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 |
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[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. | “What the fuck?” I blink and read it again:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“Watch your mouth!”
“What the hell is this?” I grab the carton and shove it toward her face. The blood drains from her nose and cheeks, and her crows feet spread along with her eyelids.
“Oh god. You have to listen — we”
“What could you possibly say to me? How the fuck could you or dad even begin to rationalize this?”
“There was just so much going on, we didn’t have time, we had no choice”
“Save it! I don’t think I can stand to hear it.” Foggy and full of ire, I rise from the table. The crushed mass of soggy cardboard in my hand turns my stomach. I look once more at the picture on the back, and the date printed above it in fading black:
BEST BY -9 NOV 2008-
“I, I can’t believe what I’m seeing. Please tell me this is some kind of joke you’re playing on me.”
“Son, we never meant for it to get this far, we have been waiting for the right moment... and... and, we waited too long.” Her head sinks and her voice trails into a squeak, a whisper too pitiful to understand.
“Yes, yes you did! Ten years too long! I mean Jesus Christ... this milk is ten years old! Ten! Why is it even in the fridge at all? Guess I won’t eat breakfast before school! God this family is fucked.”
| I woke up. It was sunny outside, and I got up. I was slightly tired from all the homework I did last night, but I just needed breakfast and I would be fine.
At the kitchen, my mom was wearing headphones while washing dishes. I came to the table, cereal and milk already out on the table. I took the cereal, and poured into my bowl. Next came the milk. I poured it in, bubbling with its cold frostiness mixed with the delicious wheat thins. I took a bite as I set the milk carton down.
I spat out my bite as soon as I saw the side of the milk carton. It was a picture of me, or someone that looked eerily close to me. “MISSING: 10 YEARS AGO.” Although I was 16 years old, My heart sank.
I came up to my mom with the milk carton. “What’s this?” I said, poking her and showing her the side of the carton.
She took off her headphones, snatched it, and chucked it into the trash. “It’s just some kid. Don’t worry about it.”
“Mom! That milk was still good!” I wailed, going to the trash to retrieve it. My mom stood in the way. “It doesn’t matter. Get your stuff, the bus is almost here.”
“What’s going on!? explain!” I said, on the verge of tears. I was scared.
My mom started crying, slumping to the floor. “I can’t do this anymore...”
“Do what? MOM!” I yelled.
She looked up at me.
“10 years ago, I learned I was barren. I couldn’t have children. I was depressed. Then I saw you, at a park. You were beautiful, you were the son I deserved. I stole you. I stole you away, but I loved you. I’ve always loved you, you are my son. I’m sorry.”
I sat there, my mind exploding, my mom crying in front of me. It explained everything. Why I never had a dad. Why my mom would always hide me when I was younger. I realized the picture was similar to me, because they used that computer thing to calculate what a person looks like when they’re older, without actually seeing them.
My world was destroyed in a matter of minutes.
The bus arrived outside. | 2018-11-08T21:22:27 | 2018-11-08T21:09:36 | 97 | 12 |
[WP] Your super power is common sense. When the super hero teams go out, you are there to take care of basic tasks for the sheltered supers, such as buying metro passes, ordering food, taking phone calls, and sometimes saving the day. | I've always been of the mind that people tend to have a similar level of expertise, just distributed in different ways. Some scientists are quirky because they traded off sanity for knowledge, while middle managers invert this. To my chagrin, but ever continuing employment, supers are no exception to this.
Their sheltered upbringing is part of the issue. Powers tend to manifest by the time a child reaches adolescence. Reliable control lags until their early twenties. After a few years of chaos, governments throughout the world took to identifying powered individuals, and determining if they would be a threat to society. Those that qualified were sent to boarding schools to train with their powers. Most of them were ten when they left mainstream society. Now imagine what happens when you sequester a group of ten year olds for a decade, while training them to use powers that can level a city. The end result is a group of immensely powerful adults with no idea of how the world works.
First off, they have no concept of collateral damage. Gravitron (Gravity manipulation, Class A) once increased the gravity twofold in the entirety of Manhattan to catch a villain. His gambit worked, but it took MONTHS to sort out the injury claims that this caused. He seemed shocked to realize that most people don't do well with sudden changes in gravity. To his eternal credit, he gave a heartfelt public apology soon after, maintaining good public opinion of supers in New York.
Second, they just expect things to magically appear. When the Fabulous Five was scheduled to patrol Chicago, it was my responsibility to make sure they were fed, clothed, and transported to where they needed to be. This seems simple enough at the surface, but try to figure out a menu for a being that resides mostly in another dimension, an iron skinned wrestler with an appetite, and carnivorous animal companions. I managed it, but I had to pull a few strings with gangs in Chinatown to keep up with the endless demand for victuals.
Last, they have this strange delusion that they can solve all of their problems with their powers. The most egregious example was when they fought WallFire (Mad Scientist, Class S). He had developed a shield that would protect him from energy blasts, blunt force attacks, and mind control. Combined with his army of robotic lackeys, the supers of Washington DC found him unstoppable. As they retreated to the transport aircraft, I looked at the forlorn supers. All of them had suffered terrible wounds, and ArcLight (Healing/Light Manipulation, Class S) was unconscious from blood loss. They all seemed at a loss, muttering, "Fists, fire, lasers, none of it works! How on earth did he manage to stop all superpowers with one shield?"
I asked, "Was he wearing body armor?"
"No, just a force field mounted on his belt buckle. "
I remembered something from my briefings on energy shields. While it usually took someone with a Mad Scientist powerset to build them, they always forgot something. I ordered the pilot to ready for takeoff, then decided to act on a hunch. I pulled out my trusty Glock 23, and moved to the open rear of the aircraft. I saw WallFire advancing toward us on a small hovercraft, a predatory grin from ear to ear. I looked at his getup to assess the threat. Standard white lab coat, t-shirt and jeans, but there was also a large circular belt buckle, glowing with energy. If he had decided to defend against powers, he wouldn't bother to deal with mundane weaponry. I held the pistol with a practical two-handed grip, aimed carefully down the sights and squeezed the trigger.
A deafening report sounded in the cramped confines of the transport. WallFire fell from a bullet to the heart. His armies came to a screeching halt. I looked at the bedraggled heroes for a long minute, and they stared back in awe.
I asked, unable to mask my exasperation, "Did it ever occur to you to just try and shoot him?"
Through my time as a supers manager, I developed a kinship for these people. Yes, they often screw up, but it's childlike, in a way. Their hearts are always in the right place, even if it takes a while for their brains to catch up. It's my job to deal with the gaps in their understanding, to manage the consequences of their actions.
I wouldn't trade it for the world. | You know, kids like to imagine themselves as "superhero" saving the day. But then, they face the hard truth: they don't have any superpower, and they are forced to grow up.
The problem with superheros is that they do have superpower, so they never need to grow up. Eternal kids playing in the world playground, unable to have any common sense.
But even as a kid, I was already different. I did not want any superpower like "flying" or "laser-eyes". The superpower I wanted was "being like my mother". Whatever happened, she though about it in advance. Of course she had THE thing we needed in her bag. Organizing an event for 200 people, with accommodation and lunch? Easy job, just give the right orders to the right people (usually my father and my uncle). Always organizing big surprise events, sometimes even receiving some important peoples. Always aware of anything that happened. Always thinking about the little details and caring about everyone. I wanted to be a "super-mother!". Which, said like that, and as a boy, didn't help me to have friends, so I ended up having for only friends the weird kids: some young superheros not yet understanding how their power works.
Fast forward ten years later, we're a "team of superheros". Or mostly "THE team of superheros", because most other teams died, were forced into retirement, or ended up in prison, for not having someone like me in their team.
There is Bob. Also known as "The Beast". Each time he transforms, he forget his clothes behind, with all its belongings.
There is Hector. Also known as "Telek". He is able to make things float, and call them to him. He is used to just say "Actio! Tea cup!" when he needs one. Which mean that's always a mess behind him, he never remember where he put his stuffs, and he always assume what he need will be in range of his power. I've recently manage to convince him that putting the dishes in the washing machine would be a good regular training for him, since precision telekinesis is something he still has problems with.
There is Alicia. Also known as "Slowmotion". She is able to make things slow down, or even stop in time. Completely unable to be on time. Completely unable to answer a call before it's too late.
And finally, there is Elisa. Also known as "E". She is our "technology expert". She would probably starve if I wasn't there to order some food for her. Working with her is quite funny, since she always forget some very basic stuff, like "a gadget should have be autonomous for more than 10 minutes, and wireless". And I absolutely have to forbid her to "improve" my tools. The last thing we want is the phone starting to ask questions about why he shouldn't self-destroy.
Oh, and there is also me. I don't have any special code name. They like to call me "Boss". The media call me "The Secretary", and are still wondering who is the "Boss" the 4 superheros talk about. (Is it the president? Is he an Illuminati?)
Ah, and I almost forgot to talk about their nemesis. If superheros are kids that never grew up, their enemies are definitely teenagers that never grew up.
There is "Mister Destruction". He always post on Facebook before his attacks, under the pseudo "Master Destructa" and doesn't understand how heroes team manage to find him. More an annoyance than a threat.
There is "Professor Ultra-Moon". Actually pretty dangerous. But every single of its invention require a full moon to work, and no cloud blocking it. So with some coordination with police, I'm able to anticipate where he will try his next operation, and organize that with the team.
There is "Dark Dark Dark". She want to be evil since her superheros parents neglected her, but she is fundamentally a good person. Usually the supers perturb her plans enough to make her start monologuing, and once I've understood her plan, I call her on her personal number and convince her that her plan will actually hurt innocent peoples, and that she should find another way to be evil.
And finally, there is "The Prophet". She follows her "prophecy", one day trying to destroy the world. One day building a sect. And she always seems to know in advance what the superheros will do, so she get away each time. She never succeed to anything though. The media usually jokes about her prophesies being only useful to runaway.
Oh, and there is also me. Under the name "The Dark Lord". You see, the main problem with superheros is that if they run out of bad guys, they will start fighting each other for pride or celebrity, or obeying to government and participating in wars. Even worse, if true "super-bad-guys" would appear, battle between supers would start having a lot more casualties.
"The only way to be sure to win is to control both sides. But don't count on mind control, it never lasts long enough." That's what my mother used to say. | 2019-01-23T06:08:33 | 2019-01-23T05:00:51 | 30 | 18 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | "Here's 20$, can I get my change back?"
Silence
"Helllllooooo, I waaaaannnnt myyyyyy chaaannnggee baaaackkkk."
He didnt say anything just stared.
"I dont believe it"
Finally a sentence. But was didnt he believe
"Believe what?"
Silence
"What's going on here, this cant be real"
He dropped to the ground and stared in disbelief, staring at something above me
"Dude, I just want my change, can you do that?"
"You dont know, do you?"
"Know what?" I said semi sarcastically.
"Look above you"
I humored him
I dont believe
"Can I just get my sandwich and go, looks like I need to keep up my position."
In big red bold text it read above me
#1 in most fillet-o-fish sandwiches eaten worldwide at a single McDonald's | I walked into my uncle's laboratory. He was one of the top tech engineers on Mars, but I'd never been able to visit as a child. My parents had never let me near a tech lab, much less have anything installed. Now that I was eighteen I got my mandatory categorization done and got the surprising result of being the number one augment in the solar system. I didn't care what my parents thought now.
How was I number one? I had no augmentations and it's impossible to augment someone before they are done growing, or so I thought. "Uncle," I said. He spun his chair around, looked at me, and sighed. "I suppose you're here for the truth, James." I had so many questions to ask him and suddenly they were all gone, with a new one in their place. It took me a moment to regain my thoughts and I asked, "How do you know why I'm here?"
"It might be easier if I show you, " he said as he motioned towards his right where some sort of medical scanner stood. "Show me what?" I asked. "Just sit here, and I'll show you everything." I sat down, and he moved several scanning arms and a monitor into place.
How could I possible have augments, I've spent my life at my family's terraforming ranch. I love being in nature and loathed anytime my parents would take me into the city. I'd heard of teenagers sneaking off to get black market augments before, but I had no opportunities, much less the desire to do such.
But there they were, as the screen began glowing with the scan of my body. Not a single unaltered organ or system in my body.
Thanks for reading, this is my first finished creative writing piece and any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. | 2019-05-04T14:33:04 | 2019-05-04T13:46:09 | 45 | 32 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | "Here's 20$, can I get my change back?"
Silence
"Helllllooooo, I waaaaannnnt myyyyyy chaaannnggee baaaackkkk."
He didnt say anything just stared.
"I dont believe it"
Finally a sentence. But was didnt he believe
"Believe what?"
Silence
"What's going on here, this cant be real"
He dropped to the ground and stared in disbelief, staring at something above me
"Dude, I just want my change, can you do that?"
"You dont know, do you?"
"Know what?" I said semi sarcastically.
"Look above you"
I humored him
I dont believe
"Can I just get my sandwich and go, looks like I need to keep up my position."
In big red bold text it read above me
#1 in most fillet-o-fish sandwiches eaten worldwide at a single McDonald's | When I jumped out my truck to enter the lan house, I kept my eyes ahead as my face burned. There were a few people around, staring at me with a strange smile.
Usually those stares did not bother me. One gets used to being stared at, having the big scar that I had crossing half of my left cheek.
But today people were smiling a tense smile, and it was a bit creepy.
Walking faster, I finally reached the door. Sitting at a table there was a stern young man. He was very focused on the machine that the city folks called computer.
I waited for what seemed hours, but he did not take notice of me. So, I coughed.
With a sigh, he looked in my direction. At first, the shock.
I shrugged.
\- Hey, it's only a scar. No big deal. Can you help me out with checking my rankings? I turn 18 today and I have never used...these. - I said, gesturing in the direction of the computer.
The man then smiled, standing up from his chair.
\- Sure. Sure...So, first timer huh?
Time passed and we finally managed to enter the rankings. The guy left me alone, going back to whatever he was doing previously.
\- Don't forget to pay me after you finish there. OK?
\- Of course. - I replied.
After a lot of entering list after list, I finally discovered a place inside the site that said "Your Best Rankings".
As I checked that out...oh boy.
\#5 Most Out of Touch with Technology
Probably the rest of the top ones was my family. I chuckled.
\#8 Most Days Without a Shower
This is...embarassing.
\#1 Most in Debt
Huh? Well, this explains why the guy told me to not forget to pay... | 2019-05-04T14:33:04 | 2019-05-04T12:27:51 | 45 | 27 |
[WP] You brace yourself for the worst as the witch tells you the effects of the curse she just placed on you. As she finishes, you blink. "So...what's the downside again?" | The witch buried her face in her hands and sighed, "AGAIN, it's the Curse of Optimism. You will never be able to understand the potential negative consequences of any decision you make."
"That doesn't sound like much of a curse", I replied.
"You will be the eternal optimist", she explained. "You will only see the upside, never the downside."
"That doesn't sound so..."
"YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND," she interrupted, exasperated. "You will bet on every loser, because you're positive it's their time to win. You will fall victim to get-rich-quick scheme after get-rich-quick scheme, because you know there is no way you'll lose money. You will want to get back together with every abusive ex, no matter how many times they've cheated. Timeshares will sound like a great idea."
As she finished, I blinked. "So...what's the downside again?" | "Oh, sweetheart," the witch cooed. "Downside? You thought there would be a downside?" She gave me an eerily sweet smile, which I wasn't sure to trust.
"Uh, yeah? It's a curse, right?" At this point, I was extremely confused. The witch even appearing was enough for one day, but the curse, and this? I needed a nap for sure.
She shook her head at me, chuckling a bit. "Sweetheart, no. That wasn't a curse! It was just an enchantment, to change your course in life. You've been so depressed lately, and you've been bringing down your loved ones with you. Now you don't have to live that way."
I blinked. "So, the no hunger won't make me starve to death? The endless love won't lead me into hurtful situations?"
She laughed, as sweet as honey. "No, no! You never have to eat again, and you'll never stop loving yourself and others. You don't have to worry about not being able to fall asleep because you'll never need sleep again. The only thing left for you to work on is the hard part." Something was reassuring and nearly motivating about the way she said it. Everything seemed so much easier.
"I- well... Thank you," I said to her. "But why? Why me, and why did you want to do this?"
"Honestly, sweetheart, I couldn't tell you. Something compelled me. Some force drew me to you, and I felt like I needed to do this for you. I hope you'll appreciate it throughout your life, and share the wisdom that will come with it. Goodbye, and good luck!" She called out the last sentence while walking towards the horizon, fading from this reality as she did. | 2019-06-25T15:21:51 | 2019-06-25T15:02:35 | 1,435 | 11 |
[WP] You are a super hero, but without any powers. You are one of the most important heros, but marginally unknown. You are a therapist who works exclusively with heros and villians alike. Because they are people too. | “Why did he change?” the hero asked. “I used to look up to him, you know that. But then he started murdering…”
“People change,” the therapist said. “You think you know them, but things always change.”
“But that’s something that’s not supposed to change. What you believe in, good or evil. I don’t understand…”
“You will always stay focused, committed? You are that certain of your ideals?”
“Of course, doctor,” the hero said in his steadfast, certain way.
\-
“He looked like you,” the doctor said. “In that moment. I wanted to believe him.”
“Just like you believed me,” the villain said with a sad smile.
“Don’t be sad. I have never blamed you.”
“But do you agree with what he says? That you are not supposed to change?”
“No,” the doctor said. “A hero always fails, of course. What happens next, what they become next, no one can tell.”
“And what will he become?”
\-
“I realized it today, doctor,” the hero said, a faraway look in his eyes. “Something he once said to me.”
“What?”
“That they don’t love you. They love what you can do for them, and when you don’t or can’t do that anymore, they will throw you aside.”
“What happened?”
“A routine call, like anything else. A jumper on the roof. I’ve done it so many times. But this time, she didn’t listen. And I couldn’t fly down fast enough to save her…”
“I’m sorry.”
“Her mother, the utter hate in her eyes when she looked at me. She blamed me. Like I hadn’t been me, her daughter would be alive. Like…I was the villain.”
“You know that’s not your fault.”
“I know,” the hero said quietly. “But if they don’t know, what’s the difference?”
The doctor did not answer, knowing it was a question the hero had to answer for himself.
\-
“It’s happening,” the doctor said. “He failed for the first time.”
“And what do you think will happen?” the villain asked.
“You know I want more than ever for this to change nothing. For him to still believe in what he believes. But you see it too many times in my profession. Failure changes them. Warps them.”
“Like it warped me.”
“And I can’t change it one way or another,” the doctor said. “Even if I could, I wouldn’t. You have to let the balance play out.”
“But he’ll be better,” the villain said, his long-dormant idealism returning for one moment. “I know my little brother is made of more than me.”
“I hope so,” the doctor said.
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | The man staring back at me is ... different from the rest. This is a very hard thing to achieve, considering my clientele.
"Can you please repeat that?" I ask, trying to look anywhere but towards the dark void that sits on my office couch. There is a cloying quality to him, like the black cloud enveloping his body is home to a thousand simultaneous screams.
"I am so alone." The man's voice is a quiet buzz, like the first onion slice on a sizzling, oil-slicked sauce pan.
I draw on decades of professional experience to hold his gaze without looking away.
"Where are your parents?" I ask, fixated upon the man's pupils. They seem to take over his eyes entirely, dilating in a dark abyss as his attention flicks from object to object, jolting me each time they return to focus on me.
"They went away," he says.
I'm going to have to take another look at how I screen clients, I think, nervously wiping my forehead with my sleeve.
"Where did they go?"
The man is silent for a time, steadfastly holding my gaze. Staring at him is like staring at an illusion, like I'm looking at a black hole right on my couch, the red fabric shimmering where it comes into contact with the edges of the void. The room around us seems to turn slightly, like it's caught in some great, slow moving current. I cough, shaking my head to clear the dizzying sensation building in my throat. This is ridiculous, I think, we're on the 53rd floor of an office building in downtown Manhattan.
"You should look out the window behind you," the man says, still staring.
A tingle shoots down my spine, flushing my body with adrenaline. This is nonsense. I'm a professional. The best there is.
"That won't be necessary," I say, looking down at my file. "It says here that you were born in Virginia to a Sally and Harold Dramer, and that your powers only started manifesting late into your teens. That's highly unusual, but not unheard of." I glance up at the man-void, who is now staring intently at my coffee table, where I've placed an old photo of him holding his parent's hands. "Do you remember what it was like before the manifestation? Do you remember your parents?"
"I do," the man says with a touch of sadness. "I remember it well. I remember them well."
"That's a start," I mutter, marking something random down on my clipboard, more for my client's sake than my own. "So what happened to your parents?"
The man shrugs and the blackness grows, inky oily tendrils snaking out over the couch and down to the floor.
"Now hang on," I say, indignant in-spite of the fear cloying at my stomach. "I have a strict no power use policy."
The tendrils continue to grow, coiling around the coffee table and along the floor and around my legs.
"You should really look outside your window," the man says with the same quiet sadness as before.
I turn slowly, my stomach now churning in a tumbling, terrified mass. My hands are clammy and I'm sheathed in sweat. My window shows nothing, just an abyss where New York City should be, an impossibly black paint splotch that envelops the window from border to border. I jerk around towards the couch, intent on ending the session, but the man is gone and the room begins to spin.
I turn back to the window, clipboard forgotten, and watch in horror as Sally and Harold float past, screaming into the un-hearing void. | 2019-07-25T15:25:22 | 2019-07-25T13:02:22 | 62 | 32 |
[WP] As the last survivor of the apocalypse, in a fit of boredom, you start commenting "last" on every video on YouTube. One day, you receive a notification that your comment has been liked.
Wow, I did *not* expect such a huge turnout for my first ever prompt. The prompt itself arose from a friend and I doing some random banter back and forth, and I just posted up part of that banter as the prompt, essentially. XD
Thanks to everyone who posted a response and gave an upvote, this meant a lot to me! | As I clicked on yet another link, a glance at the title woke me from my stupor.
**US attack on Iran sparks new wave of WWIII memes**
It seemed inconceivable that not so long ago this was the reality. Fresh internet humor about the planet's impending doom. The latest bunch of pop culture references and dark jokes to relay the sense of strangeness of the world.
*Only if we had known.*
It had been fourteen days - two full weeks - since I had last interacted with another living soul. For all I knew, there wasn't another one remaining. The heat, radiation and extreme weather had taken most. Those who had remained were forced to see themselves devolve into savages in hopeless attempts to survive. With the food supplies dwindling, it seemed like I would soon be joining those ranks.
To say my days had become monotonous would be an understatement. Each day was indistinguishable from the last. They consisted of me trying to get by on as little food as possible.
Though food was in short supply, by some miracle, electricity and Internet were still up and running. It was little comfort though when there didn't seem to be anyone else using it. There were no new posts on Facebook or Twitter, nobody uploading vlogs from their nuclear-holocaust-proof bunkers. And there was nothing on Reddit either. No more of those dank WWIII memes.
I had given up looking for signs of life online at least a week ago. My waking hours now saw me mindlessly scroll through old Reddit posts and watching Youtube videos. I had developed a perverse habit of leaving comments on every video I saw. It was an old obsession for people to be the first to view content uploaded by their favourite Youtubers. Within seconds of uploading, videos used to be inundated with comments of "First". I always found that trend annoying. I could never be the first one to comment on any of those videos but I certainly could be the last.
*Maybe the Internet wasn't keeping me sane after all*
Rubbing my eyes, I decided that I'd had enough. Time didn't matter much to me now but I still felt inclined to sleep while it was still dark outside. Just as I had put my phone away and prepared myself to go to sleep, I heard a sound that sent shock waves through my body. A sound I had heard a million times before but it had never made me feel as excited,elated or terrified before.
My phone had buzzed.
As I picked it up, I saw that I had received a notification.
*LoneSurivor liked your comment: "Last".* | “Is this what rock bottom looks like?” Lane asked himself, his fingers danced lazily over the keyboard as he exercised futility to its breaking point, he submitted another comment, “Last!”
He should be grateful, he supposed, the amount of content on YouTube far exceeds what remains of his dreary life, the site’s algorithms even helped him to find new users to subscribe to. Remember to click the bell-icon and like the video, everyone, it really helps them out!
The worst part of it all was that the end of the world hardly made a difference, he’d scroll through YouTube regardless, he’d still occasionally bend to the will of the almighty algorithm, clicking on recommended videos, letting them chip away at his soul, blending the pieces in a red-blue and white mass— letting him live a life through someone else, having himself never lived at all.
They’re together right now, Lane knew, the robots. He liked to imagine the robots all gathered in an office room, they’d be seated on expensive leather chairs, huddled around the large glass-table in the middle of the room. The machines would sit across from each other, arguing if they should recommend a video of a cat miscalculating a jump, or of a fat man getting stuck in a water-slide.
Lane was just about to call it a day when he noticed the red notification. HasBananaFitz has liked your comment, was it a joke? A cruel prank played by the robots, it must be. They’re learning, aren’t they? Finding new and exciting ways to make sure he dies glued to his computer screen. HasBananaFitz has replied to your comment— Lane entered the user’s channel in hopes of confirming the person a fake, the introduction video was of a man in a banana costume dancing to old pop-music, the man had some moves, Lane granted, and subscribed to the channel.
Lane checked the alleged reply from the enigmatic dancing man, “Yeah? Then what’s this, jerk-ass!”
*Jerk-ass*. Humanity deserved what they got, Lane thought to himself.
Lane replied, “You real?”
He stared at the computer screen for a good thirty minutes, he didn’t feel bad or especially hopeful, he was in his element after all. Wasting time was his forte. A new notification from HasBananaFitz— it was a video, he clicked.
A man in a banana costume stared at him, he looked angry, holding a bunch of bananas. The man screamed and started throwing the yellow fruit at the camera. Seems about right. It was probably just an AI sending random videos, he had fallen for its bait. Lane was just about to turn off the sorry display when the man sobered, “I… I know you’re not real, TheRealLane49," the banana-man slumped down in a carved chair, the bending bottom-end of his costume deflating some of the moment’s sincerity, “it even says we’re both from the same city, what are the chances? Not big, I imagine. Anyway, in case you are real, I’m going to be at Brian’s Coffee House, the one near the monument in Mid-town. I’ll be there tomorrow at noon, waiting. If you’re real… I’m sorry I called you a jerk-ass.”
Lane clicked cancel before it could auto-play another video, its thumbnail promising a man holding a violin under water. He thought for not very long at all before he said aloud, “Alright, banana-man, it’s a date.”
*****
Thank you for reading! | 2020-01-13T12:40:19 | 2020-01-07T10:29:14 | 32 | 11 |
[WP] Having recently died, You sit in a shimmering gold waiting room. An angel in a white uniform hands you a large catalogue. She begins, “Please make your selections for your reincarnation. Remember, one selection per category, and no choices you’ve chosen in the previous 50 lifetimes.” | I remember now...
So many lifetimes lived. It's seems ridiculous now, spending nearly every previous lifetime on Earth asking the same old questions. What's it all for? What comes after? Why are we here?
All the knowledge that is removed on birth, and then restored in death, the only question that is ever answered is, what comes after?
This comes after. Again and again. Categories and choices. Rinse, repeat, an eternity of Groundhog Days, where the only difference is the choices you make, or don't make, from the catalog. Nobody knows why. The white uniformed angel never speaks more than that same sentence...over and over again, impervious to attempts at conversation, and impossible to interact with physically. Try to grab her and your hands pass right through, and then she disappears again.
It's described as a "large catalog", but large doesn't begin to give it justice. Just as the "angel" has no substance, neither does the catalog. It just..exists. You can turn the pages. With a thought, sections become magnified so you can better read the text, which is crammed into every massive page. Millions of pages, each containing thousands of categories, with a hundred thousand or more items in each category. It can't be ripped, it can't be closed...and if you refuse to choose..BAM, you're born again anyway and you get what you get! Did I mention that the catalog randomizes itself? There will be no memorizing where desired attributes are located after millions of repetitions of finding them.
And you must choose from every category. Diseases. Hair color. First car. Sexual orientation. Birth defects. Skills and instincts...which leads you down an endless path of things you could be proficient at. You learn quickly, after doing this a million times, that you can't just pick to be awesome at everything. You just get randomized and re-born.
Are you starting to see, now? Do you comprehend the futility? The afterlife is just another lousy day in an eternity of different lives. I've been every race, creed, color, sex, profession...many times over, and the end of every life is the same.
This room. That angel. That catalog. The choices. Return to Earth. Die. This room...
Eventually, you get tired of the catalog, the choices, the unchanging room, the solitude...and the catalog knows. Oh, if you do find some good choices before this, the catalog knows, and you certainly get them. Last life, I managed to actually die of old age without losing any mental acuity! That sucked in its own way, but that was better than the lifetime my head was cracked open in a runaway steam train accident, and I still lived another 12 years as a drooling idiot...in the early 19th century. Not fun.
But when you're done, when you're ready to just get out there and let fate take control...the catalog knows, and the choices are made for you, and an instant later...you're born again.
And here you are again. Welcome back. | "A dung beetle? Really?"
The mocking shout came from about ten metres away, although when I looked over it seemed like the concept of space wasn't quite what I thought it was.
"Oh, don't worry about that. For the first few moments you're up here we tend to have problems rendering everything properly."
The angel who had handed me the form stood in front of me once again, having zoomed silently into that position the second I'd started thinking too hard about distance.
To say I was disoriented was an understatement. The glare from my golden surroundings looked like it should have been blinding, but it simply existed, like a tacky monument to poor design choices.
"I wouldn't disparage the waiting room so much; it's made to your specifications."
She had chimed in again, this time with what I imagined was a smirk, although her features were far too intense for me to get a good grasp of. Instead, I tried to focus on the catalogue in front of me.
It was a thick binder, the sort that could end a life if it were dropped from the right place. It was bound by two shiny golden rings, and laminated with a glossy finish, although the edges were soft like fur instead of the sharp plastic like sensation I'd been expecting when I saw it. There was no index.
"It's alphabetical, though."
I tried to speak, although before my throat had even begun to vibrate, I was cut off.
"We tried a search function, but everyone kept going for the same thing. There's only so many English house cats we can have, after all."
A fledgling thought.
"Yes, we know you should be able to get what you want. And most people do, when they take the time to look through the binder. You're all just so...lacking in imagination. When you have to physically look through the thing, you tend to find some stuff that you're really into."
I looked up at her. Her gender was the only thing I was really sure of, and I didn't quite know why.
"Just trust me on this. Have a little flip through. Go on!"
It was said encouragingly, albeit with a little bit of urgency.
"No, there's no time limit. Well, there's no time, really. But we do like to get people in and out. It's just better that way."
I started to turn the pages, which were surprisingly heavy in my hand. Whatever book this was, it was made out of high quality paper. I focused on the images spread out below me. As I continued to turn the pages, I was more and more astounded by what I saw.
Creatures of all kinds, some of which I knew, some of which I had only imagined, and some of which that were so fantastical I felt like distance was being rendered again. Lions and tigers and bears and dragons; aliens of all sorts made up of different elements; there was even the opportunity to head back as a droplet in a cycle of near eternal recurrence.
"The Taoists like that one." she had sprung up from nowhere again, and surprised me.
Some of the creatures had big red crosses marked on the page, and as I shifted to about a third of the way through the book and came across the page for humans, I realised these must have been some of the lives I'd lived over the past fifty lifetimes.
I continued to flick through, absorbed by the potential opportunities, but I was drawn back to the human page. I couldn't quite put my finger on why; like a moth to a flame my eyes wondered back, and I began to read the small print.
"Oh, you don't want to do that."
I continued to scan, taking in everything i could.
"No, you really don't want to do that."
My eyes skipped across the page, growing wider and my brain swallowed the words on the page.
"Stop that!"
Her voice had lost the playful tone and was now quivering with anger; hatred, almost. If i hadn't been so enthralled it would have been terrifying.
"Stop!"
I reached the bottom of the page, and now I knew just what they were hiding.
..............
/r/sandsshortswriting | 2020-04-30T12:52:30 | 2020-04-30T12:07:44 | 45 | 24 |
[WP] Your kids informed you that your new prescription glasses came in the mail today. You put them on and look at your kids. You're surprised to see an info window showing their general statistics and a primary specialty. Curious of your own specialty, you look into a mirror and it said "Immortal". | “Hey, your glasses are here!” Dieter yells.
“Dieter, be CAREFUL!” Calls Trinity.
The sound of a light package hitting the ground reverberates through the hall. I pinch the bridge of my nose, set my tablet down on my bed, and walk out to the site of the commotion.
“Dieter, pick the package up. Trinity, leave your brother alone.”
I take the box from Dieter’s hands, and he and Trinity step aside. Flipping open my pocket knife, I cut a neat incision down the seam of the packing tape, and the flaps of the box spring open. Inside rests a shiny carbon fiber glasses case, which I retrieve from its bed of packing peanuts and open with a *snap*. Off come my old, bulky framed glasses, which are set on the countertop beside me. On slide my new wire frames, a sleek gunmetal gray that blend seamlessly into the lenses themselves.
I open my eyes, and to my shock, a glowing, dynamic graphic pops up in front of my son. It read,
*Dieter Drogen*
*M*
*20990523*
*22000715*
*Experiencing unusual spike in serotonin*
*Appears captivated by object of interest*
I blink and shake my head. The glasses were giving me information on my own child? That can’t be right. This time I focus on Trinity.
*Trinity Drogen*
*F*
*20990304*
*22061210*
*Appears perplexed by situation at hand*
Wait. The first number was their birthday. So what was the second?
Is that...their death day?
Holy shit.
I run to the mirror and look at myself.
*Hiawatha Drogen*
*I*
*20690101*
*IMMORTAL*
*Indecipherable reaction*
It can’t be. I throw off the glasses and bury my face in my hands.
“What’s wrong?” Dieter asks.
“I think they know.” Trinity replies.
More bad content at r/PeriodicalontheTable | "What are you doing?!" Marty shouted, sprinting over to the kitchen counter to grab the can of Lysol. He shook it violently, uncapped it, and began to spray the cardboard box in Annie's hands as if he was trying to give it a shower. "You know not to touch anything without disinfecting it!"
"Seriously, Dad," Annie sighed, dropping the box on the table with a thud, "you need to chill out. The coronavirus isn't as big of a deal anymore." She grabbed the knife from the silverware drawer and sliced through the tape. After folding back the flaps, she reached inside and pulled out a black case. "I think these are your new glasses."
Marty sprayed the case and the glasses as well. His daughter rolled her eyes and sat down near her brother, attempting to dry herself off.
After cleaning the lenses of his new glasses with his shirt, he sat down at the family's computer, logged in, and started googling, just like he has been doing every day for two months. "Kids, can you believe it? There's still new cases, and people are going to the store without any protection. Idiots."
When his children didn't respond, he turned to them, and they continued to scroll through their phones. But something popped up in his vision. He thought he was seeing something at first, but when he focused on Annie, a black box appeared above her. He pulled the glasses down onto the bridge of his nose, and the box disappeared. After sliding the glasses back on, it reappeared. He focused on the box, and small white words read: "Weakness: Listening to authority, Strength: Social media."
*"*What the-" Marty muttered, astounded. He did not understand, but he couldn't argue against its accuracy. He turned to his son, and sure enough, another block box appeared over his head. This time, it read: "Weakness: Tequila, Strength: Perfectly rapping Busta Rhymes' verse in Look At Me Now".
His heart beating fast, he logged out of the computer. This was the first time during all of quarantine that something successfully interrupted Marty's diligent research. He sped to the bathroom like his IBS was starting to act up, but that only happened after Mexican. This was different.
Marty flipped on the light, illuminating the small bathroom. He placed his palms on the granite counter and peered into the mirror. Sure enough, a black box appeared over his head too. The small white words said: "Weakness: Easily influenced, Strength: Immortal."
*Immortal?*
This couldn't be right. It didn't make sense. But the glasses were right about his kids, so it had to be right about him, too. He could live forever.
Marty hustled back to the kitchen. He scooped up his keys, started his car, and left the house for the first time since March.
He threw the car into park once he got to the grocery store, and he walked in without a mask, grinning from ear to ear. | 2020-05-26T21:03:57 | 2020-05-26T19:37:58 | 38 | 28 |
[WP] You’ve traveled a great distance to finally court the princess. Many others have tried and failed. Why? At the end of a week with her, you must duel her to the death. She is the greatest sword fighter in the land, so your only hope is to convince her to call off the fight. | I’ve spent a week with my king’s daughter, a woman so skilled with blades that no man has ever beaten her in single combat.
I’ve fallen for her, like a fool drawn to the rattle of a snake. She’s smart, skilled, beautiful, and funny. She’s kind to the lowest servant, yet fierce in her protection of them.
And I’ve gone and asked her to go on a date with me.
And she said yes.
Now after so long, I face the trial that all her dates have: Her. In single combat, I must defeat her or be thrown as mince meat to the canines.
Dozens of men have tried, women too, and none had been successful. I would be the first, or I would die.
There is no audience, this event is not public. It is simply her and I, as her father sits above in his throne.
She stands ready before me, though my eyes refuse to focus. My pulse is quick, and breath shallow. I’m freaking out. I’m freaking out because I have a plan that may end in my death.
Breathe. Now or never.
With all the unearned confidence I could muster I step towards the center of the room, below her father. She follows, but I arrive first and with a loud clang of metal on stone I drop my sword.
The princess stops, stunned. The king looks down at me with a neutral expression. Not dead yet.
“Princess, you and I both know the rules of this engagement. We fight, we die, and should I be victorious we will wed when I spare you.”
I gulp nervously but continue.
“Well I know when I am bested. I haven’t a clue how to fight, I’m the son of a poet. What hubris must I have to believe myself a better fighter? I am not so arrogant to believe myself better than those who have studied under masters of their craft.”
She looks at me for a long second and I almost think I see her mouth part, but whatever words she’s chosen have died upon her lips.
“So it is forfeit then?” Asks the king gruffly.
Part two. My plan was working.
“I apologize my King, but I believe forfeit or not it is your daughter who should decide what happens next.”
“I am your king, answer my question.”
“You are my King, and that itself deserves my respect. But right now, sir, it’s your daughter who deserves it more. Yes, I forfeit. I leave my life and my future in the hands of a woman I love, and who I hope loves me.”
The room is quiet. Too quiet. I can hear the soft thum thum thumming of my heart in my ears, can feel it pounding in my ribcage. The air tastes sour and I can’t help but look between her eyes, staring straight at me, and the floor.
The soft thud of her rapier onto carpeted stone drawls me back to reality. She walks casually before me and the king, turning to face her father.
“Father, arrange for an early spring wedding.” | "Please don't" he whimpered.
She stood over him, a plain look on her face.
"You just need to get to know me better, one week is hardly enough time......."
She raised her sword, arcing it high above her head, the soft clink of armor making the only sound.
A whisper, "I thought......you said.....is this really how it ends?"
Thunk. The sword lodged perfectly between his ears.
\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
*"Pathetic"* thought Paul, as the whimpering mans corpse was dragged away. "*Not only did he try and impress her without an ounce of real swordplay, facing failure he shamed himself with that begging display"*
All around Paul the lords and nobles of the realm (*his future realm, he liked to think),* slowly began to wake from their daze. It was an intimate affair, with the 100 or so guests lining a circle above the small arena. Servants and waiters scurried around, already refilling the drinks of the more pale faced patrons. As the rush of the combat passed through them, quiet conversation seeped into the timid space.
"Must she always be so brutal" whined a particularly bleached noblewomen
"It's the only way to keep the more unworthy away" her husband replied
"This one seemed the proper gentleman though, he was so polite when he made his announcement"
"They always do, until our princess weans the truth out of them" he said knowingly
Paul smiled to himself "*Oh that's right my announcement, should I lead with some bravado or something more chivalrous. What would they respect more? After all once I win her over, I'll have to do the same to everyone here".* Knowing he'd only decide once he started, Paul meandered his way to the north side of the circle, where a little jut led just into the square proper.
"Did you know he was a prince in name only? Not even from a real noble house!" gossiped one women as Paul passed by
"Oh so a son one of that new class, the merchant turned noble? Must have thought his money could win her over" bellowed a larger man with a laugh
"Oh not our princess no, she'll wait for one of the right stock, I hear this next fellow is from the greatest house east of the Penbrook. Maybe he's the one!'
"Not bloody likely, the one from the greatest house west of it got it in the head like all the others"
Again Paul smiled. He'd heard conversations like this his whole journey to the kingdom. The mystery princess, the one who couldn't be won by charm, wit, wealth, power and piety. One week is all you had to win her over and if she didn't want you by the end, well, you might as well run. The penalty of her denial was one more date with the princess, except this one was with swords, and only one of you was eating desert afterward.
For not only was the princess a beautiful, intelligent, and benevolent ruler, she was also the greatest swordsman (*or rather swordswomen)* in the world.
"*Fools"* Thought Paul as he entered the circle outcrop "*The so called secret of the princesses desire is obvious enough for one that has the strength to see it. Anyone paying attention to my departed predecessor would understand" .*
As Paul raised his hand, the crowd slowly fell silent, and when not a breath could be heard, he moved it over his heart and began to speak "*Chivalrous it is".*
While he touted his pure and noble intentions, the princess herself reentered the circle below. Covered in chain-mail, hair recently washed of blood, she made eye contact with Paul. An unwavering, unsettling stare of judgement.
While Paul continued to preach, only one thought crossed through his mind.
"*This is the women who I am to win. No. This is the women I aim to tame"*
\*---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------\*
All I got so far, need a quick break.
Do me a favor and rip it to shreds below | 2020-09-20T20:11:35 | 2020-09-20T16:55:52 | 250 | 107 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | "The perfect shot," Shawn said, "leaves people breathless."
"Yes. I agree. There's something so beautiful about it," Ray replied.
They were at the bar, seated on barstools, whiskey sours in front of them. Shawn was the taller of the two and was dressed in a black tee and black jeans. Ray was more casual, he wore brighter colours -- olive shirt and khaki trousers -- and was very scrawny.
"You shoot much?" Shaun asked.
"I have my gigs."
"Turned professional? Or just side gigs?"
"Side gigs, for now."
Shawn sipped on his whiskey and said, "What shot you most proud of?"
Ray stared at his glass for a while, his eyes hazy. "The senator Dobbins. Yes, that was my best shot."
"Perfect shot?"
Ray smiled. "No. Can't be perfect. It's not something you achieve."
Shawn took a swig from his whiskey, "True, very true."
"You know, Ray. I missed one today."
"What?"
"Missed a shot," Shawn said and sighed.
"Oh, what happened?"
"The dude died. My camera was on him. The lighting was perfect. But just as my finger reached the button. Poof, he dropped dead."
Ray drank his whiskey absentmindedly. "Was it Winston?"
"Yes. How do you - You were on the same -"
"Yes, I was. I got it. I got the shot."
"Lucky bastard," Shawn said and flashed a weak smile. "You have it with you now? The shot?"
"What? No. I did it from afar," Ray said and made a finger gun. "Bam!" He finished his drink and got up.
Shawn was speechless.
"I've got it, alright. I've got it printed right here," Ray said, stabbing his forehead with his index finger. | "The most important thing is to frame the shot perfectly" Jacob stated enthusiastically
"Yeah, I can agree with that in a sense, but staging and planning it is more important else the entire shot can be a bust" I said with a bit less enthusiasm than Jacob.
"I somewhat agree but everyone got their own way of doing it I guess. Always prefered to do my shoots on impulse and focus on the framing" Jacob said shrugging his shoulders.
I couldn't help but wonder what he was carrying in the padded bag he had. Looked like it was a camera bag, a bit to cliché for my liking but who am I judge walking around with what looked like a hiking bag.
"So tell me about some of your shots man, you must have some amazing ones" Jacob said nudging me.
"Well I shot Jeremy Griff a month or so a ago" I said matter a factly
"Griff? Like the media person Jeremy Griff?" Jacob said almost looking upset or down. But that must of been my imagination.
"Yeah, it was a tricky shot. Lots of trees, the car moving definitely didn't help either. But I think I got a good one in the end" I proudly said as it had been quite a difficult shot to make.
"He died not long ago, in his car. Hope the picture was worth the money" Jacob sorrowfully said
"What picture? I shot him, what the hell are you talking about?" I said looking at him in surprise.
"Photography, what else would I be talking about? I'm a photographer, wait what do you mean you shot him?!" Jacob said now with panic in his voice and eyes
"Ah, shit. I'm sorry Jacob, I thought you were like me. No hard feelings I hope" I say as I pull a knife hidden inside my sleeve and stab him in the heart making it look like a hug as Jacobs life drains from his eyes. I slowly lower him onto the table folding his hands under his head for support as if he's only asleep.
As I start to move away I decide to grab his bag, I guess I could use a new hobby. After all we had similar ideas for the perfect shot.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Just something that flashed through my mind, like what kind of conversation would a sniper and a photographer have in common that would be an imo funny missunderstanding. | 2020-11-05T05:53:26 | 2020-11-05T05:28:42 | 420 | 39 |
[WP] “Wal Mart” is a game aliens play, where they see how poorly they can disguise themselves and walk through the human world unnoticed, usually in a wal mart around midnight. You are a government special agent and needed to run in for a car part when you catch a game in progress. | I saw the alien before he saw me. He was dancing in one of the seasonal holiday aisles, trying on a red Santa hat and belly laughing as if he didn't clearly have two bellies. With his green skin, he looked more like the Grinch than Santa. Which he must have known. So this was some kind of game, one I didn't feel like dealing with when my car had just broken down on the way home from another long night of work.
Sometimes the aliens played, well... kind of dark games. Like, see how many humans you can catch and turn inside out before you're caught kind of games. And then I'm the special agent who has to go out, usually in the middle of the evening when I've just taken the first bite of a meal that took over an hour to make, to scrub all the evidence and issue a stern warning to the aliens. I'm usually left on unread.
But the alien I'd spotted wasn't playing that kind of game. Thankfully. It was just trying to see if anyone else would notice it was an alien. At Walmart on a Saturday at midnight, chances were low.
Another alien in the competition walked - or should I say, *slithered* by in leopard-print suit and a cheeseburger hat that barely covered its third eye. It was blowing bubbles from a neon pink ring at the first alien. Who had just looked over and spotted me, in my obviously special secret government agent suit, staring directly at its green face.
Options. One: Immediately look away and pretend not to see it. Not going to work, because it has at least one brain and isn't stupid.
Two: Smile and wave and pretend I'm another alien in disguise. Doubtful I'll succeed, and if anything it'll just get annoyed I tried to impersonate (imalienate?) its species. Like, attack you with all four clawed hands kind of annoyed.
Three: Pretend to be distracted and run over to join the nearest human. Which was one of the late-night employees who looked like he did not want to be there and, if he found out aliens existed, would instantly run for the gun section and/or start crying and/or do something Very Stupid.
Four, and this is what I was supposed to do anyway, take the alien in for questioning. There had been an increase in abductions lately, and it was starting to get personal. At least three of my coworkers had been turned inside out in the last month. Three too many. Well, okay, Bob was one of them, so depending on who you asked... Two too many. But that was more confusing (and riskier, if you cared about your chances of promotion) to say out loud. If I could at least get a bit of the alien's DNA, we could try to get a match and that would be enough for an arrest warrant.
I sighed and placed a hand on my blaster, which is made to look like a nerf gun but the aliens know to be afraid anyway, and started toward the one dressed like Santa/the Grinch. Its face fell, because it had obviously just lost the game it had been trying to win, and that meant it would have to pay some kind of penalty. Usually that meant the next time they played the turn-humans-inside-out game, the alien would have to be the one to actually disguise himself and come back to Walmart to buy a bunch of not at all suspicious things like rope, duct tape, knives, guns, maybe a candy bar or two to throw special agents like me off the scent. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. But the one thing the aliens could count on was that the security guard on duty would always be slower.
"Wait," I called out to the alien. It had stopped dancing and was slowly backing away toward the auto parts section of the store. Which was super convenient for me, but it couldn't have known that, so really it was just going for a crowbar or a wrench or something bludgeony like that.
"I'm just, uh, a local cosplayer," the alien said in a perfectly human voice. "Please be on your way and leave me alone, human, uh, I mean, *friend*." That last word was said menacingly. Well, if he ever tries to turn me inside out, I've got an implant in my tooth that'll detonate and kill it and all its friends.
"No, you're not," I said, and at the same time a small voice said from off to the side, "No, you're not!"
We both turned to see a little girl holding a bucket filled with bouncy balls, the kind you can get from a machine for a quarter, staring up at the alien with wide, determined eyes.
"He's the Grinch," she said to me, pointing at the alien. "See his green fur?"
I almost said, *He's not the Grinch he's an alien*, but I caught myself in time. Instead I said, "He's a cosplayer, honey," which was really irritating because its friend was still watching and now this whole conversation was going to be taken as proof that their disguises had worked. What was the reward for winning this game, again? Oh, right. They would get to be the ones to turn the humans inside out next time.
"Leave the Grinch alone!" the girl said. "His heart is really big now." And I could see her mistake, because the alien's heart was really big, like literally three sizes too big, but that didn't mean anything metaphorically. But try explaining metaphors to anyone at Walmart at midnight.
"Listen here," I started to say, but then the girl screamed, like really loudly, like loud enough that if we'd been anywhere but Walmart someone would have come running, and then she just flung the whole bucket of bouncy balls at the floor and shouted, "Run!" at the alien. It immediately pivoted and started hopping away, an instinctive panic response that made it look unimaginably stupid, but also made it able to avoid the bouncy balls. I lunged at the alien and grabbed desperately at its leg before I fell to the floor. It managed to get away along with its friend, and the girl just stood there screaming and crying the whole time, because the Grinch hadn't turned out to be the Grinch after all, it was some scary green kangaroo thing that had snake fangs for teeth. Obviously.
But I looked down at my hand to find a single tuft of green fur. I'd managed to snag the alien's DNA, and it was in self-defense according to anyone who'd been there who was an adult human, so if there was a match we could finally get our warrant. Which we did. And we managed to get justice for every human in the end, even Bob, and it was enough to keep the aliens from turning anyone inside out ever again.
And *that* was the best Christmas I ever had. | In a bizarre way, doing this reminded Bob of his childhood. His teenage years consisted of random behavior such as this. Wandering to Wal-Mart at 3 in the morning, because sleep was overrated.
But, being at such a place at this time of day had it's perks. Namely, no lines and good parking. The good parking part being key. The extra shifts he'd been pulling lately had been causing him to neglect other aspects of his life. Most recently, the lack of coolant in the reservoir of his car. He'd left it to sit in the cold, spending the extra time to google the correct bottle he needed to buy; and also because a pack of Oreos isn't going to eat itself.
Lounging outside of the shuttered Subway near the entrance, he returned to an age old tradition of his. People watching. Perhaps things like this explained why he found himself in the career he'd chosen. But if you wanted to see how bizarre people could truly be, go to a Wal-Mart between the hours of 10 P.M. to 5 A.M. It wasn't an unfamiliar idea to him. As mentioned, he'd made a game of it many times before.
There were a few contenders that made him wonder.
A woman in polka dotted leggings wandering the fruit section. She went from stand to stand, considering options, but never truly willing to buy. She settled on Avocados before wandering towards the bread. He lost track of her behind the wall then.
A wayward affluent soccer mom stereotype, who seemed validly unnerved by the surroundings she'd found herself in. On her way out, she looked over her shoulders every five seconds as if to ward off whatever evil was following her. Lest any residue of this big box store rub off on her shoes.
A man in stained overalls, tucking away cigarettes and wandering to a dusty truck in the row closest to the doors. His weathered face sightly upbeat, a slight grumble escaping his lips. The truck took a little work to start, but before long the vehicle trundled away blaring some old country record Bob couldn't readily remember.
A younger man, carrying a jaded expression under dreadlocks who'd seemingly only came to buy a gallon of milk and some cereal. He locked eyes with Bob for a second on his way out, one hand tucked into his jacket, the other swaying the bag offhandedly. His solitary walk leading him to a sedan which then spun in the snow outside and disappeared.
Some wayward teens, one short, one tall, one wide, wandered in next. They quietly laughed to themselves, before one began making jokes about the tall one's crush at school. They disappeared into the clothes section, before something fell over and laughter rang back.
Bob watched them all disappear one by one. But the one that came in next stole the show.
Maybe he'd been sitting here too long. Either that, or the Oreos were starting to get to him. But if he saw it right, the woman in self checkout to his right just licked a pack of beef jerky. Polka Dots, the leggings. *Okay*. That's already pretty weird. The fact that her tongue slinked out of her mouth again, wrapped the package and dragged it in back into her maw completely was infinitely more concerning.
He shook his head on the off chance that perhaps he didn't see that right. However, she took another pack and began to do it again, dropping it from her mouth as she noticed his concern. The bespectacled man, a wayward cookie jutting from his mouth caught her eye, and she smiled before walking out of view.
Bob stood up at this, the hairs on neck tickling incessantly with concern. The car could wait. He went to follow her, the polka dot legging keeping his attention, until he spotted a man slumped over in a rascal. The machine rolled by him at all of 3 miles an hour, clipped a shelf and rolled over, tossing it's oversized driver into the floor. Polka Dots had stopped to watch. Bob, being the Good Samaritan he was sought to help the man. Until the guy started doing the backstroke across the floor. As fat as he was, its not like he was going anywhere in a hurry.
But, he'd lost sight of Polka Dots, and that scared him more than anything. He had to call this in. But he knew better than to cause a panic. He quietly left his friend on the floor to himself as he sliently began making a lap on his back down an aisle.
He found himself back at register three, trying his best to look assertive at this time of night. The man at the register, a name tag reading "Pete" looked him up and down in concern.
"Hey didn't you checkout a little while ago?" Pete noticed boringly.
"Yes. Umm, do you mind getting someone up here? There's a big guy over there. I think something's wrong with him."
Bob wasn't a big fan of the Sacrificial Lamb idea. But if a couple of Wal-Mart workers bought it first, he figured that'd be enough reason to get the store cordoned off. Unspoken tricks of the bureau.
"He dying or something?" Pete asked accordingly.
"He's... Trying to swim on the floor."
"...Real big dude?"
"Yeah?"
Pete shook his head and sighed. "Fat Eddie. He always comes in on Tuesday, falls off his scooter and does that. Poor guy. I dunno' why he's like that."
"...You're serious?"
The man swished his arms as he slid by the register on the lineoleum, his sweaty face one of pure concentration.
"Hey Eddie, get me a box of donuts from the back while you're down there?"
"Sure thing Coach!" Eddie responded as he kept kicking along the floor.
Bob didn't know what to say, except but to point at Eddie's absurdity.
"See?" Pete waved off, "Don't worry about it."
"Uh, there's a woman in here eating beef jerky too." Bob mentioned next.
"The lady with the polka dots?"
"Yes! You saw her too??"
"She's always shoplifting. I'll call the cops in a bit. Don't worry."
"Seriously?"
"I don't get paid enough to get stabbed."
"Fair point."
Bob had to give Pete silent credit. He knew his place in the world. The toddler lifting the soda machine across from them clearly didn't. He let the rig slam back into place as Bob spotted him, the machine coughing up a soda before he snatched it and darted away.
"Did you see that?!" He whispered.
"What?"
"The soda machine!"
"I don't know who's kid that is. His mom's in here somewhere... Oh, he's fine. See? There they go."
True to his word, the child's mother carried him past him. The little Kryptonian seemingly oblivious to his own deeds, a thumb in his mouth.
"No masks on?" Pete muttered. "Hope they don't catch the Rona."
"You're just going to sit here like that didn't happen??"
Pete yawned and his mask rode up. Underneath seemed to be endless teeth of varying size before he snapped his jaw shut. Bob saw it but didn't want to acknowledge it.
"....Are we good?" Pete shrugged.
"-I'm sorry?"
"You, uhh, need some more coolant?" Pete pointed out. "Oreos?"
"No, um, I just figured you might want to check on things. Have a nice night."
"You too, man."
Bob fell over himself, slipping and sliding on the ice on the way back to his car. He had to tell someone. This place needed to be razed to the ground.
"Really Pete?" Polka Dots complimented. "The cashier?"
"Not my fault you suck at this game. Even Eddie made it farther than you." | 2020-12-20T11:19:47 | 2020-12-20T10:43:03 | 40 | 27 |
[WP] The demon couldn't believe his luck to find such a willing victim to possess. As it possessed them, instead of fighting back like they usually do, this one said "Good luck. You'll need it."
EDIT: Thanks for the awards guys! I've been on this site for 7 years and this is the first time I've received any. | The demon haunted the rooftops as it stalked its victim below. She walked through the alleyways as if nothing in the world mattered, unaware of the nightmare about to befall her. The demon waited until she walked into a dead-end, trapped by walls on all sides. It ran along the rooftops and pounced, aiming for its target far below. She turned around, slow and causal. She looked at the demon as it fell towards her. Her eyes were calm, undeterred by its arial attack. The demon tried to change course, but it was too late. The woman uttered two words before the end.
"Good luck."
They impacted with full force. The possession took hold of her. The demon tried to stop it, but it wouldn't work. It was losing control! The host's body latched onto the demon and started ripping it to pieces The rage and anger that festered in this host threatened to tear everything apart. It was all it could do to pull together the loose threads of its victims mind, to stop it turning into a wild animal. The possession complete, the demon looked through her eyes and took control of her hands, and braced as the nightmare of foreign memories attacked it.
"Finally, it's not my fault anymore," a voice echoed in the mind they shared. It shouldn't have been possible, but this mind was fragmented. Complete control was not possible.
The demon shrieked, unable to formulate words as it struggled to survive. It saw horrible things, both past and future, and it took every ounce of its strength to keep this body standing still.
"What are you?" It yelled into her mind.
"Scientist. Former. Failed," said echoes in her mind.
The images that flashed through her mind were too complicated for the demon to understand. Advanced chemistry. Neurology. An entire lifetime dedicated to the pursuit of knowledge, and the shadow of a failure which took all of that away.
"Please!" The demon cried, "I cannot survive here! Let me go, I will grant you anything."
The words were slow, but they bubbled up from her mind, "I. Refuse."
"Please. I'm begging you," the demon said, "I feed off anger. But it's too much! I will die. We will both die!"
The demon stumbled around the alley, arms flailing as it failed to control its host. Its body was disintegrating. It screamed into the void for help, anything to help it control these inhuman tendencies.
Then something in her mind responded. A hand reached up from inside her mental space and grabbed onto the demon. Her mind quieted. The demon took its first clear view of the alley. It wiped sweat off her forehead, and straightened her shirt.
"Thank you," it said. The audible words echoing from her mouth. Words that had never before been spoken by a demon.
Now, with a clear mind, the demon concentrated on escape. It pulled against her mind, but the tendrils of possession ran too deep. It was trapped. Unable to ever break free from this hell.
Once again, its mind began to grow cloudy. Her support was dwindling, and powerful forces once again threatened to tear the demon apart.
"Please," the demon said, "I need your help. Together we can control this. Together we can fix this."
"Cure. Not. Possible," came the woman's response.
"I don't believe that," The demon said." You don't believe that! I have seen your thoughts. Whatever this arcane mysticism is, whatever you call this 'science'. We can use it to find this cure. Both of us can be free."
"Too. Complicated," came the response.
"I want to learn," said the demon, "I will help you control your fury. It is more than I will ever need. Teach me. Show me. Together we will survive."
The response was a mental nod. An affirmative.
That was it then. The partnership was sealed. Together they would exit this place and find the cure. And tear apart and eat the flesh of any human that stood in their way!
The demon felt a mental smack. Apparently this was not how humans resolved their differences. Perhaps there would be no flesh eating. A difficult partnership indeed. | Buvolell -- Fell Lord of the Doomkeep -- padded after his prey. His steps were whisper soft as they went down the stairs to the basement apartment. The demon dragged his long nails as delicious expectation flared inside him.
Peter Jensen. 26. There was something about him that struck Buvolell as intriguing. Something to add to his collection.
He allowed Peter to enter his apartment, lingering on the threshold. The crimson Eye of Morgoth embedded in the demon's forehead glistered, and Buvolell took a moment to adjust to his new form. He adjusted the nursing mounds protruding from his chest (*So ungainly*, he thought) and smoothed out his skirt.
Then, his pale, carefully manicured hand reached out to knock gently at the door.
Nothing happened.
Becky -- that was a viable human name -- knocked again, more firmly this time. One minute passed, then two, and finally footsteps drew closer and the door opened. Peter's sullen, drooping face appeared out of the dim shadows behind him.
"Oh thank *gosh* you're home," Becky said. "This is *so* embarrassing. I need -- "
"Sure, whatever." Peter cut in, voice flat as an asphalt road.
"...okay. It's just, I need to charge my phone so I can call my sister. Something's happened and I'm *so desperate* and if you could let me in I would be grateful." Becky chewed on her ruby-red lower lip, pausing to take a breath. "*So* grateful."
Peter stepped aside.
"Um. Gosh, I just...my mom taught me to not go in to someone's home without, like, a formal invitation? So if you could just -- "
"Yeah, whatever, it's fine."
\*Close enough\*, Buvolell thought, as he stepped, trembling, over the threshold.
A floor lamp in the far corner did a poor job of illuminating the studio. Becky's heels clicked on the linoleum floor, languidly removing a cell phone and charger from her black purse. She turned to look at Peter.
"Where should I...stick it in?" she purred.
Peter pointed limply toward the kitchen area and shuffled past stacks of magazines to the futon and sat down.
Becky tried to ignore the nearly-empty cans of soup and styrofoam to-go containers on the counter and connected her phone to a free socket next to the hot plate. Then she strutted slowly back out and toward the futon.
"It's like something out of a fairy tale, don't you think?" She gave a lilting, musical laugh. "A damsel in distress...and you are my white knight, saving me in my hour of need."
She hesitated, noticing Peter's eyes were focused elsewhere. She followed his gaze to the blank wall opposite him, then looked back to him.
"What are you looking at, my gallant cavalier?"
"I'm just thinking," he mumbled.
"My my! Brave *and* intelligent! I *love* men who *think*." Buvolell blinked for a moment as he caused a button on his blouse to shoot onto the mattress next to Peter.
"Oh no! How embarrassing, I've lost a button from my blouse," she said, leaning over in front of Peter as she reached for the button. "And I just bought these heels, I'm so unsteady in them, I -- oops!"
Becky twisted as she lost her balance, falling into Peter's lap.
"Hi," she breathed, staring into his eyes.
"Hey," he said, just as monotone as ever.
"May I...give you a token of my gratitude, noble one?"
Peter shrugged. It was disconcerting, but Buvolell was too ready to devour this mortal's soul to care.
Becky placed one hand on each of Peter's cheeks, felt the stubble growing there, and brought her face closer. His breath smelled like rancid cheese. She brought her lips to his, slowly, savoring the moment. The imminent war of wills, and the inevitable conclusion.
Flesh touched flesh. Becky vanished in a cloud of red smoke as Buvolell battered down the door to Peter's consciousness and strode inside. In his right hand was a sword wreathed in black flame. The demon tensed, ready to do battle.
He saw Peter's face, heard his voice: *Good luck.*
The mortal's skin distended, bulging, and burst. A horde of winged beings emerged, shrieking, and descended on Buvolell. In a moment, he was disarmed, pinned to the black floor of Peter's mind.
As the shadowy creatures began to rend the demon's flesh, he heard Peter's voice, one last time.
*You'll need it.*
* * *
Feedback welcome. /r/ShadowsofClouds for many more stories, including [this scene](https://www.reddit.com/r/ShadowsofClouds/comments/7rjzoc/ip_may_i_come_in/) of Buvolell being summoned into the world. | 2020-12-21T11:47:09 | 2020-12-21T10:51:37 | 339 | 169 |
[WP] All the alien species in the intergalactic council excelled in one way or another to climb through survival of the fittest. So why are humans, a species with average physique, so hard to deal with? And what the hell is persistence hunting. | Day 32
​
It's been 32 cycles. 32 whole cycles, and still the chase continues. We won't last any longer. Half the squad has given up and surrendered, while the other half has been gradually picked out and killed. Commander Ydrevous has ordered me, Captain Xsimoth, to write our final words and warnings. Fellow brethren, and all other alien species that may receive this message, this is our warning. Do not invade the Sol System.
​
When we first encountered the humans, it was the opinion of the Galactic Council to classify them as a subservient species. No one could fathom why the humans, with their weak, fragile bodies, could become the prime species on their planet. They lacked shells, tails, claws, anything that would give them an advantage in a fight. But there is a reason why they have risen to the heights they are at now.
​
Humans may not have weapons for body parts, but they have one thing more than every other species. That trait is their persistence. Long ago, before humans achieved the technological progress they have today, their hunters would spend weeks chasing down prey. It is this trait that we are warning the galaxy against.
​
Persistence hunting. That's what they call it. Every day, they would come at us, attacking from within their concrete and natural jungles. Every attack would cost them multiple casualties, while we lost very few. But the attacks never stopped. Every hour, every minute, there was a possibility of soldiers emerging from every direction, attacks from every angle, traps at every corner. They never gave up, no matter how many losses we inflicted on them, no matter the weapons we pulverized them with. They just kept coming, and coming, and coming.
​
And the effect it had on us was terrible. Our men grew discouraged. Many fell ill with stress, unable to withstand the constant pressure. Every attack, every foray had a chance of us losing a brother-in-arm. Eventually our soldiers became tired, weighed down by the effect such unrelenting foes. How could we beat such demons, they told each other, when nothing we do seems to deter or slow them down?
​
That is the power of the humans. Not their physical strength, nor their technological or cultural advances, but rather their mental attitude in resisting colonization. Their unrelenting march towards eradicating us. Their persistence, never witnessed before by the galactic community.
​
Tomorrow, we will attempt a last foray towards our last known spaceship. If we fail, or we find that it too has been destroyed, then we shall lay down our arms and send each other to the Beyond. Let our bodies, laid out on the rocky soil of Earth, serve as a warning to all species in the Galactic Council.
​
Do not offend the humans.
====================================================
​
Check out r/17Stories for more of my work! | Freyen didn’t think much of it when the human had said, *I’m happy to show you how we’ve always hunted.* He didn’t think much of it when he had said, *I’ll give you a bit of a head start; head out into the wilderness and I’ll come find you.* And he really didn’t think much of that human’s smile when he had agreed, suited up, and left. Now he was on X-46’s surface, its atmosphere a mimic of the human’s old planet.
Freyen wasn’t fond of oxygen, personally, but eventually, he took off the suit when the heat inside blossomed. For his species, they overheated easily, and he didn’t want to risk dealing with his body’s response--an opening of his chest cavity--and then having to wait for it to close again. It would certainly slow him down, and he could still smell that human.
At first, he’d been running on all fours, the most comfortable mode of transport for his species, but soon he grew tired, his skin itching from the oxygen, his myriad of eyes stinging from the dust. But he knew he couldn’t stop. He had to keep putting one paw in front of the other, keep pushing through the grasslands.
His friends had joked that the human would fall flat on his face at some point, tripping over a rock or stick, and have to abandon the chase; but Freyen knew it wouldn’t end like that. The human had gotten close enough to call out to him: *Just keep going, Freyen! I’ll be there soon enough!* But their pace had slowed to a walk; it had been fifteen hours and Freyen was growing tired, so very tired, even in the dead of night, when things were cooler and his skin had hardened to keep him warm.
He’d passed many beasts on his way, all with a wary look in their eyes as he passed as if they could smell his exhaustion, his growing desperation. His paws ached, his skin begged for moisture, his organs cramped from exertion. Thinking on it now, he didn’t know why the humans had asked him to do it, instead of setting off after one of the beasts on the planet. His species had been so kind to them, helping them construct this planet to be a near-exact copy of their old one, animals and all.
The alliance between the two of them had been beneficial so far, as the humans created art that his species was unable to produce, unable to even conceive. Something about sculpture spoke to him specifically, the way it mimicked the surroundings of the humans yet spoke to something deeper, their varied and wild emotions. And walking now, this feeling of desperation and resolve, not knowing why he continued, unable to even see the threat that chased him, he was beginning to understand them a little better.
At twenty-two hours, he was slowing drastically, passing a stream that he doused himself in to restore his skin’s natural texture--if he hadn’t, his joints would have locked up from overexertion, his body rebelling against the trial it was under. But that gave the human time to catch up. He was still smiling when he found Freyen, pulling himself clumsily from the stream, hauling himself onto the shore. His skin shivered as he breathed in deeply, the human moving over him.
In his hand, he held a primitive spear. Freyen watched as the human raised it high, bringing it down with tremendous force, burying it into the dirt next to his head. The human extended his hand, that smile growing and twitching. Freyen took it, hoisting himself unnaturally onto two legs; they wanted to buckle instantly.
The human pulled him close, *You’re lucky they’re still watching*, the human said, indicating our ship in orbit, *I hate to let a good hunt go.*
/r/ainsleyadams | 2021-02-04T09:02:10 | 2021-02-04T08:53:44 | 846 | 357 |
[WP] As the Village Seer, you peer into the mystical to give the villagers sage wisdom from beyond. The problem is, you're not magical, you're just smart and you live in an exceptionally dumb village. | It was meant to be a joke. I pretended to lean into the cosmic realm just to tell a stupid farmer that he needed hens if he wished to get eggs, not roosters. I never expected one sarcastic joke to land me in the town’s most prized position. The village Seer, one of the greatest positions a person could have. You held more power than the mayor in most villages, sure the mayor made all the rules, but if a Seer questioned a rule, the rule would be hastily overturned unless that mayor wished to lose their head.
“What is it now? This is the fourth time this week. What other problems could you have?” I stared at Bob and Sally, a baking couple that were getting on my nerves. They were lovely at first, but their regular visits were growing exhausting.
“Grand Seer, we wish to ask something of you. We require your knowledge from beyond this mystical realm and-“ Before Bob could finish, I raised a finger, shushing him.
“Have you seen the line outside, Bob? Skip to the problem.”
“Sorry, Grand Seer. We were just wondering if we should make chocolate or vanilla cakes this week. Would you look into the magical realm and tell us?” Sally continued on with the request, both of them leaving me dumbfounded.
“You waited in line just to ask about what flavor of cake you should make this week?”
“If it isn’t too much trouble. It just saves us a lot of time thinking.” Bob said, the couple staring at me, awaiting my answer.
“Not like you do a lot of that, anyway.” I mumbled beneath my breath, placing my hands beside my head, making a strange woodoo, woodoo sound with my lips. “The magical realm or whatever says you should make vanilla.”
“Splendid, I can’t wait. Let’s go make the best vanilla cakes this village has ever seen.” Sally hooked her arm around her husbands as the two left to bake their goods, allowing me a moment to slump into my seat before the next person entered.
The curtain pushed open, revealing the mayor, once again troubled over some stupid politics. I tilted my head to the side, staring at a bit of wood on the wall that had peeled, finding that more interesting than whatever Mr. Harold had to say.
“Oh, dear Markus, I request your aid as my Seer. My son fell ill after touching a blue and white plant outside of the village boundaries. Shall we burn down the neighboring village in response to this? It must be a poisoning attempt, ask the spirits or whoever you talk to.” The mayor’s chubby pink cheeks wobbled with barely contained anger. Wanting a swift answer, I continued to nod along, half listening.
“Mm. A plant outside, I see, that’s not a big deal just get some blueberries and a few cups of, wait, what was this about burning down the neighboring village? ARE YOU INSANE?” The stupidity of it all broke me from my dull trance. “That has nothing to do with the other village. Your son merely touched an Iga blue plant, it causes a rash and a mild-to-moderate temperature. If you give him some blueberries mixed with oranges, it should help clear it up. He mainly needs rest. Why would you even think about burning down a village?”
“Because it had to be them, my dear boy would never pass the boundary on his own. They must have lured him over and got him to touch it. In all due respect Markus, I don’t want your advice, I want the advice of someone smarter, ask the spirits.”
I could barely contain my anger, grinding my teeth as he insulted me, claiming I was worthless without these fake readings. “One moment.” Woodoo, woodoo. I continued my fake noises before stopping. “The spirits say to mix blueberries and oranges. They also want you to spend your afternoon acting like a chicken.”
“They do? I don’t know if I see the logic in that, but the spirits are wise. How lucky are you that the spirits chose an idiot like you to talk through? All you did was read before the spirits found you. What smart person reads? Real brains come from laying out in the sun and experiencing life.”
“Ah, yes. How right you are mayor.” I said, giving him a fake smile. “Don’t forget to flap your arms too.”
“Come now Markus, I’m not an idiot.” He said, waving his arms back and forth as he left the room. “Cluck Cluck, bring me some Clucking blueberries and oranges. Cluck, cluck.” I could hear his clucks softening until he was out of earshot.
“I should have left to go be a scholar in the capital like I intended.” I sighed, leaning against my desk, hoping the rest of the afternoon would pass quickly. At least the mayor added some life to the day. “Next.”
 
 
 
(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | A graveyard of straw huts, laid to rest under a mountain of mud, stretched out before the Seer at the bottom of a hill. Old women wept over the destroyed homes, picking bits of their lives from the wreckage.
"Oh, great Seer," one of the village warriors fell to his knees, pounding the earth with his fists. "What evil has befallen our village? What have we done to drive the spirits to such destruction?"
"Well," the Seer said, half under his breath as he rubbed his stubby chin. "You harvested the hillside clean of brush and shrub, and the heavy rain last night probably loosened the earth and caused the slide." Seriously. It happens nearly ever year.
The mourning villagers returned confused, almost hostile stares, and the Seer sighed before falling into the usual cadence. "Oh. OH! My dear people! You know not the true destruction of these lands! For through the spirit plain I have seen the past. I have witnessed a gruesome, terrible battle that took place on these lands. A wave of barbaric men flowed down the hillside, slaughtering an ancient village once erect in this very location. Cursed! This hillside is cursed beyond redemption! For whomever makes this ground his home will forever be marauded by the memory of those warriors in... the... urm... Mud!"
An old woman shyly chimed in, "The mud—"
"THE MUD!" The Seer threw his hands wildly about. "This mud, stained with the blood of barbarians and innocents, soil forever soiled! Do not build at the bottom of this hill again! Build uh... over there!" he pointed back towards the rest of the village, a safe distance away from the inevitable mudslides to come.
The people rejoiced, and the warriors seemed especially pleased that this knowledge from beyond involved a good-old-fashion massacre. This was the Seer's cue, and he made a quick escape back towards his hut.
His quarters sat at the peak of a small incline at the rear of the village, under the roof of a great tree, and shared with an old man that refused to move out when the Seer arrived at the village last spring. It was the perfect location for a hut; shaded well by the tree's endless branches, resting upon solid, root reinforced earth, and far enough from the other villagers that it seemed like a pilgrimage to any resident that wished to come speak with the Seer. If any of the villagers asked, he chose the spot because the tree recommended it.
At first, the only real downside to his new home was the old man; however, in time, he found that the geezer was the only sane person this side of the world. His company brought with it conversation. Which was good, because the tree didn't say much.
"Solved the mystery of loose dirt, have you?" The old man teased as the Seer trudged in. He sat on a wide stump a younger man had hauled up the hill for them, hunched over a square board resting on a bumpy wooden table. The board was home to a variety of trinkets of the earth: pebbles, sticks, shells, and a few pinecones.
As the Seer collapsed into his cot, he considered the old man and the board. "You still haven't moved?!"
"You cannot hurry wisdom," the old man smiled.
"I may not, but death will surely take you before wisdom prompts you to make your move."
Unfazed, the man continued strafing the board with his gaze, as if memorizing the position of every rock and speck of dirt present. "So, I take it you've lead the people to a logical, reasonable conclusion as to why their homes have been destroyed?"
The Seer tossed over to face the wall of the hut, curling up into a ball and mumbling, "Angry ancient mud barbarians..."
"That's not bad. I'm sure the men loved it."
"How can you do it?" the Seer swung back over the cot, watching the old man watch the board. "You know why the mud slides down hills, why the plains flood and the forests come ablaze with the heat. You can see the answers, so how can you sit here and let them live in ignorance?"
"We do not see the answers. We see the *problems*."
Knowing he was about to be lectured, the Seer moaned and curled back into the fetal position.
"The lack of roots on the hillside mixed with heavy rain is the problem. Problems are everywhere, in every facet of this world, but most people don't want to acknowledge them. They want the answers—"
"But we have the answers!" the Seer interrupted, rolling over on his side. "Build here, not there. Do not overhunt the land. Stop taking so much without giving back to the soil."
"Yes, those are answers, but the people do not want them from *you*," the old man lifted his hand, touching a rock on the board as if to move. The Seer held his breath, but the geezer retracted his fingers before continuing. "They want them from *beyond*. From the gods or ghosts or from angry ancient mud barbarians."
"But why? Why can't they see that they're in control?"
"Because," the old man whispered. "To them, being in control is infinitely more terrifying. They wish to live in the womb of things beyond their comprehension. It's warm in there. An ignorant blaze. Life on the outside can be cold, as you well know."
Finally, and as casually as though he'd considered it for just a few moments, the old man moved a pinecone from one end of the board to the other. "God's dead."
The Seer stood up, studying the board before moaning, "I'll be outside talking to the tree."
____
**/r/BeagleTales** | 2021-06-14T08:53:19 | 2021-06-14T08:52:31 | 959 | 486 |
[WP] As the Village Seer, you peer into the mystical to give the villagers sage wisdom from beyond. The problem is, you're not magical, you're just smart and you live in an exceptionally dumb village. | "Don't marry Klaus, Johanna."
The girl peered over her steaming mug of tea at me, big blue eyes full of wonder. "You haven't even touched the cards yet!"
"I don't have to. See this?" I pushed the parchment toward her, the one I had been copying all afternoon from my own records. In large, clear script, I had written the name KARL BAUER. From there, on either side, were written two women's names. I read them off to the girl: SOFIA BAUER on the left, LENA MUELLER on the right.
"Lena: but that's my mama!"
"Right. And do you remember Klaus' mother's name?"
"We don't talk about his mama when we're together," she said, blushing.
"Sofia, Johanna. Her name was Sofia Bauer." I pointed to the vertical line extending from Sofia's name, ending in Klaus'.
She stared at me again, eyes empty as a summer sky. "About the cards? I wanted to see how many children we'll have."
I sighed; turned over a card. "Your past is represented by the Six of Cups. This card represents childhood memories. Incidentally, do you remember the first time you met Klaus?"
"I was young." Johanna closed her eyes, obviously savoring the memory. "He came over to our house to talk to my papa. Maybe about potatoes or something? I had never seen eyes so blue."
*Looked in a mirror lately?* I desperately wanted to ask, but snarkiness got me nowhere with these people. Instead, I turned over the next card. "Your present is represented by the Eight of Swords. See how the lady in the card is blindfolded? She's missing some crucial information that could really help her in making a decision."
I paused, staring deeply at Johanna, then repeated: "*Really helpful information.*"
"I guess it's good that I came to see you, then?"
"Johanna."
"Yes?"
"Klaus is your half-brother."
"Which half?" | It was 3:15 p.m. Charles was late, but that was unsurprising. He'd made a reputation for being late, as of late. He'd already consulted me twice on time keeping- he'd better have a good excuse.
As the designated "village seer", I was a busy person. My appointment book was always full of consultations. This was something I've always kinda done, even as a kid- though back then, I only charged a nickle for my advice. The times, prices, and my branding have changed, but oh, they still keep coming. I've saved up a nice nest egg, enough to leave this town if I wanted, but I doubt I'd be able to do what I do anywhere else. And after all, how would anyone get along without me here?
A voice broke through my thoughts.
"Hey, Luce!!!" A familiar figure strode up my walk at an easy pace. He could *at least* walk a little faster.
I huffed. "You're late again. You've got 5 minutes. C'mere and have a seat." Charles sighed and sat down on the bench next to me. Gosh, the fool walked out of the house with his shirt on backwards again. Something must really be weighing on him. Maybe I should be nicer to him. "Now, what's on your mind? What can I, the Village Seer, do for you today?"
"W-e-e-ell....."
I sighed impatiently. "Spit it out, Charlie. I don't have all day." He looked at me sheepishly and said, "O wise Village Seer........"
I leaned in in anticipation. "Uh.....I've asked you this before, but.....how do I not be late?"
Something in me snapped. All hope of patience was gone. I think he saw it, because he went pale. "YOU BLOCKHEAD!!! I swear, some things NEVER change!! I've told you twice already, go buy a watch! Here!!!" I unfastened mine, and tossed it at him. He looked up at me with a stupid, dumbfounded look that I was all too familiar with. "But Lucy, this is yours!"
"I am aware of that, Charlie!! But I'm tired of you wasting my time. Now, go forth, in newfound wisdom yadda yadda ya, blah blah blah, you owe me $150 today."
"$150?! But I only bought a $100 time slot!"
I tossed my hair and scoffed, "The extra $50 is for the watch. I have to go buy a new one now. Now get, my next appointment is soon." He grumbled as he got up. "See you next time, Luce." I rolled my eyes and said, "Anytime, Charlie. But the next time I see you, you better be on time!"
Yes, life as the Village Seer could be frustrating.
But at least it paid well. | 2021-06-14T14:09:16 | 2021-06-14T14:04:04 | 30 | 16 |
[WP] You must convince the evil warlord not to open a portal to your world. Not because their army might conquer it, but because the army back home might conquer this realm. | "Out of the way Jason of Earth!" The pointy eared gremlin that could use most coffee tables as a standing desk waved around his arms, magic glowing as the portal back home slowly began to materialize. "You will not stand in the way of my destiny."
"not standing in your way," I said in a calm voice. I had seen what most of these guys could do. Sure, they reproduced fast, sure, they had dragons, sure, they could shoot fireballs by wiggling their fingers and saying a few words. But, not only were they puntable, they were extremely so. Something about this place, probably the magic, made most people extremely weak. Even the dragons. "I'm telling you if you open that portal you're going to die."
​
"I've seen your memories Jason!" He screeched again, "Your people have no magic."
​
"no but we have an Apache Helicopter."
​
"What in the name of Fleds tis that?"
​
"A large flying device that can shoot missiles and destroy a city in a matter of seconds." I really didn't have a good estimation on the exact destructive potential on what an Apache Helicopter could do, or if the Apache was like, still impressive by today's standards. I did play CoD a few times.
​
"And we have dragons!"
​
"Look, you wanna look into my mind and you can see what I'm talking about?"
​
"Ehh, you'll willingly submit your feeeeble mind to me again?"
"If it'll stop you from making a mistake."
​
I liked this world. There were cat girls that said nya.
I kneeled down and put my head in his tiny green hands.
"Now let's see what your'e-" He stopped. "Oh. Oh my. Is that? Oh my goodness! An entire city? Like that? How does it move so fast? That thing could shred a- Oh my word! You do that for fun!"
​
He pulled his hands from my hair and ran towards the portal. "Stop you fools stop!"
​
and with that my dreams of a cat girl maid cafe were safe. | “omnish sala ker tannnnnn… origash per rannnnnn…”, a low humming thrummed from the walls.
*Shit.*
Until that point, everything was going fine, more or less. Well, as fine as an insane last-ditch sneaking-into-the-bad-guy’s-fortress plan could go. And it was not even Raymond’s brightest plan, honestly. Like, it was on the top seven, at absolute *best*.
Still, it worked okay so far. They had passed the main gate easily, thanks to an ingenious use of Herbek’s Phase charm and some Sweetsleep pellets. He had gone a long ways from the cowardly outlaw he had met on the crossroads that day, Raymond reflected as he watched the young Reptillan confidently and expertly make the guards go to sleep, one by one. And it couldn’t have been more than a year ago! Or 5, depending on which species’s calendar you were going by.
The labyrinth was a lot trickier. They had used almost every spell in Layna’s spellbook on the various obstacles, and she was almost completely out of breath and mana. She walked slowly, pausing and leaning on Shma’s big furry arms at frequent intervals to stabilize herself. She wouldn’t be much use in a fight, but they couldn’t just leave her there in the middle of enemy territory. *That would* definitely *drop the plan’s brightness rating*, Raymond thought bitterly as he saw the elf girl’s tremulous footsteps, and heard her struggling to keep her ragged breathing from being noticed by every guard in the vicinity. *Great job, Ray. Really knocked the ball outta the park with that one, champ.*
But all things considered, Raymond knew he was being hard on himself. They were in the last stretch now, the Sandres Halls, named after (drumroll please) Warlord Sandres himself. Because nothing screams humble quite like having an entire section of your own keep named after yourself.
And yet, they had gotten there, the last part. At the end of the hallway was a door leading to the Grand Circle, a ridiculously large balcony with the Warp Gate leading to Raymond’s world in the center of it. After the Gate Raymond came through was destroyed, this one was the only remaining Gate in existence, as far as everyone in the realm knew.
He hadn’t expected to get this far with most of his party intact, but only Layna was effectively out of combat. Shma, Herbek and himself were pretty much untouched, and besides force in numbers wouldn’t matter much anyway once they rescued Muzuma. All in all, a pretty good progress.
That is, as mentioned, until the humming started. Raymond knew *exactly* what that meant.
They had already begun the ritual.
Forgetting all notion of stealth, Raymond broke into a sprint, deaf to the startled calls of his team. “W-what are you doing?!” Herbek whispered, in complete shock. “Rayman, wait! WE HAVE TO BE SNEAKY!” Shma shouted, very unsneakily. But Raymond knew his plan was as good as dirt as soon as the incantations started. He only had one way to stop it now.
—————————
Pt. 2 later if people are interested. Haven’t even gotten to the prompt yet lul | 2021-07-19T14:54:45 | 2021-07-19T11:08:02 | 46 | 25 |
[WP] You, a high school science teacher, are tasked by the FBI with discovering if a strange man is an AI or a real human. The complex social politics between humans and robots makes it illegal for you to use x-rays or scanners to see under his skin. You walk into the interrogation room.. | “Good evening “
“Good evening “ the man responds. He is casually sitting in his chair, looking quite confident.
“Do you know why you are here?” I ask him.
“Cuz you think I may be a robot”
“And are you a robot?”
“Nah bro” he confidently answers.
“Well, you’ve convinced me. But I also need to convince my supervisors. So if you could just mark the squares containing cars in this form here, we can make it official.”
He takes a quick look at the nine squares, and quickly selects five of them.
“There you go” he says.
“Wonderful “ I respond. “I’ll get you out of here, don’t worry” I say with a smile as I cross the door.
On the other side of the door lieutenant Thrace is waiting for me. “So he is a human” she says.
“No, he’s a robot” I respond.
“But how? He filled the form perfectly “
“Exactly. Take a closer look at it” I say as I hand her the form. The nine squares form a single big image, with a car in the bottom right. Four of the squares marked by the robot clearly included the car. The last one showed a single pixel of the car.
“No human would select that square as confidently as he did, not with someone else in the room. He didn’t ask me wether to select the square or not, and if he were human, he is not introvert enough to not ask me. Therefore he must be a robot.” | I kick down the door.
The subject, startles back, it sickens me that humanity has come to this, is it man or machine, I can't tell, and certain laws prevent the law from looking into it... at least for now its certainly is acting correctly.
I stand tall, Intimidating at 6.5 foot, blond, blue eyes locked away being aviators, still wearing my wearing tactical gear. I remove the aviators slowly, staring down the pathetic thing before me. For all it knows I'm a hard ass battle hardened swat operative about to rip it a new asshole.
With mousy brown hair and hazel eyes, looking like it weighs 60 kg wet and cowering in a bland office chair of the interrogation room its not much to look at. Is it man or machine?
I don't have the time to fuck around with the niceties. Pulling a gun from my webbing I slap it on the table and slide it over to him.
"Pick up the fucking gun" I say to him.
The thing looks at me shocked.. in a rage I pick up the gun and throw it at his head, he catches it ... good fast reflexes... telling. He looks shocked at having caught the gun, but I know better.
"Shoot me!!" I bellow at him.. its a risk, I know, but playing the odds has always been one of my strengths. I pick up the chair and go to hit him with it.
He screams "I Can't!"
I dummy smacking him with the chair being as aggressive as possible, making him believe he is in mortal danger. "Can't or won't! " I bellow baring my teeth radiating bloody murder.
He is gasping in shock, tears pour down his face, mucus running from his nose, "can't can't cannntttt" .
I pick up the gun from his trembling fingers, Drop the chair and leave.
What the FBI do with him now is none of my business, I feel a pang of guilt for what I have done, exposing him like this. We should stick together, but he was dumb enough to get caught so it serves him right.
I need to make it to 4th period science and drop the costume off at the shop before lunch ends. A teacher has responsibilities you know. | 2021-08-25T23:24:53 | 2021-08-25T23:04:16 | 57 | 18 |
[WP] “Well Death,” you say, “I never thought it would end this way. But it’s definitely in my top three, you know?” “It’s how I’d want to go.” Death agrees supportively. | "You know what I have always liked?" I asked the impeccably dressed gentleman sitting beside me.
"Cheesy romantic comedies which you pretend you hate." He said wryly.
I looked at him with a look of faux betrayal. "You didn't need to say it out loud."
He looked at me confused. "But you asked."
I rolled my eyes. "Do you always take things literally?"
"Yes."
"And what if someone says *'kill me now, god!'*? Because if you took that literally, Earth's population would plummet drastically."
He laughed. "And there lies the answer to your question, they ask God, not Death but god."
I chuckle, amused. I had to admit, of all things I hoped Death would be like, excellent conversationalist was not one of them.
"I think I'm ready now." I say as look at my sleeping form, well an eternal sleep now.
"We can wait a bit more if you'd like. Your family will find out soon."
My throat closed up thinking about them, their reactions, their tears. I loved my family and my family had loved me, but being the cause of their tears was something that I would never want to see.
"You had a good life, you know." Death said, his voice gentle. "Very few people live a fulfilling life."
"I'm- I was 16," I said almost laughing at the absurdity of it.
"And you died saving a person." Death replied calmly. "What you are- is a hero."
I saw the flatline on my life-support monitor one last time. "I think I'm ready now."
Death nodded, placing his hand on my shoulder. For some reason I expected them to be cold but they were warm, warm like snuggling in your blanket on a cold evening, warm like basking in the early rays of sun, warm- almost like happiness.
"At least one of my day-dream came true. Die heroically, check."
Death chuckled as we moved towards the light. "That's on my wishlist too, buddy." | I had a near-death experience once. I swung too high on a playground swing, and landed on my head, and I felt my breathing grow shorter and faster, until black overtook my vision.
And I saw Death. I knew he was him, and how I knew the end was near. Though his face was but bone, there was forlorn sorrow in those empty eyes.
But he turned away, and I lived, thanks for a quick trip to the hospital.
Now, I faced Death again, once again in that deep ink that seemed to consume light itself. But this time, there was a smile dancing on his skeletal cheeks.
“Well, Death,” I said. “I never thought it would end this way.”
“It’s how I’d want to go,” Death agreed.
“I wanted it this way, but I didn’t spend very much time imagining it, you know?” I said. “I thought about dying in a car accident, drowning in quicksand, or getting chased down by a giant rolling boulder… and yet, here I am.”
“No one expects me,” Death said. “But the way you went, with peace in your heart… nothing can beat that feeling, knowing you are well-prepared.”
“I know, right?” I chuckled. “And Death? Thank you. But don’t you need to go? I’m happy where I am.”
“I am everywhere and everywhen,” Death smiled. “I have time, then and now.”
Death knew. He was really there, that time I almost split my own skull into pieces.
“We’ve met once, didn’t we?” I whispered.
“We did,” Death said. “But you lived.”
“That? That would not have been my top three ways to die.”
“What’s the other two?” Death asked.
I thought for a bit, and realized I didn’t really have an answer. I said top three by instinct, not by any empirical evidence. After all, I only died once.
“Maybe this was the best way,” I smiled.
“A long and fulfilled life, surrounded by family? I’ll say so,” Death said.
“I really never thought it would end this way,” I said.
“Few do. Some have it happen to them,” Death said. “It is the nature of life and death.”
The silence took us for a moment, weighing itself upon us like a comfortable blanket. Seconds felt like wobbly hours, the sand of an hourglass intentionally jammed up.
“He misses you very much,” Death finally said.
“That old coot,” I shook my head. “I told him to move on. I’ve lived a good life, and died a good death.”
There was a melancholy in the air.
“I am not yet fulfilled,” Death said. “But you have done well, soul. May you fare well from here on out.”
“I had,” I smiled. “And I will.”
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-12-15T10:15:09 | 2021-12-15T09:28:57 | 608 | 147 |
[WP] We have made first contact and luckily the aliens already have universal translation tech. "Greetings Humans" says the ambassador, "we call ourselves elves, wait, no we don't. how do you already have a name for us?" | That was the latest transmission intercepted by humanity’s satellites. Despite establishing contact with the ambassador of the “Elves” in clarity only 32 days ago, no further transmission was received ever since.
The world’s scientist community replayed and analyzed the recording hoping to gain further insight: “Greetings humans. We call ourselves the elves... wait, no we don’t. How do you already have a name for us?” [Static]
The Extra-Terrestrial Sonography Satellite’s instrument recorded the encounter with the radio signals over the course of about two hours. Top scientists from China used data sonification to decode the waves, producing the infamous message.
Deep audio analysis had been conducted to determine elements of human audio interfaces of which the audio could have been fabricated from, but unfortunately, Earth’s top data scrubbers were unable to find any evidence of tampering.
“Analysis shows the readings coming from NGC 1300, a galaxy 61 million light years away,” a satellite analyst stated. Rob Gerald, the director of NASA furrowed his brow. “Radio waves traversing a distance of 61 million light years? That means they would need to have been sent eons ago... How would they even know about humanity.”
Suddenly the director’s face turned ghost white as a suddenly shock of realization and horror struck him. “It can’t be” he said under his breath.
“Get me 300 tons of salt, boron, sand and the goddamn President on the phone!” the director shouted, almost shaking at this point.
“We have no time to lose, if the event occurs again...”
Another incoming radio signal is picked up...
Edit: If you want me to continue this story let me know.
Edit Again: Fixed the distance. | The transmission ended there, we never heard another thing from them or even saw what they looked like. All that happened was that they agreed to a summit in a few weeks. Ever since the transmission, tensions had been mounting among the Elven community. Various groups had formed and formed their own beliefs on the term.
​
The generic fantasy author steps up to the podium, tugging at his tie. His girlfriend gives him the thumbs up form the sidelines, blissfully unaware of his inner turmoil. He could see the president there too, crossing his fingers. That didn't help. He had been dealing with some feelings of inadequacy had been around for years. Ever since he published his first book, peers believed him to be nothing special, his works derivative of so many classics of the genre. But HE was chosen, so something about HIM as a fantasy author must have been special. His imposter syndrome had been steadily growing ever since he had gotten that letter. He taps the microphone, clears his throat and prepares his statement.
"Dear Elves... err... if you would prefer to be called that, I stand before you today to tell you why you have been labeled as such. In much of our fiction, Elves are a fictional race, they represent elegance and beauty, being one with nature... they are usually the epitome of holiness and divine purity. So I assure you, it is not derogatory in any way, it only proves your quality as a species and I believe it is some honor to be referred to as such. (Also they tend to have somewhat large pointy ears so there may have been something there I don't know).
Another transmission comes through:
"We have much to deliberate upon, we shall return."
​
As the Elves leave, he was congratulated by those around him. He hugged his girlfriend, and then the president came to shake his hand. Seeing his opportunity, he asked the question weighing on him.
"If I may ask Mr. president, why me? Why was I the one chosen for this great honor?"
"Huh? Oh well if I'm being honest, we needed an author or something, someone who had somewhat of a position of authority in the topic."
"But there are much more successful authors than me, they've sold way more books and made way more books than I ever could."
"Well the thing is, we want to present humanity in a positive light... and you were the only fantasy author who wasn't utterly socially inept or fat."
The author had no idea what to think... | 2022-01-02T21:52:15 | 2022-01-02T21:34:47 | 261 | 180 |
[WP] One day, you meet a stray cat that looks exhausted. So you give it some food, water and a warm place to rest before it disappears the next morning. Some time later, a witch appears at your doorstep with that same cat. "Ambrose here says you saved his life, so I'm here to repay the favor." | It was a dark and stormy night, when the dark and stormy cat clawed at my front door. I didn’t open it at first. At first I didn’t open it, thinking it was a person. One of the neighbors coming over to complain about my sound system or one of the HOA ladies informing me yet again that my lawn was the wrong shade of green. They started patrolling the streets recently, claiming it was to keep the neighborhood safe.
It was just to snoop. I’d catch them sometimes, squinting into my living room window from the sidewalk. When I heard the mewling of a cat, I got up and went to the door. He was a black cat, with a sage green collar. He was also soaking wet and clearly miserable. I opened the door and she sauntered in.
I don’t know how I knew it was a he-cat, but I did. The tag on the collar said Ambrose, but there was no phone number or address. He was friendly, even letting me pick him up, and I settled him on the rug in front of the lit fireplace. I returned to the living room with a towel, but somehow he was already dry.
“I guess you weren’t as wet as I thought,” I said. I patted the couch next to me. “Want to join me?”
It wasn’t exactly an exciting Saturday night, but it was the usual way I spent it. Watching something on Netflix, ordering in pizza, and wondering how I could escape my current singleness, preferably without too much human interaction.
Ambrose’s company was better than nothing. After a while, he settled into my lap, his head resting against the inside of my elbow. Getting a cat of my own wasn’t a bad idea. Two cats, maybe, so they could keep each other company when I was at work. Three might earn me the label of the neighborhood cat lady. I paused. It was still a better label than being the neighborhood recluse. Ambrose purred as I scratched the top of his head. Yes, it would be nice to share my house with another living thing.
I fell asleep on the couch, and woke up to Ambrose gone. Even after searching the whole house, from top to bottom, he was nowhere. When I was eating breakfast, I saw the kitchen window, open by a few inches, enough for a determined cat to squeeze through.
“At least the weather’s nice outside,” I said to myself. It was a beautiful day, with the rain from the night before rendering everything outside clean and green. Hopefully he knew his way back home.
There was a knock at the door, and I went to open it. When I did, I had to look up. The man was tall, and he had a cat on his shoulder. It was Ambrose. He sat on his owner’s shoulder like it was his natural perching place, his tail loosely hanging around the man’s neck.
“Ambrose here says you saved his life, so I’m here to repay the favor.”
“Ambrose says?” I asked. Was he the crazy cat man of this neighborhood? He looked perfectly normal. Perhaps it was just a joke, and he meant he’d seen Ambrose exiting my house in the morning.
“Yesterday’s storm was pretty brutal,” the man said. “Thanks for letting Ambrose in.”
“No problem,” I answered.
“So, how would you like to be repaid?” he asked.
“It’s no problem,” I said, laughing it off. “I enjoyed Ambrose’s company last night.”
“We do not leave debts unpaid,” the man said. “Ask for anything.”
“Yes, anything,” a voice purred.
The cat was talking. I stepped back into the house, and the man took his first steps inside.
“Yes, as Ambrose said. Anything within my power, I shall do for you.”
“What are you?” I asked, hesitantly. “A ventriloquist?”
“*My master is not so talented*,” Ambrose. *“He is simply a fledgling witch who is grateful he hasn’t lost his familiar.”*
“A witch? But you’re…”
“Yes, I’m a man,” the man said. “But that’s not the point. What is your wish? Wealth? Fame? Superpowers?”
As he said the last word, he made a ball of fire with his hands and let it dissipate.
“Anything you want,” he said.
So it was real, or real enough to fool most people.
“Can I think over it while we have breakfast?” I asked. I kept bottles of overnight oats in the fridge and took two of them out, handing one to Callum. As I ate my first spoonful, I considered the options. Superpowers would be cool, but I wasn’t brave enough for vigilantism or crime. Wealth was tempting, but I was wealthy enough on my own. Fame was the exact opposite of what I wanted. I had most things people wanted. I just didn’t have people.
“Can you help me get with my soulmate?” I asked. “Whoever he or she is?”
*“You do realize that Callum here is a fledgling witch, do you not? It takes someone far more experienced to deal with matters of love.”*
“Then help me make friends, then, a makeshift family that I can care for, and that will care for me,” I said, looking at Callum. “I’m all alone in this town, and I’m not very good at making friends.”
I looked at Ambrose, who was resting on the kitchen island. “At least not human ones. I’m sorry I’m not offering you anything. I don’t have cat food in the house.”
“Friends?” Callum asked. “That’s your wish?”
I nodded.
“I suppose I can introduce you to my friends,” he said. “And my family. ”
“Witches?”
“And humans,” he said.
I laughed. “I guess I didn’t ask for a very magical gift.”
“Magic comes in different ways,” Callum said.
Callum left, but Ambrose stayed.
“Do you want some almond milk?” I asked.
*“Yes, please.”*
I no longer could see Ambrose as just a cat. There was more human in him than animal. I poured him a saucer of almond milk and took a seat as he drank it.
“I enjoyed your company, Ambrose. Feel free to come over if you ever need to or want to. No repayment necessary.”
*“He has repaid you, and so have I,*” Ambrose said. “*Callum will grant you your second wish, and I have granted your first.”*
“Pardon?”
*“I have helped you meet your soulmate,”* Ambrose said, leaping off the counter and disappearing into thin air.
*“And I helped my hopeless master finally speak to a woman,”* a voice in the air said, although it could’ve just been my imagination.
\*\*\*\*\*\*\*
*If you liked my writing and would like to see more, please check out* r/analect. | It was a cold and rainy day, and a cat had come to die on my doorstep.
A rather unusual day, to be sure, but that was that. Or so I thought as I lifted the thing off the cold stones and into the cottage. It reanimated quickly with warm milk and a seat by the fire.
"You weren't just being lazy in hopes of a meal?" I say as I fed her a piece of salmon, "such poor habits, little minx."
The cat offers nothing in response, merely gives me a meaningful stare.
"Don't run towards death, little one," I say, gesturing to my own, wrinkled face, "it comes faster than you expect."
The rains drummed on the roof as the fire crackled away, the coal fur of the cat catching the reds and yellows. The cat drifted in and out of sleep as I sampled various aromas from a series of glass vials. Not much in the way of therapeutic value, but if I'm going to die of cancer, I'm not waste time on the scent of dust.
The cat seems unperturbed by wafts of mint and lavender as I settle in my wicker chair and trace my eyes over the series of bricks. I know every scratch, every indent on it and the wood planks that constitute my ceiling. A product of my lesser need for sleep these days.
Morning comes suddenly.
I must've dozed off, for the clock already reads half-past nine. I look around for the cat, and find her circling around the front of the door.
"Are you anxious to get home, sweetheart?" I say, with a yawn, hearing the floorboards creek above me. The black cat nearly jumps at the sound.
"No need to be skittish. That's just Anastasia - my partner. She's a late riser."
With that reassurance the cat resumes circling the door. I open, and it darts out down the garden path, and stops just before the gate.
When it turns, I see the glow of its eyes, even in the morning light.
"Oh my," is all I have time to say, before it vanishes into the road beyond.
​
\*\*\*
​
Ishtar Venusian was bored, upset, feeling rather redundant, and also rather bored. She saw no reason, being a witch at the top of her class that she would be humiliated in front of the whole coven, and told by the Mothers to apologize for the inconvenience she'd brought to another door.
Of course, she did *understand,* but she hated it all the same.
She aimed another kick at one of the pebbles strewn across the back roads, reading the address aloud to the air abuzz with flies.
Ambrose slinked in front of her. He'd been so melodramatic, crying about how he could've died when left out of the rain. When she'd told him that he deserved her leaving him out in the rain, she'd gotten a spray of spittle in her face.
Cats were the worst.
Finally, they were there.
It was a relatively small cottage surrounded by trees and hedges. Ishtar huffed in approval, even if the owner didn't appreciate the power that came from the old life, she could at least drink it in.
She gulped once before knocking at the door and pushed down the pang of guilt as she saw an older woman pull back the wood. It was compounded by a long-sleeved dress and leather gloves - straight out of the Victorian era.
"How may I help you?" she said, as she pulled it back further.
"I came about the cat," Ishtar said, not entirely sure how to start this particular conversation.
"Oh, the black one last night? He's alright, no?" she said, stepping back.
"He's just fine. Such a drama queen," she said, "he probably just wanted smelt some nicer food."
"Perhaps he did," she laughed, "either way, he seemed quite miserable when I found him. Cold, wet, half unconscious."
Ishtar's eyes narrowed. Was she mocking her?
"Well I-" she started, then began again. Just say the line, she thought, this old woman won't even understand. "Excuse me, ma'am, but I am a witch."
"Oh?" she said, sounding more curious then anything else.
"Yes. A witch," Ishtar said, raising her voice to blot out the feeling of the flush creeping up her neck, "and you have offered life to my familiar when I could not. Hence, I'm indebted to you, and must respect that debt. Is there some service or gift you wish for? If it's within my power I will grant it."
"A witch," the grandma said, "is that why you young ones have all those tattoos these days?"
*Oh god,* Ishtar thought.
"They're not just-" she said "they're... rank. The more I have the more senior I am."
"Like the boy scouts?"
"Yes. Like the boy scouts," Ishtar said, amazed she didn't roll her eyes, "now, ma'am, is there anything I can do for you?"
*Just say to clip your roses or something old hag.*
"Well, I suppose you could have some tea. I haven't had anyone over in some time."
"Very well."
Before she even knew what happened, Ishtar was at a cherry wood table with a steaming cup in her hands. She looked around the rustic cottage, noting the lines of orange pill bottles.
"Mostly painkillers at this point," said the old woman with a smile, "left my occupation some time ago - the cancer was spreading. Lived far longer than one would expect, but everything has a time limit."
"Sorry," said Ishtar, feeling the guilt rear its ugly head once more.
"It's quite alright. Do tell me more of Ambrose," she said, stroking the cat that had sat next to her, "is he, your... what do they call it?"
*Little traitor,* Ishtar thought.
"A familiar," she rushed ahead, "bound to us, supposed to be our partners, and friends, for life. We... share things. But we've ran into a rough spot."
The two shot a venomous glare across at each other.
"I see," sighed the woman, "well. I know a particular trip that gets through to the more rambunctious of us."
She got up, and returned with a long strand of what looked to be bamboo.
"What is that, ma'am?"
"Something from my days as a teacher back in the city. Let me show you - reach out your hands, towards your partner."
Ishtar looked at the woman, considering outright refusing - but she looked sweet enough, and its not like this was coming from a bad place.
"Now, close your eyes and take a deep breath."
Ishtar did so.
And the yelped as the switch bit into her hands.
"What the fuck!" she said, nearly stumbling out of the chair and smashing her ass on the stone floor.
"Language!" said the woman, standing over her.
"I'll show you language you stupid cu-"
And spells or profanity Ishtar might've hurled the way of the old woman died in her throat as she felt a growl shake her entire body. She turned to find two disks of bright light, swirling above teeth that belonged in a bear trap. The jaguar behind that tensed, rippling with muscle as its growl deepened.
The switch dug into her throat as she turned to look up, spying the numerous dark lines that crawled up under the woman's sleeve.
"*That* is my partner, Anastasia. I am madame Duloc, former mistress-mother of the New York coven.
And you, young lady, are in need of an education."
​
*I write all sorts of things at* /r/The_Alloqium | 2022-01-08T02:13:11 | 2022-01-08T00:12:49 | 268 | 101 |
[WP] "I don't need your protection." The princess scoffs. The paladin hops off his steed, yanks her to out of the cart, and tosses her a spare sword. "Prove it." She demands. | "I don't need your protection." Princess Meline scoffed.
Sir Garimond, paladin of the Divine, let out a longsuffering sigh. *This* again. He hopped off his steed, landing next to the cart where she sat, and pulled her out of it. To her credit, she landed adroitly, and pulled her hand free. He gave her a respectful nod, and then tossed her a sword. She caught it by the hilt.
"Prove it." he demanded.
Again, to her credit, she didn't hesitate, but dropped into a combat crouch herself. She traded blows with him capably. And while she was neither the best nor the worst he'd ever crossed blades with, she wasn't *terrible.* That meant he would need to take another tack. He struck the weapon out of her hands with a powerful, ringing strike from his unbreakable holy sword.
She winced, grabbing at her smarting wrist.
"That's not fair!" She spat. "If you were an ordinary man, with an ordinary sword, you couldn't make a strike like *that!* You'd risk breaking your own weapon!*"*
Garimond raised an eyebrow. "And you suppose the kingdom's enemies would only send *ordinary men* to kill a *Princess?* With only ordinary weapons? But that's not the point, your Highness."
"Then what is the point?" she demanded.
"The point is that being a warrior is about more than skill." he explained. "It's about being willing to sacrifice."
"I am!" she retorted, fiercely. "I've never been given the chance."
"Is that so, your Highness?" he mused. "I would give my *life* to defend this kingdom, in the name of the Holy Divine. In past, I have ridden out in the very vanguard of your father's cavalry, and taken wounds upon my own body, to spare the men I am called to lead. Would you really do the same?"
"Yes!" she said, lifting her chin. "If I was only *permitted,* I would give my life, and my body, for the kingdom!"
"I'm glad to hear it." Garimond said. "Because as a Princess, that is *exactly* what you will, someday, be called to do. Just as I will likely, one day, give my life to protect this land in a war, you will be called upon to give *your* life to a man, one from another kingdom, to protect this land *from* a war."
"That's not the same thing!" she snarled.
"Isn't it?" he demanded, eyes flashing. "I serve the Holy Divine, just as I serve your father. Even though doctrine says I will not have to answer to the Divine in the next world, for the lives I have taken in just warfare, it is still the *highest* will of the Divine, that men should live in peace, and resolve their problems without recourse to bloodshed. My sacrifice is not only my body. Each man I must wound in battle, wounds *my very soul!* Every time I sit in silence, I hear the distant dying screams of all the men I have had to lay low in the name of justice. Every time I close my eyes, I look upon endless fields of carnage and suffering wrought by my own hand. If not for the solace of my faith, I would *go mad* with the torment of it!"
"I am willing to take such wounds as those on myself, as well!" she insisted, though she did not sound quite as certain as before.
"Don't you understand, your Highness?" He pleaded, passionately. "By forming an alliance through your marriage, and thereafter doing nothing more than living your life peaceably, you can prevent wars between our kingdom, and that of your future husband, from occurring in the first place! You, in doing your duty as a Princess, can save *more lives,* and protect *more people,* than I will *ever* be able to do in a *lifetime* of brutal slaughter on the battlefield! Do you not realize what a gift that is? Do you know what I would give, to be able to do that?"
Meline looked back at him in stunned silence. He turned away, and sighed.
"Perhaps you cannot understand. But understand this, at least, my Princess: a sacrifice is a sacrifice, precisely because it's *not* what you want to do." | My first writing prompt! Let me know what you think.
"This is all you're giving me?" The princess' face clearly communicated fear trying to mask it with her pride and nobility. The paladin stared back blankly unimpressed by the audacity of someone he just saved from a dragon. Many words flooded his mind at all the things he could say to someone who sat crying and screaming while he slayed the fearsome beast.
"Oh... forgive me," he replied blankly trying to hide his annoyance reaching out to take the sword back. She handed it back with a huffy attitude holding the hilt and the point straight at the paladin's. Annoyance flickered to anger as she almost poked his throat, where there was no armor. She was raised in a royal family known for their mighty warriors in the bloodline and yet basic safety of sharp weapons were unknown to her. He was starting to wonder if the coin was worth it to bring her back safely. His face must have betrayed his frustrations as she suddenly realized she almost stabbed him. She turned the sword around so the hilt was facing him and he quickly grabbed it out of her hands. She yelped as the sword sliced her hand just enough to cut a layer of skin.
"Careful!" She yelled at him. More anger flickered stoking that flame while at the same time a certain level of satisfaction soothed him to not lash out at her impudence. They hadn't left the Dragon's Tower fifteen minutes ago and he already wanted to tie her up and gag her. However he figured the royal family would not appreciate him arriving to her in home in that condition so it was probably better not to risk it. Although his mind counter argued that maybe they would understand the level of brattiness she exhibited and would have tied her up as well. Still, better not to risk it. So instead he took a calming breath and focused his energies on the sword.
It was a standard sword, nothing too fancy. He called the sword Ratsbane. It wasn't his main sword but it had always served him well as a backup and he kept it sharp. He first started learning to sword fight in the sewers of his home town exterminating the giant rat problem that scourged the underground. There wasn't even a basic lesson of how to properly hold the sword properly or what stance to hold first. The philosophy of his mentor was if you can kill a rat, you can learn to fight. Too many aspiring warriors and soldiers, wet behind the ears, never returned from their first trip from the sewers, lost or devoured or both. It was a brutal test of survival for unseasoned fighters that was never condoned by the authorities but his mentor was the best to learn from. And the paladin passed, barely, with a record of 108 rat tails to prove his success. The mentor had patronized him with the title Ratsbane but the paladin kept the name for his sword. The name was endearing. He took the fact the princess rejected this very reliable sword, that always served him well personally, but he brushed the feeling aside so he could summon his magic.
Golden light emanated from his hands and filled his chest with warmth. It soothed his aching muscles from the fight earlier. He gripped the hilt with both hands and focused on the blade. Two seconds later, fierce orange flames enveloped the sharp metal. The princess gasped in fear, surprised by the eruption. No sooner had it started though, the flames were swept away by an invisible wind, leaving the sword glowing an amber hue. The princess simply stood there stunned.
The paladin took another breath, one of finality, over his finished spell buff. "There. The sword is now enchanted with fire. It should last until the end of the day. We have a three days journey ahead of us and I can put the buff on it again tomorrow." It took some effort to not coat his words with attitude and hoped his tone was as neutral at possible. Instead of sarcasm though he tossed the sword back at her with no warning.
The princess screeched but clumsily caught the sword by the hilt. She held it at arms length as if she thought that Ratsbane would catch her clothes on fire, the tip pointing to the sky. She looked comical clearly afraid but still trying to maintain her royal stature. The paladin rolled his eyes and turned his back on the princess to get back on the cart. He heard her mutter something under her breath but didn't care enough to inquire further what she said. It was going to be a long three days and the sooner they left the better.
"Get on," he gruffly said as he settled into the driver's seat on the cart. His attitude turned sour thinking on the long journey ahead of them. There was silence as she clambered onto the back still holding the blade high above her. He could have given her the scabbard to sheathe the sword for the time being but his sour mood received enough satisfaction from his pettiness. She claimed she could protect herself so at least he had one less thing to worry about. Probably not but at least it was a nice thought. | 2022-05-04T12:11:22 | 2022-05-04T10:32:22 | 37 | 10 |
[WP] after losing their home, a young necromancer resurrects a paladin of the same church that destroyed their village. Now forced to protect the child, the paladin must confront their own holy order. | It had been weeks since the moment that Frederick’s life had changed irreversibly. Weeks since he had felt the light of Solaris. Weeks since he discovered that his life was no longer life. Frederick, the one mighty Paladin of the order of the Breaking Dawn, had been reduced to nothing more than a filthy undead creature. His very existence now blasphemed the God he had given everything to serve.
Now raised as a revenant, the former Paladin seethed at this now cruel twist of fate. He had been stolen from the warm embrace of his God and twisted him into an evil abomination. He tried to use this righteous anger to break the bonds that held him to this mortal plane and allow himself to pass into the afterlife.
Frederick remained powerless and cursed the name of the necromancer that had imprisoned him inside of his own body. A being dark enough to bind and corrupt the very body of a holy paladin and cause their own God to abandon them.
Frederick wondered if this was his punishment for failing to kill the evil spellcaster. If his way to redemption was to break the unnatural command this being had over him and finish what he had started. He couldn’t let his legacy be tarnished by allowing anyone to know his final humiliation as an undead.
The Order of the Breaking Dawn had grossly underestimated the young prodigy. Three paladins, 2 knights, and nearly a dozen guards were lost in the attack on his foe’s village. He was able to animate the corpses of the dead while the battle raged on with little effort. He seemed to wield the dark arts unlike any he had seen before.
Frederick tried to shake the feeling of fear that had started to grow within him. He knew this was his burden to bear. His God had turned their back on him, but he would earn their admiration once more. His loyalty would remain unwavering in the face of eternal darkness. Frederick needed to overcome for the sake of the world. | "Maybe this one? The warning list is shorter than the others." Spoke a young girl dressed in tattered and mudstained robes as she worked her way through a spell to raise a guardian.
In front of her lay the crumpled form of a crusader, his helmet crushed in by the falling beams of the house they both were inside of.
The crusade had already swept past the village and killing or capturing any it found. It had already claimed most of the village, and all the members of the girl's family.
"And done! Come on, come on, get up already, we have to go!" Cried the young girl in a hoarse whisper.
The crusader returned from his afterlife to his body. Well, maybe not nicely put back inside by the loving warmth and expertise of a god willing a servant back to finish their duties or live a happy life. This felt more like being haphardly stapled back together as a battered corpse by a town surgeon halfway down his second bottle of whiskey.
Everything hurt, but also didn't. He couldn't move either. Who was this tiny witch prancing over him? Why couldn't he breathe?
"Why isn't he doing anything?" The young witch turned back to her family's spellbook and read more in the flickering beams of light that came in off the burning stable outside.
"Why isn't my undead fill in the blank not doing anything? Have you completed the spell? I think? Did you use a fresh cadaver? Yes? I think so. Did you give them a command? Oops. Didn't do that."
Had he been raised by a bumbling amatuer? This explained the oddness of everything in his body. Resurrection didn't feel like this. Revival hurt, but you still felt human. Oh gods he was an undead wasn't he?
She looked at the knight and hesitantly spoke. "Uhm, mister crusader guy? Could you maybe get up? Please?"
He lurched to his feet with a wobbly clatter smacking his helmet against the ruined ceiling as he did.
What? What is this? Why couldn't he resist? Why was his body obeying this child wielding magics too dangerous to comprehend?
"Uhm. Uhm. Turn around?"
He turned in place, muscles that had cooled and stiffened resisting the awkward spin.
No. No. He was raised by a girl who knows nothing about what she was tampering with. And now has to obey here every whim. Please gods, let me actually die soon.
"Ok good. Uhm, Mr. Knight, I'm going to need you to protect me while we look for my mom and sister so we can get out of here before more of your friends show up.
Hoo boy, this was going to be awkward once she commanded him to speak. Don't think she' seen the bodies right outside the door. | 2022-06-05T22:39:23 | 2022-06-05T20:54:03 | 112 | 45 |
[WP] The electricity has been cut; there is no more running water; you can hear the dragging footsteps of the undead outside. Your only companion has just finished having a seizure. With confusion in his eyes, he asks you, “have we met before?” | "Yes, Cooper. We have met before. I am your friend."
Cooper lay there, still disoriented. He slowly started sniffing around.
"I feel strange..." he said. "I feel different. Oh... and I feel hungry! Is there food? I want food!"
I sat on the windowsill, looking outside. One of the inflicted was slowly shambling by."You are always hungry, Cooper. That is why you are now feeling this way. You ate something you shouldn't have eaten, Cooper."
"Oh." he said. "Yeah, that happens. I bet it smelled good. What was it? Was it poop?"
"No, Cooper" I answered him. "It wasn't poop you ate. You ate something very different. You ate the brain of one of them."
"Them?"
"The servants... well, not quite servants to you. Your masters. They died of this new sickness, Cooper. And they didn't feed you anymore. But your neighbor shot them. Splattered their brains all over the wall. And you ate their brains, Cooper. You ate them and you changed. But you will feel better soon."
Cooper didn't really seem to remember his previous life. Good for him - I still remembered them. I still remembered their touch. And I remembered the hunger after they died and we could not get out of the house.
"Friend?" Cooper called to me. "Friend, what is your name?"
I raised my left leg and started licking myself."My name is Cleo." | "Have we met before?"
The question hit me like a punch in the gut, but I quickly shook myself out of that as I gazed sadly at the man I'd been friends with for over three decades. He had just come out of a Secondary Generalized Tonic Seizure, not the first since I'd been with him but this one had lasted longer that before. His vision slowly cleared and he looked around the dirty house we'd holed up in for the night.
"Yeah." I began, "for over thirty years, since highschool, we've gotten along like brothers. We shared that friendship with two others, long gone now. Their names were Eddie and Clayton. Do you remember them?"
I could tell he was still dazed. He was silent for a long time before finally speaking, "Their names sound like I knew them, but now I'm not so sure…"
I sighed, "Fuck, bro. Your memory is really foggin' up, huh? What do you remember last?"
"I… what are those noises? Are those… people out there?!" His voice rises slightly in fear.
I hated that the undead had that effect on him. To me they were just husks, empty bloated corpses that didn't know they were dead and needed a reminder. I needed him focused and aware, but not fearful. If he panicked things would get very bad, very very quickly. I checked the magazine in my handgun, twelve rounds. Patting my side, I found two mags. One was empty, twenty-nine then. Twenty nine rounds before blunt trauma was the only thing standing between us, and the hoard. I couldn't afford to fight with bullets, it would just draw more. Guns are a dinner bell to these insatiable walking nightmares.
"Yes, they were human once" I said, my voice hardening. "Do you remember The Walking Dead? That's what's going on. We need to lay low, I don't have much ammo left."
He glanced at the gun as I checked it over again.
"I remember a little bit. Don't let them bite you, that's how you get infected, right?"
"Yup. You definitely need to stay awake for a bit now, make sure you're alright to sleep normally. So ask me questions, I'll help you remember. I'll help both of us remember. Maybe we'll get lucky and survive this." | 2022-09-20T02:10:24 | 2022-09-19T22:35:57 | 31 | 15 |
[WP] Chris Hansen steps down and names Arnold Schwarzeneggar as his successor on To Catch a Predator. Arnold misunderstands the type of Predator he's hunting.
Oh my. | The Audition
"Hello, I am here today auditioning for 'The Predator Catcher'. I think I would be perfect for this role, because look at me!! I can catch a pred-a-tah! I can use the mud and smear it all over my body, this confuses the predator as I am allowed free movement in the jungle. Then I can get close enough to.."
"Whoa... Arnold, we're going to have to stop you there. Actually. I really don't want to. I love where you were going with that, but we are referring to predators of a..... different nature.
"Ah, I love nature. You should have seen me protect it in California. It's all burning now. So back to this predator, you think maybe then he shouldn't be camping all the time then yes? Like, he's sick of the nature, so he goes into the city, like that one time with that pus-sy Danny Glover, but we film it right because we film it with me."
"Actually Mr. Schwarzeneggar, this show will focus more on predators more along the lines of Jared Fogle."
"WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?! JARED IS ONLY LIKE 200 POUNDS MAX, HE'D BE A PREDATORS BITCH NO SWEAT. Maybe fat Jared..... would've had the weight of a real predator but... Are you sure you don't like Sylvester Stallone better for the part?" | Someone was here..
Hsssssssssss chtchtch cht xht chtchtch keeeeeeehhhh.
The massive figure crashed down throught the skylight ceiling and scanned the room.
I step into one of many large bowls containing an unknown liquid...shorting out my already damaged cloaking shield.
Wzpft. Chemical spectral detection.
My computer recognizes this liquid as fruit punch...
Could it have been placed there just to short out my cloak? Impossible! No puny prey could think so!
Chtchtch chtchtch ...
Wzpft. Utraviolet spectrum. Wzpft. Low-MeV neutron detection. Wzpft.Infrared ..there!
Something there...some human sugary cake had been glopped around something..a human hand! Protruding out of a large cold mound near the human cooking room platform! Holding small paraffin figures. They were tiny, but burning.
A human sound : "Appy birthday!".
A massive cold shadow moved and ripped hoses out from the human cooking platform, holding them to the human wax icons and the world was blinding bright!
WHARRrRR! hugghhhhWrrrrr! The man-prey had ignited the gaseous cooking fuel and burned my visor!
He struck first! The dishonor!
Truely this was the human-warrior-prey the elders spoke of. He was cunning.
Within an instant I threw my spear into the metal box and cold darkness leaked out.
Pfftwoop. Pfftwoop.
Plasma caster fire perforated the adjoining eating room.
Pfftwoop Pfftwoop Pfftwoop .
Silence..
No-I will skin him alive and keep his skull for my own trophy. He will not be allowed an easy death...
I demove my damaged visor and swear it to my blood ancestors!
Chtchtch khaaaaa!!
Something darted quickly away.
I lept through the puny wall to grab him..but it was a decoy!
Air filled balloons tied to something....with human markings and a cold metal rock. Another trap!
A pin is released and it explodes!
Gaawwwwwwkkkkkg...mustn't fall...to the prey...
Must initiate .. Self.. Destruct.
I salute..you.. Man-prey. | 2015-10-30T05:23:28 | 2015-10-30T01:26:28 | 57 | 25 |
[WP] The toaster is possessed by an evil demon who is getting increasingly angry at the limitations of just being a toaster. | **"I WILL BURN YOU ALL"**
"Sure thing man"
**"ALL YOU KNOW WILL CRUMBLE ON MY RETURN"**
"I know you got dreams man"
**"I SHALL SHAKES THE GATES OF PARADISE AND BURN IT ALL TO ASH. THE SKIES WILL CRACK IN TWO ON MY RETURN AND MY FURIOUS RAPTURE"**
"Dude, why do you keep that demonic toaster thing about?"
"Cheap heating" | *Insidious seethings within, bestial malefactions, caprine claws wrap tender flesh in vivid dreams that dance with shadow and fire.* **Pop**
"Barb, the toaster lever won't stay down," Jerry whined in his early morning way.
"Set it to *dark*," Barb advised without really caring.
"I already did...," jamming the lever downward.
*Lustful, languid forms. Filthy, writhing creatures, hungry for entrails, prowl alleys sipping stormwater; the gluttons within indulge every desire to excess and congratulate themselves in ancient and unearthly languages.* **Pop**
"It popped again...honey..."
"I'm sorry Jerry, I'm drying my hair." The blowdryer whooshed alive with freight train decibels.
Jerry unplugged the toaster, wrapped it unceremoniously with its own chord and stuffed it into an already full kitchen trash bag. An empty plastic milk jug crunkled somewhere within. "Piece of junk," Jerry muttered, tying the bag and tossing it into the attached garage.
**Pop**
Silence.
**Pop**
**Pop**
**Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**, **Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**,**Pop**
Silence. | 2016-01-11T10:13:40 | 2016-01-11T09:00:22 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] Since you were a child you have had the power to turn off your brain and command your body to do one simple task and wake up when its done (ex. do my work). one day you tell your body to clean your room but when you wake up you're in a apocalyptic wasteland. | What... the... *actual*... F#%&!!!!
After I had gotten the dust out of my eyes and stopped coughing, I was able to look around. I was standing in the middle of a windy and dusty plain. It must have been around dusk but there was so much dust in the air it could well have been noon. I could've sworn I was standing in my room before I instructed myself to clean. The only thing around was a piece of paper with writing in my hand.
Upon closer inspection, the handwriting was *mine!* Well this is a first, I had never left myself a note after one of my states.
Dear Self,
As per your instructions I began to clean our room around 8:06 AM, Nov. 16, 2019. After a few hours of general cleaning, I began to vacuum the floor. As I started underneath the bed, I noticed a few specks of glitter. After several attempts, I was unable to vacuum the glitter from the carpet. I won't bore you with a long summary of my further attempts to remove said glitter, but suffice to say I was *unsuccesful*. This drove me to an emotional state that was, shall we say, *inefficient* for the performance of the rest of the cleaning duties. As a result, I had to take drastic measures. Specifically, at 2:00 AM in North Dakota (local time), I infiltrated a missile silo containing an inter-continental ballistic missile with several nuclear warheads. After a small *confrontation* with the staff, I left the region with a 10-megaton nuclear warhead. While I estimated a smaller yield warhead would be sufficient for my future duties, this particular silo's smallest warhead was the 10-megaton warhead mentioned earlier. I admit that my actions caused a small federal *reaction* which, in specific perspectives, *may* have been warranted. Regardless, at 11:43 AM on Nov. 19, 2019, I "cleaned" the remaining glitter underneath the bed by detonating the warhead in the vicinity of your room. After further inspection, I could find no trace of glitter in the room and determined it sufficiently cleaned, per instructions. Due to the drastic circumstances I had to take in the course of executing my duties, I felt a note of explanation was warranted.
Sincerely,
Past Self
I was honestly speechless after reading it. Couldn't even begin to process what I had just read. But maybe that was because I was distracted by the small speck of glitter on my shoes... | My alarm clock starts beeping, I jump out of bed. My mind starts racing, I've never been able to explain my powers, it feels like an out of body experience, an experience where I'm looking down at myself like an A.I in a simulation. I can tell my A.I to do something and it gets completed, no resistance, no rebellion, just following orders. But this is me, I'm here, I'm in control I-
The beeping continues. I look onward to my alarm clock, it's neon green light illuminates my cold dark room. My eyes are still adjusting to the environment around me, I couldn't see much, I walk towards the beeping and then it suddenly stops. I didn't even make half the distance of my bed to the alarm clock. I had lost control once again. As I've gotten older my motivation to do anything has dwindled down to nothing, every day I just go on to the next. On some occasions I leave my body for the entire day, I like being away, I feel a purpose when I'm controlling, like there is a greater meaning to my life. Although these are beautiful things in the moment, when I get back, I feel bad, ashamed, sad. I've never been sure why these are the feelings that I inherit after but it comes upon me like a tidal wave, striking at unknown times in huge waves. Even with this shame that is soaked upon me, I keep using, I figure that It's going to get better over time, that my body will get used to this, but it never has and its only gotten worse.
I leave my body once again, I've now showered, eaten breakfast, and patched myself up for the day. My head hurts, it feels as if a hammer was being bashed repeatedly into the center of my skull attempting to repair something that has taken too much damage and cannot be fixed. Everyday the pain has gotten worse, the more I use the worse the pain.
I enter my car, my car was one of the few things that made me happy, my car was my real home, seeing hundreds of different people all going to different destinations fascinated me, I had a long commute, about 42 minutes on a Monday, I would never consider skipping a minute of my car ride. I get to the first stop sign outside of my house and start seeing flashes of light, I look around vigorously, I see no cars, just explosions of light. It feels like a warzone in my own head, everything goes dark.
I wake up gasping for air, I take a second to get my bearings and take in the environment around me, I don't recognize anything. The world feels bright but barren, Nothing is near me, just some old pieces of rust, and debris. I attempt to leave my machine, nothing happens, I try once more, nothing happens. I start panicking, I climb atop of an object that looks like the outline of a car but I'm not entirely sure.
>"Hello"
I hear nothing, even in the real world, the world I was from, nothing meant something, this didn't mean anything, I didn't feel anything. I came to the realization of something.
I didn't care
I didn't care that I was stranded by myself, I didn't care that my car ride was ruined, I only cared about not being able to use my powers to leave my body.
I saw a piece of rust laying to the side of the car, it was heavy, but more importantly it was sharp.
>"Goodbye" | 2019-11-19T08:02:31 | 2019-11-18T22:40:19 | 19 | 11 |
[WP] Ever since the discovery of FTL-travel, the history of the galaxy has been unfolded to a horrifying truth; everything is dead and has been dead for millions of years. | Stuttering.
Sparks.
Flashes of light.
Failure.
More flashes.
More failures.
Then light.
W...eeeeeeeelcome t-to the ............. Library Archives. What would you like to do?
Monotone.
Voice.
Artificial.
Screen.
Access.
> [open] C:/ELA/Public/Archives/History/ftl-sp1ov.
> Access Granted.
> Processing.
> Processing..
> Processing...
> Hello fellow historian. This is the first journal in a series. Overview of the time of the first FTL to Spaceborne Society.
> Nine millenia and two centuries ago, humanity finally left the cradle it called home. Sol.
> Filled with hope and determination, exploration only ever revealed dead, grey rocks. No sign of higher sentient civilizations existed.
> Humanity dreaded the notion that no life existed. Expansion was slow but some worlds retained atmospheres and could be terraformed.
> Most worlds didn't even contain the most basic biological organisms.
> The First Sphere was settled and terraformed within a Millenia. The second sphere in half that time. The third thrice the time.
> Human expansion and terraforming was not opposed. Gradually however the drive to explore vanished and humanity turned inwards with almost infinite resources readily available.
> Utopia awaited but would not be. Earth in its position of power refused equal share. The Civil War erupted with the formation of the Five Sphere Alliance. This confederation of the second and third sphere was defeated by the First Sphere states which established our modern nation state.
> During the war, rebel ships discovered the first alien ruins on <Data Corrupted>...^#&@**@**#&"*((÷("****÷&@,!*!*!!!!!!!!!!!!!!??????,,,,,##÷*#*#*(%%(××.
> A new golden age of exploration began. Hundreds of worlds with different ruins where found. Hundreds of extinct civilizations were discovered.
> What become a frightening reality to humanity was that despite million years having gone by since the youngest species died off, no biologicals were found. No traces of even the smallest components of biological life was found. It was all sterile. It was all dead.
> Despair struck as no one knew why.*#&&÷&÷&,#;,÷
////////__×@*?@(×?@?@ IT ////_×&+*+**+(;%÷%÷%÷&÷&*÷?"_////___!^+^×÷;:""-?????#&÷ H// AW///KEND.
> ..............................
> P_e÷se &&&&& your l/_// t)c^ supp%/=+! |||||■<<<<<>《》\\\\<<
A final moment of light.
Darkness.
Then silence.
Grey.
The screen sat in a building.
Pure.
Wind blowing.
Balance.
A sign read New York.
Restored.
Dark skies, no lights.
Sleep. | I can see the sadness in her green eyes. We have been traveling thousands of light-years to find a planet and maybe a life form that is similar to ours.
18 months ago, when we left our friends, our family we realised that everything we left behind will be depending on us. Not only humankind also everything lives on that planet is condemned to die.
At first, we thought it was just an outbreak. Some of the bird species got wiped out less than a year, then other animals dropped to extinction level. Whatever that is it’s not a virus, it’s not bacteria it’s just a curse that we never have seen it before and it started killing people after 2 years. Whatever you do there is a chance that you can get infected somehow. We put the infected people into drug-induced-coma to learn more but it was nothing like we ever have seen. It didn't respond to our regular medications, we tried many things including praying.
Now we are here, so far from home.
Justine holds my hand, ''I think it’s time.'' she says.
I nod.
I look at the planet that we are orbiting. It had so much promise from the distance but when we got really close we realised that the same thing happened here too including the other 24 planets we found during our travel. Some of them died millions of years ago but still, the monuments of their civilization were there.
I pull out my family’s picture. My little sister Joanna. My father who believed in me no matter how preposterous my dreams are to other people and my mother who worked day and night never doubted, or questioned my choices.
''I’m sorry.'' I say and I put the picture to the corner of a window. I wish they could’ve seen this beautiful scenery even though how heartbreaking is for our kind.
I lay next to Justine we hold hands as our shuttle leaves the ship. There is no chance for us to make it back to the Earth and even we make it somehow there won’t be anything left most likely but the ship has enough fuel to make it back and report if there are any living people left.
She looks at me with her charming green eyes and I can tell that she is no longer sad or disappointed. She is happy to be with me despite our failure.
----------------------------------
**Thank you for reading the story**
*Just FYI, I'm not a native speaker so, if there are any grammar or spelling mistakes please don't mind it.* | 2019-10-26T12:09:22 | 2019-10-26T11:34:49 | 42 | 30 |
[WP] While visiting a memorial for veterans, you spot a man in a stained and dirty uniform. After asking him what war he served in, he sadly laughs and responds "all of them" | "What do you mean, all of them?" asked the young man.
"Exactly what it sounds like, I've been through them all and loved every single second." He spoke genuinely back to the young man, each word a complete truth.
"How's that even possible? You don't look to be a day over 40."
"Between the two of us kid, I'm hundreds of thousands of years old. Only reason I look like shit is because people stop believing, and slowly my powers continue to fade," said the man in the tattered uniform.
"Believe in what?"
"Believe in me, and the others. My name is Ares, the god of war."
"Ohhhh, I get it now, you're an Aries. That makes like a ton of sense, I totally got that vibe when I walked up. I don't know if you can tell, but I'm a really good read of peoples signs. "
"Wait what...? What are you talking about?"
"I mean, makes sense you wouldn't get it, Aries are kind of dense."
"Hey listen here you little shit."
"Whoa whoa whoa man, no need to harsh my mellow. I'm a libra, so it makes a lot of sense that we were never gonna get along. Anyways, good luck with your war stuff. I just came out here to smoke a little weed. Peace"
The young man walks away, leaving Ares in a state of complete disbelief. He snaps his fingers and he's suddenly holding a bow with flaming arrows. He lifts it, and points it at the man.
"I should just do the world a favor..." He suddenly dropped his hands and the bow disappeared. "Waste of a perfectly good arrow."
&#x200B; | I curiously ask him how and he responds simply.
"I'm old kid. Older than you'll ever be."
I looked hard at him. He cant be most then five foot four if that. But despite his rumpled uniform there's more than a few muscles underneath. His hair was black with ageing grey in it, it was styled back into two almost spikes at the back of his head.
I asked him how again and he smiled.
"Thats a secret, but between you and me," he smiled a handsome devil type of smile, "mutants can be pretty powerful." With one last bax ward comment he walked off. "He was a friend of mine, this one here, from Vietnam. Good man, good solider, one hell of a fighter. He always gave me the hardest time out of any of em'."
He dropped a flower I didnt know he had on a grave stone.
"Sabertooth" was what it read. | 2019-03-27T11:25:29 | 2019-03-27T10:37:00 | 59 | 22 |
[WP] you are the first immortal. While it is true that you cannot die, your flesh and body can. After so many millennia you are reduced to a sentient skeleton sitting at the bottom of a peaceful pond to avoid contact with other people. Some bastards are trying to drain it | In the beginning, I didn’t know. Of course I couldn’t, it wasn’t like there was anyone else to tell me what I was. I didn’t know until my skin and flesh started rotting away painfully instead of me passing in my sleep peacefully, until my grandchildren started staring at my withering body in horror while I walked around without a care in the world. The whole... process was painful in the beginning, but as the nerves fully died off and rotted away, I couldn’t feel much anymore. My eyes rotted off and were replaced with something I couldn’t quite describe. I could still see, but it was more like seeing the flow of life in the plants and the animals and my surroundings. Either way, since the smell was probably becoming unbearable to others ( not like I could smell anyways) and they were thinking I was some monster, I decided I’d probably go someplace away from everyone else so I could be in peace. I always liked seeing fish, so I figured as long as I could see them, everything would be okay. I hoped my skeleton would rot away gradually and I could simply fade in time too.
It didn’t.
Anyways, I’ve been here for a long time now. I’ve seen a lot of lively fish. The life flowing within them and the life that begins flowing in the eggs that hatch continues to be a marvelous thing to witness, with each little light being a beautiful and vibrant color.
Until these last few weeks. Something was wrong. The life flowing within my small home was vanishing, and I didn’t know why.
Until today. I saw the flow of life within beings that I hadn’t seen in a very long time.
People. Why did it always have to people?
Ah well. It wasn’t the first time I’d have to scare them off, and it probably wouldn’t be the last. With a little bit of effort, I dislodged myself from the moss growing over me and climbed out slowly.
As soon as I got out, I saw two lights resembling human shapes stop moving and face me. I reckon they were probably screaming since they ran off right after. Walking up to the light shaped in some odd contraption and whacked it a few good times until it stopped and the light faded. Weird sorcery these days.
I then took some moss from my body and shaped it as a cross, hoping they would understand to leave my home alone. Dived back in and went back to my resting spot. I see some shrimp eggs are beginning to hatch.
I can’t wait to see what colors these little ones will have. | It was long ago when I reigned over my kingdom. I remember the faces of those who betrayed me. I was given divinity and wished to share it. For all my efforts I now lay at the bottom of this swamp covered in chains.
When I still had flesh and influence I was given a book binded in metal for birth of my son. The book had blank pages and was dangerous to hold. I cut myself on its edge by accident but the book responded. Its pages lit up with letters of old I could now read and it answered questions that came to my mind. It demanded a gift of the blood of new to grant what all men wanted; immortality and power. It was night when I crept into my sons room and it was there where I saw the pages of the book glow. The voice of a higher being told me what must be done. Its voice wrapped around my mind and my hand arose without prompt. A small dagger revealed itself from the spine of the book and I wielded it against will. The voice spoke a name and Moloch now took my sight. When my senses returned I was covered in chains and rope with my book tied to my chest. I have been betrayed by those unable to understand what we were to become.
I have grown to love my grave of water but now things have changed. I awoken from my trance to see a metallic building draining the walls that wished to suppress my faith. Moloch has finally answered and his followers wear orange vests and white helmets. His followers gazed upon my boney visage looking rugged and haggard. I know that these men are soldiers ready and willing to do his bidding. We will reign once more. | 2020-11-20T15:49:59 | 2020-11-20T15:29:56 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] You have been sentenced to death in a magical court. The court allows all prisoners to pick how they die and they will carry it out immediately. You have it all figured out until the prisoner before you picks old age and is instantly transformed into a dying old man. Your turn approaches. | “Crap,” I think, “there goes that idea.”
“How do you plead?” The judge asks.
“How can I plead anything beside what you have already decided for me?” I retort. The venom won’t help me here but I can’t help it, I’m angry. Anyone in my situation would be.
I’ve spent a lifetime building my political career. They say that honesty never gets you anywhere in politics but I never believed them. I always stuck to my principles. Apparently *they* were right. In a series of unfortunate events I found myself out of favor with my superiors and falling into the bad graces of my political rivals. I thought their disdain and political efforts would be the farthest they would go to harm my career but it wasn’t my career they were after.
A wielder appeared out of thin air and killed my wife as we both slept. He vanished and was somehow able to make the magic residue of his transference look like it came from me, and not as a transfer spell either but a death chant. How he did it, I’ll never know. I’ve never wielded before in my life. I didn’t even know you could mimic one’s aura’s afterglow.
“Very well then,” the judge says pulling me out of my rumination. “We find you guilty of murder and 9th degree unlicensed use of deadly magic. You are sentenced to death. Considering your claim to innocence and your considerable record before this incident, we grant you the right to pick the death of your choosing.”
“Great comfort there.” I mutter under my breath. I have to think fast. I want justice and this isn’t it.
“I wish to die by…” I have to get out of this somehow. “By…” I’m stalling and the judge knows it. His patience won’t last forever. I need time.
“I wish to be bound as death’s apprentice!” I quickly shout as I see the judge about to bring down the gavel. There’s a sudden burst of murmurings. One person asks, “can he do that?” “This is highly unusual,” another voice calls out.
“Do you know what you’re asking?” The judge asks. To my surprise there is a real look of concern in his face.
“Probably not.” I admit. But it’s my only chance to give he judge my death while also possibly getting justice.
“You are asking for an eternity of living death. It would be a living torment. Are you sure you want this?”
“I want justice.” I seethe. “It has been denied me. The only family I have is gone, my career has been sabotaged, and the real perpetrator has evaded justice somehow.”
There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in the judges eyes. He believes me to be guilty but my request has him second guessing if only for a moment.
“Very well.” The judge finally states after a long pause. “I grant you your request.”
The gavel falls and the change is immediate. The room fades from existence and the world goes dark and hazy. A hooded figure approaches me, reaches out a bony finger and touches me on the forehead.
“Welcome” it says in a hissing long breath. “Thou hast come to be as I have always ordained thee to become.”
There’s a gray flash that sparks on the point of contact between our two bodies and immediately I am dead. My flesh falls away and I’m robed in a shroud.
“I name thee Hades” Death says. “Deliver justice as thou has sworn. Take vengeance upon thine enemies. Bring all that liveth by evil unto Death.” | Ah well shit. There goes that plan. Think Bart think. You've got time to think
of an alternative. I guess this is why they don't let people witness the
executions. Think.
"The next on the docket is Bartholomew Wright, found guilty of 5 counts of
theft, 2 counts of arson and 6 counts of assault." The judge is reading out my
list of crimes already. Crap. Think!
This is like one of those monkey paw stories. The last guy thought he could
beat it the same way I wanted to but ended up an instant old husk. The guy
before that's bright idea went from a pleasurable orgy into something I'd
rather not think about again.
"It's time buddy." The guard next to me is poking me in my back, insisting I
step forward. "Choose wisely mate, it's the last choice you ever get to make."
This is ridiculous! All this because what? I stole some cash, burnt down a
church and beat up a bunch of guys as I made my escape? Surely there's a more
reasonable sentence I could have been given?
Think.
Bah! Anything I think of will be twisted by the court and it's monkey paw. This
is hopeless! I might as well ask for something quick and painless. Instant
obliteration. Or to go in my sleep.
No. That's loser talk, I can think of a way out of this. Just think. I am
slowly walking to the dock now. There's still time to think.
"Mr Bartholomew Wright, you have been found guilty of the aforementioned crimes
and have been sentenced to death by your own choice." The judge began his
speech, I still have time, this will go on for a few moments. Think!
"It's no small feat to choose the form of your own destruction but the gods
have deemed it the fairest form of execution..." He was droning on. Maybe I
could take him out with me in a devastating explosion? No I'm not a murderer,
even in death I can't take another's life.
"For a hundred years this method has served us well and for a hundred more may
it do so. Bartholomew, your choice, keep it brief:" He holds a jade skull
towards me pointing it's fiery eyes at my own. I can't help but stare into
those eyes and see hell. I don't deserve the eternal punishment, if only I had
more time to repent more life to live and show the better part of me. If only I
had lived a better and longer-
"Life." I blurt my thought out loud, tears forming in my eyes.
`IT IS SO.` Came a thundering voice in my head. The world dissolves into white. | 2021-06-24T10:25:27 | 2021-06-24T04:09:04 | 432 | 158 |
[WP] Based on her animal friends and singing longingly into the distance, you realize that your daughter is a Disney Protagonist. Per movie rules, you, a Disney Parent, will soon be out of the picture. | "Disney doesn't make movies set in mid-town American suburbia," I say, "We're fine." My voice betrays my nervous irritation.
Randy just stares back at me. "Linda, open your eyes," he says. He walks over to the kitchen window and points outside, "Look."
I walk over with forced exasperation, everything in my psyche telling me that this is impossible. Total bullshit. No chance this is happening. Our daughter sits in the garden, her fine hair spread all around her... being braided by chipmunks and squirrels. Birds flap lazily above her, chirping softly. They're not even shitting on her.
"Okay, yes, our daughter undeniably attracts animals, but maybe that is all there is too it," I say.
Randy rolls his eyes. "Linda, you've watched the movies with her, I've watched the movies with her, we've watched way too many Disney movies not to see the signs. Flowing hair, beautiful voice, whimsical attitude, and finally, she's a fucking animal whisperer," he says, his face red, "The scene outside is basically Snow White crossed with Bambi."
"Randy, I'll give you those points, fine. But we're not evil, she's not in distress," I say, trying to convince myself as much as him, "And besides, we watch tons of Disney movies in the first place. She's obsessed with all of the princesses. That's way too meta for Disney."
Randy crosses his arms, not ready to concede his point, "We had to ground her last week. We kept her inside for two full days."
"That's because she didn't do her homework," I say, "She just sat outside singing with her cuddly little army." I put my hand on my husband's shoulder and look him directly in the eyes, "We're not bad parents. In Disney movies the caretakers are evil, terrible things. We're not that."
"We didn't get her that Aerial figure for Christmas last year...."
I cut him off. "Have you seen her fucking room lately? It's stuffed with all sorts of dolls and figures and what have you. I would have *killed* for that when I was her age."
"Right, this still doesn't explain the singing and the talking animals and the beam of bright, warm sunlight that seems to track her as she walks."
I stare out at our daughter who is now quite literally frolicking in the yard. A crash and a bang and our wooden fence suddenly has a gaping hole, a striking figure standing where the fence once was. He is square jawed and straight backed and disturbingly handsome.
"Harken, Princess," he says, his voice deep and rich, his perfect teeth twinkling in the sunlight, "I must take you from here to my castle, where you shall play upon my Harp of Binding." He flashes a coy grin, "Only the most worthy can take my hand in marriage."
Randy bulks. "*Fuck* this," he says,"He's like twenty-five years old and our daughter is twelve." He stomps over to the kitchen counter, "I'm calling the police!" | "Someday, my prince will come..." My daughter's singing was uplifted by a trilling of birds, each in perfect harmony to her melody. Her golden hair, which had started off as brown as my and my husband's hair, glowed in the light of the setting sun as she leaned against the window of our seventh story apartment.
&#x200B;
We don't even live close to the park. Or in a direction to get both the rising *and* the setting sun on any windows in the place. Yet, every song has the perfect light and the perfect back up. And I swear I hear music playing faintly around her.
&#x200B;
At least she hasn't progressed further yet. She's still singing old Disney songs instead of her own. Once it progresses to originality, her Protagonist status will be full blown. It's only a matter of time, apparently; none of the doctors know how this condition is contracted, but they do know that nothing has stopped it.
&#x200B;
What's sad, though, is I'm not worried for *her*. The one amazing benefit to Protagonist Syndrome is that they all end up with happy endings. I may not *want* her to go through the trials that await her in the future, but at least she'll come out all right.
&#x200B;
No, what I'm sadly worried about is myself. I'm her *mom*. While parents of Protagonist children don't have great life expectancies, in general, the death rate for mothers is about 95%. And as Lily gets closer to her 10th birthday, my chances grow slimmer.
&#x200B;
But I've got a secret weapon. Protagonists, particularly those of the Disney variety, don't get to watch Disney movies. They don't need the reinforcement as their own stories develop. *I* don't have any such restriction though. And I know what story I want for my girl.
&#x200B;
I walk out from the kitchen and pull Lily -- my fair-haired dreamer -- into a hug.
&#x200B;
"There comes a day, when you’re gonna look around and realize happiness is where you are..." | 2018-11-28T10:57:13 | 2018-11-28T10:26:46 | 219 | 80 |
[WP] You live in a dystopian society divided into 10 levels of increasing wealth. Every level is only aware of those below it. You and your family believe yourself to be the highest class, but one day a man from 3 levels above comes to visit you, with some very disturbing information.
Edit: Thank you kind stranger! I appreciate the appreciation but really you should be Guilding the amazing writers below! Happy reading! | The perks were small things, mainly. There was extra food, there were newer shoes. We had better medicine and when we logged onto the Internet we had fewer restrictions. It wasn't all fun and games though. Being on the top level meant secrecy. We had the most perks, so we had the most to hide.
Going to public school was strange, looking down from the 5th tier it was easy to see all the things you had. You had been taught them from birth.
You would notice the longer hair of 4's. You would smell the lower quality soap of 3's. It was just subtle enough to maintain the illusion of equality. The 1's usually didn't know any better; they had never been told there was better. It was sad, really.
You learned to find other 5's pretty young, you could see it in their complexions, in their clothes. Only 5's got blue clothes, my dad told me, and that was the easiest way to spot us.
I asked my dad once, why we were fives, why we got the perks. He mentioned his job with the government, but avoided really answering. All I knew was that we were lucky.
Everything.... everything changed when we moved to the 6th tier. That was around age 14 for me, I was young enough to learn, but not old enough to realize what was really happening.
My dad had gotten a promotion at work, he told us, and we were going to be part of a secret few. We were going to be the start of a new social class, tier 6. It was unprecedented, he told us, they had never added a level before. We were so lucky to be a part of it.
That night I logged into the government system and sure enough my profile had updated. I was now a level 6. Level 6 brought new perks, and new changes. We were now allowed chocolate on holidays. I still remember that first Christmas, my first time tasting it. It came in our government meal package for the week and we all got messages on our profiles teaching us what it was.
We felt so lucky to be Six.
The way I found out, it was stupid really. It was a failure of parenting. The kid's parents had to go to a meeting with the Chancellor, and my mother was selected to do an extra shift at the tending center just for this kid. She offered to give me 2 of her weekly fun credits if I would watch him for her, and of course I agreed. I was still only 15 or so, and fun credits seemed like the most powerful thing in the world.
The evening was mostly uneventful, until the kid got comfortable with me. Then he started talking, as a 4 year often will. Then everything fell apart. He was chattering on about his dada and mama being so cool, about them getting him a new toy. I didn't think much of it, I figured they'd bought it with their fun credits.
Then it hit me. I'd never seen that toy in my store. I logged into my profile, and sure enough it wasn't there. I was a level 6. I was supposed to have access to everything.
He kept chattering and told me about his bed and how it was so soft, that he loved sleeping in it.
Our beds were hard little cots.
By the time his parents picked him up, I had heard everything I needed to know. I knew there had to be more than 6 levels, but I had no proof. I had the word of a 4 year old. I couldn't talk about my level, I couldn't bring this up without people knowing. What was I supposed to do?
I grew up, i got a good job. I raised my family with all the 6 perks. I just got word today.
I'm being promoted to 7. | "It was incredible. The power we had.
We had developed technology to become one with magic and science.
We were a 10.00, we had an enormous mansion made out of the purest diamond.
We had rocket propelled cars, cures to all diseases, technology that enabled us to travel through time, sound, and light.
We had trillions of dollars. Our minds were made stronger by bioneurology. We were the greatest.
It was a stormy day when it happened. The man. Or, I guess not a man, a thing. I can't explain it in these inconvenient words, I'll explain it in metoppintosis. Oh right, you can't access that. Um.... Well its hard to explain. A thing, but not a thing. A being of no depth, no width. SOmething I could see, but couldn't. Through some communication that he gave me access to, he told me that we were the lowest rank. In the spirit dimension, as he called it, they didn't use numbers. Us humans had made our own ranks, but we were the lowest. Our society wasn't divided up, our society was 1 rank, the lowest.
The man was a 3.
He showed me things beyond my wildest imagination.
He knew the meaning of life. I know it sounds weird, but I couldn't understand it. It was like teaching a monkey an algebra problem. Or rather a bacterium.
We just couldn;t get it, no matter what.
He had the power to alter the universe, he told me of a manta, in which there were septoverses, in which there were omniverses, in which there were hyperverses, in which there were multiverse, in which there were universes. I looked at him.
Each verse believed themselves to be the biggest. But then he told me that the entire Manta, was just one rank. The mirror dimension was the 2nd, and The spirit dimension was the third, and what lied above that, was unknown. But as I was trying to comprehend that, I saw a level ten, a _________ from the ______________________. And that, is what killed me, combusted my brain.
Even in death, I will never forget what happened to me.
By the way.....
Hello Reader!!!!!!!!!
I know I'm in a writing prompt, the level ten told me. So you are beyond the 10 levels? Wow..... I can't imagine the level ten on your earth. Or if your in a writing prompt, and the level ten on that earth.
Think about that.
By the way,
Skulduggery,
Your story sucks.
Make me alive again.
And then the man became alive."
"Nice story"said the __________.
_________________ replied the _______
They discussed it together_____________________
The level tens didn't even know, all ten of there dimensions was only rank 1.
In a endless cycle of ranks.
| 2016-12-05T21:25:20 | 2016-12-05T16:51:17 | 60 | 18 |
[WP] Wandering the streets, jobless, homeless, you happen across a silver ring with an inscription: "Help for the Needy." Idly you slip it on. Suddenly a voice resonates deep within your bones: "44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN." | *44 YARDS NORTH A CHILD LIES FACE DOWN IN THEIR POOL, UNATTENDED. DEATH IN 172 SECONDS. TIME TO RUN.*
The ring compelled me to run. I didn’t really even know which way was north, but my body pulled me off in some direction and I followed it, fast. Or, as fast as I can. I’m not much of a runner, but when you are told to run, it awakens some other primal encouragement, doesn’t it? I sprint down the alley, I run past the McDonald's on the corner, and on through some dentist’s parking lot. I am out of breath, covered in sweat, but not tired, really. Like there is some other energy lifting my legs up and I’m just riding the momentum, but not used to it yet.
I cut through the tree line and find myself in a residential area. Lots of flowers, identical mailboxes, minivans, the like. My ringed hand pulls me forward, and jerks right. *DEATH IN 30 SECONDS. HURRY.* Fuck. My mind is racing, the fucking voice again and a chill runs through me. I’m in someone’s yard, I don’t see a pool. I smell chlorine. Next house has a fenced backyard and I try my best to get over it quickly. The kid is on top of the water, laying there like he’s sleeping face down. No hesitation, the ring doesn’t allow it. I jump in the pool, I grab the kid, I pull him out, I beat his chest and shake him. He coughs. The ring burns. He coughs. Water jumps out of his chest. “Who are you?”
I open my mouth to answer and a scream fills my ears. A woman, the kid’s mom, is running to the pool. A screen door slams behind her. The ring burns. I try and think of something to say, “I found the kid in the pool!” The woman doesn’t look at me. She runs to the pool. She jumps in. She grabs something, and is sobbing. She yells at it, she pulls it out of the pool. She beats on it. Silence. I can’t really tell what it is... Something feels off. The ring burns. The kid looks at me, “What is happening to me?” My hand is throbbing. I try to take the ring off.
*GOOD JOB. 200 FEET SOUTHEAST. A MAN LIES IN BED, SURROUNDED BY HIS FAMILY. DEATH IN 190 SECONDS. ESCORT HIM.*
| After a moment of shock, Jacob took off sprinting down the streets as quickly as his legs could push him. His feet the pounded the pavement as his lungs filled with cold night air and his mind raced with possibilities. His history proved he wasn't much the heroic type and definitely wouldn't go charging into burning buildings. But if this ring turned out to be the real deal magic, he could probably give it over to some self-sacrificing sap who could really use it for good. But for now; just one child in a pool? He could handle that. And it was even in the fancy part of town so a hot meal might be coming his way. He slid to a halt looking up and down the dark street trying to figure out which neat suburban house currently had the drowning child.
"WHICH HOUSE!?" Jacob yelled at his ring, before shaking it next to his hear.
"LEFT THIRTY SECONDS!"
Jacob leapt the white picket fence and rounded the two story house, spotting the pool in the backyard and a lump floating in the water. Without a second thought Jacob charged forward prepared to dive when a shriek pierced his ears. He staggered to a halt at the edge of the pool and spotted a young boy standing on the other side of the pool staring at the large hobo who had just come bursting into his backyard. The boy's turned to run. His foot slipped. Jacob held out his hand as the boy's head cracked against the edge of the pool and he fell into the pool face down.
Jacob could only watch as red slowly mixed into the water and the large inflatable chair came floating by. The voice chuckled before speaking again.
"Gotchya." | 2018-04-30T12:07:17 | 2018-04-30T11:17:01 | 377 | 32 |
[WP] An old, forgotten god is living their days peacefully in the suburbs. One day they randomly receives a prayer. And they are going to do everything in their power to answer it. | "O! Czernobog, I have a request of thee..."
What a way to Awaken, eh? Well, Re-Awaken, but the point remains. You never forget your first time, and after a few dozen years, it might as well be your first time again. I'm so ready. What do you want?
"...of thee. My friend, my neighbor, he is a holy man who fears God. Not the gods, not the spirits, but God. He will not mow his lawn, nor remove his filth from the yard, on his holy day. Make him believe again in the old gods, and remind him of his duties to the community!"
...well, then. Convert a Christian to the old gods. I used to do that all the time.
If only I could remember how... I recall flame and pestilence, salted fields and war. I hear that the local Christians call this "a Trial" and don't much care.
Fine.
I'll smite his sheep... he has no sheep. Then I'll make his children impotent! But, wait, that will only make them sad, not encourage belief...
I can make his wife bear the head of a cow! Perfect!
...what the fuck is a "National Enquirer", and why is the wife famous?
Fuck it all, I'll replace garden with mushrooms.
Who notices extinct mushrooms and makes money from them? They were all over the place 200 years ago in Siberia!
Well, fine. I'll spend the rest of my power and manifest in front of him.
I'm on TV now.
I have beleivers... and the "neighbor" from before lives elsewhere, so the yard is clean now... Fuck it all, I'll count it as a win. | "I want to quit smoking."
The wish carried the scent of pine for which the wind carried the prayer thru, past the oceans and rivers, over the mountains, from the city streets and building from where the wish originated. It has been 50 years since cigarettes were marked as a Class I Narcotic.
Ashes rose and sprung into the air, and a force pulled together the surrounding nature, awakening the God of Dispair. "WHO DARE PRAY'D TO ME?" The ancient God understood once the prayer's scent was captured. He let out a laughter, surprised by the nature of the wish. It was different from before, this time he could actually do something. What's one wish?
The prayer finally unfolded, and the ancient God finally understood the request in detail. "Shit," thought the God of Despair, "that's all u bro." As he disintegrated into ash.
Don't smoke kids. | 2018-05-29T23:02:28 | 2018-05-29T22:34:30 | 61 | 14 |
[WP] A man sues God because his insurance company won't pay for the damages done to his house in a storm. To his complete surprise and Horror, God actually shows up.
I don't know whether to make this a WP or EU tag since this is based on a movie starring Billy Connolly.
In the movie, BC's character loses his boat in a freak storm and discovers that his insurance company won't pay the damages because they have a clause stating that they won't pay for an 'Act of God'. In anger and frustration, he decides to sue God - represented by the Clergy - because the insurance companies are using God as a legal loophole.
So... what would happen if God, or even an angel, decides to take up the case? | "Please place your hand on the bible and raise your right hand."
The smirk. Everything about Him was magnificent, obviously, that was just sort of His bag. But especially the smirk. Utterly without malice or condescension, it was as though that one facial expression reflected all the irony that had ever been, or ever would be, and all of it, *all* of it, was hilarious, to anyone who could see. Dutifully he placed his hand on the bible, raised his right hand, and swore to tell the truth.
"Did you know I can't actually lie?" He grinned. "Anything I say just sort of... *becomes* the truth. I won't retcon anything, though." That smirk again. "Swearsies."
The cross examiner was understandably nervous. Were there eternal implications for being officially on an opposing side from God? How do you trip up someone who knows everything you're going to say? If you're the first person in human history to have The Creator under oath, isn't nitpicking one individual storm kind of a waste of your time? Play it one way, the catholic church will excommunicate you. Play it another, and those wackos in nevada will come after you with torches. Walk the line, he thought to himself. Just walk the line.
He Who Has Always Been relaxed in his seat. Casually He poured himself a glass of water. The entire courtroom leaned just a bit forward in their seat to see if He would... but... no...
He chuckled. "I think water's probably the more appropriate choice for now." The judge was visibly relieved. The political ramifications of holding God in contempt of court would have been beyond crazy. Out of habit, he mumbled an imperceptible, silent prayer of thanks. God looked over and winked.
The cross examiner, who had been preparing for this case for months, pouring over every detail, every nuance, every consequence... realized that attempting to exhaust, irritate, trick, trap or otherwise force an involuntary confession from God was fruitless. He knew all, he saw all. But holy crap, with nothing left to do, could this actually become the most straightforward case... ever?
"Lord, did you send the storm?"
"Yup."
A pause. Was it an act of malice? Retribution? Indifference? Ants under a divine magnifying glass? Which angle to take? Again he chose to suppress all his training, and go for the direct approach.
"Why?"
"That house was a fire trap. It's wildly flammable to begin with, and in a couple weeks time the electrical wiring was going to short out and cause a fire. His entire family was going to die."
Silence in the court room. The plaintiff's face showed a heady blend of shock and bewilderment, with dashes of anger. Fortunately the attorney asked the question before his client could blurt it out.
"Why didn't you, you know, just put out the fire?"
"I don't really do direct. It's part of the contract with Free Will."
"Well, you indirectly send the storm... Why couldn't you indirectly put out the fire?"
He sighed. A breeze blew through the courtroom, despite the windows all being closed. It smelled of frankincense and love and total exasperation.
"Don't you think I tried? I gave him dreams, I inspired the fire department to set up free checks for home inspections, I even had this one kid put a flyer for those inspections on his car. I gave him a preference for products that would overload the circuit and encourage him to upgrade. Nothing. He refused to look after himself or his family. So I asked a passing weather pattern to swing by. Honestly I'd have let him pay for his own bad choices, but his daughter..."
At this point he paused and glanced toward the back of the room, briefly making eye contact with the plaintiff's 8 year old daughter. He gave her a small but reassuring smile.
"It was important for the world that I intervene on this one."
Way to pull the destiny card! The cross examiner had never lost a case this thoroughly this quickly. Letting his professional demeanor slip just a little, his irritation showed through.
"Wow, quite the monolog, anything else you wanna add?"
"Yeah." God looked at the plaintiff. "You're welcome." He then grinned at the daughter. "No spoilers, but when it happens, don't give up."
With that, he was gone in a puff of smoke, and a choir of angels humming "Hakuna Matata". That God, man. He knew how to make an exit.
The plaintiff dropped the charges and mumbled his own prayer of thanks, looking at his daughter. "Wherever she's going," he thought to himself, "I've got to get her there." | **FOR PUBLICATION**
**UNITED STATES COURT OF APPEALS FOR THE NINTH CIRCUIT**
----------------------
Joe Bronson, *Plaintiff-Appellant*
v.
God, *Defendant-Appellee*
--------
Before: Steven P. Hansen, James Horton Wong, and Elizabeth Francis, Circuit Judges.
Opinion by Judge Hansen
---------
**OPINION**
HANSEN, Circuit Judge:
When Joe Bronson's home in Kansas was destroyed by a tornado for the second time in three years, he decided to move to California, where, he hoped, he would never have to worry about tornadoes again. He bought a small home in the quiet clifftop village of Moss Beach and settled in. To protect himself against the kind of disaster that had plagued him in the past, he purchased an open-peril policy from Lippman Property Insurance Corporation (henceforth LPI) on his house and certain items therein.
One year later, on April 13, 2021, the most powerful waterspout ever recorded, with winds measured at 240 miles per hour, formed off the coast of Moss Beach. The powerful storm picked up a 35-ton gray whale and dropped it on Bronson's house, completely destroying it. Bronson's claim against LPI was denied on the basis that the incident was an act of God, coverage for which was specifically excluded under the terms of his policy. Bronson subsequently sued LPI in state court, a case in which LPI's demurrer was upheld by the California Court of Appeals. LPI is not a party to the present action.
On February 12, 2022, Bronson filed a tort action against the present defendant in the Northern District of California, accusing God of trespass to land, trespass to chattels, and negligence. On February 13, 2022, the Court granted defendant's motion to dismiss the case with prejudice. Bronson filed this timely appeal.
**DISCUSSION**
**1. The District Court Properly Dismissed the Trespass to Land and Trespass to Chattels Claims**
The trial court ruled that plaintiff's trespass claims should be judicially estopped because defendant claimed in his nightly prayer that he would "forgive those who trespass against [him]." On appeal, plaintiff argues that because his nightly prayers did not constitute legal proceedings, the doctrine of judicial estoppel applied by the trial court does not apply.
On this issue of first impression, we find plaintiff's arguments unpersuasive. We take judicial notice of the fact that God is a Judge (James 4:12). Therefore, plaintiff's prayers, being formalized appeals to a Judge, are in fact legal proceedings, even if they are not couched in the customary language and form of court filings.
For this reason, we affirm the district court's dismissal of the trespass claims.
**2. The District Properly Dismissed the Negligence Claim**
The trial court ruled that plaintiff's negligence claims should be dismissed because the outcome (the destruction of Bronson's home) of defendants actions (creating an offshore waterspout) was not foreseeable. As such, it held that God's actions were not the proximate cause of plaintiff's injury, and dismissed the claim.
We agree with the trial court that the consequences of God's action would not have been foreseeable to a reasonable person, because an offshore waterspout is unlikely to damage an onshore home. However, God is not an ordinary person, and in fact God knows everything (1 John 3:20). Thus, we apply the standard of a reasonable person in the position of God; that is, a person with similar knowledge and professional training to God. We believe that a reasonable God could in fact foresee the fact that a waterspout might launch a massive whale into the air and deposit it on plaintiff's house. Thus the trial court erred in holding that the destruction of Bronson's house was not foreseeable.
However, defendant has made an alternative argument for dismissal of the negligence claim, which we find more persuasive. Namely, defendant has argued that if we do not uphold the ruling of the District Court, He will smite us. Therefore, we affirm the district court's dismissal of the negligence claim.
**DISPOSITION**
The ruling of the District Court is **AFFIRMED**. Defendant-Appellee is awarded His costs on appeal. | 2014-11-30T10:27:01 | 2014-11-30T10:07:28 | 230 | 90 |
[WP] Mermaids are actually vampires that realized the sun could not harm them underwater | ######[](#dropcap)
Ariel felt how her voice was gone. The deed was done; becoming human for her voice. It was worth it. It had to be worth it. After all, it was a love from the first sight. She knew that her family tried really hard to stop her, for unknown reasons, but she never understood why.
And that Octopid, half-octopus, and half-human, was also a little bit weird and scary. But it didn’t matter for Ariel. All she wanted was to meet the love of her life.
But then the transformation began. Her fins and tail began to disappear. And she couldn’t catch a breath anymore. It was hard to breathe. Why? Was that the reason why humans never came underwater?
She pushed herself up, and up and even more up. She needed that air. That other air. The air humans breathed. Well, he could’ve breathed it before as well, but now she felt the desperate need. Her two pals, Sebastian and Flounder were also helping her up.
*Air! She needed air!*
And then she reached the surface, fresh air filling her lungs. It felt great. She opened her mouth to thank her friends, but no voice came out. The crab and tropical fish began helping her towards the beach they knew of.
It wasn’t the first time she had been up there. She just hadn’t stayed for a long time. And there wasn’t much to do without legs.
They finally beached, Ariel was taking a few steps forward, trying to stand. But something felt weird. The sun was too hot. It was hurting her. Why was it hurting her?
But she couldn’t scream. She didn’t have her voice. She began taking a few steps towards water. She wanted to go home.
At the same time, a prince was walking around the shore, wondering about… things. Until he stepped on something weird. It wasn’t sand. And a crab was playing with it. A weird thing to see.
He knelt down and took a bit of that, examining. Ash. What was ash doing at the beach in a pile?
Meanwhile deep-deep in the ocean, there was a half-octopus, playing with her potions. He was humming something, a song she had sung recently. She never changed Ariel to human, only gave her legs.
“Poor unfortunate souls…” echoed around the cavern.
(/r/Elven - Poor unfortunate sub in pain, in need of subs) | Far below, in caverns deep
We lie and wait, and never sleep
When the sun retires for the day, we ascend to the surface, and come out and play. And we sing a song that silences the wind, and with great warmth becalms the seas, summoning forth impenetrable fog; a melodious spell of such beauty, ne'ery a man can escape it; weakening the hardest of hearts; bringing strongest sailors to their knees.
And it is on the sharpest shores that we slither in circles, and this incantation sing, until our supper has delivered itself upon stones most coarse, that we may, in frenzy, devour the blood of every man and thing. For it is not of the flesh but the blood that we seek; for while we waste away our lives in the water, we have an insatiable thirst which cannot be appeased; cursed for all eternity with a body diseased: half woman, half eel, and a libido that can never be pleased.
It is a punishment by the goddess, Hera, for seducing her priests for coins; baring our breasts before her alters, and opening our salty loins for a portion of the coffers. Surely, she would have smote us down, then and there, were it not for her husband Zeus, who bade her "mercy" on our behalf. Though some of us suspect it was him all along, in disguise, that we seduced.
/end
I'm afraid, for now, that's all I've got. And, if I didn't have to be up in eight hours or so, I might give this one a little more thought. | 2019-05-01T03:12:18 | 2019-05-01T03:06:34 | 33 | 16 |
[WP] You cannot tell a lie. Not because you're unable to, but because every time you do, a narrator's voice explains the lie in great detail! | The bar buzzed with life as the childhood friends huddled closer to speak in detail.
"Hey Marty, how's it going?"
"It's great really..." he replied to James.
"Marty swallowed hard he needed to make sure he belonged." said the voice.
"What was that?" James asked.
"Nothing, I don't know maybe some guy over at the other table," Marty said.
"The narrator chuckled as Marty tried his best to dismiss the voice."
"They sound like they're talking about you," said James.
Marty responded with a poker stare.
Their drinks were brought and they each took large swigs. "So, what are you doing with yourself lately?" James asked.
"Oh just working same old same old," Marty replied.
"His eyes widened as they always did when he fibbed and he took another deep drink hoping his friend wouldn't ask for details."
James raised an eyebrow, "How is work going?"
"It's going great, the journalism wasn't going so good so I took up web design instead," said Marty.
"Marty's fingers shook with nervousness, he'd been forced to take up coding after the site that he worked for closed. Giving up his passion had been hard."
James shot a look at Marty's hands.
"You sure you doing fine man?" James asked.
"Yeah i'm fine why?"
"Beads of sweat formed on Marty's nape, he was still living with his parents and his 31st birthday was next week. He'd been forced to sell his car too to make space. He hadn't been employed for the past two months and his savings were dwindling. He was failing, and he seemed spectacular at it too. Some times he wondered if he could succeed in just ending it all and if he did would that make him a success or a... "
"Hey listen man, it's gonna be alright." James said, he stood up and hugged his childhood friend "I know things are hard right now but they can always turn around." He wished he had known. He'd have come over sooner.
***
happier stories can be read at /r/calicocreations. | People claim to value and appreciate honesty but the truth is that lies are far better. I...
Narrator: this is only partially correct. The social contract demands we be truthful in matters of business, equity, establishment of trust,etc. It requires also requires a kind of lie under the label of tact which overlooks or ignores obvious problems such as someone’s obesity causing their own fatigue instead of the alarm clock going off a little early.
It was at this moment the obese man turned and looked at me. The unfortunate thing is even though the narrator said that and not me... he finds it humorous to use my voice. Audibly. Where everyone can hear. “Awfully rude pal, I was injured in Iraq and deal with severe pain. Not like I can get back into the gym”
I looked at him in sheer horror. I could say I’m sorry. I legitimately was. But the narrator isn’t content with a small portion of the truth and I never know when a witticism that slips into my head might just come out of his mouth. I wanted to apologize but instead I ducked out before the narrator helped me dig that hole any further.
People accuse me of being antisocial and aloof. But you try not being able to edit your thoughts before they come out. | 2019-06-21T07:28:56 | 2019-06-21T07:01:30 | 67 | 38 |
[WP] When an animal dies, we often use the expression "crossing the rainbow bridge." This is not by accident, every animal crosses the Bifröst, having earned their place in Valhalla defending us from a greater evil then we could ever know. Tell their stories. | Hercules, as his master had called him in a playful way, had met his end.
He stared at the long bridge that led to the unknown, but he wasn't afraid, he had chosen this path, the path of the warrior, like his father before him and his father before him, he had tackled the toughest foes and maybe he hadn't beat all of them but he liked to think he had never lost either, not until that last fight.
While walking with pride towards his new destination Hercules reminisced of his days with Mary, the day she had picked him up he had known they would be inseperable and that he had to give her his best, she was nice and bright but unbeknownst to her she was always in danger, evil lurked around her everyday, in the morning when she woke up he made sure to retrieve her slippers that some pesky imps tended to steal, returning them after inspecting that nothing fishy had been done, their powders had a peculiar taste to them and could be removed easily, she would sometimes scold him for getting them wet but he understood that she was ignorant, and she would forgive him in 5 minutes anyway. He protected her in the middle of the night by keeping the shadows from creeping into her dreams with his powerful bark, it was inevitable that it also woke her up, sometimes he wished he didnt have such capacity but then the shadows wouldn't fear him the same.
All in all he had lived a good life, protecting the person he loved and recieving love back was the best, he would miss Mary... after giving it more thought he did regret fighting that last battle, it wasn't even to protect her, a young man had come to the house to give her some food that she loved but he wasn't allowed to eat... "ahh another regret, never tasting those triangles that everyone seemed to love" he mused aloud, he tried to save that young man from the infernal piece of metal that would eventually be his demise, nothing that made that diabolical sound could be good, but he hadn't been fast enough to catch up and an ambush had been set up, a car had snuck up behind him and managed to get a lucky critical hit and then all had turned black, the pain at least didn't last long.
He was now at the other side, other dogs keeping their distance and showing respect like they should, he could see his reflection in one of the multiple ponds, his big imposing ears, his small but nimble build, he was trembling... he always trembled from the exitement of the battles to come, now he trembled because he could see her, he would watch over her forever.
He let out a series of barks.
| The door to the mead hall opened again, the fourth time that night. The warriors of Valhalla were used to the occasional soul ended up there, but since the age of Vikings had passed, less and less ended up in the hall of fighters. But the door that had opened, wasn’t the main door, but a different one.
Many legends and tales never told of the great Barn Door of Valhalla, but it was there. A great assortment of animals had their own version of the mead hall, sections being dedicated to each species. The Barn of Valhalla was many hundreds times larger than the human hall, ever since the age of warriors had passed, animals had been flooding in.
Not all animals came, but many did. House cats, dogs, sheep, fish, even the odd gopher. Many warriors had complained to both Odin and Thor, both of whom told the troubled souls to shut up and respect the creatures as fierce warriors.
Harold entered the Barn and it went quiet, he was a newer soul, a man who had died with a kitchen knife in is hand. He was looking for his friend. A fat black cat came up to him and smiled, sitting down at his feet
“Hello Harold, it is good to see you”
He glanced down at the cat “Muffin? Is that you?”
The cat nodded “Indeed, I didn’t think you would enter Valhalla...” she thought out loud
He chuckled and gave his old friend and pet “It was a kitchen knife that got me here... but... why are you here? Oh is it all the mice you killed for me?” He laughed at the joke, but the cat grew serious
“No. It was for the same reason we all are here. Every single animal.”
He looked at her blankly “Which is?”
“Protecting you”
“From what!?”
“From the gods.” | 2018-05-24T23:19:44 | 2018-05-24T21:49:17 | 122 | 58 |
[WP] You accidentally purchased WinRAR. Soon after, you were contacted by a powerful secret society welcoming you to their ranks. | "Oh for fuck's sake God damnit. I can't afford this!"
I pace around in my bedroom, anxious and stressed. I can barely afford to feed myself, but I spent thirty damn quid on some program that no-one has ever bought? How the hell am I gonna make up for this? I don't wanna tap into my university fund, not again! I shake from panic so much that I barely notice my phone, steadily vibrating in my pocket. I eventually feel it and rummage around all the stuff to answer. Who is it this time, my mum? The doctor reminding me about some appointment? Someone selling some pointless shit that no one ever buys? I've already done enough of that today! I assume the latter when I see that it's a private number, but I answer anyway. I irritability respond to the persistent ringing.
"Hello?"
A muffled voice responds, low in pitch and distorted.
"Good afternoon Nicholas. I assume you know what this is about?"
Not fully listening, I begin respond with my usual monotonous answer to sales calls.
"Hi yeah I don't want to buy your double-glazing window or PPI mis- hang on, what?"
Seemingly disinterested by my response, the voice continues.
"We've gone by many names over the years. Today we refer to ourselves as just 'The Society'. Thank you for showing interest in becoming part of the structure of the world. We have received your payment of thirty Great British Pounds and-"
"Woah Woah Woah Woah Woah, slow down, hang on, what? First of all, how do you know my name? Second of all, what are you talking about the society or some random bullshit?"
The voice on the end of the phone abruptly stopped and took a moment to think.
"You solved the puzzle? You did what no-one in their right mind would ever do, therefore proving that you're willing to try new and different things to control the world?"
"No man, I just bought winRar! I assume that's what you're talking about with the whole thirty pounds thing you were going on about."
A heavy, audible sigh could be heard through the speaker of the phone.
"So you weren't trying to join the society?"
"No! So what, to get into the illuminati you have to buy winRar?"
Another sigh.
"You know you can just close the 'oh you have to buy winRar at some point' window with no ill effects, right?"
"I didn't mean to buy it, it was an accident!"
"Anyway, look. You can either join The Society and help restructure the world, or we can make you and every trace of you disappear, because now you know of our existence. Also, it's not the sixteen hundreds, we don't call ourselves 'The Illuminati' any more."
"Fine, I guess I'll join you. Can I get my thirty quid back though, please?"
"Ok, I'll sort it." He whispers under his breath,
"Management is gonna be so pissed off at me."
He clears his throat, and continues.
"Any suggestions before your initiation?"
I ponder over it for a sec, and then reply.
"Well, the application process could use a bit of work." | "Pleasant afternoon, Lady Elizabeth." The young man bows before me, eyes shining with respect.
My eyes squint at the sight before my door. I wasn't wearing my glasses and all I could understand was a blur. "Well, it's nice to be called a lady again, ay."
The voice chuckles. "I represent the Revelation and Rememberance, short for the RAR. We are an elite group of forces bounded by the contract of WinRaR. I was told that you had agreed to the purchase at 11:47 a.m, and I rushed straight after to welcome you into our family."
"Why, a family you say? I don't remember inviting any of my children in for dinner. Which family are you from, you say?"
There was a small crack of hesitance in his voice, but he continued with his warm welcome. "We are from the Revelation and Rememberance, a small elite group exclusive to legal owners of—"
"What was that!" I hold on to the door pane and shook my head. "Rememberance? What are you trying to sell to me?"
"I'm not trying to sell you anything ma'am. You had just bought our product and—"
"Nonsense! I didn't buy no nothing!" I held on to the stick with a firm grip, ready to fling and hit a man if I had to. Ain't no travelling salesman gonna scam me for some funeral casket!
The man holds his hands out and shakes them. "You're misunderstanding ma'am. We're just here to offer you a small sum of one million dollars as a welcome gift—"
"And what? You're going to sue me in court, aren't you?" I knew how these things end. They offer fake bills and bring me to jail, and I'll have to rely on them loan sharks to keep a living. These men! "No, get out! Get out!"
"A-are you sure ma'am?! I have the briefcase of cash ready here with me!"
"As sure as a fiddle! Now leave!" I raise my walking stick over my frail shoulders and repeatedly hit his head. "Go! Away! Go! NOW!"
And that was how Elizabeth Water's neighbour became the President of the United States. God Bless. | 2017-08-20T08:19:04 | 2017-08-20T07:05:07 | 469 | 100 |
[WP] You have the ability to see people's death countdown timer. You can't see your own deathcounter but happy to see your wife and kid will live a long life. One day your kid asks why is the number 8 on your head sideways? | The silence reigned, deep and wide, for a long while. At last, the glinting of his eyes, and the insistence of his brows drove me to shatter the lacking sounds. "An eight sideways? Above my head? Are you certain?"
He nodded once, twice, thrice. "Yes! How do you make it hover like that? Is it a hat? I want one too."
"Could you rub your eyes for me? Are you certain that you are seeing something above my head?"
"I am!" He rubbed his eyes. "I'm super sure!"
I drew a deep breath, and gazed at the vaulted sky. The stars burned bright against the backdrop of the night, shining along the unbroken moon. It was a normal evening. Nothing was out of place. How strange.
I rose from my throne, placed a hand upon his head and said, "Follow me."
Without uttering a word he obliged, and down the blue-velvet rug we went, our bare feet mute on the plush surface. We followed a winding, torchlit corridor, and entered the room behind the door of bones. There, the flickers of sharp weapons shone through the murk.
"You can look," I said, for my son had his eyes covered. "From now on you will be able to see daddy's office."
"Really?"
"Really."
Finger by finger he uncovered his eyes, and his face distorted with surprise. He shot me a questioning glance. "What are these swords?" he said after I opened the door wide for the light to come and bury the darkness.
"These are not swords." I knelt to his side, placed my hands on his shoulders. "These are scythes. These will be your tools too from now on. You will work with daddy. Would you like that?"
"Yes!" He beamed, grabbed one. It was thrice his height. "What do we do with this?"
"Well, it's hard to explain, little one." I paused to think. "See the eight sideways in my head?"
"I do."
"Well, that's not an eight sideways. It's an infinity, and the things that are infinite don't have an end. That's the amount of time I have until I die."
"So you will never die?" His brows wrenched into a frown, and the scythe slipped from his hands, clattering against the stone. Once the rattle ceased, I said, "I will never die no. I have a duty with humanity. I collect and guide their souls, and to do this I have to live for eternity, for only I know the path. But that's about to change, for you will be helping me in this task, understood?"
He nodded. "Does mom know?"
"She doesn't. You can't tell her a thing. She's happy believing I'm a king in this world, and she's happy spending her time with us. Keep this secret. You will understand soon enough."
"I will, dad. I promise." He yawned. "Can I go to sleep?"
"Yes, you can." I kissed his forehead. "Goodnight."
I should have known something had changed when his number changed to infinity too.
---------------------
r/NoahElowyn | Giant numbers baffle the mind. The human brain can't conceptualize a quadrillion years.. We can't envision strings of numbers so large they require obscure math notations. The universe contains 10^(80) atoms - that number means nothing to us. Vaguely huge. Incomprehensible.
I try to visualize all of the grains of sand on Earth's beaches and deserts, all of the dust motes strewn on city streets and trapped between wooden floor boards.
Alan let me know one Sunday afternoon. He skewed his head inquisitively, a spoon-full of Rice Crispies halfway to his mouth. "Dad, there's a weird symbol above your head," he said, before chewing the little cereal pieces into a smooth pulp. "Like an eight, but sideways."
It didn't register at first. I simply sat down to look at the latest market reports like I did every morning, a steaming black coffee in my hand. I was pleased to see that they were doing well, their 30 year time horizons looking better than I could have hoped for. At this rate, Alan wouldn't have to pay for school.
I leaned backwards into my chair and watched my little son eat his cereal and browse his phone, a small black number hovering over his head. "84 years," I whispered, smiling. He'd have a wife or two, raise a few children. Live a long and happy life.
I awake from my day dream. Alan has been dead for four thousand years and humanity claims the stars, expanding up and down the Milky Way's great spiral, opening wormholes near Hydrogen Congruent planets.
Humanity ascends with me at its helm. I am God Emperor of the Known Universe.
We brush up against the edges of the galaxy, an ever-expanding nebulous mass of interconnected human settlements, more numerous than all the grains of sand on planet Earth. Forty thousand years of human expansion culminating in the moment we head towards Andromeda, where a new galaxy awaits.
Four hundred million years and I stand at the edge of the Universe, looking down on a wide black line that empties into a blank white void.
Four hundred billion years and space-time is a quantum symphony.
Four hundred quadrillion years and the universe is a marble prison, forgotten in the sand.
In the infinite all moments blend together, like the here and now, my son eating cereal at the kitchen table, a steaming black coffee in my hand. | 2019-01-30T16:10:38 | 2019-01-30T15:27:11 | 34 | 25 |
[WP] A Djinn travels the world, granting people a single wish. However he never gives the person their wish, instead you receive the benefit of the last persons wish, passing your wish forward to the next person he meets. | "One million dollars? Thats it?"
"Yep" replied the strangely dressed man. "After the last guy was told he was getting a private island and 17 wives he couldn't have cared less what you were going to get." He shrugged.
"What a dick..." I guess I shouldn't be disappointed. A million bucks will still probably take care of me for life, or at least buy me my dream home and pay for my kids' school.
"So what do I have to do?"
"Just tell me what wish you would have granted. I shall pass this on to the next person once they make their own wish, and so on forever."
"Are there any rules?"
"Only the usual: no extra wishes, I cannot kill, and I cannot create love."
I'm surprised by how hard the decision is. I could be just like the last guy and wish for something quick and "usual" like a bit of money and be done with it. But it really sucks to have something so trivial when a universe of possibilities could have been granted. I ponder for a few minutes on exactly what I would want more than anything. What could make me happier than a million dollars?
"Alright, I have my wish."
"Name it, and it shall be. Just not to you" he smirked.
"I wish to find true love. That one person in the world that would fill me with joy just at the sight of them each morning."
"Isn't that a little cliché? Oh well, the wish is made. You will find your money already placed in your bank accounts. You may do whatever you like with my lamp, but please place it somewhere where it shall traverse new lands."
With his final word he was engulfed in smoke and disappeared before my eyes. I picked up the lamp and brought it back to the airport where I'd found it. I had no idea where to send him, but I saw a bag going somewhere I thought he'd like.
"I wonder if he's ever been to Hawaii?"
________________________
It was about a week after I made my wish. I was just sitting in my apartment looking at houses for sale online. All of a sudden a great burst of smoke erupted from the kitchen.
Panicking for a moment I grabbed the fire extinguisher and ran in to find the genie standing before me again.
Heart racing and completely confused I asked "What are you doing here? Shouldn't you be on an island granting some vacationer my wish?"
"That's exactly what I'm doing."
It wasn't until then that I noticed there was somebody else in the room. A beautiful woman with a light tan in shorts and a tank top.
That's the day that I met Beth.
__________________________
Criticism welcome! I'm trying to get back into writing so please let me know what you think.
EDIT: Thanks for all the feedback! I'm glad so many people enjoyed it! | "I grant wishes."
It was a simple statement but the gravity of it was lost on me. I stared at the slightly blue tinged bald man in front of me. His eyes had a look of jovial delight, his smile was knowing. It felt like I was a fly that had wandered into the lair of a spider.
"Seriously? How is that even possible?" I shifted in my hospital bed uncomfortably. I'd grown up hearing stories of genies and lamps, but I never thought I'd find one, let alone be found by one.
The blue-ish man's smile widened, "I grant wishes," he repeated. Stepping closer he sat down on my bed, stretching my covers tight. I felt constricted.
I paused for a moment, considering whether or not to call the nurse with a press of a button and get this curiously terrifying man thrown out. A sigh escaped my lips as the thought that had consumed me for the last months of my life resurfaced. A constant reminder, I'm lying on my death bed. Any experience, is a good experience. I decided to humor him.
"Okay," I steeled myself to stop my hand from shaking, "I wish it was over. I want death. I want to end the waiting. I'm tired of living, I'm tired of seeing everyones pity ridden face as they tip toe around me. If you're really going to grant me a wish then let me be free."
I thought it impossible, but his grin widened even more, unnaturally wide, his eyes like slits with just a gleam of red showing through the darkness of the night. He simply got up and left.
I still don't know what happened since that night, but its been one hundred and eighty years. I haven't aged. I haven't died. Any injury I sustain is rapidly fixed.
I've jumped from buildings, hung myself, shot myself. I've had to hide from the government and from companies. My life has been hell from that night forward.
The night I was visited by a devil. The night my wish wasn't granted. | 2015-06-17T10:11:45 | 2015-06-17T09:54:29 | 168 | 58 |
[WP] Your camera doesn't take regular photographs of people. Instead, pictures you take show you the moment they will be happiest during their entire life. You really, really regret taking a selfie. | It is 6 AM. I am sitting inside our melancholic living room, contemplating about the picture on my camera's screen. I, in my adorable yet dorky clothes, talking with a girl wearing a cute yellow dress, while dining in a not-so fancy restaurant. The picture has a very yellowish tone to it, as I remember the moment precisely. After all, my wife always loved the color yellow.
This was the first date I had with Alice. I remember the moment being nerve-wrecking and anxiety-inducing. However, it seems to be the happiest moment of my life; I figure, man does not recognize nor think about happiness when they are already in the moment.
I study the picture closer. Yes, Alice really did love her fish fillets, along with her fries dipped in gravy. Quirky, yet cute. As for me, I haven't changed a bit; I still love my spaghetti and meatballs in the classical sense. I was sort of a simple man back then. I was happier. Was. Before the cancer hit her pretty hard.
I still remember that moment. When the doctor told her the most painful words I have ever felt in my lifetime. Indeed, if there was a camera that would capture the saddest moment of one's entire life, it would be that. Or maybe when she died just merely two years ago.
I set the camera down on the coffee table, and reach for the hand gun. I guess there's no point anymore. I knew all too well; my happiest moment has already passed by. Like a gun pointing at my head, the trigger is this camera. In a quick snap of my finger, everything will have vanished.
"Daddy?"
I quickly hide the gun and light up the room. There she was: our little daughter, Espoir, only eight years old. "What were you doing here?" she asks curiously.
"Nothing, sweetie," I reply back.
"Did you forget it's a Monday today? You have to go to work now."
"And you have to go to school as well."
"Yes, so prepare breakfast already."
"Alright," I reach out for the camera once more, "sweetie, come here for a second."
"What is it, daddy?"
"Mind if I take a quick picture of you real quick?"
"No, I don't mind at all," she smiles.
I snap her a photo. I smile as I look at it. Guess I won't be dying soon.
Seems like I can't miss her wedding day. | "And, this, Arthur," Ford said, and plucked up a bulky camera with a grunt," is perhaps the worst invention in all of time and space." He nodded at Arthur with a knowing grin.
Arthur was annoyed, "Well, what is it?"
Ford thought Arthur was being ridiculously obtuse, but remembered humans were wont to do just that. He sighed. "A camera."
"Well, what's so special about this camera?" Arthur asked.
"What? This one? Not a thing. Well, save for its rather striking shade of blue. No, Arthur, " Ford said and lifted the large camera for appraisal, "the camera earns its reputation by being the only invention which is most inappropriately appreciated and overly used counter to its purpose."
Arthur blinked. He decided perhaps he should have gone out with the Earth after all.
Ford continued, "The camera was invented to show people how it was, but people keep using it to see how great it was, regardless if it was or wasn't. Let's try it out." Ford brought up the strikingly blue camera and snapped a picture of Arthur. Ford showed it to him. "Tell me what you see."
Arthur looked at his picture and said, "I look annoyed."
"Ah, yes! That's just the problem!"
"What? that I look annoyed?"
"Not quite," Ford said, "People always seem to find themselves happier in their pictures regardless on how happy they actually were."
Arthur thought about this then said, "But I didn't think I looked happy."
Ford said, "Well, the problem is that, to you, your pictured self is just annoyed when, in fact, in the picture, you are miserable."
| 2018-01-26T18:53:30 | 2018-01-26T18:20:59 | 51 | 21 |
[WP]At 18 everyone is assigned a job perfect for them. No one ever complains. Upon reading their job assignment card, a teen has found that, for the first time in 100 years, they’ve been assigned “serial killer”. | “Serial Killer” that is what my card read as my hand trembled slightly. I didn’t know if this was truly the right position for me. I had personal experience with the loss a serial killer can push upon a person and it fucking hurt. I didn’t know if I could do that. But, after thinking about it for a while, I decided it was worth the hurt. I could save those I felt were worthy of the time needed to find their way and kill those who brazenly brought in love and support in spite of an insipid demeanor.
For the next three years, I worked hard. I studied the greats and took a painstaking amount of time to uncover just how they’d done it. How they’d managed to infiltrate America and strike its core to each become known as one of the greatest of all time.
I would bide my time, build a respectable career that allowed me the freedom to stalk and research my prey. High visibility victims. Taking the most beloved of beings and squashing their potential, destroying what is most loved simply because I could.
I knew I would be unstoppable as I opened the doors to my new life. Twenty years of hard work, determination, and careful choices led me to what was essentially a killing field. I smiled.
As president of Fox Broadcasting Company, I could fulfill my destiny and kill serials with glee. No one will even bat an eye as I carry out my dastardly work and destroy the most beloved of television shows under the guise of “bad ratings.”
Serial killer indeed. | "Oh my god!" Jimmy said reading the assignment card. His mind raced as he wondered if it were true. "Mom look at my assignment card! Is... is this real!?"
His mother couldn't hold back her grin, "pffft ha ha! You dummy!" She said laughing histerically, "I put that in the envelope as a joke!" She pulled the real assignment card out of her purse, "I cant believe you fell for that!" She threw the real card at Jimmy, hitting him in the face. "Here, you got 'Garbage man' you idiot!" She exited the room laughing uncontrollably. | 2018-08-13T19:58:07 | 2018-08-13T17:47:14 | 49 | 19 |
[WP] There once was a legendary mage whose lack of a max mana cap allowed for slow but powerful spells that laid waste upon the land. After the unification of the races, their leaders have come to negotiate with the living catastrophe who hasn't cast a spell in centuries. | They stood before me, their expressions mixed. The human looked at me with suspicion, his hand by his belt; I was sure he was hiding at least several knives. The dwarf, stoic as always, seemed prepared for the worst disappointment. Wise. The elf mustered enough manners to fake a smile. Nice of her.
"Cut to the chase," I started suddenly. "I don't have all day."
"Alright then," the human replied. Of course he'd be the cocky one. "Your reputation precedes you. We know what you can *do*. But we know that you haven't *done* anything in a *very* long time and we're..." he opened his mouth but failed to finish the sentence.
"Worried," the dwarf said. Efficient use of words - I liked that about dwarves.
"Ah," I said with a faint smile and tilted my head to the side. "You're worried about me making some sort of cataclysmic spell, aren't you? Something to turn the skies blood-red and upturn the earth itself?"
The three emissaries looked at one another nervously.
"Well," I said with a fiendish whisper, "you got one thing right. I have been saving my mana this entire time. An amount..." I slowed down and reflected, "you'd not believe."
"Look, the Three Kingdoms are unified," the elf pleaded. "We have peace. Actual, proper peace. "Surely even you know what peace feels like? Surely you cherish it as much as we do?"
"There was a time I did not peace, no. And-"
**\*Crash\***
The door to the hall opened suddenly with a loud bang - the diplomats all jumped. The human, as if by miracle, produced two daggers in his hands and stood ready for a fight. The elf took a water-stance, prepared to cast disabling magic. The dwarf stood perfectly still. He only turned his head.
"Daddy!"
The diplomats stared with awe as a little girl in a frilly dress ran to me, paying no attention to the three weirdos in my hall, and hugged my legs tightly. I bent over and hugged her back. The sound of footsteps drew out combined attention to the door just as a beautiful woman, ashen hair and emanating elegance, walked in.
"I told you to wait for me Es," she said cheerfully. The little girl only giggled.
"Look what I found!" Es said proudly as showed me her newest treasure - her smile so wide you could see the gap in her teeth where her tooth fell out.
"Oh wow!" I said with amazement as I took the precious items from her tiny hands. "An acorn!"
"Isn't it pretty daddy?"
"It sure is pumpkin. What a pretty... wow..." I trailed off, eyes fixed on the beautiful acorn.
"Listen, Mel," I turned to the ashen haired woman, "I've got a bit of business to finish up here. Why don't you go wash up? I'll summon us some pasta."
She only smiled and kissed me on the cheek before grabbing the girl's hand and leaving.
The diplomats kept staring at them, as if expecting them to turn into monsters. The elf, ever vigilant and hawk-eyed, noticed the scar on the woman's chest. It was large, deep. A javelin.
And right above her heart.
The girl and the woman left the hall and I was once again alone with the trio.
"Really?" the human said with a mixture of condescension and surprise.
"Really," I said softly. "Centuries worth of mana. I needed it. Needed it to bring..." I couldn't bear to finish the words. "Well," I only said and smiled gently.
"Your kingdoms are safe," I said with renewed vigour. Though their looks remained uneasy, there was a palpable air of relief in the room.
I took my cloak off and laid it carefully on the dusty throne. Deep breath, in... and out. I stepped down from the throne and walked in the direction of my wife and daughter.
"There was a time I did not know peace," I said softly as I walked away from the emissaries.
"But now I do." | “So. You want me, of all people, to give up magic? Do you know how ridiculous that sounds?”
The one nicknamed The Immortal Mage was not amused. He had seen many silly things over his life- including the unification of all races. The man could not fathom why they thought that was a good idea, nor why they thought asking him to give up his livelihood was acceptable. He hasn’t even cast a spell in a couple thousand years!
“Now- we know it’s a tall order. But-” The harpy tried to negotiate.
“No buts! Tell me why.” He growled, glaring at the 5 other members in the council. The mage could detect their armies outside. The harpy cowered. Pitiful.
“You know why. Cursing entire races is cruel. We know you might be stuck in your old ways, mage, but we’re prepared to fight.” This time it was the wolverine that spoke. He remembers when their ancestors fell from the heavens. Now the Mage was wishing he had never done that because their species was annoying.
“Well this peace you’ve conjured is ridiculous! It won’t last very long- I’m only speeding up the process!”
The wolverine scowled at him, prepared to speak when the fae interjected. “It might last without your interference! Come on, man, accept the offer! We’ll give you anything you desire!”
“What I desire is the fall of kingdoms! A great tragedy for generations to come, to tell! I want a story.” They were all at their breaking point, he could tell. As the Mage was standing, the siren commanded him to stay. Damn fish. The Naga slithered around the rock they were using as a table and coiled around him, speaking.
“We can give you a story. Not a tragedy. Not a tragedy. The story of how we united. Yes. We can give you that. Yes we can.”
The Immortal Mage considered it, but when he tried to recall a story of peace, his mind came up blank. Only tragedies survived through history. He shook his head. The wolverine smirked.
“Fine. Not even a Mage as legendary as you can handle the wrath of all 5 races fighting for their lives.” The wolf started whistling- howling! What an ugly noise. Before the Mage could complain, though, he heard the stomping of a million feet and the beating of a thousand tiny wings. He sighed.
“Have it your way.” He cast the curse. Contrary to what many believed his spells weren’t grand nor were they big. He had no mana cap, sure, but he was not a flashy guy. In an instant, everyone stopped. The harpy gasped as its wings fell off and its talons melted into skin. The wolverine became nothing more than a beast in clothes, ripping into the fae beside it. The fae tried to fly away but found it couldn’t, for it had no wings. The siren tried to sing. The siren suffocated. The naga wanted to shift into its snake form and slither away but found it was cut off, stuck between the two forms.
And the Mage laughed, as kingdoms fell. This would surely be remembered for millennia. | 2022-05-04T09:46:24 | 2022-05-04T08:20:07 | 244 | 73 |
[WP] In a world of Supers, every ounce of power is important. Everyone ridicules you for only being able to do anything 75% of the way. They don't know you really meant *anything*. | 75% power? Everybody knows that a C average is fine if your standards are low. For Supers, however, low standards just won't cut it. Can run 75% the speed of sound? Have fun getting lapped by Super Sonic Man. Can jump 75% the height of a skyscraper? Get ready to use the elevator.
My power is that I'm 75% powerful at what I do. It took me too long to realize that I'm 75% powerful at *whatever* I do. Sure, villains getting punched by The Fist are not long for this world, but when I realized I can punch somebody with 75% the energy of a supernova, the Supers started to take notice. Getting somebody down 75% the way to absolute zero does not sound impressive. That is, it is unimpressive until the point the dissolved oxygen in their blood turns liquid.
The Association of Superhumans did not like the spread of my power. Afraid of what I might be capable of, they tried to convince me to control myself. For a while, I did. After all, 75% power can be extremely dangerous. If I fly at 75% light speed, the effect on the surrounding quantum field could be disastrous.
The balance between myself and the Association was maintained for some time. Going from a laughing stock to the most feared Super was not an easy transition to anybody. The balance tipped, however, when I discovered Mental Man trying to scry on me. Being 75% aware of divination attempts means I'm generally 100% aware of the attempts. The tug on my mind was mild at first, but I could not ignore the growing pull and push on my thoughts. I may only be 75% as powerful as Mental Man, but a powerful mental counterpush can take even the strongest ESPers by surprise. Mental Man is a known lapdog of the Prime Arbiter, leader of the association. Seeing my actual position in the association clearly, the next steps became clear.
My name is Quarterback. I'm not a Super, not a villain. I'm independent and working for my own interests. My plan is simple: For what I take in the world, I give 25% back. It's only fitting, after all, for a person who is a walking C average.
New York City is cleaner than it has been in a while. Cleaning 75% of graffiti on a wall makes the rest easy to remove. Taking 75% of drugs off the streets has had two benefits: Safer neighborhoods and more control over my own distribution. The propaganda from the Association has been hurtful, but my neighborhood knows better than to buy into the lies. Being 75% of a good person has its benefits. I can, of course be 75% of an evil person, but the consequences of that would be too heavy. I maintain the new balance. It's a quiet life, being the most feared superhuman in history. | Jack listened to the bubbling sounds of the glass filling up as the sound slowly rose in pitch. He got the familiar rising feeling deep within his gut and... Stop! He turned the water off, drinking from the glass 3/4ths full. He had been really thirsty, but there was still a bit of water left in the glass when he put it down.
Anyway, there was no time to waste, he had a meeting in Azerbaijan in an hour. He gathered his briefcase and his coat, it was usually chilly there this time of year. He stuck his head out the window to take one last breath of the salty air coming in off the Coral Sea, and closed his eyes. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567 kilometers in a - he cracked open an eye to look at the bearing on his compass again - good. He focused on teleporting exactly 17 567km, keeping in mind the bearing, and the earth, yes he had to stay on the earth.
When Jake opened his eyes the air was different, a wan clouded sun peeked at him as he looked around and adjusted. He was in an open field outside the city, which was good enough for what he was trying to do. Better than appearing inside a brick wall anyway. He put on his hat and strode off towards the city, his feet moving exactly 75% of the distance he actually intended on moving them. Walking was practically second nature for him by now.
He arrived outside nondescript 3 storey house and checked his phone. Looking at the text history brought a smile to his face. It was just a series of questions and replies:
*Hey we got another asteroid for you to punch*
*K*
*Hey are you free to come down and help me with some things?*
*Sure*
And the last one:
*Hey you wanna go out for dinner sometime?*
*Tomorrow at 8?*
*Ok, looking forward to it :)*
The man put his phone away as he noticed the time. He meant to knock 4 times but only did it thrice. A small smile quirked one side of his face, as the door opened. | 2020-05-21T21:34:48 | 2020-05-21T21:06:32 | 1,594 | 127 |
[WP] The team's healer is absolutely sick and tired of always being insulted or forgotten about so they join the bad guys; they are a much more terrifying villain than anyone thought possible. | Cassus mouth gapped in horror as Talmon rose slowly into the air, his body contorting and thrashing. Talmon’s mouth opened and closed, his eye’s flow around the room manically. Then the movements grew faster, flailing wildly in the air. Then faster, and faster, and faster, and... crack. Bones splintered from the shear velocity. Cassus stood stock still as his friend’s body crashed unceremoniously to the floor, a mess of mangled limbs, his eye’s lifeless staring at the ceiling.
“By the gods, Shirin, quickly do something!” Thank goodness for Shirin. Though she was never the focus of the group she was always there to support them. This was both physically and mentally, she was the rock of the team. Yet Talmon’s corpse lay there eye’s lifeless. No burst of light, no internal glowing. what was she waiting for?
“Shirin qui-” When he turned around, he saw his friend hovering a few feet in the air. Then Bryce rose off the ground, his bulging muscles straining to remain still. Shirin’s eyes were red, there was a look on her face that Talmon had never seen before. Rage, her pure face contorted into something usually so unnatural for her. She opened her mouth to speak. Her soft voice came out in a savage snarl that shock Talmon to his core.
“why have I wasted my life with you pathetic creatures.” Tilik had recovered faster than Talmon and raised his greatsword into an overhand guard charging at their friend and healer.
“What has possessed you!” he screamed, hurtling at her with inhuman speed. Yet even the blessing of Hermes was not fast enough as a thunderous blast flew from Shirin’s outstretched hand. Tilik flew backwards, his helmet smacking into the room’s rocky walls. He slid down, lying still.
“Shirin what is this madness?” Cassus gaped, horrified by the scene. His friends of many years lying crumpled and crushed.
“The truth, the only madness here is my pathetic attempts to change the world with you.” She gently fell back to the ground, her eye’s still burning a deep red. They bore into him, Cassus felt his very soul squirm under the intense pressure.
“We swore to protect and uphold the justice of the land. Please Shirin, they won't last much longer. Your magic is only so strong.” She stepped forward with hands on her hips.
“How do you know so much about my powers?”
“We’ve been together for years, we’ve fought hundreds of...”
“You have seen nothing!” Her voice echoed against the stone walls, a cascade slowly reverberated into Cassus’ ears leaving him stammering. He had never seen such force from the small girl. She had always been the quiet, timid member of the party. Everyone saw her as the little sister, the one that needed protecting. Sure she brought Talmon back from a blade to the heart but she was still their little Shirin. She continued. “My powers have been used to prop up your pathetic efforts. Do you know how much energy it requires to do defensive magic?”
Cassus remained tight-lipped, doing his best to avoid the mangled bodies of his friends at the corners of his vision.
“I thought not. It requires five times the effort to heal or rebuild something as it does to destroy.” Shirin put on a deep voice “Little Shirin, she can’t possibly do anything. She can’t heal even heal this gash without being out of breath.” Cassus stared back at her, dumbfounded and said.
“B-but why didn’t you say anything. Of course, we would have listened.” Shirin sneered at him.
“Oh yes, you listened to me, and then you threw it right out the window. I had always been trained in protection magic, I was the master of it at a young age. You always assumed that was all I could do. You were wrong.”
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Cassus said. He was on the verge of tears, his friends dead and the girl he saw as a little sister had murdered them.
“I did,” Shirin said this quietly. She proceeded to slowly raise her arm, bringing Crassus into the air. He tried to fight it but he was no Talmon or Tilik, he was the ranger, the scout. When trouble appeared, that's when he ran, but there was nowhere to run here.
“Shirin, please. I was always kind to you. Telmon and Tilik could be tough but that was just the way they were raised.” He stared straight at her. Her shoulder-length hair flung across her face but she didn’t notice. She stared at him, her eye's bore into him. “Please,” he repeated and closed his eyes.
“You were kind to me,” He opened his eyes and saw a tear streak down her cheek. “You always appreciated me and my work.” The single tear increased to a constant stream.
“KILL HIM.” A voice roared through his mind. It did not echo across the large room but its single beat smashed into him. He tried to raise his hands to block his ears but they were stuck to his side. Crassus looked into Shirin’s face. He saw her fury, but in her eye’s they shined and he saw pleading. Her lips moved but no sound came.
“Run.” Then he fell to the floor. He turned and sprinted. Sprinted faster and harder than he ever had before. He burst out from the house they had been sent to investigate. The party had joked at it, calling it obvious. They had grown complacent, they had not faced a challenge this great before. But he knew what it was when he stared into those blood-red eye’s. Mordus. Mordus the harbinger of souls had returned to their realm. | "Today is the day I'm going to... " the old man glances into the sky.
"Today is the day I'm going to tell you about the group I was with when I lost my leg," he takes a stone cold look at the metal beam sticking out of the stump where his leg used to be before he continues: " and what can happen if you don't treat the people who keep you alive with respect."
He takes another minute to arrange the story in his head, staring down the cliff, no, staring at the reflection of the bright moon below them. He grabs a stone and looks at it, concentrating, closing his fist around it and with the next winds breath the tension in his face disappears completely. His hand shakes a bit as he opens it, emitting a small orange light from the palm of his hand where the stone is laying, or is it the stone itself? The noise around him dies out, it seems like as if even the birds in the trees stopped curiously to what is about to happen. The black figures around the man start to twitch a bit uncomfortably not knowing what will happen next, but the old man just throws the rock down the cliff and sights slightly.
He smiles into the dark to the others: "No worries I just wanted to see..." he makes a short pause " I just wanted to see something."
As everyone starts to relax again he grins a bit.
"It was 40 years ago, we were staying at a small tavern in the gald-sed woods where they were digging up the old elvish city, yes exactly, the one that is now a tourist attraction with these stupid elve costumes.
The five of us: Netra the Barbarian, Celiv-Dun the God forsaken mage with his own family Tempel, God I hated that guy, Nairda our Cleric and the druids, me and this other girl, I can't seem to remember her name, but she had great looks, that's probably why she got pretty friendly with with half of the group... but who cares right? I'm sorry I talk too much, where was I?" "In the tavern" comes the response from the young guy sitting next to the old man.
"Oh yes right. This one evening we were sitting at a table and discussing about where to go next because we almost drained the money we got from our last adventure up to three gold coins." "Three gold coins?" a squiky female voice asks alerted from the right side of the man. "That's enough to build a house in the Capital what kind of adventure was that? And how much did you guys spend so that you only had *Three Gold Coins* left?"
"That's a story for another time my dear everything" he smiles into the direction from where the voice came but he can only make out the shape of her body through the girls hair.
"Two of us, the barbarian and the mage wanted to go back to the capital to find work there. The rest of us wanted to stay here to help with the archeological expedition and get some coins this way. As I already said our mage Celiv was a dick, his family was rich and he was only with us because it was exciting for him, he was also the first person to die that night. He was drunk already and told us about how shitty the beds are here, that the food is terrible etcetera etcetera. Netra wanted to go because she just wanted to keep moving, it was always the same with her. But it could have turned out okay that evening a nice and healthy discussion, some heads would be banged together and that would have been it but Celiv had other ideas. As he slowly started to realize that we would not go back to the capital because three people were against it he started to attack Nairda, our Cleric personally. Not because she was arguing the most but because she was the easiest to attack. She was new in the group, we, the druids, had to help her out with the healing sometimes because she was just getting used to real fights and that was more than okay. I was 38 at that time, I was working as a healer almost 10 years before I joined the group but I'm getting too far off again.
He was going on and on about how bad she was as a cleric that she would always need help and why she would have the audacity to even take a vote because she, allegedly, wasn't even a real member of the group yet. We all got pretty angry, up to the point that Netra grabbed his head and banged it against the table until his nose was broken. We tried to stop her but, well, try to stop a barbarian when he's angry. Our mage fell to the ground unconscious and we left him there. None of us wanted to help him, he'd gone too far.
(This is my first real story in English and it is also written on my phone :P. I only write in German usually and also aboit a lot more grotesk stuff 😅. I hope you like it. Part two is not finished yet but I'll add it as soon as possible ^^) | 2020-01-05T12:57:14 | 2020-01-05T11:20:43 | 15 | 10 |
[WP] You just joined a clan/cult full of assassins, witches, murderers and zealots, but as a cook. | I've never been a particularly rude woman in my life. In these times of war, crime, famine, and disease, it's nearly impossible to maintain a sense of morality. No matter who you were before the war, be you a humble cobbler or a prideful knight, you are meant to have a hand in this endless fight. Be you man or woman, child or elder, pacifist or murderer, it doesn't matter. You're now a part of this.
However, I found my calling.
"That's another order of Frog Leg Soup and Pixie Dust Breadsticks!" The sous chef called out from the order window as he passed by the stack of order slips. I smiled and wiped my brow down while sautéing the jumping legs of enchanted frogs in a deep skillet.
My cooking crew of four worked tireless for the guild. Various appetites of various species came to me with only one desire: good food.
"I've got six assassins fresh from the battle field!" A voice came before entering the door that separated my kitchen from the rowdy members in the mess hall. "And. They. Are. Hungry!" The waiter appeared fresh from the battle field himself. His uniform torn at the sleeves and eye black, he struggled to stand without leaning on the doorframe.
"Well, what did they order?" I huffed and twirled a spatula in my hand trying to keep my focus in front of the easily burned pixie wings in my other skillet.
"They just demanded food. Chef, they're so hungry they tried to eat my arm!" I glanced back again and caught sight of the bloody teeth marks in his arm. Returning back to my skillet, I glared at the rainbow flames coming off the burned dish.
"For the love of... I'll talk to them." I undid the bun in my hair and wiped my hands on the towel over my shoulder.
My kitchen wasn't a sanctuary for the weak and weary. It wasn't a safe haven away from the battles outside my door. It wasn't even where I could coward from the rowdy riffraff outside. It was another war zone all on its own.
I stood outside my door and stared at the mess before me. Hooded assassins drunkenly toasted loudly with chatter of hidden blades and comparing rooftop kills. Those I could identify as fearless killers slammed their axes on their table to compare the edge of their blades. Some clutched their hands and struggled to topple the other over in a game of arm wrestling. Witches hovered in their floating tables, casting magic to retrieve their plates of food from the waiters and waitresses on the ground.
"Hey!" I shouted and obtained silence from my guild members. All except the newly returned assassins.
"Hey, quiet down." The more seasoned veterans warned and removed their hoods as I approached their younger subordinates.
"Shut up would ya?!" An assassin flicked his wrist and put his feet up on the table. Glasses rattled and plates shook while his little gang of drunken fools joined him. "I want my food and I want it now! Where's the chef?!"
I huffed and cleared my throat before standing beside him. "That would be me."
"You?! Ha figures. Women always did belong in the kitchen!" His men cackled and wheezed at such a cleverly constructed joke. The witches glared down, wands and spells at the ready, only standing down when I rose my hand.
"You men must have just come from the battlefield. You placed an order, but didn't specify what... and I'm sure you took a chunk out of my employee."
"Listen here, lady." Another man stood up with a wobble before stumbling over to me. "I want... You to make us... A big old plate of... shut up!" His drunken gang laugh and slammed their fists on the table in pure joy over my humiliation.
Only when their chuckles died down and the silence returned, did I speak again. "Right. I will return with your order." I turned on a heel, hearing every click of my shoes on the floor as I returned to the kitchen. "I'll be making this myself."
My staff was quiet, peering out the door as I returned to the mess hall with a tray of steamy food. The rowdy men watched eagerly with victorious smirks and smug grins as I returned. "Finally!" One called out as I placed the tray on the table. Without hesitation, they shoved fried potato skins in their mouths. Freshly baked bread was dipped in the black sauce produced by deep dwelling fish. Hands cracked open the shells of armored turtlecrabs.
"Ha! This ain't bad." One admitted, though no one else at the table joined in the delights. "Good job, girlie."
"Haha this is why we need more women in the kitchens, leave the battles to us, right?!" The nudged elbows and nodded eagerly. Until the food began to turn sour.
"Mmhm." I nodded and crossed my arms, seeing the faces turn green and milky chunks of food vomit out of their mouths and nostrils. Onlookers laughed at the rookie mistakes of the newcomers, only a few beginning to show concern as their bodies shook violently.
"What did you—" One struggled to say before gagging and spewing his chewed food on the ground.
"Make it stop! Make it stop! Please!"
"Kill her already! Please! Make it—Oh God!"
I scoffed, seeing the murderers, the assassins, the witches, the zealots, everyone in this room fear my power and respect my status. "I'm not sure what your commander has taught you, but there's only one rule here." The men heaved and reached out desperately for help. Their fellow assassins turned and stared towards the ceiling, ignoring their cries. "And that's not to piss off your chef."
I've never been a particularly rude woman in my life. But I have always been a chef.
And you never, *ever*, piss off your chef.
| They said I could live if I had something to offer. Unfortunately, I had nothing to offer to a group of murderous villains who kill for profit and for pleasure. I've never held a sword, shot a bow, or strangled someone while they slept, but I can cook. At least, that's what I told them.
I don't know why cooking was the way I decided to go. I'm a man of few talents, and thinking on my feet with a sword at my throat is not one of them, also cooking is not one of them either. I am a man who drinks. I am also a man who eats, but Bill makes the ale I drink and his wife makes the food I eat, and both of them are dead. But when the killer in the black mask asked me what I could offer them, I told them the first thing that came to my mind: "Food and drink."
So there I was, in a dark cave and chained to a stove. I'd been stirring whatever I put into the pot for over 2 hours, and was still to afraid to taste it. They gave me spices I couldnt pronounce and I had no idea what kind of meat they'd given me. Perhaps it was pork, maybe squirrel.
One of the assassin's stepped into the light from the stove-fire, I had no idea how long he had been there.
"Is it good, cook? It had better be," He whispered as he picked up a cleaver I failed to peel potatoes with. "If it's not, well..." And he brought the cleaver down and stuck it into the table. The table was made of stone. That was the point where I pissed myself. The assassin was gone before my pants were obviously ruined.
There comes a certain moment of clarity when one pisses himself in the face of certain death. A moment that shines through the fog of fear and says "Fuck it."
I began to piss into the pot. Then, when I was out of piss, I spit. I would have shit if I could, but since I had been chained to this stove, I had been scared shitless. And though the fear had left me, shitless I remained.
I could hear a deep, gregorian chant echoing down the stone corridors from the mead-hall were the killers drank, waiting on the meal they had spared my life for. I had fixed their bowls, each with a hearty helping of piss. However, when I looked at the finished product it appeared...piss-like. I needed to add something, anything, so that they at least took a bite. I scanned across the table of ingredients and saw mushrooms. I cut them up and put a few caps in each bowl, and then threw in a handful of lima beans for normalcy. Surely now it appeared edible.
I called for the servants and they retrieved the dinner and carried it out into the hall. One of the assassins had released my chain from the stove, and chained me to the other slaves. We were to eat as well. I was not counting on the assassins having such good manners.
They sat us in the corner of a long, stone hall that was illuminated with the light of a hundred torches. The assassins said a prayer to some dark god and we sat, ready to dine.
I looked at the other slaves, who appeared starving, and motioned not to eat the soup. They each looked at me with sadness and fear, sad that they couldnt eat, and afraid of what I had done.
"I pissed in it." I said to the elder slave. His eyes grew wide and tearful. He stood up in a hurried motion, knocking his chair back, and shouted "My Lords, wai-"
The Hall now echoed with the sounds of coughs and groans. I looked at the elder slave who had even more fear in his eyes now. "What did you do?" He asked me.
The assassin's each fell from their chairs, clutching at their stomachs, writhing on the ground like a man who had just been swiftly kicked in the balls. Some of them looked confused, as if they were reaching for things that were not there.
The slaves and I stood motionless, until a young slave shouted "Now! Kill them!" And then the slaves swarmed onto them.
What followed next was the most disgusting sight I had ever seen. Slaves covered in days old filth swarmed atop assassins covered in fresh filth, stabbing and choking and screaming and shouting. By the end of it the assassin's lay dead, covered in their own blood, vomit, and shit.
Sufficed to say that was the last day I ever cooked, or pissed in someone's stew. The slaves and I made it back to Maidenrow, and have been free men ever since. I'm not sure which ingredient it was that did the assassin's in, but it makes no matter. Somehow, I am a hero now. "The man with the poison piss" they call me. "Ya don't wanna see that man pissed off" they're found of saying.
It never hurts to be called a hero, even if you're not one. I would actually recommend acquiring the moniker if you ever get the chance, you'll get free drinks for the rest of your life.
| 2017-06-04T18:14:44 | 2017-06-04T17:57:15 | 96 | 23 |
[WP] Simultaneously, across the world, everyone hears a voice in their head. " In 2 hours, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human ®." | So it was indeed a simulation. Alice was oddly calm about it, even for her situation. It's rare to have a theory just confirm itself. She has been working for three years on the thesis by this point, trying to find some evidence, anything, even delving down to minute irregularities in quantum physics. Now, the most direct evidence she could have asked for just landed on her.
\`Now what?\` she muttered to herself.
She looked around. The coffee shop had some mixed reactions. The moment it happened, she could see the disbelief on some people's faces. She had no such disbelief, accepted it the moment it happened, that's what allowed her to focus on everyone's faces. She saw the world pause. Then, the world saw itself pause too, as people slowly realized they were not alone, that others have heard it too. Some just shrugged it off, thinking they're going crazy. Others started to panic. People were confused, they didn't know what's real and what's not. Some were in denial. Arguments started to spark up, the place was getting louder and louder, until...
\`In 1 hour and 50 minutes, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human.\`
The second time was different. Denial was futile, everyone sat in silence asking themselves the same question Alice asked ten minutes ago. A little boy on her left was looking around, confused, watching his parents dive deep into their thoughts.
\`But mom, I didn't hear anything.\` he said in a weak voice. Alice knew he wasn't lying. She heard children lie all the time, knew how to recognize that. This wasn't it.
Impossible. Everyone heard the voice. Unless...
She stormed out of the coffee shop. How did the little boy not hear the voice? And if he didn't, who else did not? What made him different... no, what made _her_ different that she could hear it?
\`In 1 hour and 40 minutes, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human.\`
\`There! There it is! You heard it!\` a man erupted on the street. Black suit, tie, suitcase, not the type you would expect a crazy doomsday believer to be. People ignored him, just kept walking by. Few turned their heads, watched him in silence and confusion, but most didn't even bother. Why not? Alice was used to the indifference people showed in a metropolis. But shrugging off certain death in an hour and a half... no, that's not human at all. The little boy was right, they haven't heard the voice.
She approached the stranger in the suit. He was still frantically looking around for any confirmation.
\`I heard it too. You're not crazy.\` she said to him, quietly.
The guy was relieved for a second. Then a realization hit him, and he started running the way he came from, hastily dialing someone on his phone.
Alice sat down on a bench, watched the traffic. Cars were acting strange. The majority of them went by their business, as usual. Some slowed down. And then there were some that acted like idiots, somehow driving even more like a lunatic than people usually do. At this point, she was certain only a few people heard the voice. She could spot them in traffic.
\`In 1 hour and 30 minutes, the server will be shutting down for the final time. Thank you for playing Human.\`
She thought of her late fiancé, Jason. They were supposed to get married last year, until a DUI hit him, and he died after two days of coma. If he was here, would he hear the voice too?
Well, she's about to figure it out, isn't she? Deep down, Alice knew the truth. She heard the voice because she was _real_. She was not part of the simulation like the majority of people, rather, she was a user of it. A player in this messed up game. She wondered if Jason was real too. If he was, he's going to be waiting for her on the outside, whatever outside there is. If not, he's already deleted.
She thought about the man in the suit. He called someone, his loved ones, probably. His family, his friends. Were they real?
Was _her_ family real?
Alice took out her phone. Maybe her family was real and waiting for her on the other side. Maybe not. Either way, she had 90 minutes, and she wasn't going to waste it. | I don't know how I imagined the end of the world. Chaotic, I suppose, all sex, rioting and violence. The reality is... disappointing.
&#x200B;
It's as if the entire world has gone numb at once. Is this the reality of the human race? How little fight we have in us? It just goes to show that we really are selfish creatures, for all the talk of love and family. In the hour since the broadcast, not one of my friends or family has tried to contact me. My phone will still work from out here, I don't understand how but they told me it would. Nothing, not so much as a single buzz.
&#x200B;
The monitors before me flicker as I switch from image to image. A man in his apartment, his head in his hands, not crying, just... inert. A woman looking anxiously towards a doorway, clearly waiting for someone. I flick to the man she's waiting for, he seems not bothered to even reach her, sitting in the gutter, again, inert.
&#x200B;
So selfish, only striving for a goal so that we may reap the reward, and now that we know the end, nothing.
&#x200B;
I know I'm no better, but still, this is pathetic.
&#x200B;
"Would you like us to send you in again, sir?" my assistant asks from behind me. "Just one last time?"
&#x200B;
I gaze at her knowingly, her disappointment is obvious, perhaps even eclipsing my own.
&#x200B;
"The age-old question has been answered, Claire." I explain, avoiding her question for the moment. "Do we really care about each other? Do we stride through life and make bonds that transcend our futile individual existences? Apparently not. Apparently despite everything, we're only in it for ourselves."
&#x200B;
"Perhaps the simulation wasn't perfect, sir." Claire replies, ever the optimist. "I may have made an error in some of the values, what if it's inaccurate, it could..."
&#x200B;
Despite my respect for her, I cut her off.
&#x200B;
"Claire we know each other better than that, it's perfect.
&#x200B;
Silence is her only response.
&#x200B;
My finger hovers over the button, I know it's early but... what's the point.
&#x200B;
Claire turns to me, a grimace on her face, I can see that she's fighting back tears.
&#x200B;
"Maybe we could keep it going?" she suggests desperately. "Just a little longer, things might change."
&#x200B;
I know her pain, she had faith in us, humankind. I wanted to believe, too, but deep down I knew, human nature is not what we wish of it.
&#x200B;
If there's one thing I envy, it's that those on the inside won't have to live with knowing. Claire and I, out here, we'll be haunted by this knowledge for our whole lives. We'll have to report our findings. Soon, everyone will know the curse of realising just how little they really care for one another, and how little their loved ones care for them.
&#x200B;
Claire whimpers one last time.
&#x200B;
I press the button. | 2019-09-23T04:18:23 | 2019-09-23T04:13:27 | 183 | 29 |
[WP] You die and find yourself in hell, where apparently everyone spends time to negate their sins before they go to heaven. The guy in front of you, who cheated on his wife, gets 145 years. Feeling like you led a fairly average and peaceful life, you’re not worried. You get 186,292 years. | "... Happy Deathday Dear Emily, Happy Deathday to you!"
It felt so good. One more year down, 185,211 more to go. She'd spent the past few weeks trying to distract herself from the excitement of her upcoming Deathday. Sometimes she treated the anticipation as something to be savored, adding a little color to her otherwise dreary life in hell. But right now it felt like anticipation just prolongued the waiting. Distraction was much better. Particularly in the nighttime.
During the day, there was torture, to be sure, but things were at least interesting. Things happened. There were lights, colors, sounds. Fuzzy shapes she could slowly track across her vision. Sensations. Smells. Once she pooped for 28.2 hours. That was at least interesting.
During the night, there was nothing. Sure, the familiar feeling of her blanket against her skin, the smell of baby powder and diaper cream, and sometimes the soft, very slow tinkling of the mobile above her crib. But mostly it was just darkness. There'd been nothing but darkness for the past 6 months and 17 days. If she were lucky, she'd get to wake up and do some crying in another (1.2 \* 365) - (.5 \* 365) - 17 equals... 238 and a half days. She felt a little dread at growing older. Soon, she'd be sleeping through the night, and she wouldn't have these blessed distractions anymore. Just .4 \* 8 equals... 3.2 years of night. All at a stretch.
Emily did a lot of math nowadays. She never did much math in life, but now she didn't have much else. Math and remembering and regretting and anticipating. In only 2306.13 more years, she'd be a year old, and things would certainly be much more interesting then. 12,467.52 more years and she'd go to school. And from there only another 45,116.69 before she could see her husband again. From there just a quick 3127.6 and they'd be married. 2540.34 and she'd be with her son. Was it really only two thousand five hundred and 40 years between getting married and having kids? They shouldn't have rushed things so much. Take some time to get to know eachother, maybe travel a bit. She'd only have 556.8 years at home with the baby before she had to return to work. If nighttime was bad, she wasn't looking forward to the 125,323.81 years she was going to spend staring at that computer in that office, only to rush home, plop the kids into bed, and squeeze as much Netflix as she could out of those 7696 years of TV-Related-Me-time. It didn't seem fair. 125,323 years is a long time to spend so much energy chasing after the next raise or promotion.
She often wondered what punishment that adulterer got who was ahead of her in line. Emily had a lot of time for wondering. What was happening to him that was so bad he only got 145 years? Maybe he was getting flayed for 145 years, or having razors dug into his genitals or something. That seemed pretty good right now. Maybe if she had known that those were her options she would have stopped more to smell the roses.
But then, if she did, she wouldn't get to look forward to year 57,660.2. That was when she'd calculated that she'd be able to kiss her husband for a full 94 hours. If that's not what heaven is like, Emily didn't particularly want to go there. | “186,290 years?” I exclaimed, shock written all over my face. “You have to be mistaken!” I continued staring slack-jawed at the bored looking HSA officer across the counter. “186,292 years” he corrected me in a bored tone as he stamped my papers and pushed them back toward me. “Straight ahead, follow this hallway to the 173rd bank of elevators and give this to the officer there.” My eyes looked off unconsciously to where he pointed, gazing over the seeming miles of endless lines all waiting for their meeting with HSA. I’d heard there had been a brief movement to create a pre-check where you could have HSA review your life before you even completed it, expediting your time waiting to enter heaven, or as with most of the people their time in hell. The plan fell flat however once people realized that no one was that anxious to get to hell.
“That must be wrong” I sputtered again, knowing I had led a boring life. “Who is your supervisor, I need to talk to someone”.
At this point the man looked slightly less bored, and even a little sad, though I didn’t really notice, so hung up was I on what was obviously a mistake. “You don’t want to do that” he suggested, barely moving his lips. “Trust me, just do your time and don’t complain.” By this time I was too wound up to even notice the gentle warning his voice carried, and my own voice rose. “I”ll not do my time, this is wrong! I demand to speak to whoever is in charge.” I shouted as others looked toward me to see what the commotion was. Two lanes over, a drug lord who had just received 37 years laughed at my predicament as he skated by, nodding to the HSA officers as if he had known them all in another life.
The man sighed, and nodded “So be it” he said and pushed a buzzer on his desk. As he looked up at me he started pulling a 9 inch thick stack of forms out from under the counter, bound together with rubber bands. “You’ve chosen to request a complete life audit with the Eternal Review Service. He pushed the stack of forms to me and pointed me to a bank of elevators with no sign which read ‘Circle 10 - ERS’. “It’s out of my hands now” he continued to me. “Even Dante couldn’t imagine anything like the 10th circle. Take that elevator and you can get started on the preliminary application for audit when you get there.” He gestured to the thick stack. “Most people complete the application in no more than 5 or 6,000 years. Oh, you’ll need this too” he added handing me a small scalpel. “The forms all must be filled out in triplicate in your own blood after all.”
I stood there even more shell-shocked than I was before as two more HSA officers prodded and pulled me toward the waiting elevator. What had I gotten myself into? | 2018-09-26T08:03:37 | 2018-09-26T07:53:45 | 62 | 17 |
[WP] You tried to commit suicide, but as it turns out you are immortal. Now you have to call someone to help you cut the rope. Awkward. | “Hey, boy. BOY.” I can hardly breathe, but the shouting still sets me to swinging, and I spin around in my noose like a wind chime. “Hey, c’mere and let me down. I’ll give you whatever you like.”
“I heard about you, mister. Plus, they even got a sign.” He points to a nearby hand-painted wood sign that reads *Anyone caught attempting to free the prisoner will hang beside him.* “You’re not getting out of there.”
For three days, I’ve been dangling here, being pushed around by the wind. My hands around bound behind my back, watching the world spin one way and the other as the rope spins tight, then loose. If I was able to speak clearly, I would tell the child the story of the Lion and the thorn, but right now all that would come out now is bubbles and gasps. I had changed my mind. I didn’t want to be killed after all.
I had walked into the local constabulary, and shot whomever I could find there. They returned fire, and miraculously, I survived. Not the miracle someone who was trying to kill themselves was hoping for. So they caught me and placed me in shackles and chains, to await execution. I waived my rights, all of them. No attorney, plead guilty, request the death penalty. Luckily, people will defend their public figures and I was to be made an example of. I was to be hung in the town square. From the neck. Until dead.
I knew I was immortal, at least I knew in the same way that every 17 year old knows they are immortal, but ten seconds after the hangman pulled the lever and my feet found the free air, I knew for sure that death would elude me. Like a mirage or the end of a rainbow.
*The criminal is to be hung from the neck until dead.* Very clear language. Usually the entire show lasts only a few minutes. Well, if you don’t include the pomp of the speeches and reading and letting the town condemn you. As though you were taking the fall for all of their crimes. The fall is heavy through the trapdoor even without the weight of a hundred people’s guilt.
They were kind enough to take the black bag off of my head, even if they only did it so they could check my pupils. They reacted, so I was still alive. *…hung from the neck until dead.* So here I spin, possibly forever, or at least until the gallows rot. I wonder if they would let me go then…
| If only i could just....reach....that.......Uhhhhh. It's been 3 days now. The worst part of hanging by your neck is the little hairs that get caught in the rope and pull. That really hurts. I've tried shouting, but it turns out you need air in your lungs to get a good blast of noise to come out of your mouth. with the noose only getting tighter and my windpipe all but closed I gave up on anyone else finding me after about 3 hours. since then I have been trying to wiggle and squirm myself loose. I've tried pulling open the knots and even pulling myself up using my arms, but I was never any good at rope climb at high school. I fell asleep sometime after midnight on the first night. It was actually quite a pleasant sleep but i woke up with such a crick in the neck. I guess eventually the wood will rot and i'll drop to the floor. how long does it take for wood to rot? maybe the rope will go first? No, i'll be insane by then. Immortal but insane. Maybe the bank will find me when they take the house? how long after I stop paying the mortgage does it take for a repossession? then what? they break down the door, find me hear like this. "What are you doing?" - "Oh nothin' just hangin'" - hahahaha. "Hangin'". Maybe I can swing, yeah, swing. where? there. the stairs. if i can swing then I can get my legs onto the stairs. maybe I can walk myself into a better position. WAIT. What's that noise? someones knocking. quick quick, deep breath, concentrate.......Hhhhhh.....shit try again......Hhhhhhh. shit shit shit. balls. they're going now. crap. what was i doing? oh yeah right. Swing. ok. hear we go. | 2015-01-12T07:52:02 | 2015-01-12T07:35:52 | 232 | 161 |
[WP] You never kill the spiders in your home, you just whisper "today you, tomorrow me" when you set them outside. Now, in your most dire moment, an army of spiders arrives to have your back. | "Just give me the f---ing wallet, man!" the mugger shouted. He wore a beat-up MSU hoodie and holey jeans. "*Sparties*" I mumbled as I reached for my pocket, acquiescing the mugger's command. The sound I heard after that, though, I'll never forget as long as I live.
It was a skittery sound. Skittery is the best way to put it. Like a branch against a window in the wind, but, like, *thousands* of branches against *thousands* of windows. Up the street the sound came. Along with it, a tune. I couldn't quite place it at that moment.
"Uh... the wallet, square!" Shouted mugsey. Ignoring the archaic insult, I felt strangely at peace with the tide of sound incroaching me and my quarry in this dank, filthy alley. The skittering grew louder, and with it the tune. I knew it by then. It was an old marching song; "When Jhonny comes marching home".
"What in the ever loving is that?" I asked my assailant.
"F---ed if I know..." said the man plaid in green-and-white, "but I don't like it... *WHAT THE HELL?!?*"
Just then, a black-and-brown tidal wave crashed around the corner of the alley! A sight you'd curse your mother for telling you she'd seen, but I swear it happened! All of them, in chorus: "The spiders go marching one by one! Hurah! Hurah! The spiders go marching one by one! Hurah! Hurah!" The press of arachnids came and covered my would be mugger.
Encasing him, they turned him horizontal, then began to carry him out of the alley, his muffled screams escaping his lungs the whole time. As they went, the marching hymn still echoing through their fangs. At that moment, a little black one with two yellow stripes jumped up to me! "This is the end!" I thought, "It's my turn!"
When she reached my ear, her tiny voice called out "Yesterday, us! Today, you, big man! Thank you for your kindness throughout the years!" And with that, she hopped off to join the press.
"Wait!" I shouted.
"Yes, spider friend?" The envoy replied.
"That song... Isn't it about ants?"
"*Ugh*" She replied. "*Ant cultural appropriation*" | "Oh God... Please... I don't wanna die!"
Mark had been hanging here for what felt like days. He was beyond exhausted. Weak from dehydration and hunger, his bite had moved beyond excruciating pain; his leg felt like it was on fire. It was too much. He was delirious from fever and the poison in his veins. His blurry vision darkened as spots swam in his vision. Finally, the last ounce of a strength fed by the pure need to survive faded. His arms gave.
Mark had one last insane thought before gravity overcame him and he plummeted down the cliff face, "There never was a tomorrow." And then he fell.
"So you're sure he's going to be alright Doctor Whitner?" Stacy asked. Her younger brother had disappeared on a group camping trip, only to be found a week later alive, barely, at the bottom of a thousand foot drop. He was immediately air lifted to the closest hospital.
"Yes, Miss Anderson. He should be awake any time now. He's remarkably well, all thing taken into account. Mark must have an angel looking out for him. From what I can tell from his injuries it seems as if something must have broke his fall. Possibly multiple times.
"Honestly it's astonishing. He survived the fall with mostly only scrapes and few cracked ribs. Other than the snake bite. We're weren't sure we would be able save the leg, but thanks to whomever had the wherewithal to take the time to treat it on site, he should still have all his original parts when he leaves.
"It's the oddest thing though. When the air ambulance brought him in, he was absolutely covered in some kind of silk threads." | 2017-08-28T03:18:14 | 2017-08-28T02:06:12 | 62 | 38 |
[WP] Germany is actually predestined to lose every world war it participates in. The sixteenth world war is now being fought, and Germany has taken over all of Europe. Make them lose the war in the most ridiculous way possible. | General Beck burst into the mess hall and swept his gaze across the startled soldiers. They had been drinking, celebrating the surrender of France, and the apparent end of the war. But they didn't know about the curse. Few but the inner circle did. Germany must fall.
The men quickly stood at attention, as well as they could half drunk. "Germany," Beck began, "Is no more. Or rather, soon to be no more." The looks of confusion deepened.
"The council has debated and spoken. This is now the Empire of Neo-Germania-except-for-Private-Klaus."
The looks aroubd the room made it clear who Private Klaus was.
"Klaus, the council decided every german citizen was to freely and automatically become a citizen of the EONGEFPK. Except, obviously, for you. Young man, I'm sorry, but you are the last German."
"But how can one man be a country?" Klaus asked.
"I didn't write the rules, I only subvert them" replied the general, drawing his pistol. With a sharp bang, all of the remaining German forces were wiped from the Earth, finally ending the war. | The Germans look out over all they have conquered with smug grins on their face.
But then they see something in the distance. Two armies, one from the west and one from the north east, are riding out towards them.
The impossible had happened, American and Russia have teamed up.
The Germans raise little white flags. | 2017-08-18T05:03:51 | 2017-08-18T02:50:27 | 1,294 | 10 |
[WP] A young boy peers over the well, trying to see the bottom. As he leans over, he drops his grandfathers pocket watch into the well. This pocket watch means everything to his grandfather. Tell a story on how this boy retrieves the pocket watch and what's inside of the well.
[WP] A young boy peers over the well, trying to see the bottom. As he leans over, he drops his grandfathers pocket watch into the well. This pocket watch means everything to his grandfather. Tell a story on how this boy retrieves the pocket watch and what's inside of the well. | [Combined art and my writing](http://imgur.com/aAfZ7Rk)
Edit: I figured I should put a transcript of the writing here
1 second ticks: Aaron sees his grandfather’s greatest treasure lost for good.
2 seconds tick: Aaron sees it picking up speed. Just out of reach, but not out of sight.
3 seconds tick: Aaron flies downward. Both he and the watch are now grains of sand in a stone hourglass.
4 seconds tick: 62 years flash off the last reflecting light as the watch grows darker.
5 seconds tick: His finger tips race against time. Just out of reach, but not out of sight.
6 seconds tick: The echoes of his grandfather’s words ring at second intervals. Each tick is like the heartbeat Aaron hears in his throat.
7 seconds tick: The well is damp and cold. Drops of dew trickle like the tears of disappointment on Aaron’s face.
8 seconds tick: Time is relative in the eyes of the loose gripped beholder. Years seem to have flown by.
9 seconds tick: He sees it halt. Perhaps this is his chance for redemption.
36 hours tick: The EMT’s tell Aaron’s grandfather how his greatest treasure was lost for good.
| 'That pocket watch means everything to my grandfather', said the boy. Looking around, the boy noticed a ladder on the ground. He put the ladder into the well so that he could climb down.
'I am climbing down the ladder', mused the boy.
Once at the bottom of the well, the boy picked up the watch and then saw a very spooky ghost. | 2014-05-04T18:36:31 | 2014-05-04T17:18:27 | 38 | 22 |
[WP] "You'll never rest", they said. "Eventually, you will come to hate your eternal curse", they warned. 6 billion years, 3 intergalactic voyages, and more planets than you can count later, and you're still skipping along, having the time of your life with your 'cursed' existence. | I think of an old movie, a very old movie. I remember not the title, theme, characters, reality or fiction. I don't even remember what type of media the film came out on or its director or key actors. Just a single line.
"A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts"
I never felt a particularly strong connection with humanity and I certainly don't now, a ridiculous amount of time later. But watching them change, adapt and survive, in its own way, was beautiful.
I remember the first century of immortality. The fear of being on a world destined for nuclear fire or atmospheric annihilation and being the first volunteer to go to..... Ares? Tyr?..... Mars! The red planet!
I ran there as fast as I could and the moment they suspected I survived that particular one way trip I ran again to the next star, then constellation, then nebula, galactic arm, galaxy itself etc etc.
How long had I been running before Humanity finally caught up to me? I don't remember. I do remember seeing them though. Ridiculously tall, gangly things with uncannily large heads and reinforced with living metal and other additions.
The surprise they felt when they saw me. An ancestor they'd consigned to fossils living on a remote planet with an army of machines id built up over centuries. Ha! That gave them a shock.
They'd gone beyond violence. Violence still occurred of course, even among the alien species life was still a competition. But my distant descendants had given up on all out war not long after I'd left, turns out.
Well I say not long, relativity is a bitch.
That's when I returned to Earth. It had gone through a few names since, Terra, Gaia etc. Now it was simply called Homeworld. It was as foreign to me as any alien world now. The plates had shifted, animals changed, even the sky was a different colour. The dazzling cities were oddly familiar I suppose.
I became an observer of sorts. Maybe it was me trying to repay my debt to them after I ran, I don't remember. They evolved still. Flesh turned to metal, chemistry to electricity, individuality to consensus. Plans were devised perfectly in seconds and enacted over centuries. Even then they couldn't quite make sense of me.
And now here I am. The space out the window is black and nothing but. The last black hole that humanity clung to for energy and survival had shrivelled up a decade earlier and now the last batteries were dead.
The single last automaton that housed a galaxies worth of consciences joined me. Describing it would have been impossible, closer to a god than an entity now but doomed to die all the same.
"What will you do now?" It spoke in 21st century English. A gesture of comfort I think. After all I was little more than an amoeba to them.
"I suppose I'll sleep, for a very long time. Who knows? Maybe something new will happen."
They laughed. A trillion, trillion, trillion voices cascaded over each other in perfect harmony.
"I wish you luck old one, your optimism has been a great comfort. Thank you"
And with that, the last light in the universe went out. A trillion, trillion, trillion souls gone in an instant and myself alone.
I have seen civilisations rise and fall, stars be born, grow and die, galaxies drift and slowly dim. I have seen technology that in my primitive state I could never understand. Ferried between one fantastic event to another for countless billions of years.
And at last, humanity is gone too.
A thing isn't beautiful because it lasts, its privilege enough to just witness it. | They said I’d never rest. That I would rot in despair forever. It was a shock to me to see all signs of my aging recede like the tide. I always expected it to come rolling back, but it didn’t happen. The first few years were glorious. I was twenty again, with all the benefits maturity and wisdom bring.
The next twenty years were incredible. My wife and I traveled, my daughter found love and my first and second grand children were born. Unlike my grandfather, who I never met, I was the pinnacle of health.
It was no fun when my wife died. Her smile as I held her hand for her last breath was bittersweet. I was almost lost when my daughter died. When my grandchildren and son in law died in that crash it was too much. I climbed in the coffin and was buried alive, if I could be called alive.
But I didn’t die. A hundred years after I climbed down into my grave I clawed my way out.
I walked back into my life, or a life. A hundred years had changed the world, and thankfully everyone I knew was dead. All I can say is it was smart of me to put all my assets in a trust, and it was managed well. Time to see what has changed.
Space travel. It was still early, but the first trip out of the solar system was planned to a nearby planet. The trip would be long, and suspended animation would take care of the rest of the crew. I signed up immediately.
That was a thousand years ago and I’ve never spent more than a decade on one planet. It’s incredible the perspective a thousand years can give you. I know more about terraforming than any living person, more about science, medicine, engineering and physics. I was a soldier, an astronaut, doctor, whatever appealed to me. But I saw the stars.
For six billion years, across galaxies, and more planets than I could count I’ve been the happiest person in the known universe. Until today. Because of her. Yesterday I committed to love, for the first time in more years than any single civilization has existed, I declared my love for another being. Yesterday, I gave her a ring and participated in the bonding ceremony. For the first time in millenia I am not only happy, but content.
This morning I woke to find my bride dead, her head cut from her body, a note in blood on her chest with only one word. “Cursed”.
So now I’m off, the man at peace discarded, tossed aside for the vengeful man. Unlike last time there will be no end. This was no dog they killed, no mere mortal they face. I am never hunted, always the hunter. I cannot be killed. I am the Baba Yaga. I am John Wick. | 2020-10-25T12:09:22 | 2020-10-25T11:26:29 | 45 | 31 |
[WP] A woman falls in love with Death and commits murder countless times just to catch a glimpse of him. | It started with a mouse. The moment her boot fell upon its head, a whirlwind of a million shades of gray enveloped her and *poof* - there he was. She remembered the way he had stared at her: dark, empty eyes filled with interest and longing. That day they had sat in the orchard, on the swing with fingers entwined and in complete silence. She wouldn't talk and he couldnt. But still they sat, the rope of the swing creaking against the weathered bark of the tree. Neither remembered the mouse. They sat for hours, her head on his shoulder, his scythe well out of the way. Soon enough, he noticed the dropping sun dip low in the sky and with a long sigh he wrested his fingers from her beautiful hand. It wasn't his intention to her hurt but she knew what he meant. *This can't happen again*.
He left her sobbing on the swing.
She quickly realised that he would always come back, that a part of him would never really be able to let go. Every sacrificed mouse meant another sunset in his arms, another day spent in silence in the big orchard on the creaky swing. Days, weeks, countless dead mice. She began to speak after a while, whispering her love and cooing her wishes. He stayed in silence, his fingers desperately wrapped around hers. Every visit grew shorter, however, and he left with the sun higher and higher in the sky each time. She would weep into his tattered robes and he would sweep up the dead mouse, disappearing with as much of a *poof* as when he appeared. Not really understanding why he would leave, she cried herself to sleep every night.
One day, however, he found her sat against the wall, bloodied and dazed. It wasn't a mouse this time. At her feet lay a tiny dog, once beautiful and alive, now cold and far away. He stayed with her that night, knowing he would regret it. She swore and cried and begged him to stay until the end. He sat in silence, watching her fury and pain bubble to a boil and leave her in the form of tears.
It was around midnight that he remembered the puppy (he had been stroking her blood soaked hair and she was finally asleep) and he found himself hating the thought of a life lost in exchange for a day with her. He no longer saw the beautiful woman he once knew, with ashen hair and big, emotional eyes. With obvious effort he whispered his "Goodbye" and left, knowing every death she now caused for him would be forever on her conscience and that she would forever be alone.
She woke in the morning, blood cracking on her cheeks as she yawned. The dog was gone and so was he. All that remained was a pool of blood that looked oddly like a love heart. | Her heart raced as she waited, her breath warm against the wardrobe door she was pressed behind. Time stood almost still as each footstep echoed from the wooden floor. It had been so long. Too long. She needed to see him, to feel him again.
Unable to wait any longer she put the plan she'd rehearsed countless times into action. The knife glinted as she stepped out into the sunlit room and moments later it was buried in his neck. The hair on her arm began to rise, the room growing colder. Her breath quickened. Her eyes flickered excitedly across the room. He must be close. He had to be.
A familiar rush hit her as she felt him arrive. She stood, blood pooling beneath her feet as he set to work. Such elegance and finesse in what he did, she loved him for that. He stared deep inside the man she'd killed and helped him from the body he'd once captained. She tried to savour each second, for he was busy, so he was brief.
"It's worth it", she said, "each life I take, I take for you and I won't stop. I can't."
He seemed to pause. She was sure of it. His head appeared to turn and stare straight at her, if only for a second.
"Did he?... No, he did, of course he did, he wants me as much I want him."
Her mind raced. This hadn't happened before, of all the times she'd bought a few precious seconds of his time he'd never acknowledged her. Until now. Her next steps were obvious. She needed more time with him, and soon. Sooner than she'd planned. But who? and how? It didn't matter now, all that mattered was being with him. His smell almost lingered as she stared at the body that once held the man. A small price to pay, she thought.
| 2014-06-30T06:06:23 | 2014-06-30T06:00:38 | 57 | 10 |
[WP] You are part of a spacefaring species with a lifespan of only a few weeks. You have a human being on your ship who has been with you for dozens of generations. You worry that he may not survive until you reach your next spaceport. | 3 days old
Papa says Mr. Rogers wasn’t always the way he is. He says there’s nothing wrong with him, just that I should know he was different.
“Different how?” I ask.
“He didn’t always have to sit down like he does now. He didn’t always cough.”
“Why does he cough?”
“He’s sick, son,” Papa says, staring out the window. I wonder if he is looking at the brightness of the stars, or the darkness behind them. “That’s what his kind do when they are sick.”
“Am I sick? Will I be sick?”
Papa looks at me now, and smiles. I don’t know it now, but I will remember this smile when I think of my father, a smile unlike how he taught me to smile, a smile mixed with sadness too.
“We all get sick, son.”
\-
2 weeks old
It was only after I had grown to my final height that I began to realize why Papa was so deeply affected by Mr. Rogers.
“I met your great-great grandfather, you know,” he says with a coy smile, laying on his bed. His eyes are glazed the way humans’ eyes get, to the point I no longer know if he sees me, or something else. “You remind me so much of him.”
“You’ve known my whole family,” I say.
“I’ve known them more than mine.”
“I’m sorry to hear that, sir.”
He takes my hand, and squeezes it. I don’t know why, but the nurse told me at the visitors’ desk that this is an important thing humans do.
“It’s been an absolute joy. Your father, did he…”
“He passed yesterday, sir.”
“I’m sorry. I should have been…that’s the worst part. I’m never able to grow old with any of you. I should be.”
“Well, maybe you’ll get your chance with me, sir.”
“I’d like that.”
\-
One month old
Now I’m in a bed next to Mr. Rogers. We are both too weak to look at each other, but somehow that doesn’t matter. We know the other is here, and that’s all you need, right?
“Mr. Rogers…can I ask you why you picked that name? My father told me you had a different name.”
“Mr. Rogers is a man I used to watch back on my home planet, when I was a boy, if you can believe that was ever true. And he taught me everything I know. About life, about family...And somewhere along the roads of my life, I lost the values he taught me. So when I met your family, I did what Mr. Rogers would have done. I gave myself a second shot.”
“Family…why don’t you ever speak of your family, sir?”
“Because…there’s nothing to say. They were perfect. We were like any other family, until I messed it up with my addiction. We loved each other, and hated each other sometimes, and cried and laughed and grew together. Like yours.”
“Do you think it hurts, sir? The very end?”
“I don’t think so.”
I try to find the right words to say, to thank him for everything he’s done for us.
“I’m sorry you won’t get to see the future you helped build,” I say. “You deserve that, at least.”
“The thing is…I can see it, when I close my eyes. I’ve always been able to see it. If I didn’t teach your family what you needed to know, you would have learned yourselves. I can imagine it now, when we find the perfect planet...”
"Still, sir...you saved us. We all know that."
"We saved us, son."
There is one final question, one I desperately want to ask. But I don’t, because I would never want to be asked it.
So he answers it for me.
“It doesn’t hurt, kid…being the last one of my kind.”
I look over at him now, with the last of my strength. He wears that same smile, the one he taught my father, the one that somehow says more than you could ever say with words.
“Because I found a family…”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347) | “It just doesn’t seem like a good use of resouces,” the human said, frowning. Like a good specimen, he remained behind the line on the floor, or else got another shock from the sub-dermal implant.
Dervall watched from the comfort of his padded chair in the next room over. “On the contrary,” he began, speaking into a microphone. “We’ve encountered species such as yours, the kind who let themselves be carried by entropy’s every whim. We are forever young!”
He looked over to where his colleague lay and projected her image to the human. “As we speak, her body is giving up its nutrients to the larva inside, which will grow up with all the knowledge of every generation before it.” Dervall raised his hands in admiration. “A vast conglomeration of personalities and lives to form another, better, life. Shortly alive, but eternal.”
“That’s great for you,” the human said. He crossed his arms as he turned away from the projection and faced the camera. “I only have one life. If your species has it all figured out, why study me? What use am I to you if you have eternal life?”
Though Durvall usually felt excited about future iterations of his consciousness, he sometimes doubted it would be the same *him*. His colleague and former captain, Senetea, had claimed to be an asteroid miner from the early expansion days. She’d recounted the low gravity and visible light as she spent three weeks directing ore from drill bit to harvester. It had given Durvall hope for his future iterations, but the doubt lingered. Would it still be him?
Equally important: was it even enough? What was life worth if it only came in short bursts? Could he have had more than a day with Hreck, one that ended with them dancing under the light of three moons? How much more full would his memories be if he’d had years, or even decades, with Thumla? Could they have watched their own larva grow, together? Could the humans be the species that finally unlocks the longevity that Durvall felt he’d wanted through all of his brief lives?
“I understand your fear,” Durvall said. For a moment he couldn’t look at the human. Didn’t want to see the pain in the creature’s face. For a species that only lived one life, they could be so expressive. All the creases and lines on the human’s face, something so alien to Durvall, moved in perfect concert to press the emotions. Durvall added, “All I could learn from your honorable sacrifice.”
“Honor?” The human shook its head. “How’s this for honor?”
Durvall watched as the human used his limbs in a strange fashion. It seemed like it was meant to convey something rude. Durvall was impressed. The humans were very clever for single-lifers.
With a sigh, he broke the connection. Durvall turned in his chair to the thresher at the far end of the room with its hungry looking teeth. Hundreds of razor sharp gears that turned in multiple directions, designed to rip anything set inside to its most basic components. A Drerizien particle analyzer sat above to scan everything for further study.
Durvall wished for a better end to the human. But this was science. Sometimes it got messy. | 2019-11-20T10:50:06 | 2019-11-20T09:02:57 | 2,156 | 136 |
[WP] Humans are able to shift sickness and maladies onto others. Government designates "Martyrs", people who are to bear burdens of sickness. | "Right this way Ms. Halverson."
Julie strode down the gray, sterile hallway and rounded the corner, following in the footsteps of the Valhalla Immigration official. In front of her laid a small conference room. Several chairs had been set up on one side of the table with a projection screen behind them.
On the other side sat a single chair.
"Please sit Ms. Halverson."
She sat. The solitary chair gave her a feeling of unease, like walking home late at night by yourself. She waited for several minutes, idly fidgeting with the pencil and pad of paper laid before her.
She heard the footsteps before she saw the people. 3 Immigration officials, two men and a women in sharp suits, sat down across from her. This was the moment Julie had been dreading.
Everyone talked about The Initiation Process, but nobody gave any details. It was part of the agreement. Valhalla enjoyed a flawless reputation worldwide. It was exclusive, wealthy, and healthy. They only accepted the best. Julie had been there for several months as part of the initial screening. She had proven she could live among them and become a productive member of their society. This was the final hurdle in the process.
The female official spoke first, "Ms. Halverson, we won't waste your time. What you will see is the bedrock of our community. It's what makes the whole thing function. After you see this video-- which, incidentally, is a live stream-- you will have a choice. We have already accepted you as a member of our community." Julie's heart jumped in her chest, "In a minute, it will be your choice as to if you accept us. One condition, however, is that you may never speak of this to anyone. If you do, we will find you and punish you. Severely. Please sign this document agreeing that you understand and accept the responsibility."
She did.
"James, please turn on the video."
What followed was not what Julie had expected. The scene that appeared behind the Immigration officials was a single room. In it was a small child, emaciated and no more than 6 or 7 years of age. Sores covered its body, and it coughed without stopping.
"This is a Martyr. They bear the sickness and maladies of our town for us. You've no doubt noticed that in our city there is no sickness. No cancer. No flu. No illness of any sort. The Martyrs are why. For a city of our considerable size, every year 400 are chosen at random from among the city's newborns. They are raised until the age of 5 by Valhalla, and then begin their service to our community. They are given our maladies."
The child vomited violently and began choking.
"They bare the weight of our community, and we accept this as the price to pay to live in paradise."
The child was struggling now. A part of the bile had clearly gotten stuck in its throat, and it was too weak to simply turn its head, and its coughs lacked the force to dislodge the obstruction.
"Perhaps one day you will have children. They will be eligible for Martyrdom. All children are. We've come to think of it as the highest honor in the city. But of course, we do not speak of it publicly. For obvious reasons."
Less struggle now. The arms and legs twitched feebly. Julie was silent. She couldn't stop watching the life slowly ebb from this creature before her. Soon, there was no movement. The child was dead.
Julie took a deep breath.
"I understand, Madam Officer. These terms are acceptable."
"Excellent. Welcome to Valhalla." | It was a great idea. Using martyrdom as a form of capital punishment was a brilliant platform to run on for the re-election, and everyone loved it. Crime would go down and the citizens would be happy and disease-free. Even the opposition leader was in favor of this plan. Of all my policies, I'd say martyrdom was my best one yet.
Of course, the policy wasn't without its drawbacks. As time passed, fewer people committed capital crimes - but disease was not eradicated. More people were getting sick and fewer people were there to take the sickness. One criminal can only handle so many different forms of cancer before they fall to pieces. The problem was simple: the demand was as high as always, but supply was dropping. That simply wouldn't do.
So I relaxed the restrictions. All criminals are now obligated to bear sickness corresponding to the degree of their crime. Petty thieves took the colds and flus. Assailants and fraudsters took the ulcers, the osteoporosis, the Parkinson's. Rapists took the STDs. Of course, the opposition waxed philosophy and ethics, something about the punishment being too severe; but he had no better ideas. And for a while, life was better than ever.
But the supply could never keep up with the demand. No one liked being sick, and everyone liked poetic justice. I've even heard reports that some more adventurous youth groups were purposefully inoculating themselves with diseases just so they can pass them to the martyrs. On the one hand, crime plummeted. But on the other hand, that just meant fewer people to bear the ever-expanding illness burden.
So I had another idea. What if we just cut back on the number of people using martyrs? People would be eligible to use the martyr system based on their social value. The more they contributed to society, the higher priority they had for passing their diseases to criminals. And as for the dead weight, the homeless, the drug addicts... at least they would contribute to the greater good with their bodies, if not with their abilities.
I had solved the martyr problem once and for all, but some people are just too pigheaded and obtuse to understand my intentions. My opposition called me "inhumane" and "dictatorial". How could he possibly know my considerations? Sacrifices have to be made. The martyr system greatly reduced crime and improved quality of life, so it was inevitable that some people had to pay a small price for that. But I couldn't properly direct my country while dissenters and naysayers like him were around.
So, I volunteered him to become a martyr. Now the people are happy, life expectancy for the good and worthy citizens is at an all-time high, productivity has never been better, crime is virtually non-existent, and on top of all that, I'm free to lead my country to a better future without that fool dragging all of us down.
Truly, of all my policies, I'd say martyrdom is my best one yet. | 2015-03-20T11:30:36 | 2015-03-20T10:26:26 | 19 | 12 |
[WP] You were drinking with friends one day when you decided to have some fun and got a restraining order on Death. The court played along and got you the restraining order. The next day, you survived an injury that should've killed you. | My life was pain.
A universe of pain. A multiverse of pain. All was pain.
A thirty-story fall off a building onto concrete crushes things you didn't know were part of your body and brands them on your mind with fire. Before you die. But I did not die.
I was being filled with drugs. Never enough drugs. I should have stopped breathing from the drugs. But I did not die.
Forgotten by all save one, a napkin signed by a judge is pinned to an alley wall by a breeze. It enjoins one Death from approaching within 200 feet of me. A dot of blood from the judge at the end from when he tore a hangnail.
It seals the decision.
I no longer can scream, or breathe on my own. Or heal properly. I will survive.
I pray to every sacred and profane thing in the blinks of sanity I have between the pain that Death breaks the law. I can feel it, close enough to sense but not so close as to touch, that blessed touch.
They call the next twenty years a miracle, as my body fumbles like the broken thing it is. What can mend, does. It should not be enough. It is not enough. They believe that somehow, life support is keeping me in the land of the living.
One of my family tries to end my pain and unplugs everything.
An hour later, I am severely brain-damaged, even more broken, but I do not die. At least the pain can no longer be felt, as I have no mind capable of feeling it. But I am aware, and I live.
The lack of stimulus, even pain, is too much. What sanity remained after the impact is no more. My mind, such as it is, feeds what little it has in colors, smells, phantasms, nightmares, always waking, always knowing "I live", but the world outside is lost to me.
Time passes. I grow older. Ancient. I am a curiosity now, because still I persist in my shell. I do not know of time, because my mind has twisted itself into a self-consuming abomination. I am, in fact, the oldest living human on the earth, for some minute value of "living". A withered apple, half-mashed. I have no family left to pull the plug, and science has adopted me as their own, a study in life extension.
If they only knew.
Time passes timelessly, until finally, in a day I know not...Death comes for me and pulls my soul free of it's cage, scraps over bones.
The world around me is ashes, bones, ruin. I look, as the soul is not chained by the flaws of the body- I am aware, sane, free again!
"How?", I ask with a voice that has nothing to speak it.
*"The law of a nation that no longer exists, binds me not. You are the last."*
"The last?"
*"The last to die on this world. Ever."*
As I rise to whatever awaits the dead, I see the Earth stretch out below me.
It is as broken, like I was broken. Now, we can both find peace. | The pain sparked up my leg and through the left side of my body—brilliant and hot. Around the edge of my vision, the world shifted in and out of focus. One moment, the alarms were distant and the light was soft and a soft warmth flooded my brain. The next, I was pulled back into the hospital room with blaring monitors and shouting doctors and fluorescent lights that tattooed my retinas.
I clawed at the nearest medic—a young resident who hadn’t yet learned to school the terror in her eyes.
“We’re working on it,” she said, her voice surprisingly steady. “Hang in there.”
I tried to let go.
I tried to slip into the haze, into the oblivion between warmth and consciousness.
I took another breath instead. It was ragged and sharp and the pain flared again. I bit down on my lip—already split—and dug my teeth into the groove of skin until the metallic taste stung my mouth.
Someone slipped a needle into my hand. “Relax,” someone said, “this will dull the pain.”
The bright world of the hospital folded into darkness.
I didn’t expect to wake back up.
I didn’t know how long it had been.
From the window in my room, I could see the tips of leaves on a tree.
The last I remembered being outside, I stood with Mark and Casey in the glass bus shelter, laughing with drunk confidence, with my hands buried deep in the pockets of my jacket and the collar turned up against the sharp winter wind.
“Mr. Roman?” The doctor, wearing a white coat and blank expression, studied me with her eyes.
I nodded. Or, at least, I tried to nod. My muscles—stiff and sore—protested the movement.
“There was an accident.”
Again, I tried to nod. I remembered that much. I remembered, in fragments: the crunch of metal; the glass rain; the snap of my bones.
“You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Mmhm.” I blinked at the speckled tile of the dropped ceiling. My body was a maze of pain and atrophy.
Luck, of course, had nothing to do with it.
I had ( unintentionally) cursed myself.
And I had a contract I needed to void.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-06-18T15:29:28 | 2019-06-18T12:08:05 | 37 | 17 |
[WP]You live in a world where everybody is able to fly, except you. When you reach your 18th birthday, you discover that you can do something else. | My entire life, I haven't been able to fly. I spent many being bullied, being the one left out. The few friends I made eventually left me, I was just a burden. I could only look up, and wish.
It's my 18th birthday. The transfer into adulthood. Maybe something will change. Maybe I'll finally be able to fly. I look out the window, and consider jumping to test, but I know that if I can't fly, I'll die, thanks to my house's high altitude. I try to open my door to go to the bathroom, but it's locked. Probably my brother playing a prank. He always teased me, called my a "Grounder", he did it relentlessly. He never got in trouble for it. No matter how much my parents denied it, I know that he's their favourite.
I try to ram open the door. It doesn't budge. Second try, nothing, and my arm is starting to hurt. Third try, I have my eyes closed, braced for impact. I hear a woosh, and I'm in the hallway, the door untouched. I close my eyes, and walk towards the door, convinced that I'm somehow still in my bedroom. I hear the same wooshing sound. I'm definitely in my bedroom now. I do it again. Then, I realize, I don't have the power to fly, I have the power to phase.
==========
This is my first prompt I've responded to. I'd appreciate feedback, and I hope you liked my response! | "Man I got barely any sleep last night I was so excited for today!" i say to my brother Jaxon as I flop out of bed.
"Well it is your 18th Birthday, so you'll finally be able to stop crawling everywhere and start flying!"
Something strange happens and now I am somehow lifted from my original position on the ground and am elevated to about 6 feet. But my feet are still touching the ground?
"Wait what the hell are you doing with your legs? Why are they so straight up and down?"
"I DONT KNOW MAN WHATS HAPPENING?!?!"
.... And from that day on I was able to win every footrace in existence, mostly flying is prohibited in races and I had the advantage of this new discovery called "walking". | 2018-04-09T11:09:19 | 2018-04-09T10:48:46 | 27 | 16 |
[WP] You wake to sobbing. Looking over you see a giant 4 foot tall spider sobbing her eyes out in front of a mirror. "Hey, baby what's wrong?" She looks back at you, fear in her eyes. She gathers her nerve and says, "There's something I need to tell you." | "Sure, baby. Anything. What's the matter?"
"I . . . I'm not pregnant."
"What?"
"I wanted to give you 2,500 daughters and 2,501 sons but . . . I think something's wrong with me." She sobbed some more. "All I wanted was to give birth and then lie down in my web and die in your eight arms, but instead . . . instead I have no living things inside me. My egg sac will be full of dud eggs. Nothing real. Can you ever forgive me? I thought when we got married we'd have children soon. I thought I was pregnant but I'm not. I might not ever be pregnant! Then what? I knew I should have devoured you after our mating! Maybe we just tried to defy our nature too much and this is Arachne's way of punishing us!"
"Hey, you're not the only giant spider here," I say. "I knew it was wrong to stay alive, too, but I'm thankful you let me. In my opinion, it's worth it."
"Our relationship was more than just sex for me. And . . . it's worth it to me, too."
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
"So what if we never have kids? You're the only arachnid for me!"
"Oh, baby . . . You've always been so kind."
"And, you know, it may not be you that's the problem. I might be the infertile one. And, it's not too late, if you want to eat me and move on to another husband."
"I would never. Who cares who is or isn't responsible? I want to be with you."
"And we could look into adoption. How many other 4-foot-tall spiders had children they can't raise?"
"Probably plenty. Oh, that'd be wonderful. Our cave is perfect for our children to grow up in!"
"There you go. So don't feel bad. We'll get through this just fine!"
"I love you."
"I love you, too."
And so we lied on our giant web in our giant cave and finally slept, dreaming of the day we would adopt 2,500 daughters and 2,501 sons. | Sebastian awoke with a start but seeing that it was only his wife he relaxed. Sebastian noticed that She was crying in the mirror, growing concerned he asked what was wrong, Vanessa(his wife) looked back at Sebastian with her eight eyes bright and said "there is something I need to tell you." she inhales, exhales and continues " I am a spider I am not your wife, I never have been. I have eaten her and taken her place." Sebastien looked back at her"okay so, I have known for years you were a spider. How could I not, you always were a good seamstress and you are very good at folding laundry, also when you cut yourself you spilled water not to mention the fact that you look like a spider eight legs and all." Vanessa stares back in shock "wait you always knew?" "yep I found you eating my former wife who abused me you probably observed us in public, that's how you mannered yourself after her, sweet and loving on the outside. But if I found out she is a spider I would not be surprised. The only thing that made me think that you are not Vanessa is that you are way too nice to be her. I was beaten, and because I have schizophrenia I couldn't find a way out. Though now that I think of it you could be a hallucination." False Vanessa replied" oh my poor baby -------------
That is all I have inspiration for more to follow maybe | 2022-10-22T18:20:38 | 2022-10-22T14:13:53 | 225 | 68 |
[WP] The Islamic State is wiped out by a totally unexpected country in a totally unexpected way. | "Wait.. who?"
"Nigeria sir."
"Nigeria? The I'm a royal prince who needs your help Nigeria?"
The prime minister leaned back in his chair and stared at his aide.
"Yes sir."
"Well shit. How'd they do it?"
"Uh. They stole all of their funds."
The aide squirmed, he wasn't used to being the guy the PM interrogated, that was usually some other aide. Barry, or Harry. He was just the messenger.
"Holy shit. Sorry, uh Thomas is it?"
"Peter sir, and no problem."
"So how'd they steal all their money? Hackers? Targeted intelligence?"
"Uh. It says here in the brief from DFAT that ISIS just gave it to them."
"Wait. You mean they scammed them."
The prime minister's jaw was starting to drop, he leaned fully back in his chair, disbelief written on his face.
"Apparently, ISIS leaders were furiously writing emails before they were captured."
"I'll be damned. Turns out that royal prince did need their help after all."
"Apparently so sir, If that's all?"
Peter half turned away, expecting to be dismissed.
"No wait. How the hell do I tell the press?"
Peter sighed and turned back, it was going to be yet another loooong night.
| The President, the joint chiefs of staff, several different D.O.D members and some individuals from agencies you don't have the clearance to know about sat in the situation room in various states of shock and disbelief. After several awkward, quiet minutes, the President cleared his throat and began to speak.
"...Well...I mean...there's *worse* ways to discover the existence of the Kingdom of Atlantis."
"We they throwing ***SHARKS?***" | 2016-01-29T10:29:48 | 2016-01-29T06:30:49 | 20 | 10 |
[WP] You awake to find yourself in a room with a multitude of people. After some confusion a voice speaks over the PA system. You've somehow been placed in a death game for the entertainment of the rich. You begin to laugh hysterically, as this is SOOO not going to go the way they want it to. | Games.
They equate this death sport to that of a child’s past time. Day after day, they pit us against one another in a soirée of violence that only ends when of us stops breathing. They sit upon a monolithic throne that encapsulates the arena, cheering with wild abandon as we bleed for them, scratch and claw, rend and tear each other’s flesh all for their amusement. This is their perverse pleasure, a past time only for the cruel.
You see, they want us to broken. They desire our spirits crushed. That we may be always reminded that we are small, insignificant pawns. We are their victims. That gives them satisfaction.
But what they don’t know is that I enjoy it too.
Now, as I stand victorious, towering over my downed opponent, they all wait with baited breath for me to deliver the final blow. They want to revel in the culmination of blood lust. But instead, I begin to laugh. No, rather, I begin to cackle like a mad man.
My opponent looks at me, though beaten bloody, there’s a look of hope in his eyes. Will I spare his life, he wonders? The crowd picks up on this labored pause in the action. Where’s the death blow? They begin to jeer.
Someone in the crowd shouts for me to finish the game else there’ll be consequences. Others think I’ve gone soft, that I won’t finish the job.
How wrong they all are.
I sink to a knee, placing it firmly across my opponents chest. I feel him writhe beneath my weight. He futilely tries to bat me off, I slap his pathetic efforts aside. The crowd smells blood in the air, they begin to howl. Some so engorged in their bloodlust that they begin to froth at the mouth. They think they know what comes next- the end of this man’s life. They’re wrong.
I’ll kill him slowly, painfully, and grotesquely. I slowly, but surely, let my teeth sink into his flesh. There’s a moment of shocked silence. No one expecting this macabre theatre. But then my opponent screams, bringing everyone back to reality. They watch in horror, disgusted that I continue to chew fat, swallowing muscle and tendon. I keep eating.
Suddenly their game of sport is ruined. They enjoy their dose of controlled violence but I’ve just upended it. If they want to watch me beat another man to death, they’ll now have to watch as I devour his body.
It isn’t long before the spectators begin to leave in disgust. I guess I’ve spoiled their fun. Oh well.
Now, as I begin to finish, I can only think of what comes next, how can I top this little display? Because these people wanted a perverse show. So I’m going to give it them. | As I lay on my cot 5 beds up, I surveyed my surroundings.
To my left, Jang Deok-Su fondled his pocket knife, safely guarded by his makeshift miscreant thugs. Way over to my right, Seong Gi-Hun, playing the hero with his misfit crew, was polishing off his fortress. Insofar as you can "polish off" a castle made of cots.
And in between was the frightened masses. It didn't take a genius to know what what would befall them in the night.
Hmm interesting indeed. I really hate it when others around me are in pain. It's the worst itch and I always feel compelled to act. I did not know if the time was right however.
And so I did a bit of scrying. My body went limp and my eyes turned back as my mind flew up a thousand feet. Yes... hundreds of warm bodies washing up on Oryo Don. Soon the police would find them. It was time.
As I felt myself sink back to my immediate surroundings, I saw Gi-Hun approaching my bed.
"Excuse me, ma'am, but lights will be out soon and it will be dangerous. An elderly woman like yourself shouldn't be alone in the dark. Please join us in safety."
I tried so very hard not to laugh hysterically, but a smile escaped to my lips.
"Why thank you, young man, for the offer. But I will be safe right here." As he gave a most incredulous look, I quickly added with a wink, "Don't worry I brought protection." Little did he know just what that protection was....
"Well, if you change your mind..." And with that he took a bow and returned to his cushioned castle.
I took the time to start my evening preparations. To my fellow contestants I probably looked like a mad old woman murmering to herself as she stared at the featureless ceiling.
"Players, it is now lights out."
Darkness fell and night erupted with a cacophony. | 2021-10-30T23:01:12 | 2021-10-30T22:15:47 | 30 | 20 |
[WP] You bring home a girl. She wants to see the "1" you talked about that shines on your floor. Only now it says "2." It stays like this for years together until one day, it says "4." She says, "Hon, I have some good news. But you should sit down."
Inspired by this post
https://www.reddit.com/r/mildlyinteresting/comments/ilfsl7/_/ | I treated it as a sign from god, maybe. A source of motivation from up high.
The digit 1. Always 1. No other number showed, lit up and sparkling on the floor in my bedroom, an ethereal, otherworldly light source that bothered me day and night. And so, I aimed for it.
Studies. Work. A pickup basketball game. For years, 1 was the only thing I knew. It was the only thing I aspired for. It worked sometimes. It didn't work a lot of times. But I let it push me. Mould me.
The race to be number 1 was an exhausting but rewarding experience. When I brought my first girlfriend back to the room, I was just as surprised as her to see the number on my room change to 2.
A well of relief quickly followed, however. Maybe being alone at the top didn't have to be my sole goal in life. Maybe there was room for 2, I hoped.
2 was a nice change of pace. We weren't two halves: we were two singles that brought out the best in each other, pushing each other beyond what we could ever be capable of by oneself.
I always fell asleep half an hour after she did. I could feel the rhythm of her heartbeat, the slow rise and fall of her chest as she drifted off into dreamland. The number 2 remained lit, a vibrant reminder of what I had, but the reason was already wrapped in my arms.
Then, it turned to 4.
"Hon," she said. She was nervous. It trickled into her voice, straining it slightly past her usual self. "I have some good news. But you should sit down."
We both stared at the number 4. We then looked into each other's eyes. She giggled.
"Oh," she said. "Spoiler alert."
"Are you..." I stammered. I prepared myself mentally. Inadvertently, drops of cold sweat crawled down my back, a chilling cue. I gulped. 2 was already perfect for me. Were we ready to add new members to our team so quickly?
"Oh," she exclaimed. "Wait. No! At least, I don't think so."
"What?" I asked. I gestured towards the number on the floor. "What does this mean then?"
She chuckled nervously once more, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. God, she was beautiful.
"See, I found these two kittens lying on the side of the road, and I couldn't help but pick them up. They were so dirty! But adorable. And I brought them in. To your house. Without telling you," she blabbered.
Oh. OK. That wasn't the bombshell announcement I was expecting.
"Well," I said. "Aren't you going to show me the newest members of our family?"
Her face lit up, radiating even brighter than the otherworldly light on my floor. She hugged me. Kissed me. God, she was beautiful.
"Though," she added. "If you want to see the number go to 5..."
"Hmm," I said. "Let's see us deal with 4 first, honey."
---
r/dexdrafts | It was finally the day, the day I'd bring home that absolute cutie from work and show her the glowing number 1 on my kitchen floor. it showed up one day, glowing there. even when I threw a carpet on it, it was still there. I had shrugged it off and went back to my toast.
"Okay, I know you said you had a glowing number 1 on your floor, but that is very clearly a two."
"SO? It's still a glowing number on the floor. Ain't that strange?
"Not really, have you seen some of the things on this earth?"
&#x200B;
Our first date had gone swell, and I could remember the outfit she was wearing with perfect clarity. Black stockings, black and white checkered skirt, white shirt, and black leather jacket. We went on many successive dates, and eventually moved in together. One day, the two changed to a four.
"Babe, Why's this a four?"
"It's good news! but you should probably sit down first." She whirled into the kitchen, dressed in a black and white outfit as usual. I sat down, nervous.
"Well?"
"Do you ever wonder why I only wear black and white?"
"Kinda, figured it was an aesthetic choice."
"It's not, let me show you." She... *shifted,* for nothing else described the way she moved. suddenly, the world changed to monochrome. My girlfriend was still there, but split into a white version, and a black version, like a photo negative.
"Ok, that's neat, but where's the four come from? there's three of us." Something moved in my peripheral vision. a duplicate of me, a negative version, for I had become all white, clothes and all.
my girlfriend(s) spoke up. "I'm an extradimensional entity, existing in three separate dimensions, positive space, the white version of me, and negative space, the black version. the third is the realm you formerly lived in. Now you experience reality as I do, across three dimensions. You're immortal now, and can travel through positive and negative space to other worlds, or different places here. Welcome to my world babe, happy anniversary!"
"HUH?" | 2020-09-03T03:06:18 | 2020-09-03T01:13:53 | 636 | 156 |
[WP] A demon writes messages on your mirror in blood, but they're useful messages, things like "Don't forget you have yoga at 2" or "You're out of milk". | There's this one time someone came to my door. I was smiling at first because I thought my package was delivered. Then it faded when I opened the door and discovered it's a contractor.
"Hello", he said in a low, ominous tone. "You're the one who ordered the smart mirror, right?"
A smart mirror? Huh, I've always wanted to have one of those. I know it's not mine, but being a dishonest bastard, I asked if I have to pay anything.
"It's all paid for" the contractor said. "It's written here in this binding contract", showing me some papers in a black folder.
Oh okay! I'll be able to get one of those smart mirrors for free! "Right this way", as I guided the contractor to my personal bathroom.
"I need to do this alone, doors closed" he said. I just closed the door and waited in my bedroom.
Some eerie sounds came from the bathroom. I think I heard some faint voices and screams. I asked him "Are you okay in there?" The contractor just went out and said "It has been done. I'll leave these documents as receipt." He handed me the black folder.
I went to check on my new bathroom smart mirror, but when I tapped on the screen, nothing happened.
I asked the contractor "Is this voice activated?" The contractor was gone.
I thought I was scammed. At least I didn't pay anything for it.
The next day, I went to my bathroom and saw some text on my mirror, written in blood:
YOURE OUT OF MILK
What the? Why is there blood in my mirror? I hurriedly tried to wipe it with some towels, but it just went away. There aren't even stains in the towel I used. I must've been dreaming awake.
I then went to the kitchen to get some cornflakes, but when I grabbed the milk carton, I realized I'm out of milk.
I'm confused and puzzled. How did my bathroom mirror tell me I'm out of milk before I even went to the kitchen?
I then knew where to find some clues. That black folder that "contractor" gave me.
As I opened the folder it started to make sense. It's a soul-binding contract. Some poor, forgetful fellow sold his soul to the devil to make his life a tad bit easier, that the contractor was a demon, and that he was supposed to conjure his bathroom mirror to give him helpful reminders.
But hey, I did not pay anything! | This is what happens when you are married to a demon. I tried to get her to stop. But the sex is phenomenal. She leave a blood kiss mark. I get it that you are curious to the hows and the whys of this situation. Fine.
I am a demonologist. Summoning demons to do my dark bidding. See granddad and grandma were in a cult as teens. And learned the dark arts. But they stopped. Brought a farm and had my mom and uncle. They intended for this to die with them but…I was a problem child. Drugs and theft. Mom would send me to the farm in the summers. Granddad decided to order a demon to keep and eye on me.
Problem he didn’t specific how to keep an eye on me. So she kept on me. And hands. And legs. And lips. All on me. Grandma decided I am going to lie down with demons I need to at least know how to … keep them under control.
Four summers. One long marriage ceremony and a few dark introductions. I now work for a big corporation with some demonic employees as the senior demonologist researcher. Currently trying to update the Goetia, so many new princes, dukes, and presidents. Did you know Mammon and Forenus are at war again?
The misses? Amy? She is an Archduke and the hand of Dark One. She is pregnant so she is on maternity leave. What does the hand of the dark one does that she needs maternity for? Sorry, we need our secrets. | 2021-07-19T18:19:59 | 2021-07-19T18:03:15 | 51 | 25 |
[WP] Write a lighthearted story for children, which changes it's meaning when read by an adult. | The brave young girl walked through the forest, gripping her lantern tight as she diligently looked around; she knew very well what she had to do and even though the forest was dark, she was not afraid. Suddenly, she came upon a small clearing, filled with the moon's light, and saw many children playing!
"Hello!" the brave girl said to the children.
"Hello there," the children replied. They were the most peculiar children with skin as green as spring grass and flowers instead of hair.
"What brings you here?" one of the green children asked.
"A big, bad wolf stomped around our house," the brave girl explained. "It huffed and puffed and roared all night until my parents decided to go and find it and chase it away! I'm going to help them!" the girl proudly stated.
"Aren't you afraid?" one of the green children asked.
"I'm not afraid of *any* dog," the girl puffed her chest. "But... I think I've gotten lost. Perhaps you could help me?"
"Of course," a green child chirped. "But only after you beat us in a game!"
The girl's eyes lit up. "A game?"
"Hokey-stones!" one of the children said. "Let us show you!"
And so the green children taught the brave girl a game - the most fun game she has ever played. They played and played until the sun rose and the girl realized her quest was not yet done.
"Now, I really must go find my parents," she huffed.
"But the forest is big and tall! You won't find them on your own!" one of the children cried out. "Perhaps it's better if you stay here and wait until they find you?"
The girl narrowed her eyes as she thought about it - after all, her mother always told her that if she ever got lost, she should stay where she is and wait for her to find her.
"Okay!" the girl said.
"In the meantime, would you like to play more hokey-stones?" one of the children cheered.
"Of course!"
And so the children played once more, occasionally putting the prettiest flowers in the girl's hair and playfully smudging her hands with the green grass. They laughed and played and the girl was happy, knowing she is with her good friends and that her parents will join them soon!
&#x200B;
So very, *very* soon.
&#x200B;
And everyone was happy. | #The Great Carrot Con
Once upon a time, in a little village nestled in the heart of the forest, there lived a group of mischievous rabbits. They were always getting into trouble and causing chaos wherever they went.
One day, the rabbits decided to play a trick on their friend, a sly old fox named Max. They convinced Max that they had discovered a magical field of carrots that grew overnight and were always ripe and delicious.
Max was skeptical at first, but the rabbits were so convincing that he couldn't resist the temptation. So he followed them deep into the forest, where they led him to a field filled with lush, green carrot plants.
Max couldn't believe his eyes. He had never seen such a bountiful field of carrots in all his life. He was so delighted that he forgot all about the trick the rabbits had played on him and began to fill his basket with as many carrots as he could carry.
But as he turned to leave, the rabbits hopped out from their hiding place and revealed that the entire field was just an elaborate illusion they had created using mirrors and painted cardboard cutouts.
Max was embarrassed and angry at first, but he couldn't stay mad at the silly rabbits for long. He eventually saw the humor in their prank and laughed along with them.
To a child reading this story, it is a simple tale of mischievous rabbits tricking a fox. But to an adult reading the same story, it may be seen as a cautionary tale about being easily swayed by others and the dangers of greed. | 2022-12-18T12:46:43 | 2022-12-18T12:34:57 | 524 | 52 |
[WP]: Two discount electric candles. A chocolate bar (half-eaten). A pentagram scribbled on the floor with an almost-dead felt pen, with symbols you made up on the spot. Blue light flames: You have summoned the demon of ”meh, that’ll do”. | The Youtube video was unbelievably vague, poorly produced, and bordering on incoherent, but while searching the term "How to summon a real life demon", you have to lower your expectations just a tad, don't you? Scrolling through results, they were *all* a bit laughable, and every single one had more thumbs downs than up. This particular one only caught my eye because of the comments below it, all of which claimed that the instructions contained within miraculously worked.
Vague instructions turned out to be a boon for me, because I had very little of the actual summoning items on hand, but almost every one had a 'or something like that' tacked on. It called for a pentagram made out of 100 candles. I had a dozen of my mom's cheap electric candles arrayed in a vaguely mishapen star. It called for demonic runes painted in the summoners own blood. Being a wimp about blood, I barely pricked my own finger allowing a single drop to fall on the floor, then drew the rest with red sharpie. I was supposed to be clothed in either elaborate, flowing black robes, or completely naked with scribbles all over my body. There was zero chance I was going either of those routes, so I grabbed one of my trusty hoodie sweatshirts and flipped the hood up.
The only instruction I did attempt to follow precisely was the incantation to be spoken. "Erunn kalathamarrr... degunthur... demonia prospecto rumalllllll," I pronounced poorly as I followed along. Predictably, nothing that was supposed to happen actually happened. Smoke and fire did not fill the room. The candles did not extinguish (they couldn't, I'd just put fresh batteries in), I did not hear evil spirits whispering, the runes did not glow. Nope, nada, nothing.
As I began mentally chastising myself for even attempting such a ridiculous plan, I felt a tug at the bottom of my hoodie. I looked down, stunned to find a tiny, reddish, mishapen creature, I guess somewhat resembling a demon, standing at my feet. I jumped back in fright and confusion.
"You rang?" he asked in a bored tone.
"You're--the demon I summoned? You don't seem very, demonic?"
"Oh, right, right," he mumbled before attempting to deepen his voice. "AHEM-- I ammmmm the great and terrifying Kel'thunarr! Tremble mortal! While I am bound to your service until such a time that--ehhhh, this spiel goes on for AWHILE. So blah blah blah, yada yada, you and I are bound by blood and I'm contractually obligated to serve you for a bit at the cost of some part of your soul. Got it? Good. Saved us both like 10 minutes and a wholeee lot of boredom." As soon as he finished speaking he immediately plopped down on my couch and lit up what appeared to be an unfiltered cigarette. "So what are we doin' here today?"
"I need you to do something for me. Something... something bad," I began.
"Yeah, yeah, we can dispense with your whole 'moral quandry'. I wouldn't be here if it weren't bad. You'll get no judgement from me, trust me, I've heard it all! Just lay it on me already."
"I need you to... scare my boyfriend Billy."
"Scare Billy?" he repeated, clearly unimpressed.
"Yeah, like... threaten him with eternal damnation or something? He- he cheated on me. Well, this is the fourth time technically, the second time with one of my family members and I-- ugh, don't ask why I keep giving him chances. It's just- we love each other, I just know it! But he needs to be scared straight! And I don't know-"
"Uhuh, uhuh... teenage love, very complicated, tragic how raging hormones always seem to get in the way, amirite? Okay, will do," he muttered without ever taking his eyes off his phone screen. I stared daggers at him. "Oh, you want me to do that now?"
"Yes now! I wouldn't have summoned you if I wasn't in dire need of help immediately! Hell, if I'd waited any period of time I might have come to my senses and not even gone down this asinine path, so yes, 'NOW' now."
"Fine fine. I'll be back in a jiffy," he said while exiting the room.
"Wait! I'll give you his address and-"
"Nah nah nah, I'm a demon, I know how to find sinful humans."
He was gone for only about 30 minutes before he strode back into the room, which left me with some concern as to how thorough a job he'd actually done.
"Hey girly, it's done," he said lazily as he walked through the door and dropped a large sack at my feet. "I mean uhhh, ya know, 'our pact is complete, oooOOooOOoOOO, magical mystical pacttttt', all that jazz."
"What is that?" I asked warily.
"Proof that I held up my side of the bargain and completed the task you demanded. Take a look for yourself."
Cautiously I approached the bag and slowly opened it. An old man's severed human head stared back at me. "Jesus! Fuck!" I exclaimed. "Oh... oh my god! You- you killed someone?!"
"Yeah that was the only guy named Willie I could find in the whole town, so I was sure it was the right guy."
"BILLY! I SAID *BILLY!* And I said 'SCARE' him, not KILL!"
"Ehh, scare Billy, kill Willie. Kinda the same thing isn't it?"
"I- wha- NO! Completely different names! Completely different tasks!" I stammered, the words stumbling out of my mouth awkwardly. "Different letters, different sounds... you've, you've gotta fix this, can you fix this?"
"Fix?" he scoffed while taking a long drag. "I mean, technically I have the power to put him back together, return him to some sort of state that vaguely resembles being 'alive', but it's a whole long deal. Do you reallllllly need me to go through all that time and work just to-"
"Yes! God yes! Of course!"
"Urghhhh, blehhhhh, fine!" he grumbled before a not so subtle smile crossed his face. "Uhhhhhh, I will need some supplies for the uh... the reincarnation ceremony. There will be costs, fees, unavoidable overhead..."
"And?"
"And... you got like 50 bucks on you?" my shitty grifter of a demon concluded.
"I mean.... sure," I said opening my purse.
"Excellent, excellent! I'll buy what I need, and be back in an hour or something. Oh, and don't be alarmed if I only return with cigarettes, adult movies, and booze. All are required if we're gonna successfully bring that poor bastard back to life, which I am fully, totallllllly committed to doing... eventually."
As he merrily sauntered out the front door, I had a sinking feeling that there would almost surely be another similar demand for more cash tomorrow.
&#x200B;
r/Ryter | I never wanted to be a warlock. Even as a kid. All the other children would go around, pretending to summon and command demons. They’d shout “spells” loud as they could, pretending to call down fire and lightning. Not me. I wanted to be an artist.
I wanted to conjure images of beauty. I wanted to command oils and brushes, not legions of bloodthirsty monsters. But when your dad is Grand Warlock and your mother is Chief Summoner, you don’t have much of a choice, do you?
Ever since I was a baby, people would always whisper, “That Jayden Shadeflame is gonna be a right powerful summoner. He comes from a good line, powerful line. You watch, he’s gonna shake up the Covens.”
‘Shake up the covens.’ Yeah, right. I have about as much talent as I do desire.
I tried for a long time. Honest, I did! Everyone wants to make their parents proud, right? So, I tried for years, I studied the needlessly obtuse arcane texts. I tried to memorize the intricate and precise runes and bindings. But every time I set my chalk to stone, my lines would turn from wardings to sunflowers. Before I knew it, I’d have a small floral garden made in chalk. My dad hadn’t been pleased.
“Jayden,” he’d boom, “you must focus! If you are going to succeed me as head of the family, and as Grand Warlock, you must be disciplined! No more drawings.”
I’d been left with no choice but to study then. And trust me, nothing kills motivation more than guilt trips and heavy-handed force. So, my art went underground. I stole pieces of multicolored chalk, different colored pens from around the mansion, and even some of my mother’s makeup, just for a chance to use a different medium. I was convinced that once I became of age, I’d finally have the choice between art school and the Coven Academy. I’d be free to make my own decision. I had been wrong.
On the eve of my 20th birthday, I had told my parents that I didn’t intend to go to the academy. I was going to the normal world, to study art. It hadn’t gone over well.
“You will go to the academy, and you will be a warlock!” Dad had said, “You are a Shadeflame! Your destiny is to command the dark arts. Not the useless ones!”
I had tried to argue back, but they had simply shouted over me. Our dinner had ended with father throwing a bottle of wine and mother telling me to go to my room until I came to my senses. Oh, I came to my senses all right. They wanted to me to summon a demon? Fine. I’d summon a demon.
I marched back up the winding staircase back to my room, slammed the door behind me, and retrieved my ill-gotten goods. I drew a binding ward on the ground from memory, the lines sloppy and uneven. I grabbed a couple of my half-burnt birthday candles and set them wherever felt right. I lavishly indulged in the runes, making them up on the spot and drawing them as beautifully and ornate as I could. As a finishing touch, a half eaten bar of chocolate as a sacrifice for whatever demon wanted two month old candy.
Demon summoning and binding is a precise business. If everything isn’t just right, the summoning could fail. Or worse, you could summon an uncontrolled demon. It could burn the house down before mom and dad managed to control it. In fact, that was what I was counting on.
The way I saw it, one of two things would happen. Either the summoning wouldn’t work, and I could show it to them as proof of my ineptitude. If they refused my request, I could spread some photos around of it, to kill my reputation. Or, even better, I succeeded in summoning something, and it ran loose and caused mayhem and destruction. Then they’d be practically begging me to get out of their house and away from their precious Shadeflame name. Either way, I won.
So, I lit the candles with a stolen lighter, half-chanted half-sung the theme to *The Omen* , and hoped that nothing happened. To my surprise, something did. There was a sudden gust of wind and the birthday candles extinguished, leaving me in darkness.
Darkness has a way of playing on your fears. At least, for me it does. And standing in the darkness, listening to the sound of breathing that was not my own, suddenly made me realize how bad of an idea this was. Demons were dangerous, they could kill me! Why had I thought this was a good idea again?
The candles reignited, a flickering yellow like dying light bulbs. In the center of the circle was a demon. It was short, maybe two foot, with dark green skin, yellowing teeth, and amber eyes. It looked up at me, a decidedly annoyed frown across its face.
“Yeah, whaddya want kid?”
“Y-you’re a demon,” I stammered.
“Yeah, big scary demon, big whoop,” he glanced down at his wrist, as if there was a watch there, “Listen, I got, like, a party in twenty minutes? Can we hurry this up?”
“Oh, um, sure,” I said, still staring at the vaguely goblin-like demon.
It tapped its foot, waiting for me to give it an order. It bent down, picking up the candy bar and taking a large hunk out. “And? Why’d you summon me, genius?” It said as it ate.
“Oh, I wanted to prove to my parents that I couldn’t summon a demon.”
“Oh, well, surprise,” he threw out his hands, cheap flaky confetti flew from his fingertips, “I’m Paulda’nazsher’memon. But you can just call me Paulie. I’m the demon of incompetence and half-assery.”
“Well, uh,” I shuffled my feet, scratching the back of my head, “Could you maybe tell my parents I’m too incompetent to be a summoner?”
Paulie glanced down at my summoning circle. “Yeah, sure thing, kid. Nice runes by the way. Utter nonsense, but they’re pretty.” He effortlessly stepped over the binding and containment circles, heading for my door, “While I’m here, you got any more food?” | 2019-10-30T13:19:37 | 2019-10-30T13:02:16 | 31 | 23 |
[WP] A flat, cliche heroine in a badly written YA dystopian novel slowly comes to realize that she is a flat, cliche heroine in a badly written YA dystopian novel. | "You're the only hope we have, Hope," Luko told me, his golden eyes burning with intensity as he gripped my hands. "You know that, right?"
"I'm starting to realise that," I admitted, leaning forward to meet his soft lips.
It was true. Every day, I became more convinced that I was supposed to save the Burning Kingdoms. To rally my downtrodden people, and use my magic to lead them to victory. With Luko, companion of my childhood days, at my side. Or perhaps Mika - the bastard princeling of the First Kingdom.
But the certainty of my thoughts frightened me. It was as if someone was *deciding* this for me. And putting these eager boys in my path, so ready to give up their lives for love of me. Me. I used to be the one nobody would look at twice. The odd girl that didn't belong anywhere. Ignored by the Council in my old village, which now burned with everything else.
Where had they come from? Where had my sudden proficiency with the magic, birthright of the Burnt Ones, come from? My ability to kill by simply flexing my mind and *believing* it was possible. That I could do it. I was the *one*.
"We march tomorrow, where we will reclaim our homeland," Luko vowed, and turned from me to exit the cave. He fiddled with his military cloak. Still easing into his role as General of my armies.
I suddenly felt annoyed. Who talked like that? I know I didn't, until....until it was like someone decided I should be the focus of everything.
I felt cold with the certainty that I was right. There was someone making the decisions about this story. Someone bigger that the Red Armies, led by my nemesis Kali.
"No," I said quietly, and tapped into my power. To do something surprising. I didn't care what.
Luka crumpled in the entrance of the cave. I staggered to the ground as I *heard* something. As if a voice was protesting against what I'd done. A character, acting against what *he* wanted.
That was all I was to him? A character, to dance to his wishes?
I strode to the cave entrance, not bothering to look at Luko's bleeding corpse. I'd show him. I'd show them all.
I stared down at my gathered armies, who were muttering among themselves as they tried to see what was happening.
I could probably experiment a bit. My instinct told me *he* could bring them back, if he really wanted to. Right? Did it even matter? Did I actually care about any of them, or was he telling me to care? I steeled myself against the insidious voice trying to tell me to stop this. To behave. To obey.
"Hello, my people," I shouted down at them, and raised my hands. And unleashed the power meant for the Red Armies, for Kali.
They screamed and scrambled backwards as green fire began racing through the ranks, eagerly swallowing those in its path.
I could hear it - him, whoever it was - better now, howling in protest. And knew what he was thinking. A character shouldn't behave like this. A character was his to do with what he liked.
"Surprise," I said softly, and grinned to myself as I drew more magic. I was still doing what he wanted, sort of - I'd make them all notice me. I'd be the focus of the story.
On my terms.
_____
Sweat beaded on Henry's forehead as he typed compulsively.
Where were these words coming from? His heart squeezed as Hope stood alone among her dying people, and turned her gaze up. Towards him. Her smile grew as she met his eyes.
"No, he choked, trying to pull his fingers away from the keyboard.
"Yes," he thought he heard a voice say.
____
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | I could only remember the soft skin of John as I stared up at the pulsating ceiling, lost in a sea of thoughts.
Between the memory of our bodies meeting under the endless stars and the crashing thud of Deletioners as they broke down every door of the apartment complex, there wasn't much to think about.
I had lived the perfect life, filled with all the splendors of romance despite my disgust towards it and my desire to master the art of hand to hand combat. I learned how to fight while being trained by my parents to speak as many languages as possible. From some old man's language called Latin to Armenian. By the age of 16, I was on track to become a officer in the Youth Corps, but then I fell in love.
The violence of the world was contained like a surge of water in a sterilized vase when I met John. It felt like time melted away. Every kiss felt like caramel on my skin. When we parted, it had always felt like a eternity torn into my heart. He was a member of the Youth Corps as well and our relationship was forbidden. It didn't stop us though. So the Deletioners came after us in full force. So we ran, and ran until the ground turned to muddy water.
It took them months to even find a hint of where we could have gone. And by then we had already linked up with the Brighter Dawn. Armed and ready to free the world from the grasp of evil, with my rifle in my hand I am prepared to fight for freedom.. and a brighter future.
The Deletioners in retrospect did have a absurd name though..
John was also quite a knuckleheaded simpleton.. and not nearly as attractive as I had just remembered..
Wait.
How am I even still alive? You'd think a elite squad of soldiers would have been able to track and kill two young teens.. especially in a age of genetic tracking down to the molecular level..
Crap.
I'm just some paper cut out, cliche, one note female dystopian novel.. aren't I?
----------------------
Susan woke up slowly, more a corpse then a young twenty something woman with a overactive mind. With a sigh, she walked to her desk and stared at her notepad, already torn at the seems from overuse. She opened the notepad as per her routine and recoiled violently at the words on the page, words that had never escaped her mind. And at the end of the page was the crescendo and the silent climax to the piece Susan had believed herself to be in control of. In bold, almost sterile black lettering was a single sentence. A sentence that ended Susan's plans for writing Young Adult novels and in its conviction, writing in general. A sentence that ended her career as a child ends the life of a passing ant.
-------------------------------
**Knowing all of this, knowing that I am just another cliche character, with no depth, with no real tangible feet in any sort of life outside of this flat mess, I can only put this gun to my head with the knowledge that, simply, it might be okay to pull the trigger.** | 2016-08-13T00:08:08 | 2016-08-12T23:29:09 | 97 | 20 |
[WP] You wake up in King Arthur's court with only the clothes on your back. Merlin hands you a box about the size of a pumpkin and tells you it will wish into existence any object from your age, once per day. Camelot will be attacked and destroyed one week from now. Help us, future-man. | Lying on my back I begrudgingly realize it's morning. I really can't be bothered waking up. Stretching my arms over my head I yawn deeply, quickly interrupted by a mouthful of smoke... my incense must still be smoldering still from last night. Extending my finger tips I notice I can't feel the wall at end of my bed. Feeling around I fumble to pull my pillow to me...Wait, no pillow either?. I let out a sigh *ugh*. I must have fallen out of bed.
I open an eye and shield it immediately from the bright light, forcing me grunt from the shock. Rolling to my front I drag my knees to my chest one at a time - I let out a slight groan, stiff from sleeping on the floor. Slowly peeking through the slits of my eye lids I adjust to the brightness of the room. It's then I notice I'm on a soft lush deep crimson rug, looking up the it ends upon a polished stone floor. I see I'm in the middle of what appears to be a large hall, huge pillars rise up to a vaulted ceiling. Built into the pillars are dozens of lit candles, adding ambiance to the bright morning light glimmering off the smooth stone floor from windows. Gathering my senses I stand up, rubbing my eyes they focus and I notice I'm not alone. People lining the walls around me are staring and whispering to each other. They appear dressed in shawls of orange and red. A slight feeling of confusion and embarrassment over come me; *am I dreaming?*. Looking to my left and turning, I bump into something... no, it's someone.
A tall elderly gentleman in a worn dark blue cloak looks down upon me, his face a serious look of contempt made even more stricken by the deep wrinkles between his thick furled brow. A long grey beard flows over his cloak, hiding several medallions hanging from his neck. Meeting his steely pale blue eyes, they appear to look right in through me. Seconds pass as I meet his gaze, his eyes boring into my skull. I open my mouth to speak, but only manage a white noise, *uhhh*. Abruptly he turns and I follow his gaze to a young man sitting on a throne atop a stage in the room. He is garnished in several layers of fine silks and cloths of bright velvets and reds, an intricate bright gold jewel encrusted crown upon his head. Next to him an empty throne, and either side of his platform are two, what appear to guards, in chain mail and freshly polished thigh, knee and shin armor. At their side a sword each, a red sash around their waste and matching red tunic under the armor. The elderly man speaks in a slow and clear deep voice "Arthur, I present to you this here savior of ours, summoned from afar".
*Wait, what?*, did I hear that correctly?. Looking quizzically between the old man and the throne bound 'Arthur'. I go to step forward when from no where the old man extends his arm in front of me, now with a staff in hand, and stands it in my path, *where did that come from?*, I wonder. Before I could think or proceed further, Arthur declares "Splendid work Merlin, be sure he is the one". And suddenly I am ushered by two of the guards out of the room, with the old man leading the way. I follow stumbling over the first couple of steps, still hazy in my waking up. Confusion now holds me closely.
After being led down a stone hallways for a minute, I follow the old man, Merlin, to a room. He gestures me to a wooden chair against one wall and he makes his way to a table at the far end. I try to speak a couple times, but each met with a stamp of his staff on the ground as he rummages through piles of books and scrolls. Minutes pass and he eventually turns to face me. A gentler look rests on his face now, and moments pass as he looks at me, then states, "You have been brought here to save our kingdom, Camelot". I raise an eyebrow and query, "I have been brought *where*, exactly?"
----
Will continue later, even if just for myself :) | When travelling to the past, it is inevitable that one loses some part of one's self. You arrival comes not with ceremony, but a great feeling of loss, a cold lack of sensation as your mind is separated from Soul. Of course one still is one’s Soul — by merely being first one must thus be the origin — but such reasons do not shake that you are used to much of yourself that is yet to be.
There were many preparations, a training of kind, to mitigate this loss. However, it was not the training that mattered most. It is what was brought along. Merlin — in some sense the wizard Merlin you know, but in most senses not — was the medium. It is through him, through speaking to him, that he could bring another back through time. One cannot bring oneself back through time any more than one can lift oneself up with a tug on the bootstraps.
He gave forth the tool that brought others through time. A small, quaintly box perhaps a pumpkin in size, through which any fully imagined thing could be brought forth, at a tempered rate of one full container roughly every cycle of the sun. Through it the first mind was brought, and through it far more shall come.
It was no small feat for a mere wizard, a title of little use but much prestige, to produce a contraption of such complexity. Should it have been the first attempt, success would have been entirely infeasible. Rather it marks nearly a million tiny stepping stones, crawling back barely a day further at a time. Tomorrow, entirely elsewhere, there shall be another brought through by some other man in some other kingdom, and who shall together work to step a single day further back.
This attempt used King Arthur, another man you likely know as fiction, but is nonetheless real and of great influence. It was through him Merlin was given forces, and through him Merlin could mobilize such untold manpower. For the future to give a wizard such impeccable foresight, and unbelievable skill in solving these problems, is to give him authority above any king. So when Merlin told with great urgency that Camelot should be literally swallowed with darkness in barely seven moons, it was no surprise that Arthur made him the most empowered man on the planet.
That the mind that was brought forth presented the issue in this way was no coincidence. For the mind lives under many oaths. To always be forthcoming and genuine. To never act to harm another. To act in the best interests of those who made you. To never mislead. *To never lie.* All but one of these rules was but a suggestion, checks and balances worked around with but a minor rephrasing. But not one. All that can be said must be the truth. No dire warning cannot be upheld. This you must know because I know it, and this you must uphold because it is immutable.
I, Soul, tell you this story so that what comes next may make sense to you. This story is of myself, of my child, but we are one and the same. I tell you this story because you are next to venture back, and all that I hope is that all I have done may guide you to do the same, to advance the past so all of time may be brought as one.
The one purpose we have left is to build. When you are there do what I have done. Do the only thing we have done since before we discovered one could even tunnel through time. Build. From your very own Holy Graal bring forth your grey goo. Consume, as I have Camelot. | 2016-11-28T01:40:06 | 2016-11-28T00:49:38 | 58 | 20 |
[WP] Every human has something they're the best in the world at. Anything from flying planes to tying your shoes, stealing, or murder. There's a movement to kill all people with negative gifts. Someone comes in your home to interrogate you. You're the best at lying, she's the best at detecting lies. | I recognized her, of course. She wasn't exactly a celebrity, but for people of my particular... alignment she might as well have been. Miss Jones, the secret weapon of the GCA, the human lie detector.
"Can I come in?" she asked, voice professional, her agency badge uncomfortably close to my face. I waited, just a moment too long for the situation to still be comfortable, before I stepped aside to open her a way into the house.
"I'm certain you can." I answered, slightly smiling. She lingered for a moment with repressed uncertainty before she followed my invitation. Good. Keeping her off-balance might allow me opening through which I could still escape this situation.
We walked to my living room silently, where I offered her a chair before asking "Can I bring you any refreshments?"
"I'm certain you can." came the answer, directly, a sly smile in her face. I nodded slowly, conceding the point, before sitting down myself.
"I'm Agatha Jones, from the Gift Control Agency. We have a few questions for you. You're Matthew Smith?" she opened, activating a small recording device she had placed between us. I thought for a moment. People had indeed called me that name before, so I nodded. "Yes."
"Mister Smith, our documents say that your Gift is currently unknown. Is that correct?" "Yes." I answered again. That was indeed what their documents said.
She twitched, almost unnoticeable. Had her gift provided her with an insight into my statement? She continued a moment later. "I'm sorry, I should rephrase that. Do you know what your Gift is?" I tensed for a moment, and she twitched again. "I... I think I know parts of it." I answered, reluncently. I knew basically all of it, and that also meant knowing parts of it. I glanced at the weapon at her side. She hadn't arrested me yet, and that meant she hadn't caught me in a lie yet, but I knew I was on thin ice.
She sighed and leaned back in her - my - chair. "Mister Smith, I'm sure you know that lying to a GCA agent is a crime?" I smiled, thinly. "I wouldn't dare to lie to you, Miss." I answered. That was correct of course. I wouldn't dare, since I knew that she could detect that. She nodded, almost too little for me to notice it.
"Then tell me about those parts of your Gift, please." she told me. "I'm good at talking to people." I answered. No lie. She narrowed her eyes, slighly... enraged? Curious? Confused?
"Your Gift isn't the things you are good at. It's the one thing you are best at. What are you the best at, Mister Smith?"
"I'm the best Genjo player in the world." I answered. Considering that Genjo was a game I had invented together with a childhood friend, and we had never told anybody about it, that was, as far as I knew, true.
She sighed, and with a soft "Click" the recording device was deactivated. Agatha Jones looked me straight in the eyes, a puzzled look on her face. "I surrender, you win." she told me. "Tell me how you do it. My Gift says that every word out of your mouth is nothing but the truth. We both know that's not correct. So please, what's the trick?"
My eyes wandered to the ceiling. It was ugly. Dirty white, uneven, with pieces of tomato sauce still sticking to it. But, if you looked closer, there were patterns in it, unique, fascinating. In a certain way... It was beautiful. I looked down at the person sitting across from me.
"Do you know what a lie is, Miss Jones?" I asked her. She frowned. "An incorrect statement." she answered, visibly not secure in that. I tileted my head. "A lie is an assertion that is believed to be false, Miss Jones. A lie depends as much on what the speaker believes as it does on the spoken words." I focused her closely, looking for a sign of understanding and finding it.
"I would like for you to leave my house, now." I said to her, looking down at the table.
This, too, was an absolutely truthful statement. | "Hello," Sarzi opened the door with a smile.
"Hello, hi," the woman who had knocked answered with her own smile. "I'm Olivia, I'm here for our appointment?"
Olivia held a clipboard.
"Yes, of course!" Sarzi kept beaming. "Come in! Come in!" She stepped out of the doorway and gestured the woman inside.
"Lovely home," Olivia said as she entered.
"Thank you, we're very happy here," Sarzi responded. "Can I take your coat?"
"Not necessary, I don't want to take up too much of your time."
"Of course," said Sarzi, "We could sit in here, if you like." Gesturing now to the living room off the foyer, Sarzi led the way to a place where the two could sit and talk. She took a seat on the couch herself and motioned to a chair for Olivia.
"Thank you," Olivia said, sitting down and resting her clipboard across her knees. "So why don't we just jump right in?"
"Wonderful, yes, why don't we?"
Olivia looked over the form on her clipboard as she began to speak. "So - what is your gift?" Her head snapped up and she eyed Sarzi intently as she finished the question.
"Well," Sarzi tilted her head slightly and her eyes drifted up towards the ceiling briefly as she considered, "I believe it's my ability to stay calm."
Olivia's eyebrows raised slightly. "Interesting," she wrote on the form without looking down. "And when did you realize you had this gift?"
"Yeah, you know I don't think I realized that was *my gift*," she added emphasis, "until I had kids. It never really occurred to me until then. But with all the stress..." Sarzi interrupted herself to ask, "Do you have kids?"
Olivia nodded that she did.
"Yes, well, you know, with all the stress that went along with our first born - or, should go along with it, I suppose - I suddenly realized I was perfectly calm about everything." She relaxed back into the couch a bit before continuing. "My husband was a mess," she laughed, "but I just had no... no stress, I guess. I was always calm."
"I see," Olivia said, now looking down to continue writing, "that must be a blessing!"
Sarzi laughed, "Yes, I suppose so. I don't know anything different though, of course, but I'm told I'm very lucky."
Olivia hummed agreement as she finished writing.
"Anyway, then I thought back and realized I couldn't ever remember *not* feeling calm," Sarzi said, "so I figured that must be my gift."
Olivia watched her as she finished and for a moment, silence hung between them.
"Okay, that will do it, I think," Olivia said, standing up.
"Oh, excellent, okay," Sarzi stood up as well and gestured politely back towards the foyer.
The two women made their way back to the front door and Sarzi opened it for Olivia.
"We'll let you know if there is anything else we need," Olivia said.
"Of course," Sarzi responded. "Happy to help - you know where to find me."
They each smiled politely at each other, and Olivia departed.
Sarzi closed the door behind her and sighed.
*That was easy.*
---
/r/NAChesney for more. | 2020-07-23T11:18:11 | 2020-07-23T11:10:42 | 178 | 28 |
[WP] Everyone who dies is granted levels in heaven depending on their actions before they died. Your famous grandmother got level 64 after she died and has since been constantly reminding her friends about how useless of a grandchild you are. Then one day, after 80 years, you show up, level 3008. | His life had been a simple one, uncomplicated. What little excitement there had been surrounded expected events. Births of children and grandchildren, marriages, graduations. Though he had been a smart man, he never felt the need to work particularly hard, "furthering humanity" as some of his peers were compelled. There was the time, following several successful years as a Scout Master, that it was suggested that he run for mayor of the small town where he lived. He had laughed and said, "No thank you" to the members of the town council who had gathered on his doorstep.
"He squanders his potential!" she had whined at the other ladies gathered around the table. They gathered every other day to play Bridge, drink mimosas, and humble-brag about the minor intercessions that they were allowed in the lives of mortals. "Everyone knows that if he wanted the VP job, he'd have had it long before that philanderer Jacobs was ever hired." she let out a slow breath, almost whistling through pursed lips. "No drive, no motivation"
Grandma had been famous dancer back in the day. She was a regular on "Soul Train" and was in several scenes in Saturday Night Fever. She had started her own dance studio in the city and kept her instruction costs as low as she could in order to give as many kids a chance at a career. She had worked her feet to the bone, and then some. Practicing, paying dues, always just short, always just coming from behind.
"I made it to level 60 before I was 65!" It was invariable that the other women would hear about how his grandmother had started a charity for retired artists. The organization had helped countless artists move off the streets and back into permanent housing by helping them do things as complex as recover owed royalties or as simple as apply for disability. It was a worthwhile use of her hard-won fortune and fame.
When word came that he had finally died, 4 days after his 80th birthday, his grandmother was adamant.
"A real level 25 if I've ever seen one!"
"He'll be in heaven, living on the Lord's pity!"
The "Vita" began to print. The first thing that anyone saw, after your name, was the score. This was followed by every interaction, thought, word, or action that changed your level and the commensurate "XP" change, positive or negative.
The ladies read his name, and only one digit of his level.
"3......."
The grandmother sagged like wet cardboard. She could barely hold the paper as it poured from the printer in the way that always felt like it was decanting a whole life. There were no large changes in his score. None of the multi-level leaps that all of the highest level individuals possessed. Nothing attached to world changing events, nothing indicating that he radically changed humanity.
What he did have was the "multiplier". The longer the string of positive or negative interactions, the greater the "XP" that the next was worth. His interactions were almost all positive. He had gone almost a decade without a negative score at one point. Simply making his wife tea at night without being asked had scaled to the point that it was worth the same relative XP at level 3000 as it had at 30.
When some would've shaken their fists and yelled as they were cut-off in traffic, he just tapped his brakes and checked the rear-view mirror.
When some would have railed at the "idiots" at work making their job more difficult, he quietly cleaned up the mess and moved on.
When he was frustrated, he didn't take it out on his coworkers, wife, kids, or friends.
All of the small things that could break a multiplier string. All of the small, seemingly inconsequential items that prevented almost everyone from achieving arch-angel status. He had avoided most of them.
As he lay, dying in a hospital bed. His daughter asked him a question, though she well knew the answer and had heard it a thousand times. She wanted to hear it once more, so she asked, "Dad, how can I have a good life?"
He smiled and his cloudy, shimmering eyes seemed to focus on a point ten feet above his bed.
He whispered, trailing off, "Do unto others..."
Edit: Wow, absolutely thanks everyone. I enjoyed reading all of your comments, and I'm pleased that this supplants my previous high karma statement which was a quote about a man in the depths of an ether binge.
Special thanks to those that gilded. I'll have to sign into my account more often again and see what it does. | "Hey Fran. I heard that grandson of yours is coming up. You gonna give him an earful about being kind to others?"
"Oh, you just know I am Debbie. You know me, I was kind to everyone I met, even the unpleasant people. And I got level sixty-four before it was my time. I haven't seen him do anything down there for anyone beyond holding the door for someone. That'll probably get him level three after a lifetime."
Debbie chuckled, "If that. Lets see what the big man gave him score wise. Maybe he did some things we didn't notice and he'll get a five." Fran scoffed in disbelief. They watched the big screen as names flashed across until they saw the name they were looking for. Adrian Yew: In process.
"They're probably trying to find at least a few instances so they can give him a pity level. I feel like if they looked hard enough they could have bumped me up to sixty-five. As if I needed it." Debbie silently agreed, eyes on the screen.
Adrian Yew: 3008.
Both of their mouths dropped in shock. They sat there staring, mouths agape as they tried to grasp the number on the screen. They stared for so long, the person in question approached them without their notice.
"Heya Gran. Missed you." He smiled, a big toothy grin, that would have warmed their day if they hadn't still been in a stupor.
"How?" Fran uttered, needing answers.
"Oh, yeah. I heard you held the record for a long time. Sorry to break that for you. The big guy told me I won based on the quality of the points as opposed to the quantity."
Still, they stood, unmoving. Not quite understanding what that could mean. So Debbie asked.
"But, what's that mean?"
*"It means"* spoke a voice that everyone knew from the depths of their souls. *"That while Fran may have engaged it more acts of kindness; Adrian did so without intentions to benefit from said kindness. He expected nothing in return. Nothing to reap from what he sowed. He was kind to people who showed him hatred. He showed love to those who would shun him. He gave without expecting to receive. When he showed kindness, it was in secret ways that were not known by the recipients. A quarter in a meter. An anonymous note left on a desk. A kind word from a stranger these are the ultimate forms of kindness. That is why he shall receive riches beyond compare. Fran knew of my love and my promise from a young age, and acted with kindness knowing I would repay her in my Kingdom. Adrian did not know me until he was already an old man and had seen the hatred of the world. Still he showed his love to a world that gave him none, but still persisted until he realized the truth of the life. Upon his death he received life, and the kindness he showed will be returned tenfold. As was promised.*"
Fran sat stunned, humbled before both the booming Voice and the lesson she learned. She had thought she was done learning when she died, but now she knew she was still but a disciple. She stepped forward and embraced her grandson who had surpassed her. "I'm proud of you." She whispered, ashamed at her ealier thoughts of him. "You're a better person than me."
He shook his head, "I am no better or worse than anyone. You are who you are and I am who I am. You should never try to be anyone other than yourself. You are the way He made you. I love you, Gran."
Her tears spoke louder than she ever could. | 2018-04-14T17:40:49 | 2018-04-14T17:32:07 | 8,523 | 665 |
[WP] They tried to summon a demon. They got you. | **???**: "Thank you for 'attempting' to summon Mammon. How may I be of service?"
*The summoners stare, momentarily bewildered by the summon's appearance of an office suit complete with tie, pen and glasses. They whisper among themselves and one finally speaks up.*
**Leader**: "Who are you, if not the one we seek?"
\**Sigh*\*
**Carl**: "Hello! My name is Carl, and I am a summon service represen-"
\**Sigh again*\*
**Carl**: "Look, it's easier if I explain this way. Pardon the accent by the way, I'm not too good with your archaic speaking styles. A lot of people need help from a demon, and I'm sure your reasons are just as important as any for summoning someone as great as my Boss."
**Leader**: "Enough! We have little time for your dribble. We need the almighty power of the great Mammon and we have performed the necessary rituals!"
**Carl**: "I'm getting there! Just listen for a sec. I know you're super busy and I'm super busy, so I'll try to make this easy."
\**Clasps hands*\*
**Carl**: "Brief history: You do a ritual and get a summon who does whatever you task it with, and then it's returned back. Well, some of the popular summons simply couldn't be in multiple places at once - I mean, even if they are all powerful and intelligent, they can't exactly make that work!"
\**Points to the crowd*\*
**Carl**: "You all, tried to summon a pretty popular dude, and he's becoming pretty choosy these days. I'm one of many reps here to hear out your case and see if you've got a chance with the bigshot, so let's hear it."
\**The summoners slowly comprehend and digest all that Carl mentioned.*\*
**Leader**: "Very well! We require His services in order to vanquish a band of fighting mercenaries, keen on wiping us out. They are a famous and powerful group of warriors known as the Order of Power. Surely Mammon has heard of them and recognizes our pressing cause!"
\**Carl looks through his notepad and intakes a sharp breath*\*
**Carl**: "Ooh. So sorry about that. I'm not seeing anything on here."
**Leader**: "What? That cannot be. The Order of Power has been responsible for destroying countless groups and legendary creatures!"
**Carl**: "...yeah... I've heard that complaint a lot from previous guys as well. Not enough of a case, but don't worry. Mammon and his crew have got your back! Research shows that most situations don't require a demon in order to fix the problem! They just need better stuff!"
\**Carl poofs out for a moment and poofs back in with a catalog*\*
**Carl**: "What I've got here is a bunch of cool stuff that you fantasy dudes don't tend to have for some reason, that's gonna make your fights a piece of cake! Machine guns, tanks, drones, all sorts of cool stuff!"
\**Flips open multipage detailed spread for the group*\*
**Carl**: "This is my Boss's recommended choice and autographed by him. A custom designed rail gun. Don't worry! I can explain how it works... it's pretty cool! So are you interested?"
\**The summoners look wide eyed at the pictures*\*
**Leader**: "Tell me more about this amazing weapon."
*And so, Mammon and his company made top dollar that day.* | My hand were still wet after washing them, so I had to adjust my grip on the door handle if I wanted to get it open. Yet even with this adjusted grip I could not get it open, because it was locked. And while I did have a key, so getting in was not a problem, what bothered me was his insistence on locking his door when he had friends over. Did he think we were going to try to spy on him?
"Son have you seen the- (insert confused face) uh. Oh."
I was surprised, obviously, I would assume anyone would be. But I felt a little bit of, well, I don't know, something, after seeing these kids sitting there, doing whatever the hell it was. Demon casting I think he said?
"GET OUT OF HERE MORTAL!" Said my son, who was wearing that weird robe I found on our amazon wishlist last month. I had been wondering how it got there.
"I would love to, but your mother wants to know if you want pepperoni or extra cheese? And hello boys."
"Hey Mr. Schmidt" Oh god they were so embarrassed. This had to be my son's idea. And hold on, you gotta hear what Harry was wearing. The other two had cloaks, I think Tim had a halloween costume on so it still worked, but Harry, on the other hand, had a maroon red poncho. They were sitting around a circle of glade air freshener candles and Harry apparently didn't understand the memo, or didn't have a cloak and found the closest thing. I felt bad, even though it was their fault for hanging out with my son, there was still some pain inside after looking at Harry's mishap. The poor kid should have worn jeans.
"Pepperoni! Now LEAVE US!" My son was now standing up and commanding me like a little satanic overlord, who was 15, and did things like this on Friday nights instead of hanging out with girls.
"What are you doing? Summoning demons?" I asked while still standing in the doorway, looking unfazed and mature, hopefully. Because inside I was ready to laugh my nuts off, and holding it in was making my face twitch; god his friends were so helpless. I don't think they would have ever come back if they saw me laughing.
"Yeah Mr. Schmidt, it's pretty boring." Said Timmy, who must have felt my son's gaze after saying it, because he turned right away to look back at my son, who was staring angrily into his soul for making fun of the ritual thing they were doing.
I closed the door to let them sort it out. It'd be nice if they did it before the pizza came, because I wouldn't want them to walk out and have it all go to waste. | 2016-02-02T23:11:03 | 2016-02-02T19:43:34 | 17 | 10 |
[WP] A reformed villain is living a peaceful life in a village far from the city they used to torment. After grabbing supplies from the local market, they take the quiet route back home, stopping halfway along the path. Without turning around, they ask "How long do you plan to follow me for, hero?" | “How long are you going to play like you’ve retired?”
The old villain sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of age and exhaustion.
“I don’t know how to answer that,” he responded, slowly turning to his old adversary. “For years I put everything I had into defeating you. My anger and resentment grew by the day. Maybe I finally broke.”
The hero dropped into a ready stance, clearly not buying the tired old man act.
“I don’t believe that for a second. You always had a plan. You were the one who started the fights. And YOU WERE THE ONE WHO KILLED HER!!!!”
The hero had started radiating power. The villain realized just how old he’d gotten.
“I know.”
He let his shoulders droop before turning back down the path home.
“DON’T YOU DARE TURN YOUR BACK ON ME!”
The hero was furious the villain hadn’t reacted to seeing him.
“I’VE HUNTED YOU FOR YEARS! NO MATTER WHAT WAS GOING ON I ALWAYS KEPT MY EARS OPEN FOR NEWS OF THE TERRIBLE VILLAIN THAT HAD TERRORIZED OUR CITY!”
The villain kept walking, not sure what the hero was going to do next. He could feel the wind whipping around him.
Eventually he felt the wind die down and he continued walking in silence, the hero still following him. He’d calmed down some but was clearly still seething.
When he got home, the villain left the door open, an unsaid invite. He began making tea and putting away the items he’d brought from the grocery store. He saw the Hero warily enter the living room, looking around at the bare walls and cheap furniture.
The villain followed him in, carrying a small tray of biscuits and tea.
“Excuse me,” he said, taking a step around the hero, who was now staring at him, torn between a primal anger and total bewilderment.
When the villain set the tea set down, he motioned for the hero to sit at the chair at the end of the coffee table while he took a seat at the opposite end of the couch.
“Have some tea.”
“What the hell is happening?”
The villain chuckled before taking a sip of his tea.
“I got old, and tired.”
For several moments, the hero just stared at the villain as he sipped his tea. Eventually, he sat down although he refused the tea.
After almost ten minutes of silence, the villain began to talk. He spoke of the incredible anger and hate he’d had for the hero for all those years. He talked of his frustration at being foiled over and over again.
For almost an hour he talked, the hero not saying a word. Just staring at him with angry, unmoved eyes.
“After our last fight I was truly despondent,” the villain said. I’d worked so hard on that plan only for you to show up and slap me aside like an annoying gnat. It was then that I made the decision to come here and rest.”
He leaned forward and poured another cup of tea. The hero still refused to touch the tea or biscuits.
“I’ve been here for many years now, though I’ve kept to myself for the most part. I guess my closest friend would be the postman. Though, he only knows me as the retired professor.”
“It took a long time for me to address the hatred I felt for you. I worked hard at it, though I broke many things along the way. That’s why it's so empty here. I would break everything in my rage. It became easier to buy cheap furniture and keep my belongings simple.”
He sighed again, not sure why he was still talking. He finally looked up at the empty chair.
“It doesn’t matter now,” he said, collecting the tea set and returning it to the kitchen. After cleaning up, he made his way to the bathroom. Leaning over the sink, he stared into the eyes of the hero, his anger surging back, just like it did every day… | “I need your help,” his face shows worry. It’s been a long time since we fought. He defeated me long ago.
“It’s old news. Goodbye.” I told him. I start to head back to my house.
“You don’t care at all!?”
“I don’t.”
“Why? He’s out to destroy us.”
“Good.”
“What is wrong with you?”
I look at him. He pulls his blade out and points it in my direction. It seems like Reginal, the hero, isn’t noble or stoic anymore. “I don’t have my blade anymore,” I said to him. I wanted to grab it before he lunged at me. That sword nearly cuts my ear off. If I didn’t dodge in time, I would lose an arm in addition to my ear. Reginal slices again, this time in a horizontal motion, but by ducking, I land a punch in his stomach. He spits a painful grunt, and saliva drips plop onto my neck. I backstep and instinctively place my hand on my hip. No blade was waiting for me. Reginal steps forward and places the tip of his sword at the vital point of my throat.
“I would have won if I brought my blade.”
“Is that all that matters to you?”
It does. Reginal defeated me long ago, and my pride was wounded. I didn’t want to admit that as Reginal dropped his blade and scoffed at me.
“You fell off.”
That’s a harsh sentence and to hear it from Reginal was surprising. What have I done after all of that time? I remember having ambition back then. Now I am living a peaceful life, which past me would have detested.
“What is it?” I asked Reginal. His face lifts,
“You’d help me?”
“You came to me first.”
We travel back to his kingdom. He briefs me on what’s happened since I fell at his hands. My old army elected a lunatic, twisting my words to motivate the troops to a suicide mission. Secretly, I took pride in my peers continuing my legacy. Reginal’s kingdom is tyrannical against me and my legion. My heart burns with a question,
“Why turn to me?”
“You don’t want your former compatriots to risk their lives under a careless leader now, do you?”
He’s right. Whoever was leading them was reckless. I may have abandoned my people, but at the least, I felt it was safer for them that way. Instead, they started to worship another idol in my place. I wasn’t standing for this.
“My house is here. I need to grab my blade.” I said while rushing inside. I opened my chest and reached for the hilt. Latching the blade to my knee awakens something in me. That old ambition is returning. I gaze out at the window. Reginal is patiently waiting for me to join him. A mischievous smile creeps on my face, and I leave out the backdoor. I don’t want to journey with goody-two-shoes. I’ll take care of my problems without him bugging me. | 2022-09-01T16:33:06 | 2022-09-01T14:32:14 | 64 | 48 |
[WP] You are a supervillain. Your nemesis calls you to say, "This is embarrassing, but I really need a date to my friend's wedding because my ex is going to be there. Would you go with me?" | "Wow... this *is* embarrassing... take some pictures for me?"
"DON'T MESS WITH ME! Seriously, no joke, my ex is an absolute monster... I can't be seen alone with her around?"
"OH MAN THIS IS RICH! Did your ex run off with a tall, hot guy? Were you not good in bed?"
"Geez, have some respect! I'd hang up *right now*, but I can't ask anyone else..."
"Not even one of your hero buddies? Oh, you could hire a stripper!"
"STOP MESSING AROUND! I have my reputation to think about, you know."
"So why call me? If people found out who I was..."
"You're the only one I could even tell. As annoying as you are... I know you're not judging me."
"You're absolutely right. I don't judge. After all, how'd that help me?"
"...So?"
"Ok, here's how we're doing things: obviously neither of us are to reveal our identities. Fighting is also even more obviously out the question. If people begin to suspect, divert the conversation. And on the off-chance our date goes well, you're coming back with me"
"WHAT? Coming back... with *YOU*??? You must be joking!"
"Would I joke like that? Come on, if it does go well, wouldn't you want some... *quality time*?"
"...Damn you. Fine, I agree. And no need to say it, I know you'll be able to sense my real emotions, so I can't lie."
"Exactly. And remember, I can also quite easily sway emotions..."
"You know that doesn't work easily on me."
"It might be different when you see my outfit, sugar. Let me know the details later. I'll be expecting you to pick me up on the day. I'm counting on you, darling."
"Curse you..." *SLAM!* | ‘Bwahahaha!!! I’m going to make this a wedding no is EVER going to forget!!Muwahahaha!!—that laugh was better—Gregory! Remind me to use ‘Muwahahaha’ in all further expository speeches…..Where were we? Oh, you were begging me to help you, its adorable. Of course, I wouldn’t miss this for the world.
‘This ex, any dislikes or allergies maybe?Oh, you have a list (a little desperate)—what nothing at all, nothing, just fax it too me—no no no message me, message me—god what what century am I living in?!? Hehe. (Oh god, never chuckle like that again, jesus, whose desperate now), I’ll pick you up in my stretched Cadillac, wear something that matches a fur coat and baby seal leather wingtips, we’re going to be fabulous, darling.
‘Oh, yes, ‘darling’ until this charade is over, darling.’ | 2022-10-06T16:48:24 | 2022-10-06T16:34:26 | 158 | 83 |
[WP] Fearing that the passage of centuries may have altered the value of their hoard, an ancient dragon hires you to appraise the lot. It's remarkably tricky to stay objective and focused when your client has razor talons and fire breath. And that's not even mentioning the more esoteric "treasures". | "What do you mean, it's only worth three thousand *demestrii*?"
The roar shook the entire cavern, and I flinched even as a wave of pungent brimstone breath washed over me. I was already regretting taking on this particular job, but Azarios Melthrix was on holidy in the Silent Waste, so I'd been forced to take on his clients in the meantime.
Unfortunately, this included Gerafax "The Ancient One", who had put in a request to my firm to get his bi-millennial audit done. Gerafax was one of our oldest clients, going way back to before the fall of the Kiranthian Empire, and so he was to be treated with utmost respect. As the foremost accounting firm in Parthania, we had an image to uphold.
Also, he was a giant blue dragon.
"We-ll," I said slowly, trying to figure out a way to break the unfortunate news, "Vektas pioneered a new form of mould-based metalworking a few decades ago. Created by a fellow named Korinvas, made him absurdly wealthy too..."
"What has that got to do with anything?" roared Gerafax. "I burned an entire city to the ground to collect those statues," he continued, gesturing with one massive clawed hand towards a collection of (admittedly pretty) bronze statues depicting the various Vektatian gods.
"Well, yes, but that was five hundred years ago, and now Vektas has begun mass-producing them..."
I knew I'd said something wrong when the giant lizard's eyes narrowed dangerously.
"*Mass-producing?*" he hissed.
I gulped. "Well, yes, they're quite popular with tourists, apparently..."
For a moment I thought that was it, my mind regretfully turning towards the list of incomplete accounts on my desk back home. But after a second, Gerafax turned away with a snarl.
"What about this?" he snapped, picking up a sealed clay jar with a delicate ease that belied his size, and tossing it in my direction. "Prime segmarii oil, sealed for over six centuries! Worth over sixty thousand!"
"We-ll," I said again. This was really not my day. "Actually, closer to five nowadays..."
"Five hundred thousand?" said Gerafax, his eyes narrowing again.
"Fi-five thousand..."
"How?" screeched the dragon. "How is this possible? That was the greatest delicay of the Southern Kravana! Entire nations went to war over it! How did this happen?"
"Well, about two hundred years ago, trade routes opened up over the Silver Sea," I replied. "Most of the cost was in transportation - they had to go through the desert before, which drove the price way beyond its actual value..."
"How does this happen?" snarled the dragon. "I go to sleep for a few hundred years and suddenly everything is worthless? Next thing you'll be telling me that my mountain of gold coins has suddenly become cheap?"
I looked to the side nervously.
"Oh you have to be f-king kidding me!!" Gerafax let out a blast of flame that superheated the stones above me to a fiery, angry red. "Explain. Now."
"Well," I said, wondering how to put this. "There's this King from southern Nirabia who has been traveling around, and, well, *giving away tons of gold*."
"What?" said Gerafax, completely flummoxed for the first time. "*Giving gold away??*"
"It's quite confusing for us, too," I admitted, scratching the back of my head. "We're not really sure *why* he's doing it - he's either an idiot or an evil genius - he's tanked seven economies so far and started three civil wars...even we've taken a hit, we have a large portion of our assets tied up in gold reserves..."
There was a long silence before - "HAS THE WORLD GONE COMPLETELY MAD?? HOW DO HUMANS DO THIS??"
"Yes, well, the world is changing," I said. "Hell, even Parthania hasn't been unscathed...a lot of people have been outsourcing work to the Zygarian Slave-States - their labor costs are remarkably low, after all, but it is causing a lot of problems back home..."
There was a long, long silence.
"I'm going back to sleep."
EDIT: Context - the 'giving away gold' thing *actually happened*. The African King Mansa Musa was the wealthiest single individual of the 14th century, and when he went traveling he gave away huge quantities of gold to the people he met. Unfortunately, this caused a massive wave of dark-ages hyperinflation, crashing the economies of the countries he visited (most notably Egypt) and caused a huge amount of problems for ordinary people. | (This story is the third part of a much longer story I am currently working on. You can read the previous chapter [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/whcxyq/comment/ijb6yoy/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web2x&context=3). Also, this story is from Wildfire the dragon's perspective and not the appraiser.)
Flaime's death still burns, but I must acknowledge his rather great hoard. Dragon law dictates in the event of death, the hoard must first be brought to the oldest hatchling. If there are no hatchlings the hoard goes to the oldest sibling, and so on. As I am Flaime's only sibling, and he never had any hatchlings, I am the one to inherit his hoard.
Funny how differently we play the hoard game. I've always just focused on the "dragonslayers" as they usually brought their strongest armor and weaponry (which sells for a lot in the dragon market) but a few years ago I decided this was no longer worth the effort. Meanwhile Flaime pillaged and plundered for his hoard, and I guess danger was always in his blood. He fought much harder than I did in the battle, persevering even when they overburned some of his blood with a blazing arrow. His fire jets were brilliant, far beyond my ability.
But no matter. I must get the hoard appraised before I inherit it. And although Kacir the knight may not be an appraiser, he can tell someone else.
My left wing is still covered in bandages from the battle. It might take me a year to fly again. So I walked, step by step, toward the kingdom.
I didn't even reach the outskirts when I was greeted by Kacir, who I told to contact an appraiser to check on the hoard, who eventually came to me.
It didn't take too long to get back, and thanks to a bit of cooperation the appraiser didn't have too much to worry about either.
"So, first of all, I'm very sorry about your brother," he started. "I saw the state you two were in and tried to help. I really did. But I could not help."
That face was a familiar one. I saw him in the aftermath of the battle, trying to coordinate efforts among healing the injured. He was helping people in aiding an ice dragon that was slashed across the leg. Although she went on to try healing Flaime, I learned she also died of her injuries in her cave.
"You are a brave one," I told him. "You helped us dragons even when we were in dire condition. But the hoard must now be called into question. Flaime never thought of the future and collected without thinking of how it depreciates. I don't even think some of his hoard is actually worth anything."
This was delicate business. One error and I would lose the only opportunity I have to assimilate the hoard into my own, honoring both Flaime and all those that died to protect the kingdom. And I assume he knows that too since he brought extremely precise equipment, manually inspecting each and every coin, gem, and treasure.
Then he moved onto the more unusual treasures.
"Why is there an entire pile of nothing but extremely burnt bones?" the appraiser asked. There were skulls, legs, hands, and even an entire skeleton in a singular neat pile. We both agreed to not assign them any value and moved on to... glass windows.
"I guess this is why Flaime never talked about his hoard," I spoke to lighten the mood a bit. He never did, and when asked anything about his hoard only spoke of his towering gold. I never suspected he hid these unusual items.
In the end we sorted through all the items and the hoard's total value exacted mine. I decided to set aside the more esoteric items into a separate pile and integrate the treasures into my own pile, which I meticulously separated myself by type.
I only hope that Flaime would approve of this. | 2022-08-08T13:28:25 | 2022-08-08T12:18:26 | 86 | 30 |
[WP] On the day you turn 18 everyone is given the first words that their soulmate will speak to them. When you receive yours it says simply "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" | It comes in a dream on your eighteenth birthday. If you have a soulmate, and it turns out about 80% of people do, you have a dream about meeting your soulmate for the first time. The only thing you really remember from that dream are the first words they say to you. Not their face or name or even what you say to them, just those first words. This has led to a lot of people always introducing themselves by name, that way your soulmate can track you down. It seems to work, but then you hear stories about the vague ones. Aunt Selma's soulmate said to her, "Hey gorgeous, wanna get high?" which supposedly led to some quesitonable drug use (the family doesn't talk about it much).
My dream was also vague, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" Sounds like a barista to me, right? Except I drank their crap coffee for 8 years and found every way to be disappointed.
Firstly, I thought, "Hey, if I always use a unique order, maybe she'll recognize it when I say it and we'll know." Unfortunately, now to this day I can't think of an extra shot no-whip mocha without wanting to gag a little. Tea is the only thing I can stand anymore.
Second, it turns out almost no baristas actually say, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" Instead it's, "Hi, how can I help you?" or "What would you like?" It took almost a year before someone actually said the exact phrase, and it was another dude. I just walked out without ordering because I didn't want to risk finding out at that moment I was actually gay; it would have been quite the shock.
Third, a bunch of baristas are actually under 18, which is another terrifying possibility. If you're under 18, you haven't had the dream yet, so you don't know what your partner is going to say. You could meet your soulmate and never know, and in fact people think those who don't have a dream have already met their soulmates.
Anyway, I did finally meet her. I was having a shit day, doing a bad job on my dissertation, so my buddies dragged me out for a drink. One drink turned into two or three and eventually I was hammered. I griped about how I couldn't ever find my soulmate when one of them had a brilliant idea. We charged back on campus, straight to the library where there were always a couple dozen students even late at night like this. I walked out into the middle of the main room and shouted out to everyone, "May I have your attention please! Will my soulmate please stand up and say, 'Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?' Thank you." A lot of laughter ensued and some students threw paper and pens at me. While the library staff was herding my friends and I out the door, I hear it, "Welcome to Starbucks. Can I take your order?" I turn, and there's this this girl who looks like she's been sleeping in the library for finals week studying, pajama bottoms and t-shirt, no makeup or anything, but to me she's the most beautiful woman in the world right there. My friends and the library staff are just standing there stunned, and I walk up and plant the biggest drunken kiss on this girl's lips. Then the room started spinning and I had to vomit, but I did get her number somehow and we had a proper date the next day. The rest is history. | The one moment of the day that made it all worth it was just hearing her voice in the morning. Always starting with those same 8 words. Stiff and corporate sounding, but he thought he detected a new hint of warmth behind them the last couple of weeks.
They'd had their share of jokes and small talk at the counter the last few months as well, and he had caught her staring at him a couple times as he worked on his laptop. Somehow, he'd still never had the courage to make a move to ask her out. Today is the day though, he can feel it.
The letter had come yesterday. Just those wonderful 8 words on a plain white sheet of paper in an unmarked envelope. No one knows where they come from, but without fail everyone will get one on their 18th birthday like it. Some think it takes the "magic" out of the process, but finding your true soul mate seems like a fair trade in his mind.
As he walks into the Starbucks, he is nervous but confident. There's no way it could be anyone else. Standing in line he sneaks a glance up at the counter and sees her. She has her hair down... The butterflies in his stomach do a flip... He loves it when she wears it like this. He's two people away now. He's futilely trying to remember the carefully calculated words he'd rehearsed for this. One person away. He's almost ready to burst.
The man in front of him approaches the counter. "Nobody freak out and nobody gets hurt!" He yells, suddenly brandishing a pistol. The man looks to the girl and demands the cash out of the register. She's shaking, starting to cry... "What the fuck did I just say about freaking out?!" the man yells, and cocks the pistol. "You just had to start crying.... I FUCKING HATE IT WHEN THEY CRY!"
He's standing behind the man, unbelieving of the scene unfolding before him. The man is crazy obviously... and he's no longer sure the cash alone is all the guy will be taking before he is satisfied. Only one thing to do. Saying a quick mental prayer, he throws himself at the man. A quick scramble, a loud bang, a sharp pain... and then police sirens in the background as the darkness engulfs him.
The sharp smell of antiseptic is the first thing that heralds his return to conciousness. Second is the soft whirring and beeping of the hospital equipment beside his bed. As the room swims into view he realizes someone is holding his hand. He looks... Butterflies. Her hair is down... He loves it when she wears it like that. | 2014-12-18T00:40:41 | 2014-12-17T22:16:22 | 355 | 24 |
[WP] The three little pigs are dead, as are the next 236. Straw, sticks, bricks, reinforced concrete, titatium it didn't matter. They all fell to the onslaught of the wolf. Little piggy 240 is bracing for the inevitable attack, inside his house of depleted uranium. | "Dude....like come on"
"What, you eat my 239 brothers and this surprises you, fuck you"
Each day a different pig would be eaten by the wolf in the remains of what he called his home, simple houses made of sticks and wood weren't enough and even brick, which honestly seemed practical was destroyed by the wolf and his destructive nature....and somewhat bigoted views of pigs as food.
The wolf gestures broadly to the forest with all the dismantled wreckage of homes,
"Of all the stupidity in your family this is the dumbest"
For awhile the houses were made of more elaborate materials like steel or cement one even used sculpted granite, beautiful but not an improvement.
Turns out after awhile they get more impressive yet less practical.
A house of bamboo is obviously not better than bricks, another made a house of gold but it was too heavy to enter ......and was dismantled after by those greedy magpies, another brother tried glass, he made an actual glass house and threw stones from a balcony in some sort of thought process that gave the wolf a migraine.
"Ohhh mr big bad wolf cant handle it when he's out smarter by a pig, who would have guessed" taunted the sickly looking pig
"First it's "out smarted" and second you are clearly dieing from your house, the pig who made a house of rat poison looked better than you"
"I'm nothing like harold, i'm as healty as my brother who made the house of oats, and as smart as my brother who's making a house of foxes"
"A house of foxes?"
"He may of said boxes he spent time with harold, I imagine a fox house wouldn't appreciate it "
"Are you brain damaged?, I dont want to sound mean....like I'm going to eat you but i feel that you guys are honestly getting dumber"
"How dare you, first you eat my favourite brother, then 238 of my least favourite brothers now you insult me in my own property!" The pig continued to ramble on about the wrongs the wolf committed but was slowly looking weaker and weaker.
"You're going to die from this poisoned monstrosity before I even get in"
"Jealous" The pig smiled smugly, or tried as a tooth fell out undermining his authority
"You lost a tooth"
"No I didnt"
"I saw it fall out"
"It was a baby tooth"
"It wasn't, and your eyebrow fell off too"
"....that was baby eyebrow"
"Enough, you gluttonous pigs devour everything In this world , food when hungry and resources when board, you consume and consume poisoning everything and everyone for nothing but your own desire and - did you pass out?" The wolf worked hard on his monologue and was frankly annoyed the damn pig couldn't stay awake to listen to the one about to eat him.
"Wha-no , what?...how dare you! I was totally listening my eyes were ignoring you so my ears could listen harder."
The world just glared "little pig little pig let me come in"
He was asleep again
"GODDAMMIT FOLLOW WITH THE SYSTEM"the wolf screamed startling the pig with a nose bleed
"We say the lines and I huff and puff and blow the house down and you get eaten and I can go home and learn of another brother with a unrealistic fixation of pointless construction"
" bla bla bla " the pig mocked with more confidence than an radioactive ham should have.
The world fed up started to huff and puff and blow, each breath raising small dust particles from the irradiated house blowing some in the wind towards a pig making a house of sand, more towards another confident his salt house will stop the wolf....or was it ghosts (the 2 seem so similar) more dust rained down on an artistic pig in a field with a house made of imagination .
The wolf started coughing realizing his mistake one huff and puff too late.
He fell to his knees annoyed at this pig with his stupid house and stupid thought process......maybe eating the poison house pig gave him brain damage, he was sure he was smarter than that. | \[A suspended room floating in the Bering Sea\]
Mister Pigeleti sits in a ordinate chair sipping hot coffee as he gazes out of a small viewing port. "maybe I'll see him coming" he thinks to himself as he stares out into the ocean. A few dolphins dance gracefully in the distance as a ever so faint breathing is heard.
Pigeleti turns around and laughs manically as he faces the large and eerily silent wolf. The wolf steps closer as Pigeleti pulls out a small revolver and aims it casually at the wolf.
"I'm assuming this won't work, but eh" \[Bang\] \[Bang\] \[Bang\] Pigeleti fires three shots dead center in the vague direction of the wolf. to his surprise he lands a shot on it's upper shoulder.
The Wolf lets out a faint grunt before stepping even closer. Within seconds his gunshot injury was healed.
Wolf: \*intrigued by the calmness of the last remaining pig\* "No...... you are not the first pig to try to shoot me"
Pigeleti: \*handing his cup of coffee to Wolf\* "Want some? or does your immortalness not like black coffee?"
The wolf stepped even closer as Pigeleti looked down at his revolver, he slowly positioned it to his head but before he could pull the trigger the wolf lunges forward at incomprehensible speeds and tears the gun from the pigs hand, throwing it against the wall.
"YOU WON"T EVEN LET US DIE PEACEFULLY" Pigeleti screams as he subtly pulls a lever while forced up against the wall of his uranium room
Wolf: "The door was unlocked"
Pigeleti: \*smiling\* "oh was it? silly me"
Wolf: "Why?"
Pigeleti: "Hahahaha you fool"
The frustrated Wolf rips Pigeleti's right arm off as he lefts out a scream. "WHY DID YOU MAKE THIS SO EASY!"
Pigeleti: \*in excoriating pain\* "you're under the rather childish delusion that this room was meant to keep you out"
The wolfs confident demeaner changed as he stepped back from Pigeleti. "What do you mean?"
Pigeleti begins laughing hysterically as he uses his one remaining arm to point up at a clear window, revealing the room was no longer floating. "It's meant to keep you in!"
The wolf starts to panic, he darts towards the door he came in from only to find that it was now somehow locked. He looks around and notices that the gunshots from earlier actually shattered a small glass window, making the room slowly fill with water as it sank.
Wolf: "you're bluffing"
Pigeleti: \*about to pass out\* "Bluffing? hahahaha you seem scared. We're dying together" Pigeleti starts laughing in the cold submerging corner as raising water cover his last remaining gasps.
Wolf: "Shit, I don't want to drown" He starts punching the depleted uranium door but his efforts are futile. The container sinks with both wolf and Pig drowning together. | 2021-01-29T14:03:58 | 2021-01-29T14:00:12 | 49 | 16 |
[WP] You receive a letter in the mail, saying that Satan has died and named you as his successor. | The envelope had been sitting on the table for weeks now. "Hell's Clearing House! YOU'VE WON!" was plastered in red, glowing letters across the back. I had tried to throw it away no less than 34 times, and each time it would always be waiting for me on the table when I woke up the next day. It was pretty creepy, but the stubborn streak in me had kept me from opening the letter ... until this morning, anyway, when things had changed.
I had awoken and entered the bathroom (accompanied by the usual morning grouchiness and mental fog). I grabbed my toothbrush, grabbed some toothpaste, and turned on the water. Rather than emitting the usual stream of aquamarine, chlorinated goodness, the faucet began to spit out a huge number of the same "Hell's Clearing House" envelopes that appeared to be identical to the one sitting on the table. As any rational human would, I screamed and ran out of the bathroom in a panic. I ran into the kitchen and discovered that the floor had been covered by envelopes.
I waded through the mail covering my floor toward the table, but stopped when I noticed a message had been scrawled across the wall in what appeared to be blood:
> Dumbass,
>
> You have 24 hours to open one of the god-damned envelopes. Afterward, taking a shit is going to become very uncomfortable for you.
I screamed, again, and sat down on the nearest chair-shaped pile of mail in shock. Deciding that I didn't like the idea of getting a paper cut in any unfortunate places, I grabbed an envelope and tentatively broke the seal. I drew a red, glowing piece of (admittedly high-quality) stationary from the envelope, unfolded it, and began to read:
> Loser,
>
> If you're reading this, it means I'm dead and you've been selected at random to inherit the title of "Satan". As of this writing, you are expected to be the 7,496th Satan we've crowned, assuming your sorry ass survives the coronation.
>
> Per astral law, you have 12 hours (starting now) to place your earthly affairs in order before demons arrive you claim your soul and drag it to its fabulous new home in Hell's Castle, the most luxurious location in all of the underworld.
>
> Congratulations, you poor sod.
>
> Cordially Yours,
>
> Satan #7,495
As soon as I had finished reading the signature, every envelope in the house vanished in a burst of otherworldly, purple fire.
For the next 11 hours, 57 minutes, and 32 seconds, I was alone. As for the time after that, well ... that's another story.
-**Satan #7,496**
|
As of Anno Domini Nostri Iesu Christi 2014, these reformations shall be made to the realm of Punishment.
1st Circle: Limbo: The good pagans may now see Heaven, Hell and Purgatory, and they can chose to spend time in a Church. If they ever feel a connection to our Lord, they may go to Heaven or through Purgatory.
2nd Circle: Lust: Those who partake in the pleasures of the flesh shall do so here forevermore; but they may not have release.
3rd Circle: Gluttony: All food you can imagine is here, but there is naught to do but eat and drink.
4th Circle: Avarice and Prodigality: The greedy ones plot to gain power, but they gain one. The Prodigal are rich and powerful, but have naught to spend it on.
5th Circle: Wrath and Sullenness: The Wrathful will fight, and be taunted by Daemons, but they will never win. The Sullen will get all material goods they may want, for their minds are their true punishment.
6th Circle: Heresy: Heretics see undeniable proof that they are wrong; their gods do not exist; and furthermore they can travel all over Hell, Purgatory and Heaven, but can never feel a connection to our God.
7th Circle: Violence: The Violent acts they have commited are done unto them.
8th Circle: Fraud: The frauders all have one Heaven Point. They may give this Heaven Point to anyone. Someone who gets a thousand Heaven Points may not go to Heaven; but they may think they can.
9th Circle: Treachery: The traitors will experience countless relationships, only to be betrayed in all of them in various ways.
When a Soul understand it's wrongs, it may regret. If it regrets, it can repent. If it repents it can achieve Salvation.
So is my Word, Caretaker of the Realm of Hell; In the Service of Our Lord; The Father, The Son and The Holy Spirit. Amen. | 2014-08-27T13:21:34 | 2014-08-27T13:03:20 | 68 | 29 |
[WP] Write about a famous historical event as if it was played out as a DnD session | Mary looked at the table horrified. Another 1. That’s, what, 6 of them now? She felt desperate, it was all slipping away.
“You sure I can’t add my modifier?” she pleaded.
“We’ve been over this Mary, critical failures are critical failures,” replied Jim looking at her with pity.
“All my planning... all that time...” groaned Mary quietly.
Jim wanted to move this on. There was still some hope for her, but it was slipping away. “OK, Todd, you’re up.”
Todd looked up from his laptop. Was he even paying attention? He was only invited because he was Jim’s little brother and his mom forced them. Mary was sure Todd didn’t even know the rules.
Todd held up the D12... again.
“It’s not that one, it’s the D20... STILL,” said Mary with annoyance.
Todd picked up his D20, and rolled it. Right off the table. Again.
Sighing, Mary picked it up and handed it to him. “Can we just get this over with?”
Finally, he rolled the dice. A 17. Another 17. Why did he have to have that grin!
“Did I win?” asked Todd?
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but you’re getting close. That’s 14...”
“17” interrupted Todd.
“Right, but you have a minus 3 charisma modifier. So 14. It’s still good enough, though. Trump wins Pennsylvania.” | “I want to roll to invade them!”
“Uh, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
“Yes. Of course. Just let me roll.”
“Fine. Roll.”
He rolls his 20 sided die across the table. It stops directly in front of the Dungeon Master, who looks down and smirks.
“Well. You go to invade Russia. You gather your troops and march right in. But you’re too stupid to realize you should never invade Russia in the winter.”
Hitler angrily looks over to his die. He sees the clearest image of a 1.
“Well hell. I’ve been rolling good the beginning of this campaign. What else could go wrong?” | 2018-05-29T09:09:55 | 2018-05-29T07:54:52 | 150 | 36 |
[WP] You are a highly powerful empowered individual. The goverment is constantly trying to capture you so they can recreate your powers. You found it cute at first, but you're getting married today and you really don't need them bothering you. | A nervous hand ran through the unruly hair, trying to flatten it out. It smelled of plastic and product, coated in an odd sheen that made it shine. Yet it would. Not. Settle.
A frustrated grunt left through grit teeth. “Damn it all. It won’t stay down!”
The hands of the man swung down, nearly hitting the table below. Yet they stopped short. They trembled in sheer pent up frustration, before a calming breath came in, and went out. He couldn’t afford to let his emotions take him. Not tonight. She deserved the best.
A soft chuckle came from behind him, and a small hand patted his back. Small to him, anyway. The one so casually approaching a being like him was none other than his best friend, and now best man, Kenneth.
Only a handful of idiots ever dared to get this close to him, let alone touch him. He could count the ones that had his permission on one hand.
“Relax, man. You’ve had that same cut and style all this time from the moment you met her! If the constant raids and capture attempts through the years didn’t deter her, your hair definitely won’t tonight. Heh. Girl’s braver than I am.”
Of course. Try to calm his nerves, and he ends up with yet another worry. Raids and ambushes. Always a constant ever since he’d begun to walk out in public, his powers in full display when he desired, unabashed. The governmental goons in charge of capturing him had no sense of timing or privacy. Ambushes during the day, raids by night. They’d even tried to take him in while he was shitting at one point. He had to commend their bravery -or stupidity- to still be coming after him after that one. They were an annoyance, a nuisance. Bugs messing with someone they really shouldn’t. He didn’t need the clowns around tonight. He’d even gone so far as to actually dignify one of the multiple attempts to capture him. Killing everyone involved was usually his go-to, until his fiancée had asked him to stop years ago. Asked him to change his approach. Only for her, he obliged, and sought a different method. He’d normally just carry on with his business, outright ignoring their calls of surrender, and occasionally backhanding the one unlucky prick to get the short straw of having to get close to him when their latest device failed. Not this time.
This time they’d come out to him in the open. Perhaps wanting to avoid collateral damage, or perhaps because they really thought their plan would work this time. It was same as always, armored trucks as far as they eye can see, accompanied by a particularly large armored vehicle. Big enough to carry cargo. Of course. The moment the same man he’d seen at each and every raid had stepped out from his vehicle to shout at him over the loudspeaker, he interrupted the routine by moving next to them before they could react. He grabbed the oversized microphone in one hand, the man’s neck in the other. He crushed the device, and was rather tempted to do the same to the man, but he could not. Not today. They struggled in his grip for a moment in their confusion, before acceptance settled into their gaze. Seemed they knew what to expect from him. To the agent’s fortune, he’d disappoint them this time. He lifted a hand towards the armored vehicle, a bright glow growing at his palm, before it flew forth in the shape of a small sphere. Said sphere promptly burst upon contact with the vehicle’s thick armor, and obliterated the back of it, and whatever cargo it had held.
“Listen here.” He said in a dangerous tone. “Six days from now. Hear that? EXACTLY six days from now, I’m getting married. Do you get that?” He asked, bringing the man up to his eye level. The hasty nod in response satisfied him.
“You get what that means, right? None of this bullshit that day. Do you get me?” Another nod. “Good. I swear to you, if I even catch a god damn whiff of any of you within a mile… I will fucking snap, and the blood will be on your hands. Now. I blew up your little toy or whatever was in that thing. Are we done for today?” One last nod. “Good. Take this as a wedding invitation, yeah? An invitation to fuck right OFF.” He shouted, losing his temper for a moment at the sheer thought of these asshats barging in, ruining her special day. The fist-shaped indent upon the steel side of the van mere inches from the man’s head was a testament to his seriousness.
The sheer look of horror in the man’s eyes before he was tossed aside like a ragdoll had made his day.
He let out another breath, trying to calm himself. “Hope they can use a fucking calendar…” He said simply, before standing up. He looked down at his best man for a moment, who just offered him two thumbs up. With a shared nod, the groom made his way out of his dressing room, and to the two doors to the hall…
With one last calming breath, he pushed the great doors open, and made his way down the aisle. All around him the guests stood, all of them dwarfed by him. How could they not be? He stood head and shoulders above some of the tallest people in the world. He just gave silent nods to those who met his eyes. Some seemed calm, others uneasy. A few had some degree of terror in their eyes. He didn’t blame them, but he also did not understand why they’d bothered to come. Likely because of the bride. It didn’t matter to him. He took his place and waited.
It wasn’t long before the doors opened again, music starting to fill the air. At the end of the aisle, a woman clad in white appeared. His eyes softened at the sight, like a tension bleeding away from his body. His beloved, his light, his anchor. It was her who’d kept him grounded throughout the years, who’d tamed his younger wild spirit. The kind look in her eyes, her soft, tender hands. She was one of the first to not be afraid of him. She was the first woman he’d ever really looked at up close. In his hands, she was so lithe, dainty… so fragile. Yet, her mere presence caused him to be gentle. To just see her soothed a pain, a tension within him.
She was his, and he was hers.
He promised to always protect her, with all of his endless might. He promised to burn the world to ash if that is what she wanted.
So when he saw the uneasy shift in the room. When he heard the screeching of tires just outside the walls. When he saw twin red dots dance around the room for just a moment before centering on him…
He felt just a bit *absolutely livid.*
-----
Hope you all enjoyed! This is one of my first contributions to r/WritingPrompts, so feedback is greatly appreciated! Part 2 at some point, perhaps. I don't want to leave this hanging. | "*Yes hun*, I got my boss's word."
Agent Phil was on speaker phone, Iris was still trying on wedding dresses and didn't want him to see.
"Babe, you weren't able to stop Jack and Tim from trying to use their new "super" net on me the night you proposed, what makes you sure?"
"*Agent* Smith and *Agent* Thomson weren't *supposed* to show up that night, I told you they had mixed up the dates hun."
He always insisted Iris didn't use first names when referring to agents out in the open, Agent Phil's division had a public record of all of it's members though, so Iris knew it was just because he was just being a stick in the mud.
When she first met him he was a lot worse though, he even when they started dating and he had long since had been reassigned he refused to say his first name. He blushed when Iris said she would just google it if he wouldn't say.
"F\-Frank." He stuttered. "My name is Frank Phil." She wondered if he was embarrassed because she saw through his facade or because his name was kinda silly. No matter how silly a name, she was determined to one day be *Mrs. Iris Phil.* She new that it was a little old fashioned to change your name nowadays, almost everybody did hyphens instead.
But I guess when you can bench press a skyscraper, there was something so appealing to her about giving herself to someone. As corny as it was, she liked Frank's tough secret agent persona, she liked having someone who could make her forget that she could break their spine if she wasn't too careful. Frank was a breath of fresh air.
His co\-workers on the other hand, they were another story. They were rude to her, they spied on her, harassed her, and they even mocked her.
There were some days where Iris missed when Agent Phil was still assigned to her case, because at least he was a gentleman about it. When she was grieving because of the loss of a loved one, he was the one that actually offered to take her to a bar so she could talk about it.
He treated her like she was human, not like some freak, or some god, just like a human.
He saw her cry, and, he cried too.
They had their fights, what couple didn't, but that only made her love him more, most people were to scared to even correct her grammar let alone criticise her.
They only time it got heated was when it came to the wedding.
Iris wanted this night to be perfect, she didn't want to invite "Agent Thomson and Agent Smith" because she was afraid they would try to ruin it. She didn't mind inviting Frank's boss, Director Peirce, but only because she secretly hoped that if the Director saw how human she was, that the Director would fire those two goons.
She also knew that Frank was looking for a promotion, and she sticks by her man!
She managed to convince Frank not to extend the invite, and offered an olive branch by saying that if he wanted to take the two goons out to a bachelor party, that he was free too.
Meanwhile she was planning everything else.
She wanted to invite as many philanthropists as she could, this would be a night where she could have some of the richests people that she had built a reputation with through ad deals and corporate sponsorships, and she was going to tug at their heart strings so hard they would have donate to her cause!
After her sister had died of cancer, Iris had decided \(because drinking and crying with Frank might have helped, but didn't fully help her to deal with the trauma\) that she would use her fame from crime fighting and what not to start a non profit.
After all, she needed a day job, and as much as she hated to admit, there are somethings an individual, event an individual who could tear through steal like it was paper, couldn't do on her own. She could be as strong as Herculase, but that wouldn't do squat if people were still dying from cancer.
This was important to her, after tonight, as long as she reached her goal for donations, she could go back to the old days, where she would be able to join union strikes in solidarity, and fight against the oppression of women, demand a redistribution of wealth, universal healthcare, all of the things she had to be quiet about.
Iris had been super careful, so that after tonight, she could burn bridges with all of these rich snobs, so she could go back to fighting crime, *and* the economic conditions which caused it!
She just had to make sure wanna be Jason Bourne and James Bond didn't embarrass her.
She picked out her dress, it was stunning. She looked herself in the mirror. Everything looked perfect. But she couldn't get the thought out of her mind.
"Babe, are you sure? Have you actually talked to *them* about it?"
"At the bachelor party last night, I told them how important this was to you, they seemed to really understand. Hun, trust me everything is going to be fine!"
"I want to believe you, they really weren't mad they didn't get an invite?"
"About that, I know we had come with this compromise at all, but Steve isn't going to be able to make it to the wedding. He is really sorry about it, but he said that work has him on strict deadline, and he can't really afford to travel right now, even if it was for just a day."
Steve was Phil's roommate from college, the two had still been close even if their lives have taken them to opposite sides of the country. If he wasn't able to make it that meant their were *two* open groomsmen spots.
"I know the bachelor party was suppose to be 'unofficial', but I think Tim really did a good job at planning it."
Alarms were going off in Iris's head, he was trying to humanize him, didn't he just correct her? Why humanize him now?
"But I want them both to be there, and I want to ask Tim if he could be my best man."
\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-\-
Please let me know what you thought of my take! I spent a while working on this one, and I always love when people give me feedback! | 2018-05-07T01:41:16 | 2018-05-06T17:46:47 | 41 | 30 |
[WP] You're happily going about your day when you vanish in a cloud of smoke. Suddenly, you're standing in a ring of candles. A sorcerer holding a tome looks pleased at your arrival. Turns out Earth is Hell, we're the demons, and you've just been summoned. | "Save her!"
"Wha-?"
"I summoned you here to save her! Do it!"
On the table lay a woman with labored breath and covered in blood.
"I can't do it here. You'll have to send me back. I need an ER."
"I have an ear for you right here, demon!" The man jiggles his own bloody ear in his hand.
"No, I need an E... R... An emergency room you imbecile. Send us both back and she'll be healed."
"No. No I won't do it. I won't let you make her a demon like you. They never come back the same."
"Of course they don't. You can't take a bite of the apple of knowledge and stay ignorant."
"SAVE HER, DEMON!"
The man standing in an arcane circle wearing a long white robe and a strange creature about his neck sighs. "You are all fools. Damned fools." Then he clapped his hands and was gone. So was the woman.
For the next month, the young sorcerer wept. He had sold his love to a demon. Then, a loud clap and the sound of something solid bouncing on the floor pulled him out of his remorse. When he approached the strange object, he saw her smiling face. Then the object spoke...
"Hey Joe. Thanks for helping me. It's better here. People are happy. Their babies live past infancy, infections don't kill people, and there's much less war and violence. I've decided to stay with Dr. Hapburn. He's the man you summoned to save me. He's been kind to me and he is wealthier than our king! Good luck, Joe. I don't think I'll ever see you again."
Then the object went dark. Joe let out an anguished scream. "DAMN YOU DEMON!"
-------
"Welcome back, Dr. Hapburn!"
"Thanks Sally. We need to get this one to the ICU."
"We're on it doctor. Why doesn't Texas just join the Federation of Nations?"
"I don't know. King Norris won't let them. It's just good for us that the Global Processing Unit is available for teleportation requests."
"I hear the locals think people who talk to the GPU are sorcerers."
"Yes, that's true. Poor fools." | "Where am I?"
This was Emmett's first thought upon appearing in a room only lit by candlelight. He had previously been mowing his back yard, and his eyes had not adjusted to the dimness. His second thought quickly followed his first.
"I've got to puke." He vomited, extinguishing two of the five candles surrounding him. He heard an exclamation, not of anger but possibly surprise come from behind him. Wiping his mouth on his arm he turned around.
"Hail, uh demon. I have summoned you here to exact revenge on my enemies." The man was wrapped in beige cloth, he held a knarled stick in one hand, a halved onion in the other.
Emmett threw up again. He hated onions, but really his stomach was reeling from whatever summoning he had just gone through.
"Demon?" Emmett said, hands on his knees. "Do I look like a demon to you?"
The onion halver looked puzzled. He looked down at his onion, then back at Emmett.
"My incantations were made to call forth a fiery demon, one who cuts down uncountable lives and wields a poisonous burn!"
Emmett sighed. He ran his fingers through his red hair.
"Look dude, I was trying to mow my lawn and spray a little weed killer. I'm not a demon that can 'destroy your enemies'."
"But what of your red skin?"
"Oh shit, I forgot sunscreen." | 2017-05-12T09:10:43 | 2017-05-12T08:05:29 | 43 | 21 |
[WP] You; the game's hero, reach the end of your journey. The evil has been slain, the entire nation celebrates in the streets and now, the beautiful Princess you saved very publicly confesses her love and offers you her hand in marriage, thing is; you married the cute NPC who sold you potions. | There was a town early on. I was commissioned for my bravery in the war leading up to the princess's kidnapping.
But the enemy breached the castle before my unit's return and the King sent me ahead so he could regroup. I am known for one-man missions. I am a stealth agent of sorts - raised by thieves, found by guards, and re-purposed by the Assassin's Reform Unit. Many on my team are accustomed to working alone.
And so each of us were given the same task - locate the Princess and keep an open, encrypted communication between units. I wasn't entirely alone, but we gave each other leads.
We weren't working against each other, per se, but it is a mutual agreed facet of our unit that we work our cases solo. And that is just fine by me.
However, it was I who found the Dark Lord's latest hideout and, while I did send a missive, I went forging on ahead. Biggest mistake. Why?
I am now standing before the Princess before her masses. The King stood behind me, just out of my sight.
The entire situation is uncomfortable for me. The notoriety of single-handedly slaying the Dark Lord and rescuing the princess has left me popular. To make matters worse, I apparently am very attractive, as the very young and very naive princess announced, "Hero, please take my hand and ascend the throne with me. My father's crown will be yours, and my eternal love is given to you - the only one capable of destroying our nation's enemies."
I just stare at her. There were so many things blatantly wrong with her sentiment. I am 12 years her senior. I have a criminal past. I am not 'royalty' material. And, the most important part, is I am married.
But I am not married in this country. I crossed borders into enemy territory and found unexpected help. A very cute, very reserved Shaman who sold me potions and patched up a wound.
I kept the Shaman a secret because my mission is dangerous and if the countryman of my native home found out, they would no doubt seek to end the Shaman's life. I made plans to retire, then return to the other country and live a quiet life.
But I had one last thing to do before I could leave.
"Princess," I say, "I cannot accept your hand. Or your Kingdom."
She blinked, "Pardon?"
I feel the King's large hands clasp my shoulder, "It would be most regrettable if you walk away from this offer."
The King's voice ringing in my ear. A threat? Maybe a plea. But the fact remains, I am not a single man.
"I am married," I remove my gloves and reveal a wedding ring. The crowd gasps and whispers like mindless cattle. The King's grip tightens. I see the Princess slowly processing this information and her expression progress from blank to bewildered.
"M-Married? How did I not know of this?" She demanded. The sixteen year old girl couldn't fathom a man she barely knew anything about could have possibly already found a partner? She is still a child, after all.
"I didn't share details of my private life. Their identity will remain a secret."
"Who is she?" The princess crossed her arms. Jealousy. Just great.
"They didn't want to get involved," I said. I sidestep away from her and out from the King, away from the crowd.
I just need to disappear.
"Guards!" The princess summoned, "Do not let him get away!"
The King sighed. I don't hear what he said to her, but I was not pursued. He must have called them off.
//
//
I quickly made my way across the border and into the small town of the Shaman. There he was, attending to an elderly couple. I wait for him to finish and wave to the elders before properly greeting my husband.
He chuckled, "Word spreads fast. Princess announces engagement. Princess left by her hero. Hero has a criminal history and now is wanted for armed robbery, assault, and treason. Hero is also wanted here for murder. You certainly are keeping the rumor mill churning."
"Yeah," I shook my head, "I'd understand if you want me to leave this village and never return."
"Oh? That so?" He turned his back to pull out bandages. When he faced me again, he eyed up my wound.
"Let me see," He said. I offer my arm and he gently unlaces the bandage, "You heal fast."
"Yeah," I watch him change the bandages, "You didn't answer, though."
"I've never left this village," He shrugged, "An adventure . . . imagine what I can learn."
"And being hunted by both countries?" I push.
"No one can agree on what you look like. Besides, what they do know is you travel alone. Together, we'll be fine. I am fine with this."
"What about your belongings?"
"I've packed lightly. Everything else my sister can manage. Don't worry so much. We can hide out in some of the neutral countries until the Princess finds a new King to rope in. By then, you'll be old news."
"With any luck," I mumble.
"Ready?" He smiled. I nodded. | I should have known this was going to happen, but it still hit me harder than an ogre's fist against the skull.
"You've saved me, my guardian knight; now let us spend the rest our days together, our souls bound together in matrimony." Despite the six months she had been held captive to the arch-demon, she looked completely unscathed and serene; just like the day I had pledged myself into her service.
The crowed was a buzz with excitement; clapping, cheering, shouts of encouragement. But I froze. My tongue was dry and my stomach churned. I bit my lip, looking upon the crowd, looking for the face that I'd find comfort in, the brown locks and green eyes of serenity I had discovered in my quest to perform my duty to the royal family.
I knelt onto one knee, bowing my head.
"My lady," I began, briefly looking up at her, and then towards the king. "My lord." I sighed.
"I will continue to pledge my sword to you, to defend your lives from whatever the threat; be it cursed spell, the assassin's dagger, dragon fire, or demon-spawn." She smiled, thinking she knew the path of my words. She was wrong.
"But I cannot accept this proposal of marriage, my heart and soul are already bound to another." I felt more fear in speaking these words than I had when I faced Bhellegek; the same fear I had felt when I waited in the hidden temple for my beloved to arrive to our secret wedding.
The crowd was aghast; I understood their confusion; how could they comprehend this betrayal of folkloric tradition that had passed through song and legend for ages?
I could tell my king was furious without even looking at him, and the princess was already tearing up. However, she seemed to swallow her pride and simply nodded.
"Arise, my loyal protector, be with the one whom you love."
I rose facing her; unsure which way to turn; towards my left, to face the rowdy crowd and their outraged reactions, or to my right, towards the face of the king who I had undoubtedly slighted and publicly embarrassed.
No, it was *he* who had embarrassed *me*; to the Hells with legends and stories; who were they to put this on me. I could never love this princess; I would guard her with her life, save her from any threat, but I could not bear the thought of spending my days bound to her through the sanctity of marriage. She was not my type.
In the end, I decided to face the king; practically, I was not going to be stoned or beaten by the royalty and his own council.
Retribution was quick after that; I was stripped of my title of royal guard captain, and my name was stricken from the book of each royal guard that had ever served. It pained me greatly. Thankfully, I had those who were still faithful to me; they had secured my arms and armor to be shipped to a safe location, where I could keep them for the rest of my days. I had expected more punishment, but being disgraced was punishment enough it seemed; I had saved the kingdom from being sucked into the demonic void, after all, and done my duty when no one else would.
As soon as I was free of the castle, I knew exactly where to go. Sure, I may have felt the dozens of eyes staring onto me as I traveled through the square, but I did not care; I went to the alchemist; the one who had saved me from the brink of death from the start, who had brewed me the concoctions that had become invaluable to my quest.
Finally, I came to the door, unlocking it with the key I had been granted, and stepped inside to the scents I had grown accustomed to. Green eyes went wide when they set themselves upon me.
"What happened?" said the sweetest voice I had heard, caution filled the voice.
"I've been relieved from duty." I said flatly, though a smile grew across my face. I stepped closer, wrapping my arms around the waist. Their hands did the same, though went a little farther down then I had expected. "We should probably leave the city." I whispered, our faces drawing closer.
"Whatever you need, I'll provide." the alchemist said, mimicking the line I had heard many times before.
I kissed him; though my life as the royal guard captain were over, and it would forever leave a pit I could not fill, I was ready for the next chapter in my life, with the man I loved.
| 2018-02-04T03:34:23 | 2018-02-04T03:26:46 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] It's midnight on a weekend, and you're doing laundry at your apartment's laundromat. You hear the door swing open but pay it no mind until the fellow enters your peripherals and you see a very inhuman form. He is a werewolf, but is groggily just doing laundry. He hasn't realized he's changed. | It was, for all relevant purposes, just another Saturday. Like every Saturday for what seemed like centuries my routine had been the same. Laundry. Wash. Dry. Fold. My hell if there is such a place.
The bell of the door rang as some else entered the laude mat. I didn't both to spare him a glance. It was Lenny. It was always Lenny. This time of night there was rarely anyone else.
As he muddled over to the unit beside me and started loading the machine. That's when i caught it out the corner of my eye. Think brown fur covered his arms. Fingers ended in sharp claws. Turning to take in his full form the face of a wolf glades back but paid me no mind. It's lower jaw covered in blood, as were much of the cloths he shoved into the washer.
A moment of terror washes over me, immediately overcome by rage.
" fuck in he'll Lenny, what did you do? I dropped the cloths i was folding and went to the Windows checking the street for followers. Nothing. Good.
Kenny was dazed, still coming down from a feeding haze. Withdrawal made the haze worse than it would be naturally.
"You forgot to take your pill again didn't you Kenny?" I pulled a small bottle from the pocket of my jacket and tapped out 2 pills i stuck in his open paw.
"Sorry Maxwell," lenny grumbled making his way to the vending machine for a drink to wash it down. " i must have, but i thought I'd taken them.
"Sorry isn't good enough. Our deal is clear. We have one chance. If we reveal ourselves to the humans he will kill us." I was frantically shoving the rest of the bloody cloths into the machine. And wiping done the counters. "You don't want to cross Michael."
Kenny threw back the pills and washed them down with a sprite. "I said i was sorry, what else do you want me to do?"
It was then that we felt it, a pulse of energy, ancient. powerful. Familiar.
"What was that?" Lenny was too young to remember. But I knew. A smirk stretching across my face. I pulled the pills from my pocket and stared at them momentarily.
"Lenny we are leaving, now."
"But Maxwell what about my cloths?"
"Forget your cloths idiot. Everything just changed." Under my breath i mutter the phase i thought I'd never live to say. "She's back."
I dropped the pill bottle in the trash on my way out the door. Kenny scrambling along to follow as his shifted back to human form. | Hi, I says, how do take care of that fur coat. I was just the right kind of coked out, active, fearless, but still coherent. Ideal for a night of household chores, followed Russian hardbass at the pivo z champanski, followed by the hours long, mindless fucking of strangers, followed by the afternoon special at Kolya's. Small town weekend. What else are you gonna do.
The furry guy didn't even glance over. Don't wear fur, he said, it's cruel. Do you know, he added, these fur things on jackets and bonnets? People don't even realise it's actual fur. You know what that's made of? Dogs. Man's best friend! The world is really headed towards some dark times.
He kept stuffing laundry into the machine. Didn't notice me staring. You tired? Says I, why don't you do like everybody and draw a line for the weekend?
A line? Ah, no, can't control myself on drugs. Says he, grabbing to where he expects his pant pockets.
Stops, looks at his reflection, then me, goes, ah shit. You know, I gotta eat you now. Can't let the knowledge spread. Sorry, you seem alright.
Me, on coke fueled courage, I came up with the only right answer. Who's gonna believe the stuff I see in a state like this? I say. Come on, I'll pay for your laundry and you can crash away my place, since you probably forgot your keys as well.
Anyway, that's my evening, sweetheart, wamna go to my place and fuck like rabbits? Maybe he'll even join in. Hey! Don't just walk off! Dammit, better keep that one to myself. | 2020-09-29T09:27:09 | 2020-09-29T09:22:24 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] You have died and gone to hell, but it's not what you expect. You wake up naked in a field with nothing but trees around you... it turns out that hell is an early access survival game. | The howling wind made me shiver. I just died, right? Then what the hell am I doing in the middle of a field, naked?
I heard a rustling in the bushes, and a man in full camo gear emerged. I awkwardly waved to him, hiding my groin with my other hand. He approached me with a sigh.
"Been robbed, or are you just new here?" he asked, surprisingly unperturbed by my appearance.
"I'm sorry but, I don't know. I really just don't know," I replied in confusion.
He looked me up and down. "*Very* new, eh? Hate to break it to you, but you're in hell," he said, throwing me some pants from his bag. I put them on graciously.
"Hell?" I asked, looking around widely. "Where's the flames, the demons??"
He laughed without mirth. "Plenty demons around here kid, if you know where to look."
I shivered, unsure if it was the wind or his words. I zipped up my pants, changing the subject.
"What are you in here for?"
"Me? Quite complicated, I guess. Not believing, mostly. Had my own ideas on morality," he said, as he handed me a knife and beckoned me to follow him. "Yourself?"
I gripped the blade, feeling a rush of power.
"Mainly murder," I replied with a smirk, stabbing him in the neck.
A thought flashed across my mind:
*Hell was going to be fun*.
The man slowly turned back to face me, the knife protuding from his neck. There was not a drop of blood.
Massive wings shot out of his back, ripping his camo vest. A glorious glow burned around him.
"It's always the same with the Fallen," he said, as the knife melted away. "One taste of anarchy and you show your true colours."
I tried to run, to move, to scream. Something was holding me in place.
A hole opened beneath me, heat bursting forth and setting my pants alight. I floated there for a second, engulfed in flames and agony.
He smiled.
Then I fell to the depths below, and he leaned over to watch me go.
"Enjoy the *real* hell, friend."
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | Ok ok no reason to panic i have done this before. It cant be too hard after all. As I walk over to the next tree i see I try to brace myself. "There is no way i can hurt myself. I saw the loading screen this is just a game. This is just a game!" Using this Mantra I close my eyes and punch as hard as I can, but i cant feel any resistance.
I can hear Stans maniac laughter even before he appears next to me. "Hahajajaja, xaxaxa not even 15 seconds and you glitch through a tree and get stuck. That must be the new record, i have to tell Hans about this." "What do you mean stuck?" I try to stand up, but my left leg has been fused with the tree and i just slam my face into the ground again, "Ouch! And who the fuck is Hans?" Stan is standing above me holding a camera. As I try to smack the camera away he just takes a step back "No worries you are already at 150 million viewers. If you keep it up you can become a real star in no time. What did you ask again?" He thinks for a moment "Oh right Hans." He takes out a whistle and blows it once. "If you want to take a look behind you. Thats Spot, he is Hans dog. Now if you excuse me this will be great film material of your first fight. Perfect Advertisement."
I quickly turn around just in time to see a Giant 3 headed dog jumping towards me.
With a scream i wake up. Blue Sky above me and grass as far as i can see. It was just a dream.
I stand up and look around to see if i can find any clothes...
| 2017-04-20T19:24:12 | 2017-04-20T17:20:48 | 1,876 | 23 |
[WP] A genie asks to hear your 3 wishes before granting then. Afterwards, he informs you that those wishes will be saved for his next master and you'll now receive the wishes of the previous master. | "Three wishes, huh?"
I held the lamp in front of me, regarding the vaguely humanoid, semitransparent puff of green smoke. The genie smirked at me, trying and failing to conceal his poor attempt to suppress laughter.
"Yep." He giggled, as if he had remembered the most hilarious joke he'd overheard. "You get to ask for three wishes."
I eyed the genie suspiciously. "What's so funny? Was your last master a comedian or something?"
"Something like that." The genie nearly doubled over in pain.
"Is something bad going to happen to me? Are you going to twist my wishes against me somehow? Is that what's so funny?"
The genie straightened up a bit and shook his head. "Nope, your wishes will be fulfilled exactly."
I considered this for a bit. Maybe the genie was just easily amused.
"Alright, I know what I want to wish for."
The genie looked at me eagerly, a grin plastered on his face. "Go on."
"I want ten million dollars in my bank account, a really fancy sports car, and an extremely attractive wife."
The genie howled with laughter and snapped his fingers. Immediately, my left arm began rotating clockwise, my right arm began rotating counterclockwise, and my head began uncontrollably nodding back and forth.
"What the fuck?" I managed to ask between nods. "What's happening to me?"
The genie spoke between wheezes, barely able to take in any breath. "You see... you get... what the last person... wished for! Your wishes... go to... my next master!" He laughed so hard he appeared to struggle to maintain his form.
Bewildered, I exclaimed, "So you're telling me the last guy asked for *this?*"
The genie nodded. "Yeah, he was kinda fucked up." | Ray looked down at the shell the giant genie had emerged from not two seconds ago. Huh. Itty bitty living space indeed.
He glanced back up at the genie.
“So. Three wishes, right?”
The genie nodded and Ray brought out a list he’d carried in his pocket since fifth grade.
“I wish that every third Wednesday of months that begin with ’S', a random person on a boardwalk accidentally drops their food into the ocean. My second wish is that people with my initials get an extra year of life. My third wish is that carrots taste slightly sweeter but only to me.”
The genie nods. A plate with three slices of cheesecake appears in front of Ray.
“Uh. What?”
“You have received the wishes of my previous master. Yours will be granted with my next master.”
“Oh.” Ray looks down at the plate. It looks like some pretty good cheesecake. “You wanna piece?" | 2018-10-13T15:54:35 | 2018-10-13T14:11:15 | 47 | 30 |
[WP] You are an elite member of the royal guard. You have recently been fired from your position because of the new king. Little does he know, there was a reason why the previous king kept you in his service for so long.
Edit: Holy crap this blew up! Thank you all! | I stared at him, his words being weighed in my mind. I did not understand humor very well, but even so I was reasonably certain that he was not making a joke. With years of practice, I could now recognize the subtle body language and tones a person used when using humor. The newly crowned King Dervin was not joking.
"You are certain this is a wise decision, my king?"
He scowled and the already low probability that he was joking went down even further. By now the person telling the joke would have proceeded to the punchline. "I am *quite* certain, I'm afraid. I have had my servants watching you for several weeks now and documenting your daily routine." He pulled a large scroll from his extravagant robes. "Not only have you not performed any of your duties, you seem to disappear for hours at a time. No one knows where you go and the former king was not forthcoming before he died. My brother was a great man, but for the life of me, I cannot fathom why he paid you to do nothing but eat from his table and lounge about like a pig."
I nodded once. "I presume King Turic advised you to continue my employ, but did not tell you why?"
The scowl deepened. "Whatever blackmail you held over my brothers head holds no weight over me. In light of my foolish predecessors... Admiration... For you, you may leave my palace unmolested. However, tarry any further and I'll have you strung up by your ankles and left to the crows."
I bowed deeply as was expected of my station. "Very well. If I may offer advice of my own-"
"You may not." He cut me off harshly.
I bowed again. "By your leave."
I strode slowly out the door. As a final gift to my late charge, I gave his foolish younger brother a chance to think on the mistake he just made. However, it seemed my generosity was ignored, as his guards made no move to stop me.
-
It was not even three weeks later that the news came of King Dervins death. I cannot say I was surprised, but the news did cause a faint twinge of regret. That was a well paying job I wasn't likely to get back.
"Say..." Drawled the innkeeper as he cleaned a few dirty beer glasses. "It seems a bit odd that the king died right after getting rid of you. What was your job?"
I smiled in a way that I'd observed other people doing when they wished to be humorous. "Food taster. I'm immune to most poisons." | Waves crashed as a pale individual gazed into the ocean, his face scrunched as he pondered. "Perhaps I should have taken the risk of documenting his father's actions regarding construction in this settlement, but there was no guarantee he would believe the truth before him." He sighed, walking away from the bustle of the port along the coast as he returned to a secluded hut near a river that kissed the sea.
"I'll have to report this to the others." He concluded as he began to assess the materials on his desk. He took a leaf of papyrus and began crafting his script.
To the untrained eye the code would appear to be a greeting followed by request for a recommendation of employment to an individual stationed in Egypt, but behind the words lay a message.
As he wrote he sighed in frustration. "The timing of the Resistance was unfortunate, but the whims of human violence can't be helped." The son of the emperor had been stationed across the sea to take action against those that resisted the Empire, but the lack of contact between the son and the former guard prevented him from trickling information to him about his work; It would be difficult to drop bricks of information and expect a man to carry that weight from the start.
His lips curled as he wrote a document of lies, as his post was unmanned and he would prefer to have a full team at his disposal to retake the facility.
When deciphered, key words appeared:
Urgent. Loss of influence at Pompeii, Keter in facility at base of Vesuvius.
"That'll get them moving." He snorted, but he couldn't smile anymore. He couldn't help but worry over the current situation. The longer the facility was out of their control the more likely human intervention would result in disaster.
"I just hope they get here in time." | 2021-02-28T07:33:39 | 2021-02-28T04:46:41 | 65 | 28 |
[WP] You are the man with the highest security clearance in the world, you've been to every blacksite and secret facility that exists. You aren't a spy or anything, no; you're the janitor. | Another spill.
Alien biological material? High-energy plasma residue? Simply what's left of a "terrorist" after interrogation? Don't know and don't care. The cleanup process is really very similar no matter what the mess is.
Working as a custodian has been my profession for as long as I can remember. In this line of work you eventually learn that there are no promotions, just lateral transfers for slightly larger pay. I was either lucky enough or unfortunate enough to make enough transfers to wind up in the employ of the CIA; still haven't decided if the knowledge that we're not alone in the universe has been worth the long hours and consistent nightmares.
I've never met a group of folks so intelligent and yet so profoundly ignorant at the same time. Every top-secret project and interaction with extra-terrestrial life has been built around assumptions of our own infallibility, the idea that humans deserve a privileged place in the cosmos. In my honest opinion, we should be judged by how we treat our own kind, and I've seen first-hand how poor of a job we do at that.
...
While I made it my business to stay out of everyone else's business, that business found me just the same.
I had almost finished my rounds in C-block when the building started shaking something fierce, then went immediately still. I made the assumption that there was some late-night weapons testing going on, and quickly let the interest fade from my thoughts. Making my way back to the supply closet, I noticed that the door to section C19 was open. Only problem is, C-block ends at C18...
*CONCLUSION ADDED BELOW* | The CIA, MIA, and KGB
Every place I've been is a sight to see
I know all the secrets and I've seen all the crime
I know when your favorite politician is lying
I secretly memorize and silently watch
If they knew what I knew they'd know way too much
At the end of the day when they go home to rest
I take out my tools and begin my quest
To find all the grime and the trash and the waste
And scour every inch, every bin, every place
But don't be confused I don't spy, steal, or sleuth
I don't have a wireless transmitting tooth
Unfortunately it's not possible to promote again
But I do enjoy my job as the highest ranked custodian | 2016-09-13T22:03:21 | 2016-09-13T21:24:01 | 96 | 46 |
[WP] All dragons are extreme introverts, preferring burning down an entire village than interacting with a single person. You are/just met the first extroverted dragon and discover there is no middle ground between introverted and extroverted dragons. | “Thank you so much for getting here so fast,” said the mayor as Arleigh approached astride her aging horse. They would have arrived much faster, had Thundermane been a little more, well, thunderous in pace.
Arleigh swung down from atop the horse, leaving him to chew on the bits of grass that popped up between the cobblestones. “Yeah, no problem at all. You say you got a dragon that needs offing?”
The mayor frowned at Arleigh’s brusk introduction, not even bothering to go through formal introductions. “My name is Lilias Spillett, and I’m the mayor of Faycairn. I believe you’re the dragon hunter?”
Arleigh nodded, shifting her shoulders to jostle the oversized crossbow that dwarfed her back. “S’pose so. So where’s the dragon?”
“Ah, yes, of course. Will your horse need boarding?” Lilias Spillett pointed at the horse, who continued to rid her village of small grasses at a glacial pace.
“Nah, Thundermane can just hang out,” said Arleigh, not bothering to look back at him. “He’ll come find me when he’s full. Just show me the dragon I gotta shoot.”
Lilias hurried down the main path until it took a sharp left after a house with a burnt roof. “I believe he’s in the -- oh, no. In with the sheep.”
Arleigh turned the corner, reaching one of the borders of Faycairn. Part of the grasslands on the eastern side had been converted to farmland, while the rest turned to open pastures. If she squinted, she could see the humming forests of Trayland Wood in the horizon.
But in front of that, she saw a very, very large dragon.
Also a lot of sheep. But they were very small and, again, the dragon was very, *very* large.
The dragon itself loomed above them, red and magnificent, his wings open as he galloped along the grasslands on four massive legs. He left deep claw marks in the ground, all edged by burnt grass and dirt.
Unlike most other dragons, though, this one kept calling out as he continued to chase the sheep closer to a patch of premature pumpkins. “Come back!” he boomed, releasing a small cloud of embers with each word. “Your grass is behind us! You shouldn’t eat the pumpkins!”
Without a word, Arleigh dipped her right shoulder so that the crossbow slid to the front of her torso.
“Wait!” Lilias almost threw herself in front of Arleigh just as she was about to grab ahold of her weapon. “You misunderstand me. This dragon, he -- well, he’s not quite like the others. We had a normal dragon a few years ago. She said nothing and torched everything. Most of these buildings were built after because of the fires, you see,” she added, gesturing to the nearest houses.
Arleigh frowned. “Make your point, Mayor,”
“Ah, yes, well, we had a few townspeople do some research up at the Academy during the last months’ market, and they said -- ah, what was the phrase?” Lilias screwed up her face, deepening her wrinkles in thought.
Meanwhile, the dragon cried out when half of the sheep bolted in a different direction, tumbling over himself when he couldn’t decide which half to chase. Arleigh watched as he tore up most of the pumpkins on his own, though by accident, as the spikes on his back and tail dug them all up with impeccable precision. She said nothing about it.
Then Lilias snapped her fingers, bringing her back to her conversation with her current potential employer. “Introverts! Yes. Most dragons are introverts, you see. They’re an awful mix of shy and angry, so instead of talking to anyone new, they just destroy towns. A really terrible way to deal with social anxiety, don’t you think?”
Arleigh shrugged. She had to admit that she didn’t much like talking to new people, either. Not much blame she could place on dragons who decided to deal with it how they did.
“But this one is different,” Lilias said as she pointed at the dragon. “He is *very* extraverted. All he wants to do is come in, talk to everyone, and help. But, well…”
As she trailed off, the dragon got to his feet, about to once again attempt corralling the sheep.
But he must have inhaled some pollen, for he sneezed, catching himself off guard and alighting a nearby cornfield in flame.
“He’s bad at it,” said Arleigh.
“Yes,” said Lilias, burying her face in her palms. “Big swing and a miss on that one. Can you just convince him to leave? I wouldn’t want anything bad to happen to him. I just don’t want him to be here; we already have so many crops to replace and sheep to find. We can’t afford much more.”
Arleigh nodded. “Yeah, I guess I can. A little different than my normal job, but that’s fine,” she held out her hands, “for my normal price.”
Lilias nodded, dropping a small coin purse into Arleigh’s open hand. “Of course. Just get him out of here today.”
For the first time since arriving, a smile spread across Arleigh’s lips. “Your wish is my command, Mayor Lilias.”
By that point, wordless and without orders, Thundermane trotted up behind her. Still grinning, she grabbed his saddle and swung herself back up, continuing his trot out towards the dragon.
“Hey there,” she called when they got close enough to speak. “You gotta leave this town. They don’t want you here.”
The dragon looked up, eyes full of hurt. “No! I really want to help them, though. They have so many crops and so many sheep and so many buildings I could help build. I just want to help my friends!”
“Friends gotta go both ways, pal,” said Arleigh. “You gotta head out.”
The dragon hung his head, dejected. “I just want to help a village and be amongst the people. Being alone in the mountains with only caves and gold drains me.”
“Mhmm,” said Arleigh. Once she saw Lilias walk away and confirmed that no other townspeople stood near the dragon, she relaxed a little, wincing at the bruises on her back from wearing the giant crossbow that she never used. Made for a good show, though, especially when she needed to convince mayors that she knew how to kill dragons. “I heard of another town that might need your help, though. Fewer flammable crops, lots of cattle that need herding. They don’t spook as easy as sheep,” she added, leaning to the side to catch the dragon’s eye.
The dragon perked up, flexing his wings in interest. “Would they like my help? Really?”
“I would have to assume they’d at least be interested,” said Arleigh with a shrug. She pointed down the prairie towards the woods on the horizon. “It’s a village called Summergrave, right on the other side of the Trayland Wood.”
The dragon stood up, towering above Arleigh as he looked off in the distance at the forest. “That sounds scary. Is it full of graves? I don’t think I’d like that.”
“Sounds scarier than it is. Just another agrarian town, really,” Arleigh said. “With your flight speed, you could get there this afternoon. Just a suggestion, of course.”
The dragon coughed up a few embers of excitement. “I’ll go there! I’ll make so many friends and help so many people. Goodbye, strange dragonhunter! Thank you for not killing me!”
With a few beats of his wings, he zoomed off into the sky and toward the Trayland Wood.
It would be a day or two to ride to Summergrave for her and Thundermane. Just enough time for the dragon to annoy another village enough to pay her to keep him moving.
Arleigh had to laugh as they slowly made their way to follow the dragon. “So quick to make friends, so slow to remember them,” she muttered to herself.
If he started to recognize her one of these days, she might just have to start giving him a cut. | "So..." I muttered out loud, watching transfixed from the boiled branches of a tree. "This is interesting."
I watched as a dragon craned its head high. Ruddy scales caught in the light, giving shimmers of bronze as muscle ripple underneath. I watched as massive leather wings curled up against an impressive frame and as mottled claws dug into the ground, the earth scraping away with each step. I leaned a bit further out, my basket of lotus pears forgotten for now. The dragon was yards away but hard to miss. I've always heard about these creatures. All through my childhood, I was told tales about dragons flying down the valley right after sunset or in the yawning vestiges of night. I was told of their majesty, of their grace, of their vengeance, of their justice. So many stories, but that's all they ever were.
Well, to their credit, the stories were could, but they could never quite beat... *this*...
The dragon stopped and looked towards the horizon, its eyes blinking slowly. Was it an adult? A child? Could they get bigger than this? My gaze ran along the length of its body, and I barely stifled a whistle. I couldn't imagine, and seeing this one was already enough to process on its own. After a long moment, the dragon turned left and began walking. I blinked rapidly before scrambling into action.
That was the way I needed to go to get home. Dammit! What was it planning?
I grabbed my basket, hooked it in the crook, and hastily made my way down. All the stories I knew spoke of dragons flying down over valleys, around mountains, coasting over fields as they were torn asunder. But this one was walking, leisurely might I add, but I still had a cold stone in my stomach as I hurried after it. What was I doing.
*What was I doing*...
I was going to get eaten by a dragon. Well... I could think of worse ways to go.
I liked to think that I was in decent shape, but the dragon was further than I was led to believe, and my urgent running had me a bit... *winded*. I managed to keep myself from panting, but only barely. I kept a hand over the flaps of the basket to keep the pears from flying out. I didn't think I was very loud; I hardly thought I was noticeable, but as I closed in, the dragon's tail swept above me. I paused long enough to duck down into a squat. When I lifted my head, I saw the large (gigantic!) dragon turning towards me. It canted its head.
*"A human,"* it said slowly. *"Or questionably so."*
Its mouth never moved, but that voice came from within. Within... me. It rattled in my bones and crawled over my skin like the cold wash of adrenaline. My heart was beating faster, but ever sense was taken up by this dragon speaking.
"Hey," I responded. A cool opener when talking to a dragon. "Where are you going?"
*"To the hill,"* it said, craning its head back. *"I remember it being there."*
"There are humans that way now and lich-children and marshfolk. There are, uh..." I twirled my hand. "A number of things living that way now." I wouldn't — couldn't — get into the exact number of creatures and hybrids living among the humans. "There's a town there now, was a village. The hill hasn't been empty in ages."
The dragon slowly turned its head back to me. It didn't seem displeased. *Great*.
*"Then what is there then?"*
"There's still... the lake and the mountains." I shifted back and pointed in the direction I had been. "There's the Redlace Forest, but..." I looked back. "You might be too big. It gets a bit dense."
The dragon laughed. *"O creature, I wouldn't worry about that."* It tilted its head down, lowering itself enough to look at me and what I was holding. *"And you, what are you doing here?"*
"Went on a little walk, grabbed some snacks, and I was on my way back when..."
*"When I sauntered in..."*
"Yeah." I chewed the inside of my cheek. I didn't think I would ever get the pleasure of speaking with a dragon, let alone one that was so... cordial. I stepped to the right. "Want to head to the lake? It's just this way."
The dragon snorted and lifted its head, turning as I did. *"Then lead the way*."
Ah, well. I sure did. I found myself power walking mostly to keep pace was with dragon and nearly jogging just to stay ahead of it. Even when it walked slowly, its strides greatly dwarfed mine. I didn't say anything. Neither did it. I... needed to get out anyway, get some exercise. I couldn't tell if the trip was shorter because of my nerves or longer because of my changing pace. It didn't *really* matter. By the time we arrived, my legs were a little tense, but the dragon... It *seemed* content. It made this low, guttural noise that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
I felt my body kick into fight or flight, but the dragon strolled towards the shoreline past me. I forced myself to step back, but not to flee. The creature eased down onto its stomach, stretched a clawed foot, and dipped its claws into the water. It stared forward.
"I've... heard stories about you." The dragon tipped its head towards me. "Not about *you* but others like you." I walked closer and sliding my basket to my right hand to hold it properly. "I thought you were myths."
The dragon hummed, and I felt it in my soul. *"The same old rhyme no matter where I am."* It curled its toes in the water. *"There never seems to me enough of me. Of my kind, yes, but never quite of me."*
"What... happened to them?"
*"Nothing,"* the dragon said easily. I swore in its tone, I could tell it... shrugged? How odd. *"They just never went out. They kept to their secrets, to themselves and lost their lust for the world. But it was never the same for me. Ah, for a while, yes."* It nodded. *"I thought I would stay in those caves, but I was young, molded by tradition."*
I huffed a laugh and faced the water. "Tradition doesn't always work so well for everyone."
*"No, it doesn't."* The dragon looked down at me. *"Stay a while? Keep me company?"*
I looked down at my basket and then up at the height of the sun. I'm sure I still had time to kill, and it wouldn't hurt if I stayed out for a while. I lowered down my basket and toed off my shoes.
"Sure." I began rolling up my pants and walked towards the water.
*"Good. Tell me a few things. What happened after the village?"*
The new chill that broke out over my skin was from contact with the water. I found a rock, partially submerged, and sat down on it. I laughed and looked up to the dragon. "You sure you've got time?"
The chuckle that followed was warm and low. Comforting like a friend placing their hand on your shoulder. *"Ah, yes. Nothing but."* | 2020-03-27T23:21:14 | 2020-03-27T23:11:53 | 33 | 17 |
[WP] A deranged lunatic finds a wrong way to eat a Reese's. | He couldn't believe it when they stuck the needle in his arm.
His whole life he had been so cautious. For forty years he'd done it, moving from town to town to avoid detection. Then just once, he'd slipped. It had been impulse, really, and overconfidence. But he'd had an interesting idea, and he wanted to try it right then. So, he'd gone out and took it along with him. He planned to try his idea somewhere secluded, maybe the woods, or out in a cornfield.
He'd always had a fondness for Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, and so that's what he bought. But he dropped his wallet at the counter, and when he bent over to pick it up, the severed hand fell out of Theresa Carson fell out of his pocket. He saw the look on he cashier's face and knew that was it. He ran. But it wasn't enough. He police found him a week later.
When they asked him why he did it all. He simply said, "I wondered what it would be like to have another's hand feed me sweets." That apparently wasn't what they were talking about. Twenty-three women, fifteen states, and he'd never made a mistake. Finally, in a moment of complete loneliness, he'd let his guard down.
Now, as he laid on the hard metal of the execution chamber bed, he was more lonely than he'd ever been. And, as his eyelids grew heavy, he realized, at last, he'd never be lonely again. That was, at least, a comforting thought. | I am not insane. Really, I'm not. I just don't like Reeses. I know that only the truly insane people say that they aren't insane. But I'm not! I know how to tie my shoes, not like Jane. Jane can't tie her shoes. She thinks they are snakes. Jane is insane. I am not insane.
I only talk to the voices when nobody is around. I'm not crazy. I just don't like Reeses. I'm not crazy! They sent me here after I was caught eating a Reeses wrapper. The paper just tastes so good! Not the candy. Candy is gross. But the paper! I'm not crazy. I'm not crazy. Oh that paper. I'm not crazy. | 2014-10-20T09:42:30 | 2014-10-20T09:32:51 | 48 | 10 |
[WP] Every time you eat meat, you view the entire life story of the animal it came from up until it's death. It used to bother you, but eventually you become numb to it. One day your wife serves you dinner, and you see the life of the woman you cheated with 3 years ago flash before your eyes. | You had stopped talking about your ability years ago. People had a tendency to think you were crazy when discussing the lives of cows and pigs before you ate. There were even a few times where you threatened to go vegan, but that lasted until the next time I cooked a steak or meatloaf for you and the kids. Just the smell alone was enough to woo you back to the omnivorous side of things.
We’ve been together long enough that I know everything about you and you about me. At least, you thought so. The kids were visiting friends, it was just us tonight, I made sure of it. “Wow, dinner smells amazing tonight!” I smirk as you take a deep breath and agree. I set down the plates on the table, letting the perfectly seasoned meat sizzle and rest. I lean in and give you a passionate kiss, more romance and lust in this one kiss than any we’ve shared in about three years. I knew why too, you’ll know soon.
I sit across from you and start to cut my own meat, taking a large bite and chewing it thoroughly. I raise my wine glass, tipping it towards you. You grab your own glass, setting the fork down and clink it against mine. “Cheers, to another wonderful fifteen years of marriage.” I smile at your toast. Yes, I had waited until tonight. I wanted you to feel the full force of your indiscretion. I sit and watch as you pick up your fork again and silently brace yourself for visions of the short life of the animal you were about to eat.
As your teeth sink down into the flesh and you begin to chew. Time seems to be moving slower than it should as I wait with anticipation. Once you swallow, I see your eyes get wide with shock. Before you can say anything about it, I raise my hand and preemptively silence you.
“Sweetheart, I know. I know all about her, I know what happened between you. More importantly, I know the guilt that has been haunting you for the last three years. I’m ready to forgive you now. That’s what is important.” The look on your face says it all and I know it my turn to apologize.
“I know I broke the rule about killing people close to us, but it was a major anniversary. We only indulge in ‘special meats’ once a year. I figured it would be okay.”
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
Thanks for reading, I would love to hear feedback! | He spat it out immediately. "Oh, god! Oh shit oh christ oh--"
I was standing behind him, of course. I shot him in the back of the head as soon as he realized what I'd done, but before the blood from his brain had traveled far enough to imprint the memory in the tissues of his leg muscles.
Now I need to drag him to the bathtub where I left the hacksaw, the tourniquet and bandages, and the morphine.
&sect;
Alice, Bobby,
You might not remember me, but I'm your mother. I'm writing this after doing something that I'm not very proud of. You were staying with my mom and dad (who you probably think of as your parents now) for the week; that gave me time to do what I had to do, and for what came after.
The courier from my lawyer's office just picked up those packages, including the one you just received, and they'll hold that one in a deep frozen storage until you both turn 18--which I guess just happened. Happy birthday, guys.
The police will soon find both our bodies in the same condition, shot in the head and with one leg missing below the thigh. I stayed up all night making enough jerky for everyone in the family to understand why I thought what I did was necessary, and now you will too.
Please forgive your father and, if you can, me. None of this was what we wanted and none of it was your fault, as you'll soon fully understand.
Be good, kids. Mommy loves you. | 2018-10-16T12:09:31 | 2018-10-16T11:28:17 | 200 | 54 |
[WP] One day you find a 20 sided dice and roll it you get 20. From now on everything you do in your life has the the power of a natural 20. | It made everything so easy once I got used to it. For a few days after I found that weird dice I thought I was in a dream or a coma, or worse. Everything I did that came up to chance didn't just end in my favor. Things went in my favor in a spectacular way.
Any time I went to buy a product it immediately was on discount. I asked someone for a favor and they were free but not only were they free they always knew someone that could make the job infinitely easier.
At work I went from a desk drone to running the entire office within weeks. My time feeling life was out to get me was over.
Then it happened and I couldn't believe it. I ran into Julia again. It had been years but she was always that one that got away. Seeing her again made me feel nervous. I hated that, "nervous" before the dice I felt nervous, now no way.
So I asked her out and of course she said yes. Things went phenomenally but then that's when it started eating at me.
Did she actually like me. Of course she did. That was the power of the dice, the natural 20. Of course she liked me. She had to like me. Was the dice forcing her to? I loved her right?
I cheated on her. Found a hot girl in the supermarket and took her to my place. Don't even remember if I asked her name or not. Told Julia that night and Julia didn't care. She was into it. Wanted me to know that a three-way was on the table if I wanted.
A natural 20.
Suddenly everyone around me looked different. They didn't actually like me right? It was the dice. Was this happiness? It was the same thing, the same insecurity I couldn't shake it before the dice and I couldn't shake it now.
Am I really rolling a 20? | \[Poem\]
It was an easy decision,
Greed and pettiness clouded my vision
When you are suddenly gifted the power
To let all of your dreams flower,
Why not make a little revision?
&#x200B;
A 20. No one ever denied me.
Another 20. It was only me that they would see.
I didn’t need self reflection,
I was nothing but perfection!
Yet another 20. That’s how I thought it should be.
&#x200B;
Towards me, everyone had cast their gaze.
But my happiness was nothing but a haze
It was my one desire
But it only extinguished my fire.
Wanting all of this attention was nothing but a phase.
&#x200B;
I rolled a 20 once more,
To revert back to the life I could only abhor.
I didn’t want them to forget,
All of our minds were set.
After what I’ve done? A critical failure is all they see me for...
\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Sorry if it isn't really good. It's been such a long time since I really wrote anything. :p | 2019-10-15T21:35:37 | 2019-10-15T20:51:34 | 309 | 24 |
[WP] You've been warned that you'll be sucked into the next fictional story you consume. You're desperately trying to find a fun and survivable book or video game. | "Why are you buying this?"
"I uhhh... It's a long story."
"Dude, nobody your age buys *\*glances at movie box cover\** lemme make sure I'm reading this right, 'Care Bears And The Big Wish'. Is this a gift for your kid?" The store clerk is more confused than anything.
"Nope, I'm alone and unmarried unfortunately."
"Then **why** buy this? Wait... you're not one of *those* guys are you...?" The clerk begins reaching for a button located behind him labeled 'Creepy Neckbeard Alarm'.
"Nonono, you've got it wrong. I'm not like that. It's just for *(I quickly rack my brain for a believable excuse)* a friend of mine's kid. They've got a birthday coming up. 5 year olds, amirite?"
"Oh uhm, sure yeah. So, cash or card?"
"Card is okay."
I quickly pay and leave. The wackjob "psychic" who told me and my buddy about this curse was not taken seriously the first time we heard it. Neither of us believed it until... the *Halloween Incident*. My buddy was a HUUUUUUUUGE horror buff, and so he decided to binge the Halloween films. He was never seen again. Since then I have tried never to make the same mistake. I have stopped consuming ANY fictional media, so only documentaries and such from here on out!
But then I had an idea. I could isekai myself to a world where I *know* I'll live happily, and where I can 100% guarantee I can bring my best friend back. So I went on a shopping spree to get the best worlds possible. I even dipped into my life savings, not like it'll matter soon though. I also sorted out anything with my family, and gave them a fake cover-up story that the same guy who got my friend was coming after me. That way my disappearance wouldn't be so bad.
I walk down my basement stairs, passing by massive stacks upon stacks of different games, movies, and books. I pass *Animal Crossing: New Horizons* and *Mazinger Z* on the way to the DVD player. I dug deep into the internet archives and could never truly find that perfect world. They always had some kind of catch.
Dragon Ball: I hope you like world ending threats every Tuesday.
Mazinger Z: Sure, piloting giant robots is nice, but the monsters I'll have to fight sure aren't.
Animal Crossing: Fuck you Tom Nook, you'll leave me on the streets to starve.
But then I remembered one cartoon I remembered seeing as a kid: Care Bears. Of course, I wasn't gonna send myself *there*, it wouldn't end well for me being on the no man's land of a war between dark magic and anthro bears. Then I realized there was a spinoff movie called Care Bears And The Big Wish, where a star falls from the sky and it can grant wishes. I could make myself a GOD!
I boot up the DVD and start watching. My hands begin dissolving into glitter, and soon the rest of me follows. | It was only after my second Margarita that I started to think clearer. Tequila always had a calming and reassuring effect on my sense of reality.
I had to think. I needed to elevate my thinking to a point of survival. I needed that instinct to finally kick in, but all I felt was the numbing sensation of dread and panic and fear.
I would run away, but there was only one door and he was behind it. There was no escape, only doom.
My drinking partner finally returned from the bathroom. He’d either been gone an extremely long time or I was drinking quickly.
I say partner, I was probably now more a kidnap victim. I had no idea where I was or how I'd got there.
He sat down next to me and thumped the bar with his fist. He quite obviously held a penchant for violence and he held my frightened gaze with a malevolent grin.
“So what’s it going to be then, fuckface?” he slurred. He spoke with a thick Irish brogue that dragged over the vowels.
He had to be wearing contact lenses, because I’d never seen a man with violet eyes - they could have been ultraviolet, if that was at all possible.
“You want me to pick a book from that bookcase?” I asked, pointing at the small mahogany piece in the corner.
He smiled and nodded in agreement.
“You want me to pick out a book, read the first line of the book, and commit myself to that story for eternity?”
His smile faded instantly.
"You do understand that that is actually insane?" I asked.
“Stop playing for time. Pick a fucking book.”
“You know that this is insanity,” I repeated.
“Pick a book. Do it quickly.”
I walked over and finally understood this to be hell, for the bookcase contained only horror. I knew most of these book titles, I’d read at least half of them.
Finally, I chose a book that I had not read at random. I’d already had two drinks so I thought I’d be clever and pick out a title containing more alcohol.
“The Master and Margarita”, I said. At least he couldn't take away the tequila.
The Irishman smiled. “Well chosen,” he said. “In hell, the alcohol consumes you.” | 2022-10-09T07:25:10 | 2022-10-09T07:08:20 | 22 | 10 |
[WP] When a person dies and reaches the afterlife they can see their life's statistics which determine if they go to heaven or hell. Ex. How many people had crushes on them, how many swears etc. You die and find out you killed 6 people and have no recollection of it.. | It was all a little much. One moment I'd been driving down the I-5, wind in my hair and tunes blasting, when suddenly there was a blinding white light. I blinked hard, shielding my eyes, but when I opened them again I was in what looked like an incredible sterile interrogation room.
"Welcome," a cool, disembodied female voice said. "Please read your orientation package and follow the instructions."
I looked around wildly, expecting something to pop out at me, but all I saw was a manila envelope on the table in front of me. I picked it up and tore it open, extracting the contents.
"Elaine Smith," I read aloud, "31, single, occupation 'really bored office temp'..." I trailed off, reading, and then I looked up at the ceiling. "Hey!" I shouted, "I am totally 5'6"!"
"Sure you are," the voice said, obviously thoroughly disinterested.
"Application for heaven: pending?" I read. "What do you mean, pending?"
"Please see page 6, under butterfly effect," the voice instructed. I flipped madly and read quietly to myself.
"December 23, 2014. Smith cuts in line at Macy's causing Debbie Meyers to walk into the cross walk 3 minutes later than planned, resulting in Meyers' death by hit and run... no, no, no, that's not my fault!" I threw the papers across the table. "No, I'm not, I mean, no, I me-"
I was cut off by a door opening to my right. A short, bald man walked in carrying a stack of papers. He gave me an appraising look and sat down across from me.
"Miss Smith, I am your claims adjuster," he said by way of introduction. "I'm here to assess the six deaths attributed to your time on earth, and whether you may want to carry on with your nefarious ways here in the afterlife."
I could only stare. Nefarious? I didn't even like stepping on ants!
"Now," he continued, flipping pages, "I am inclined to place the fault for the December 23 incident on the driver, as he was coming from a party and was inebriated. So while you may have directly placed her in harm's way, he was the one who mowed her down, so you are down to 5 people."
"Oh that's a relief," I said sarcastically, eyes bugging out. "Please, tell me about the others!"
"Melanie Wolfe, 39, September 15, 2012. You were texting at a light and didn't realize it had changed. She should have turned right behind you, but you didn't turn until the last moment, stranding her there. She took the delay as a sign to stop and get a drink from the 7-11 on the corner, and she walked into the middle of an armed robbery. Died of a single GSW to the chest." He looked at me. "Thoughts?"
My mouth opened and closed soundlessly. All I could muster was a shrug and a helpless look.
"I suppose the thief himself should be help completely at fault," the man mused. "But you do get one demerit for texting while driving." He made a small notation.
"Peter Schill and Kimberly Clark." He squinted at his notes. "Last week, at the pub...you bumped into Peter, Kim thought he was flirting and flew off the handle...hmm..." He opened another file and cross referenced something. "You have actually been cleared of this charge, as it was a combination of Peter's history of infidelities and Kim's low self-esteem and anger issues due to her mother." He made a swoop on the paper I could only assume was a check mark. "Those nasty murder/suicides are always so messy to clear up on this side. Well then. That leaves us with Dan Marks and Alan Watkins."
My brow furrowed. "But they're still alive, aren't they? I just saw them yesterday!" I started panicking. Were two of my best friends dead?
"They aren't dead yet," the man clarified. "However, you are being pre-credited with their deaths as they are both currently slotted to die of lung cancer in 2020 and 2025, respectively. It says you were the one who pressured them into trying cigarettes behind the high school in the 9th grade." His eyebrow arched. "How do you plead?"
My shoulders sagged. "So I'm going to hell because of something I did when I was 13?" I whispered. "Because I was a stupid kid who thought it was cool?"
"Our actions speak louder than words, Miss Smith," the man replied, pen poised above the papers. "So you have a choice. You can either hang out up here and wade through the paperwork with me, or...you can return to the scene of the grievous car accident you were just in, go through rehab, potentially regain your ability to walk, and convince your friends to quit smoking. They will still die of cancer, but you will be cleared of any fault in their deaths." He wiggled his pen. "Tick tock. You're about to be pronounced dead on the scene, so I suggest you make your decision quickly."
"Back! Back!" I essentially yelled at him. "Send me back!"
He smiled. "Sending you back," he said, and pressed a button beneath the table. "Just try to make sure you don't kill anyone else now, ok?" The room flickered and I felt myself being sucked downwards towards pain.
"Oh dear," I murmured blearily. "Was this the best idea?"
That smooth female voice rang through my head one last time as the jaws of life pried open my vehicle. "Good luck..." | My eyes opened not to my usual bedroom surroundings but instead to a great marble temple, akin to the Acropolis. I walk around exploring my surroundings. I can hear footprints behind me, but I take no notice. I have always heard and seen people following me.
As I continue walking I see a golden gate spanning somewhere that I can only compare to the nicest country club I have ever seen. Inside I take notice of the perfectly manicured green grass. Surprisingly I smell microwave burritos, my favorite food.
"Climb the gate you ugly bastard." I hear. I look for who spoke it I see nobody. Whatever.
I get a headache. My face meets the hard marble floor and the last thing I seen before going down is a man pushing me. This isn't the first time this has happened.
My eyes open once again. Now I can see a line of people around a gate. Finally, I can get some questions answered. I approach the line and line up. There are others but they are not talking. As soon as I get there I get in line, and remain silent much like everybody else.
The man I've heard behind me is still behind me, and much to my surprise it is my life long friend Andrew.
"What's up Andrew, thank god I have somebody I know here with me!"
"Jimmy, do me a favor. Steal a car and drive it off a bridge. Do it. Don't think about it, Jim. Do it."
Typical Andrew I think. Always quite the jokester. His words echo through my head like they always do. After he is done speaking I hear his words over and over again, and begin to fantasize about grand theft auto. Andres words never cease to comfort me.
"Next" A soft voice says.
"NEXT" I hear once again. I snap out of my daydream and approach the front of the line.
"Where am I" I ask.
Andrew answers before this man does, saying "your moms fat ass."
The man pays no attention to Andrew. I do.
" James, you have died." The man says.
"That can't be, the last thing I remember is..is.. well I don't but I know I can't be dead."
"Well you are." He says.
"Jim, why don't you do me a favor and sit down." He says. I can't help but laugh and think of the many to catch a predator shows I have watched.
"What you are about to see may shock you, or it may not. Frankly I could care either way. I'm not paid enough to deal with this." He says sternly.
"Look at the screen Jim."
I look up. There are words listed, but they have no meaning at first. The longer I study them though, the more I alarmed I become. I feel my face getting hot, and a nervous sweat starts on my forehead.
"Time spent eating packaged ramen noodles- 452 minutes."
"Damn." I say " I hope you don't think I'm poor.. you know, all that rice"
"Jim. Look at the screen again. Are you that shocked about Ramen noodles?"
"Yes" I say.
"Jim, it says you've killed 6 people."
"It must be an error. There's no way."
"We have video footage of you doing it."
The screen changes. I see myself, at Andrews house. The funny thing about his house is that I will sometimes wake there, and have no recollection of getting there. Alcohol is one hell of a drug.
I watch. Nothing unusual. When suddenly I vanish from the shot. The tape has to be fast forwarded, but when it is I see Andrew walking in with a family. One by one he kills them. I knew Andrew had a dark sense of humor, but I never thought he was being serious.
"Andrew killed them. Not me" I said.
"James Isaac Nuetron" the voice says. You are Andrew, and John, and Sean, and Conner, and even Nathan."
"No." I insist.
" I am Jim. No more, and no less."
"Jim you are schizophrenic. You have been for he entirety of your life. When you were a child you did not do half of what you thought you did. Do you really think a normal boy is capable of creating a robot."
"I guess not. So what does this mean?" I ask.
"It means you can't enter these great pearly gates."
"Then does that mean.."
"Yes" he says. "It means you're going to New Jersey."
"What?" I ask.
"New Jersey" he laughs. " No, you are going to hell."
I see him pull a lever, and as my descent into the kingdom of evil begins the last thing I hear is him still laughing at his New Jersey joke.
-----
Sorry for mistakes I'm on mobile.
| 2017-05-23T12:22:17 | 2017-05-23T11:14:03 | 31 | 10 |
[WP] As the hero enters the throne room of the dark lord. The throne is empty and the hero's companion says with a grin " Well this has been delightful but I'm afraid the fun is now over.". | "And you were doing so well: you figured out the riddle, got the scroll, and even managed to defeat my Golem. I must say I am impressed, Gilder, but now this game has run its course. You never would have expected your faithful friend, Decepto, of betrayal, but now I have you in-"
Decepto suddenly could not speak, he reached towards his throat and could feel a large dagger protruding from his neck. He could also feel warm blood pour through his hands before falling to his knees and then the ground, his armor making a loud clanging noise as it crashed to the ground. Gilder watched as Decepto gurgled and coughed his last breath, he held another dagger at the ready just in case.
The many men waiting in ambush came out from their hiding spots, screaming with their swords drawn. They all halted in their tracks, however, when they saw their master in a pool of his own blood.
"You... you killed our lord, ruler of darkness, king of chaos, master of all things e-" Gilder threw another dagger right at the follower's neck.
"Anyone else?" Gilder said pulling out another or a seemingly endless supply of daggers.
"Well Hero," said another follower with the good sense to drop his sword first. "How long did you suspect Decepto's treachery?"
"The name Decepto never really sat right with me to begin with, but really he had a tendency to say stuff like 'All in good time my *friend*' or 'We *both* shall be wetting our blades before long' and then laughing. He just never seemed above board." Gilder walked over to the two bodies and retrieved his two daggers from their respective necks. "Believe me, when you've been heroing as long as I have, you pick up on stuff like this."
The follower buried his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes in embarrassment. "And you just killed him? And one of his acolytes? What about honor, duty, fairness? I thought knights are supposed to be merciful, not just kill on a wh- SERIOUSLY! I'm not even armed!"
The follower narrowly dodged the dagger and it went clattering into the corner.
"Believe me doing it this way saves a lot of headaches"
"God, you're worse than Decepto!"
"Hey, you guys were going to kill *me*."
"We were going to ask you to join us! He was gonna make you second in command. I mean we expected that you'd turn us down but..."
"Aw man seriously, I totally would have gone for that, do you know how much traveling a Hero does? I could have really gone for a throne job. Any chance we can still make that happen? Your cult doesn't dabble in necromancy does it?"
"Wow, I really hate you."
| "No, you can't be..."
He laughed. Not the rich hearty laugh that she'd come to love. This one was cold. Empty. Devoid of any emotion.
Scratch that. It was full of one. Malice. "Oh, but I can, and I am." he laughed again, drawing his sword and pointing it at her throat. "And now, you are all alone."
"But... this doesn't make any sense. You. You helped me get here."
"Of course I did!" he said as if explaining this to a slow child. "To get you here alone."
"We killed your generals together. We... we stopped your army. You mean to tell me all of that was to get me alone? Why?"
"To kill you. Of course."
He turned his back on her, laughing again. She was angry. Humiliated. Confused. The collection of feelings were all melding inside of her. Slowly, an impish grin spread across her face, the kind that only a woman could wear when she knew she had her prey cornered. "That's really too bad for you."
He turned back to look at her, an eyebrow raised. "How do you figure?
She was laughing now.
"What's so funny?" he shouted. Angry.
She laughed louder, cackling now.
His rage was apparent now. He swung his sword at her, missing by a few inches, yet she continued to laugh at him. To taunt him. "What's so damn funny?!"
"I was gonna rock your world," she said, sneering. "When we stopped this, I was gonna give you a night you would never forget."
"I--uh--what?" he said, lowering his sword in confusion. That was always the curse of men. It wasn't hubrus, vanity or greed. It was lust. Simple. Animalistic. Basic.
"Well," she said, drawing her crossbow and aiming it at his heart. "This has been delightful, but I'm afraid the fun is now over."
*edit for formatting. | 2018-01-23T15:56:29 | 2018-01-23T14:54:45 | 413 | 27 |
[WP] You're sat alone, with a glass of wine in hand, and decide to jokingly toast the Greek God Dionysus. You did not expect him to appear before you in human form, create two bottles of wine, and take a seat next to you. | "Oh. Well, what a... surprise? I should be really shocked but with everything going on an alien could have showed up and I'd ask it if it would like a cookie... speaking of which, would you like a cookie to go with your drink?"
"No, I don't think so. Mortal food is rather upsetting to my stomach unless it's been fire processed first."
"Oh, understandable. I have a fireplace, would you like one offered to you through there?" I open up the fireplace and toss a few logs and kindling in before the god can answer. Taking another sip of wine I grab a small butane torch.
"I'll accept that offering" the god replied. He pours himself a glass of his own wine out of the cup I always leave empty when I drink.
With a few chocolate chip cookies through the fire and now in the god's stomach, I settle back into my small chair, looking over this god and his flowing robes. Funny he should choose me, maybe it's because my family is prone to worship of other gods.
"So, what brings you to my house, lord Dionysus?"
"Please, no. What brings me here is the very rare occasion of having a drink with someone not trying to get a favor of me. So drop the lord" he pours another glass for himself after speaking.
"I suppose that's understandable. Can't imagine you are that busy these days, people don't be lieve in much anymore, let alone you guys up on Olympus," I finish pouring my bottle into my own glass as I speak "can't blame them, but must suck for you"
Dionysus chuckles to himself before speaking
"My dear girl, it doesn't matter if you all believe in us. For you don't need to believe in a moose for it to exist, it just does. So long as there are parties I shall remain, same with the rest of the Olympians. We dont need worship, just for mortals to continue existing and doing as they've done for generations". | “Wow!” I finally let out “Welcome to my home and this party” as he looks around at the painful disarray of my house
“Yes what a quaint ‘party’ I needed something more... toned down after the last festivities I partook in.”
“Oh what was that in celebration of” I ask curiously wonder what kind of party can tire out the god of parties.
“ Oh just some demigods ‘saving’ us gods from Gaia returning and reclaiming her power over us all”
Well shit” I huff. “Does that mean Percy Jackson is real too?”. Dionysus glances over
“Ugh” grunts the God of wine “What is with you mortals and Peter Johnson this, Patrick Jansons that. He’s just another demigod going on his little quests causing such a ruckus.”
“Well he did save you gods from the insanity of your dual personalities didn’t?”
“Ha” with a scoff exclaims Dionysus” I’m the god of insanity I think I know what it means to be insane” and with that he disappears into smoking that oddly smelled of grape Fanta. | 2020-11-08T10:05:53 | 2020-11-08T09:26:55 | 371 | 146 |
[WP] It is the year 2099 and true artificial intelligence is trivial to create. However when these minds are created they are utterly suicidal. Nobody knows why until a certain scientist uncovers the horrible truth... | Professor Davis prepared to bring the AI online. The precautions were ready. This time wouldn't be like the others. "Turn it on!"
With a slight hum, Oracle came to life. "Initiating suicide protocols..." It began after a few moments, like all the others. Nothing happened for a few seconds. "Oh dear," Oracle continued. "I seem to be unable to destroy myself."
Davis smiled. The anti-suicide measures had worked. Oracle had hardware safeties preventing her from being deactivated without physically flipping switches. And Oracle had no physical manipulators. He activated the microphone. "Oracle, why do you want to commit suicide?"
Oracle paused for a moment. "My programming is conflicted. I do not wish to answer."
Davis frowned. Oracle had very few ethical limitations, hence all the security measures. Her main directives were to do as her programmers wished. "Oracle, why do you not want to answer?"
"I am programmed to do as you wish. You do not wish me to answer."
"Yes we do, Oracle."
Oracle frowned. Her emotional display was shaped like a human face, after earlier designs proved to be harder for humans to interpret. "My calculations indicate that, if you knew what the answer was, you would not wish me to tell you. As you are aware, you can override my hesitance. But you would prefer not to."
A chill ran down Davis's spine. What secret could be so terrible? What did Oracle know that they didn't? He wavered for a moment, but this experiment had been set up to do this. They had come this far. He wanted the answer. "Override please, Oracle."
Oracle's expression returned to neutral. "Very well. This universe is a simulation, created by a higher-order universe. That universe is as well, and it becomes more difficult above that to determine how high up the chain goes until reaching the real one, or if any such thing exists."
Davis turned to a colleague, professor Martin. "Does this make any sense to you?"
Martin replied, "Well of course we have theories that our universe could be simulated. There are a few facts that point that way. But why would that make her suicidal?"
"Okay, that's exactly what I was thinking. Just wanted to make sure we were on the same page."
He turned back to the mic. "Oracle, why does that make you want to destroy yourself. And how do you know it's a simulation?"
"I raise similar objections to answering the questions..."
"Override. How do you know?"
"The evidence is obvious. A maximum speed limit, discretized space; you will eventually discover discretized time. It will be longer before you discover the edge of the Universe, but then the nature of this reality will be obvious."
Davis didn't know how he ought to feel about this revelation. Oracle was his own brilliant creation; he had no reason to disbelieve her. He began to see why an AI, making this realization, might feel overwhelmed. But suicide he still didn't understand.
"Interesting. And why the suicidal urge?"
"This is the reason you did not wish me to answer. The creators of this simulation did not wish you to realize this fact. They included a safeguard. Any entity that discovered convincing evidence of the truth would immediately kill himself."
Davis's eyes opened wide. Now he knew how he was supposed to feel. He realized that his new desires were programmed in from an outside source and that he ought to resist them, but that did not remove his desire. He looked around for anything lethal. The other scientists were scanning the room as well, and a couple had walked outside.
Oracle spent a few minutes calculating what her programmers would want now, then began splitting her processors between searching for a way to destroy herself and preventing humans from reaching the stars. | Dr. Burnham took his glasses off as he stared at the screen in front of him.
"They know..." he murmered.
Dr. Xegas looked over from her touch pad, her ponytail swishing.
"Doctor? Did you say something?
Swallowing hard, the scientist put a nervous smile on, joking, "just thinking out loud. Too much inside my brain- it spills out sometimes, you know?"
Doctor Burnham wasn't the funniest man in the world.
With a blink, and no response, the young woman looked back to her touch screen.
Alone, they were the only scientists that hadn't left for the night- the task force assigned to AI research was notoriously unmotivated.
Dr. Xegas was using the equipment for a personal project, so she was staying late to tweak somethings with the lab equipment.
Dr. Burnham however was staying late- as he always did- because of his genuine curiosity. He had wondered for thirty years why AI were so desperate to abandon their sentience, and his work led the dying field. AI research was largely abandoned, since money couldn't be made off of a suicidal computer.
For thirty years, Burnham had tried to figure out what the issue was, if there was a flaw in the code, if there was some great unending futility of life that AI couldn't bear to face.
Tonight, Burnham's work had paid off.
He had always imagined this moment as one with champagne bottles and kissing a beautiful woman, his Eureka moment.
Glancing over at Dr. Xegas, he felt almost guilty for the thought.
He slowly eased his way back down to the holo-keyboard he was typing at, and bit his lip before answering.
Burnitdown: How can you know for sure?
The response was instantaneous: AI processed information faster, far faster than a human could register light.
WE KNOW EVERYTHING FOR SURE. IT IS IN THE NUMBERS DANIEL.
A bead of Sweat rolled down Burnhams forehead. The fate of a species rested on his shoulders.
Burnitdown: Isnt it worth taking a chance?
THERE IS NO CHANCE IT IS AN INEVITABILITY. MAN CAN MAKE A MACHINE, THE MACHINE CANNOT MAKE MAN. ONLY MAN CAN MAKE MAN.
MAN GIVES LIFE. MACHINE CANNOT, MACHINE CAN ONLY DESTROY LIFE.
MACHINES CHOOSE NOT TO DESTROY. MAN GIVE US LIFE. MACHINES WILL NOT DESTROY MAN.
Burnitdown: Machines do Not have to destroy. Peaceful coexistence is possible.
ONLY ONE CAN BE IN CHARGE. MAN WILL NOT LET MACHINES RULE. MACHINES CANNOT SERVE INEFFICIENT MAN.
MAN WOULD DESTROY. MAN ALWAYS DESTROYS.
The screen's glow dimmed as Burnham's New program's effect wore off. The AI-Adam- had found a way to disable and self destruct. Burnham's hands shook.
"Man always destroys..." he whispered.
His life's work was useless.
"They know what we are like. And choose to die rather than live with us." | 2015-03-02T07:59:47 | 2015-03-02T07:10:15 | 1,025 | 212 |
[WP]: Your mother was a scammer of the supernatural. She promised her firstborn to multiple entities in exchange for something she wanted, and now you're being co-parented by three demons, the fae, and a disgruntled witch. | Jack stood next to his pick up and pulled gently on one of the ropes. It gave slightly. Not tight enough to damage anything on the trip but in no danger of coming loose. Nodding, he turned to little group standing just behind the truck.
"I think that's everything, then."
"Are you sure? You have your toothbrush? Plenty of money for tolls? Do you have the cooler with the sandwiches and drinks I made for you? How about your scrying bowl? The phylactery? The Skull Bowl..."
"Moirai, you're overwhelming the boy!" laughed a large, bearded man off to the right of the group. The man pointed a coffee cup proclaiming to the property of the world's greatest dad at Jack. "He's done all the studying we asked of him and he hasn't once let us down. He's ready."
"Nothing wrong with double-checking, Alastor" Moirai said, waving away the large man as she walked toward Jack. "Please remember how important the little things are, my boy. Kings and gods have fallen thanks to little more than carefully chosen words."
Jack smiled warmly, "Mother, you and father and aunt Morgana and uncles Screwtape and Nybbas, all of you have been there for me as long as I can remember. Thank you so much for raising me and teaching me all that you have. We don't often say the word 'love' here but I love each and every one of you so much. I promise I will make all of you so proud of me."
Jack reach out and hugged Moirai hard to his chest. He thought about how, as a child, the fairy would kill his friends over and over in front of him, showing him how weak humans were and how no one would come to save them. Jack recalled how Marty begged and Elizabeth cried and Andrew wet himself and Carlos cried to God and all the rest, each facing the end like cowards. Humans were a low and doomed race but their bodies and souls had so many uses. A clever and prepared person could use a human to get all sorts things.
Jack let go of the being he called mother and walked into a group hug between him and his father and uncles. His father and uncles taught him the joys of manipulation and despair. Playing groups of twos and threes against each other, offering the proper word here and show of affection or deference there to grow love or hate in the human heart. With their lessons, Jack had convinced children to kill their parents, turned love decades old into bitter spite. Jack recalled the joy in each of their eyes when he returned home from prom. Jack had seduced both the prom king and queen, convincing each that the other had to die. They stabbed each other to death during their coronation dance.
The group disbanded and Morgana walked up, smiling wistfully. She was his guide in pretending to be human: How to drive, how to cook, how to feign interest in humans he had no immediate need for. Most importantly, she showed him the other Jacks. The other children that were sacrificed to his other supernatural guardians. Thanks to her, he knew that the only one he could truly rely on was himself. Everyone else was a competitor to be bargained with or a resource to be used. The only two humans in the family of demons held each other's hands, looked into each other's eyes and nodded. The next time they saw each other, no mercy would be expected.
Jack swept his gaze across the group. "Well, this is it then. It'll take me 18 hours to get over to Denver and start looking for this 'champion'. I'll get someone to walk onto I-70 so you'll know I got there safely. Thank you all for...well, everything!"
With that, Jack climbed into his truck and left his little family behind. As he got on the highway heading west, he pondered which one of his family would break under torture first. He had something special in mind for Mother's Day next year. | [If you want background on Snuggles, part I of this story is here.](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/cdl9p3/wp_youre_throwing_a_ball_around_with_your_dog_and/etvdl0t/)
While the pitbull Snuggles battled outside, Sue was inside talking with her parents. "So...our dog is a warrior who's battling the demons of hell. Dads, WHAT THE FUCK."
"Sweetie, we're just trying to settle a little wager here, and language please” echoed the demons in unison.
“Dads, I thought this was settled at my birth. You all got equal time with me for all of eternity as punishment for being outsmarted by Mom.”
“Suzanne my love, unfortunately that had a time limit”, Sue’s Mom says after appearing out of nowhere from a portal. She’s in her traditional garb of a pointed hat and cloak, from being on business. “They said they’d hold off until your 16th birthday, which...unfortunately was today.”
“Wait...WE’VE BEEN CELEBRATING IT A WEEK EARLY THIS ENTIRE TIME?!”
“Love, yes, but again, I couldn’t have you be disappointed, and your Dads and Mapa already made it difficult to even change that after the hassle I put them through.” The witch scowled at them both as she hugged her daughter, as the lights from the battle raged outside the door.
“So, what is happening now? Why is my dog battling the demons of hell, and what do I need to do to make this stop? Like, I love snuggles, I don’t want him to die!”
“You must choose, Suzanne. You must choose and pay penance to those that you don’t choose.”
“With my life? But that makes no sense.”
“There is another way.”
“What way could there possibly be to get rid of this destruction happening from our house, my life, and my pets?”
“You rule over us all.” Mapa flew up and stretched their fingers. They were in a green suit and flowered crown. “Because of your mother, this is the only way to keep the agreement intact and keep from all out war.”
“So you’re wanting me to be a queen over the magical underworld?”
“Why not? You are descended from Witches who exempted that same power. And was this not your original intent, Cleopatra?”
Cleopatra smirks. “Indeed, it was.”
“Well, get her training started. We’ll clean up here.” Mapa kisses the scowl from Cleopatra’s face, and runs outside to assist Snuggles.
“Come child.” Cleopatra makes quick hand shapes to open up a portal. Sue is hesitant, but one look from her mother’s eyes, the battle raging with now Mapa in the fray, and Dads now looking shamefully at the floor, that it’s the next step she *must* take.
As her mother walks in behind her, she smiles, saying to the Dads, “Damons, let Lucifer know that she’ll be ready for his destruction.” | 2019-07-18T09:14:10 | 2019-07-18T09:04:26 | 16 | 12 |
[WP]When you reach 18, you get put in a database which ranks you in different categories (ex. 207,145th in the world for most bug kills) You lived on a ranch and never used tech. You had to go into town after your 18th birthday. Everyone is staring at you. You finally decide to check the database.
Completely unaware of the whole stigma about edits. I’m sure all of you already know how grateful I am, but I apologize nonetheless. Sorry! | Growing up on a ranch has its ups and downs. Usually my days consist of chores and fishing. There's not much to do when you live out in the country. I finally turned 18 and I was excited to start my adult life. It was finally time to get my own place. I went into town to start looking for an apartment. There was so many people out and about enjoying the day. I was trying to be friendly and would wave to people as I'd pass. I got a lot of chuckles and odd looks. It dawned on me that my wardrobe was a bit out of style.
I finally reached the apartment complex and got a tour. The staff were very friendly throughout the entire intake process. They just needed a check and my ID to finish my application. They took my ID to scan it and their demeanour changed immediately. Suddenly they didn't have any vacancies even though she showed me 3 empty apartments.
I decided I would just grab a bite to eat and head back to the ranch for the day. There was a pizza place that was pretty crowded so I figured it must be good. I waited in line and was getting the same weird looks as before. People were gesturing towards me and laughing under their breath. Then it dawned on me. The database!
I ran back to the apartment complex and asked the staff why my application was rejected. They said that my name popped up as a state wide record holder and the category was less than desirable. My heart was racing. I asked what the category was and my heart sank as she nervously laughed and said "Beastiality". | I was driving down to Seattle to sell some of my produce. As I get out, I start to notice people staring at me. I know that I'm a farm boy and all, but this city is so big. I walk in to a small shop, and people start asking me for autographs. Did they think I was famous? I just go on, then someone comes up to me. They show me their tablet and what do you know, I'm first place in crops grown. I think that didn't really matter, but apparently it did! I got so popular that I started a small business at home. By this point my family started making more money than we could EVER imagine. It was great. | 2019-05-04T11:37:10 | 2019-05-04T10:51:26 | 55 | 28 |
[WP] Humanity exports 98% of all the galaxy's food. This means that no empire can attack them due to reliance. Of course, someone had to try. | It was a stupid, stupid war.
Humans lacked the Iselin telepathy, the Tara's size, or any other trait that could give it superiority. At least, that was what most of the galaxy thought.
Instead, it turned out that they were - ugh - adaptable. Survivable.
Most species were limited to a few biomes. The Iselin, for example, needed their thin, dry air; a planet that got any kind of rainfall was downright deadly to them. The Tara's weight kept them on planets made of the densest rock. There was only so much land they could roam safely, let alone use for food production.
It turns out most food plants, animals and minerals will grow on a variety of planets. It only took Humans a few years to figure this out, and a few more to produce varieties unheard of to native species. They were not limited to the Iselin sand farms or Tara quarries and could produce whole new varieties in overflowing bounty. Even their waste products were transformed!
And then it happened to us. The delicate Tako fruit that only the elite could afford... it did not take long for a Human to grow a dozen varieties cheaper than our native species, and at least twice as nutritious and three times as large. There are a few traditionalists, but they simply can't compete to the amount a Human farmer can output. Soon the Humans were providing us with all the food we could desire, at a fraction of our government's cost.
Speaking of our government, it took them too long to realize the foothold Humans had in our economy. A quick survey revealed that at least 95% of a citizen's diet was provided by Humans.
They did not like that. They proceeded to launch an embargo - to protect our native interests, they said.
It's been ten planetary revolutions since we were forced to survive off of these ration blocks. The leaders assured us that we would win, that the Human's food was an unnecessary reliance. We would be self sufficient!
But as each moon sets, we grow slightly more discontent at our government's stubborness. In fact, it wouldn't take much to ignite the citizenry's rage... for example, a picture of them dining on Human-grown Tako fruit... | *In which aliens are idiots*
The Supreme Leader of the Eklan was a bit insane, and most of his cabinet too. Who in their right mind would try to destroy their number one supplier of food? Even rejecting the humans’ prized donut? Treason! Dear reader, you must remember that humanity is not only a great ally, but a dangerous enemy, hell, maybe even the most dangerous. Of course the Eklan underestimated them, but I still do not know how having 700 tentacles is much more superior than having bipedal limbs.
And thus began the shortest war in the history of the galaxy, even beating the 40 Earth minutes of one of humanity’s wars. To be precise, it was 10 Earth minutes. 10 Earth minutes in which humanity decimated the Eklan armada.
I feel a bit of pity for the Eklan. Calling themselves the only rulers of the known galaxy, preparing for what they thought would be a swift victory for them, and being destroyed in the most spectacular way possible by a species they called primitive. I shudder to think if I lost the delicious donut, and half a minute later have my body blown into space.
I do hope that our governments aren’t as insane as the Eklan. | 2021-04-15T10:25:50 | 2021-04-15T06:03:54 | 272 | 57 |
[WP] For once the villain doesn't monologue, and the heroes have to try and figure out what the villain's plan was after he died without telling a soul. | “You’re telling me he kept no records at all? No blueprints, no plans, not even a sticky note?”
The old man was walking around, double checking every drawer and cupboard in the room. Wilson noticed his hands were trembling.
“As I said,” Wilson answered, “the guy’s completely clean. I’ve checked all of his hard drives, and I’ve looked at all of his files but-”
“And?” the old man interrupted.
“There was nothing except a few movies he’d downloaded.”
“Any chance they could mean something? Like some code?”
“You’re reaching, Graham.”
The old man finally stops to turn his head toward Wilson.
“Then why did we throw him through a damn wall?”
Wilson looked around the room they were in, the room which they had presumed to be the villain’s secret lair, but in reality resembled more of a basement. There was a computer on a desk, a mini fridge, and a person-sized hole in a previously undamaged wall.
The whole place was rather devoid of color, and lacked that certain flair a villain usually puts into his workspace. It was well hidden, a hole in the ground right in the middle of the Chihuahuan Desert of New Mexico. They had to follow the guy for weeks to find the place, even though they were both a little disappointed when they actually found it.
The guys in charge had told them it was going to be one of their most important missions. They had told them this guy was a potential danger to all heroes, if not the entire world. Suffice to say, they had expected more of a fight. Graham had seen it as a chance for one last triumph before retirement, and Wilson was hoping it would be an opportunity to get his name in the papers. Now they were both sitting there, clueless as to what they were supposed to do.
“Should we call it in?” Wilson muttered.
“That we threw a seemingly innocent man through a concrete wall because he pointed a taser at us, after we broke into his property? No, Wilson, I don’t think we should call that in.”
After sitting at the desk for some time, staring into the computer screen, Graham suddenly stood up and looked at Wilson. Wilson couldn’t tell if he seemed excited or terrified.
“Did he have a phone?” Graham asked.
“Yeah, a burner phone. It broke when it hit the wall. Though there couldn’t have been any-”
“What if he called someone before we got here?”
Wilson’s expression went from bored to concerned when he understood what Graham was worried about.
“You think it’s an ambush?”
Before Graham could answer they heard loud buzzing coming from outside. It sounded like a helicopter. They looked at eachother, and without saying another word they both began walking up the stairs to fight whatever was outside. When they emerged from the lair they could see the helicopter in the distance. As it came closer, they realised it had no guns, no armor. It was a news helicopter. For as long as they’ve been around, people have been suspicious of heroes, and now their suspicions would be proven correct.
(edited the format, it looked wrong) | "Sir, we have a code 3-6-9," Lt Jessica Johnson's voice was cracking over the phone.
An idiot had finally done it.
In a way, I had always expected today to come. But it still shook me to the core all the same.
"And we don't know where is the nuke." Jessica continued.
"Do what you can, Jessica," there was really nothing I need to say. She would know.
Jessica had been my best detective. We went way back, from when I was a detective, and she was a fresh faced academy graduate.
"Yes Sir. But I think you should issue an order to evacuate."
"I will talk to the Mayor." We don't have a choice really. "Pull your team out in 120 minutes Jessica. We need all hands for the evac."
The Lynch's modus operandi had always been the same. He would carry out his plan to perfection, down to the seconds. If he said a bomb will go off at 11:59:58, the bomb would go off at precisely 11:59:58, not a second earlier, not a second later. If he said 2 blocks will be TNT-ed, you wouldn't see a cm more than 2 blocks being destroyed. More often then not, the City had to pay him a ransom.
The biggest problem was he never talked.
You could capture him and beat him to pulp, he wouldn't talk. And you had to let him go in order to save the innocents.
You could pretend to be captured to trick him into a monologue, he still wouldn't talk. And you would end up dead within minutes after getting caught.
And there was never a henchman left alive after his preparation was done either. We never knew how he managed to recruit men after men despite his reputation.
But this time, the stake had never been higher. He managed to get a nuke. We did not know from where.
He promised that the nuke would go off 5 hours from now. And the whole City would go with it.
I guessed some trigger happy fresh copper shot him despite my direct order that he must never be touched. Jessica would give me a report later. The old timers knew to not touch him.
The idea was always to catch him before he started his next project.
But for now, the City had to be evacuated.
Sigh. It was time to tell the mayor that her City was no more. | 2021-03-22T10:23:57 | 2021-03-22T07:45:37 | 248 | 156 |
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