the black stain trying to figure out what it was. Then she started to giggle… and the stain on the floor started sliding towards my cell. A shiver ran up my spine as the stain dragged itself towards me, I wanted to scream but was paralyzed with fear. I could only look on in horror as the thing got closer and closer. The guy in the cell next to mine didn’t seem to be affected by this because he began to absolutely freak out. He started screaming for the guards or anyone. I was shocked when it seemed like the shadow heard him, it reached out with a long tentacle like arm of shadow into his cell. His panic immediately worsened. His pleas to the guards for help fell on deaf ears. His screams grew into something that sounded like an animal that knew it was about to be torn apart by a much larger predator. He screamed and screamed for what seemed like an eternity before his voice was ripped away and the silence returned.
*Edit:* Adding more....
| The Talissa Complex. Tartarus to the more educated residents, simply The Pit to those not as interested in the classics. A century ago it had been meant to protect the central command of its country from the most advanced WMDs of the tome, while they could order the launch of their own from safety. Now it housed "Category 31d". Category 31 are those prisoners with intense augmentations, whether bionic, genetic or something else, that either could not safely be removed or they had refused to have them removed, as is their right by UN Bodily Sovereignty Resolution 31. So instead they were buried somewhere far out of sight. The "c" referred to prisoners whose crimes were so severe that they would never see daylight again, and extreme violent tendencies made them unsuitable to walk amongst more civilized inmates. Together, these two definitions designated the people that society feared so much that they didn't feel safe unless they buried them under a mountain, hoping that we would kill each other off when the guards were just a bit late to intervene.
When I arrived here there were six inmates, and three more have come during my 30 years here. Mathias is the veteran, an nonagenarian who had spent 70 of his 92 years here. Most of the skin in his faced had died of, leaving the bare metal-infused skull. When he would finally die off his endoskeletal augments would proabably be donated to a museum, along with his ancient combat stimulant glands. He had apparently been an enforcer for some big corporate gangster in Lagos and had single-handedly caused the Bifröst tragedy when he massacred the construction crew of what was becoming the first space elevator and then blew its anchor, killing hundred of thousands more when the nanotube cable crashed into the city. His boss made a fortune on the stock market until it was traced back to him.
Alex is his distant second, with fifty years on his back. After being locked away in his twenties for rape he accepted to undergo an experimental rehabilitative treatment for reduced sentence. He was released 10 years later and lived the next 30 years as a model citizen and a renowned doctor, until someone found the "pet" he kept in the basement, an amalgam of countless human body parts, stitched together and kept alive by some mad science. I dunno what hardware he has in his head, but when he looks at you he sees into your mind, and soul, and the looks he gives you seems to say he wants to eat it.
Vera and Theodora are both war criminals, the last survivors of the infamous "Iskander squad". They would infiltrate the Coalition army by killing members and wearing their skin, perfectly mimicking both their voice and mannerisms, before detonating their microwave implants. I've heard that the stench of burning flesh still lingers in some places although 30 years have passed. Trevor also committed war crimes, and the fact that he was locked up despite being on the winning side should tell you how badly he behaved. On full charge the man can run through tanks, so softer targets barely leave remains.
Elisa was the heiress to the Genolution Corporation, until the Albion scandal led to it being forcibly liquidated, and her family got life sentences. She spent her remaining wealth on combat augs and went on a revenge spree against the investigators that destroyed her family. Apparently the collateral damage was in the thousands. She came here twenty years ago, just a month before me.
Don't know much about the new guys but apparently William is a satyr. A product of a primitive surgery you can get amongst the high-end back alley surgeons in Paradise City that cuts out all inhibitions. They fear nothing and they're all masochists that act immediately on any of their desires, which are always violent and perverse even beyond the grasp of the most insane inmates. Outside of Paradise they are shot on sight so I barely understand how they got him alive and not at all why they did it. Karl was probably a merc, and augmented enough to tear an arm of William, who of course just became more excited by that. But the last one is a puzzle.
Alma arrived here two weeks ago. She barely looks eight years old. But when Alex looked at her he saw something in her that scared him enough to decide to lock himself in the bathroom, where he has stayed since. She mostly stays in her room and cries so loudly that it echoes all over the complex. Matthias went to shut her up and the next moment guards are rushing in and drag HIM off to infirmary, his legs gone. To complicate things, no one knows where his legs are now. William of course wanted to "have some fun" with her. He was found unconscious in a puddle of his own blood. The crying reminded Vera of a daughter or a sister or something, and she decided to comfort her. She is now in a coma in the infirmary, missing half her torso. Everyone decided to stay away after that. Which did not save Trevor whose vitals suddenly went critical while in his cell, and was found there torn to pieces, barely clinging to life, with her sitting on the bed, still crying. Two days ago William woke up. He has been unable to speak but he avoids her at all cost, which does not make sense as he is incapable of feeling fear. But she got him this afternoon anyway. Yet I never heard the crying in her cell stop, so how she got to his cell is beyond me. He probably won't make the night. I've been reading the news trying to find anything about her. There is nothing. According to the net she doesn't exist. | 2018-02-12T05:55:43 | 2018-02-12T05:40:44 | 41 | 20 |
[WP] After you die, you're handed a book about your life. You open it, expecting a novel. Instead you get a "Choose your own adventure" book with all of the decisions you ever made, and every outcome they could have had. | I closed the book, and didn't move.
"Well," the angel said, "- how did you like it?"
Even though I was dead, I still felt nauseated. "Every single one. Every single decision I ever made was the wrong one. THE WRONG. FUCKING. ONE."
The angel grimaced. "Wow. That's...my goodness! That's actually quite impressive in a depressing way. I mean the odds are astronomical when you-"
"Is this hell? Is this some sort of Twilight Zone shit and my punishment is to know how awesome my life could have been or something?"
"Alright, settle down. You know, I think you're going to very much enjoy finding out why we show you all this...you more than most in fact."
The book suddenly disappeared, and two normal looking doors appeared. "Um, ok?"
The angel gestured to door one. "Behind this door is a new story, with all new choices. A whole new life for you to experience. "He then pointed to the other door. "This door, however, is the life you just had... however, this time you'll make different decisions. So normally, most people make bad decisions roughly 50% of the time. You, however, made bad decisions 100% percent of the time, which means-"
My jaw dropped as it dawned on me what the angel was saying. "Which means that this time I would make 100% of the right decisions?"
The angel nodded. "That's right. Of course, you could always choose to start a new life if-"
I ran towards door two and threw it open.
Things were finally going to go my way.
| A dark room. A pedestal in the middle, illuminated by a pillar of light, upon which sat a thick book, pages uneven and frayed at parts.
As I took it into my worn hands, I could feel the density of it. The importance. All of the sadness, the fear, the excitement, anxiety, joy, love, ambition, heartache, fulfillment, failure... This was me.
Fingering the spine with one hand and the edges of the pages with the other, I closed my eyes, and opened to a random page.
Child. Love. Graduation. Immense joy.
To another page.
Pride. Overcoming. Achievement.
Another.
Misfortune. Selfishness. Greed. Passion.
I opened my eyes. The pages wordless. All of them. I turned to the first page.
Emptiness. Stillness.
This was the beginning. I understood. I thumbed a part of the page where I thought I might find her. The one beside me who never made it out. Never saw light, felt the coldness of the world. Never experienced love, grief, joy... I focused on her. I saw her. She was radiant. Beautiful. We had the same eyes.
I turned ahead.
There she was. She was so pure, innocent. Even at a young age, she emanated compassion and kindness.
I flipped to around the halfway mark.
She was a scientist. No, a philanthropist. No, a political activist. No... she was all of it.
I turned several pages more.
Peace. So much happiness. Not only within her, but wherever she went. Pure, innocent. Joy.
She was good. The world was good because of her. Not better. Good.
It was then that I knew that she was the key to bringing the world together. If only she had been born... How many others had this happened to? How better off could the world be...?
I could at least help.
I closed the book, laying it gently back down onto the pedestal. I looked up to the source of the light. Its warmth flooded over me. I knew that I could bask in it forever if I chose to.
Instead, I gazed one last time at the book, as I backed into the shadows from where I had entered this room.
The world needs Her.
And I was unborn, She in my place. | 2018-07-04T00:05:35 | 2018-07-03T23:38:29 | 288 | 138 |
[WP] You, 16 years old, wake up and head downstairs for breakfast before school. You’re eating cereal when you see the Missing Kid poster on the milk carton. It’s you. Date missing: 10 years ago. | I stared at the carton, the unabashed smile mocking my shock. I glanced up to the refrigerator to see the same exact photo with me smiling my big smile at age six. Only difference I could discern was the huge **MISSING** stamp at the bottom of the carton's image.
My face grew hot as I gazed up at my father seated across from me, absorbed in his newspaper. My mother was still in the other room. I pulled out my phone and opened up Google on it, but couldn't think of what to look up to corroborate this story. I began typing in my name, when suddenly my dad jumped up from his chair and slammed the newspaper onto the table. My cereal spilled by the force of his movements and I sat frozen.
"You know, son, I think it's about time I told you something about yourself," he said, nonchalantly. "Don't worry, this isn't another puberty talk," he continued with a wink.
My eyes kept flitting back and forth between my dad's sincere face and the milk carton with my own face. I kept trying to keep focus on my dad, but the fact he just stood there without saying anything made it especially awkward to hold his gaze.
"Uhh... Dad?" I asked.
"HONEY!! I'm telling him the thing!!" My dad called to my mom. She came running out of her room yelling,
"Not without me! Not without me!"
She took her place by his side and had a very excited look on her face. My eyes now kept bouncing between the three faces in front of me.
"Well, son, I don't know how to put this except plainly," he said, slowly choosing his words. He put his fingers on his chin and couldn't think of the next line he had planned for this.
"You're adopted!" my mom said happily. I'm sure the look of concern on my face was very clear to them.
"I knew that already.." I said, except it sounded as much like I was asking a question.
"What!?" my mom screamed, as they looked shocked at one another. "How??"
"Dad told me he was sterile during the puberty talk. He told me not to worry about it since the surgery from a decade ago might affect my ability as well."
"Yeah, but we never told you..." she trailed, understanding what I meant.
"I... why am I on the milk carton?" I asked, my bravery finally making itself known.
"Well, son," my dad said, a slow smile creeping on his face. "We almost lost you to that surgery ten years ago. And we were so happy about seeing you come home safe, we even took a picture. And now," he could barely contain his laughter, "I'm just milking it."
I looked to the milk carton again and back to my dad as he burst into tears from laughing so hard, my mom joining good-naturedly. I'd seen some low dad jokes before, but this one really took the cake.
_________________________________
Come see more at /r/Nazer_The_Lazer! Or don't, I'm not your dad. Even if I was milking this joke a lot. | I sit back up in the chair with my head throbbing, the loud TV in the background is NOT helping. I read the milk carton again. I couldn't believe my eyes, it's actually me. But I'm right here, and I'm not lost what is going on? Confused, I rush to google myself but I can't find anything on my name. Actually, no results come up at all. I always thought my name was pretty unique but I didn't think I wasn't going to find anything about me. My school must have me on some sort of list online, some site I signed up on must have leaked something about my name but nothing. I go to call my mother downstairs to see what she thinks.
"MOM! You need to come see this." I yell.
I waited about 1 minute with no response.
"Mom? Are you coming down?"
She doesn't say anything at all as she starts walking down the stairs. When she gets to the bottom she heads toward the kitchen to make some coffee. She starts heading toward me and I go to grab the milk carton to show her, and as soon as I grab it she screams. Startled, I drop the carton on the floor.
"Wow mom, what was that for?" I ask angrily and confused at the same time.
Seemingly ignoring me she walks towards the front door and yells "OK, WHO IS THERE? STOP MESSING AROUND THIS ISN'T FUNNY." I ask her what she is going on about and she runs straight back into the kitchen and grabs a knife. I go run behind the kitchen wall next to the front door. Does she not see me? What is she going to do with the knife? Has she gone insane? These are the thoughts I'm thinking in my head as my mother stands in the kitchen with a knife, trembling in fear. Shit, I think I hear the bus. Maybe she is just pulling a cruel prank on me and I'm falling for it, pretty messed up to get a knife involved in a prank. I grab my bag and bolt out the door toward the bus as it starts leaving my house. The bus stops just before the train tracks to check for a train. I run up to the door and start walking up the steps. The bus driver looks confused and peers down at the stairs. What is he doing? Can no one see me? I go sit in an empty seat. The bus driver stops at the next stop and 5 kids walk onto the bus and go sit in empty seats, the last guy comes towards my seat and says "Hey, sup dude mind if I sit here?" It turns out to be my friend who I've known since 3th grade. I say "Sure, I have to tell you something."
"What?" He asks.
"Honestly, I'm kinda freaked out right now my mom and maybe even the bus driver are pretending that they can't see me or something. My own mother pulled a knife on me. I ran to the bus afterwards; I have no idea what is going on."
"Oh, so I can't sit here? Well ok then." He says.
"Wait what? I didn't say that. Come back!"
He walks away and goes and sits in another seat. I begin to freak out, no one can see or hear me now. I start yelling and screaming and no one seems to acknowledge me. The bus driver enters onto the highway. Crying and screaming hysterically I run towards the back of the bus and open the back door and jump onto the pavement.
My vision goes away, I can't see anything.
I wake up in a chair and my head is throbbing. I look forward, there is a TV playing in the background and carton of milk on the table with my face on it. Date Missing: 11 years ago.
I start laughing hysterically. What is going on? This can't be happening. Have I already done this 10 times? | 2018-11-08T20:30:26 | 2018-11-08T20:24:37 | 450 | 51 |
Subsets and Splits
No community queries yet
The top public SQL queries from the community will appear here once available.