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[Wp]Heaven isn't based on religious text or desires, but how you died. Example: a man who starved to death will live in a heaven of food.
Edit: holy shit i did not expect this response, you're all awesome and beautiful! <3 |
Saito was a salaryman. At fifty-six years old, he was a member of that elder, passing generation that had embraced the heroic persona of corporate bondsman, swearing fealty for life to an owner-corporation--tilling at his cubicle, yielding up his labor, certain and secure in his place in the feudal regime.
Salaryman, salaryman, how does your garden grow? With office desks and monitors and mice all in a row. Thus, Saito monitored--he was the Head of Sales--and kept, like a temple cat, the mice from running amok. He was the old-school salaryman, who saw honor in what he was, but the cohort of this century was cynical and bored. It was apparent in their postures, the peevishness of their poses, as they slouched in their matching chairs and mowed the carpets with their wheels. *Sararīman* was their curse--they loathed their own positions. They shamed and branded each other, chafing at their lot. Woe to the *kaisha no inu*, the cur, the corporate dog. He was whipped and he was low; no spine, no sense of self. The concept of corporate samurai was faded and false to them.
Saito knew what they thought, but treated them without malice. Though he was but a minor lord, he held to noble ideals. No spite, no overt disapproval, despite their unspoken differences. He judged subordinates by virtue-- by the measure of their work. And in this, he set an example: first to arrive and last to leave; clocking up on overtime and always topping the charts. Then, he chased it all down, with whiskey in hostess bars. Round after round after round, toasting to clients and colleagues. Saito, the dutiful drunk, who imbibed not for personal pleasure, but rather, out of obligation, playing his part till dawn. Sleep could be snatched on the subway, while standing, swaying, squished.
So, when Saito died, it was, of course, *karōshi*. Death by overwork--stroking in the stairwell--at the end of three marathon days of pitching a major account. Ah, thought Saito, as he shuddered and shattered and seized. *Karōshi*, as expected, an honorable way to go. And he thought he heard monks chanting, and smelled cut grass in paddies, where peasants tended the fields and their lord passed by in a carriage. He was escorted by his samurai, their banners whipping proud. Above--the call of a heron, flying unmastered and free. | I can tell that I died, but I don't know what is different.
Everyone is treating me the same - same warm smiles, same hugs when I get in and out of places, same love and appreciation I received when I was alive! I know St. Peter couldn't've lied to me - my heaven is the opposite of the circumstances of my death. So what could've killed me, to lead me to the same life I lived before?
My work is the same, so it can't be that. My girlfriend is the same, so she can't be it either. My classmates are the same, as far as I remember, and my school didn't change. What's so different about this?
The town's very much the same - always hot and dry, but that's to be expected. Seriously, this is freaking me out. Why can't I remember? Why can't I tell? Let me go through what I know, and see if I can find the answer.
So, I'm still the same height. 6'1. Good height for a young man. I'm still dating the same girl, I'm still in the same house, I still work in the same construction site, in the same post. What could be the case? I still live in the same suburbs, in the same neighbourhood. I still have the same old phone, the same borrowed laptop, the same inate disgust for ice cream, shockingly.
Well, nothing's new under the sun, I guess. I'll get back to work - the City of Jasmine won't build itself, now, will it? Whatever killed me, I'm grateful it let me keep my life, at least.
__________________________________________
[RIP](http://www.reuters.com/article/mideast-crisis-syria-blast-talks-idUSKCN0V90PJ) | 2017-01-27T12:08:47 | 2017-01-27T12:05:41 | 291 | 21 |
[WP] You are the sole normal, unpowered student at a School for the Supernaturally Gifted. You were bullied once. Once. | Hey Badger-La-"
"Dude, its Fred."
"Fred, whats up with her?" Alvin pointed to a pretty young girl sitting alone near the back of the cafeteria.
"Al, you're new here. Don't mess with her."
"Yeah, everyone says that. So, what's her deal?"
"That's Juri. She's normal."
"Normal?"
"Yeah Al, normal."
"What's that even mean Fred? This is Etrigg Academy. All of us are either descended from some of the most powerful beings to ever exist or have our own powers naturally. No one here is 'normal'. Al said making actual air quotes.
Fred leaned in and so did Al.
"Freshmen year, two of the biggest powerhouses on campus get into it."
"What!?"
"Yeah, Dragon Yari and and Kishi the Ogre. I was so bad that the staff were running. They were raging right near the Bio-Labs when Juri goes to her locker. Everyone thinks she gonna get creamed, caught between them." Fred stopped short, chewing his fries.
"And? You can't leave me hanging like this."
"Juri handles them."
"Handles them?"
"Yeah."
"Dude, details"
Fred shook his head. "Promise me you're not gonna start shit."
"Dude, I swear on my mothers life."
Fred's eye narrowed.
"I swear man."
Fred looked around as if to be sure that no one was listening to them. Satisfied he continued. "So Yari throws this wild punch. We're thinking Juri's gonna eat it. Except she grabs the hand a does this Judo thing, Coach Karl called it a Uchi-mata, and flips Dragon right off her feet. Then Orge gets hella mad. Charges Juri. She side steps and garbs the head, One. Hand. Under the chin and lifts while tripping. He goes down too. Here's the scary part. She's not skilled."
"What do you mean?"
'Like she doesn't know Judo."
"You're kidding."
"And she doesn't have super strength either. Ogre challenged her to arm wrestling. She refused for a week solid and relented just to make him stop."
Al had seen Kishimoto. That guy was built like a tank.
"She took him instantly."
"No way. Thats"
"Impossible." Fred finished. "Dude, the school's run every test, scientific and supernatural. Juri's just...normal. She just doesn't lose." | As i walk, I see everyone trembling in my fear.
I still remember when I was weak. When i was a little child made of flesh. Since that single time I was bullied, for my weak mind and body, my mind began to wonder, if I could be just like them, alle to do something since birth. But when I realized that it was not possible, i set my mind to make it possible. And one day I managed to find the solution: i had to abandon the flesh that failed me. So, 20 days later, i managed to replace my whole body with tungsten. As i walked through the halls with my new body for the first time I had seen familiar faces, those bastards. And then they started to talk. "Well looks like the powerless little sh-"
One.
Single.
Punch.
He lost 5 teeth, broke both his legs, shattered his neck and i broke 5 of his ribs.
A total success.
Later i had gone to the hospital where he was. I could have easily killed him with the punch from before. But i didnt. A little shit like him does not deserve the sweet release of death.
Now, 5 years later, i look him right in the eye. He trained, but so did I. He became a person who would choose evil over good for profit.
And so I punched the air. The air cracked by my strength, and I split the skies. He falls lifeless to the floor. And i stare at what was, what could have been and what isn't.
To become a hero you do need great power. You need great ambition. | 2022-11-02T13:27:39 | 2022-11-02T13:05:43 | 43 | 22 |
[WP] Your T.V. suddenly turns on by itself mid-lunch and a message from the local weather warning system , normally accompanied with a loud alarm but oddly silent this time around, reads "For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently..." | Coming home at eight p.m., the first thing I did was help myself to a cup of joe and read today's paper. Mornings never left me enough time for that simple pleasure, even though I lived by myself. Somehow, all my time seemed to be spent at work, with work, or for work. Funny, that.
The beans must have been getting old, because the coffee was stale. The paper, seemingly in conspiracy with the usually liquid bliss, mentioned only another crisis in Europe somewhere, an oil shortage in the Middle East, Russian aggression in natural gas exports, and the "controversy" regarding our new president's twins (who were all of four months old), and whether or not they would attend Catholic or public school.
A mental sigh, a quick rinse, and a pinched nose bridge later, I was sitting in front of the TV, a cold beer in my hand and a bowl of peanuts on the table in front of me. Was it too much to ask for something worthwhile to happen before the monotony of my day started all over again?
I watched some kind of science fiction show for a while, which then segued into some kind of talk show, and after that... well, I'm not sure. I think I fell asleep, though last I recalled, my beer was half-empty, and now it was drained, sitting neatly on the coffee table. Squirming my way up into a more upright sitting position, I looked around to see what woke me. It took me a moment or two to realise the TV was still on, but there was no sound coming from it.
Rubbing my eyes, I realised it was some sort of televised address by the president of our august nation. Shaking the last of the sleep from my eyes, I realised it was subtitled. Scrunching my eyes to make out the small letters, I imagined the president's voice in my head, timed to the movement of his lips...
"Again, my fellow Americans, I say, there's nothing wrong with your television set. The silence is for your safety. I repeat, the silence is for your safety. If you or other members of your household are currently making any kind of noise, quickly but carefully subside, or turn off any appliance which may cause any kind of sound."
Looking closer, I realised the president looked worn and haggard, his eyes more sunken than I could remember. The address continued:
"My fellow Americans, again, for your safety, I can and will say this only once. Our current situation is as follows: All of our nuclear ordnance is currently armed and ready to fire. I have, next to my hand, the trigger which will launch them all, if such a choice is forced upon me. It is imperative that every last person, one and all, listen to me very carefully right now."
He seemed to steel himself, as if he heard something, and a look of pure dread passed across his features. A moment of, I suppose textual silence passed, before he again relaxed. He looked strained but determined as the text continued to narrate the movement of his lips.
"You must keep absolutely quiet, whatever the cost. Whatever else you do, do not move, do not speak, and do not do anything that can cause any kind of noise. Our very survival depends on it. For the very first time in the past four months, both the twins are sleeping at the same time, and maybe, just MAYBE, I can catch a few hours of rest myself. So help me, if one of you makes so much as a peep, I will push this button and GUARANTEE peace and quiet on this planet. While you may fear for yourselves, stay strong; I believe in you, and in our great nation. Thank you all, good night, keep quiet, and God bless America." | “For the safety and well-being of all local citizens this warning will be broadcasted silently…”
John Cliff and Stacy Jones had been dating for only a few months. Things were going well. They were just watching some TV, cuddling against the rough fabric of the cushiony sofa, when the message came on the electronic scene. They read the instructions together.
Silently, they got up.
“You are required by your local government to follow these instructions”.
Casey Kutz was eighty six years old and not getting any younger. He had lost Edna last year and hadn’t really wanted to move off his twenty year old mustard yellow chair since. It was a struggle to get out of that chair. Joints groaning and creaking, limbs shaking with herculean effort, hot breath burning his windpipe with panting, he got up.
Silently, he went out his front door.
“You will leave your homes in silence”.
Jenny Granger was babysitting the Willinstons again. Freddy, who had just entered his teen years, was giving her lip again, and his little sister Sam was crying again. Jenny wasn’t sure this was worth five dollars an hour. Then, the TV message blared silently. Jenny did her duty. She told them both to be quiet and led them by the hands through the front door. They walked down the street, joining the large number of neighbors.
“You will leave your neighborhood and head toward your nearest metropolitan area”.
Kenny Fracas was in a bathrobe. He was in a bathrobe, watching TV. Then, he was in a bathrobe walking down the street. Kenny Fracas was in a bathrobe on the highway. He could see the city in the distance.
Kenny Fracas was silent.
“You will enter your nearest city”.
The only sound was thousands of feet hitting pavement. The tall building amplified the sound tenfold. Echoes of what should have been. Echoes of silence.
Thousands of shoulders rubbed against other shoulders. People silently jostled and shifted their weight. Eyes looked for other eyes. Eyes avoided other eyes. And the whisper of the wind was their only answer.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
The echo repeated across hundreds of cities. Silent.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
The neighborhood stood silent. The highways were empty. The cities were a sea of people. There was only silence.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
A digital clock showed the minutes passing silently.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
The digital clock was counting down. Silently.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
A hand hovered over a button, silently.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
A green light flashed on a complex control panel, silently.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
The hand pressed the button, silently.
“You will wait for further instruction”.
The stealth bombers flew over the cities, silently.
And then there was silence.
| 2016-08-10T07:19:14 | 2016-08-10T06:31:34 | 485 | 176 |
[WP] Waking from cryostasis is now possible. The government develops an experiment where somebody is to be placed into a large chamber in the middle of the city and awoken every 50 years for just one week. Your name is chosen. | “December 11, 4614. My name is Edmund Schulman, 2600 years ago was my last birthday. I am the oldest living terrestrial mammal on earth.”
I’ve done this exactly 52 times now. I remember reciting the same exact phrase the way the first batch of scientists instructed. The digital camcorder remarkably the same and in perfect condition, exactly as it was before my first “Jump” in 2014.
I look around me and find the new batch of scientists going about their business. Monitoring my vitals, making sure everything is proper. Every time I am brought back from cryostasis, I’m absolutely amazed. They keep getting younger and younger. This batch looks the youngest to me. The oldest one doesn’t look a day over 19 years old.
Before my first ‘jump’, I was told that I would be kept awake only for 7 days every 50 years. Then put back to Cryostasis. They said that the 7 days would feel more like 3 hours due to the effect of something they called “cryogentic time dialation”. For this reason I was not allowed outside of the Lab.
To absorb all that I can in the short amount of time, they have me watch a video 30 minutes long with a condensed summary of things I should remember from the past 50 years. I’m allowed to record any personal remarks straight to my video blog mounted right outside my cryogenic chamber.
It’s now time to jump again, I enter the cryo chamber after receiving a shot from one of the scientific staff. It feels cold in there, though never really feels any colder than winter. I count to 10 as instructed and doze off into my cryonic sleep.
BUZZZZ! My chamber door opens again. Woah 50 years in the blink of an eye again. Expecting to see the new batch of scientists, I was shocked to see my closest friends from 2014, all of whom I presumed dead over 2000 years ago.
I was taken aback with all the laughing and cheers, trying to figure out what the hell was going on. My brother Ben, who escorted me to this very lab in 2014 drops the bomb. “Hey timecapsule boy, did you like your amusement ride?” I was confused. “Yeah bud, check this out” He hands me an roller coaster ride quality photo. It shows me lying down surrounded by friends, all laughing at me. At the very top in bold white letters “I was a time travel prank victim” and at the bottom “Galaxy Amusements, Barry Goldberg, DDS.”
A fucking dentist founded an amusement company, cleverly using small doses of anesthesia to repeatedly put me to sleep for 10 minutes at a time while they staged the props around my chambers, making it seem like I was actually travelling frozen through time every time I arose. | “Time travel.” I tell the board of the selection committee. “You want me to time travel. Why?” I hadn’t known that this committee existed, or even if cryostasis technology had come this far along. Now I had been summoned to a mysterious meeting to talk about this….I wasn’t sure what to call it. Was it an honor? A privilege? A burden?
“Because we as a committee, and we believe we also speak for the world, believe in you.”
“Again, why? What have I done that’s so amazing? I’m not a great scientist or a great artist. I am not even really famous, powerful, or rich.” I think they might have made a mistake. I’m not sure they have selected the right person.
“That’s part of the appeal you understand.” Another member of the committee informs me. “Anyone who has a lot of fame or fortune will have either an agenda, or a cult following. Both of which disrupt the whole point of this time hopping adventure we have planned for you.”
“And what is the point?” I ask.
“To inspire, my good man.” A third member chimes in. “There are going to be dark times ahead, as there always are, and we need someone who people can look to in order to give themselves some purpose, some fire. We believe you are such a person.”
“How can you be sure?” I ask. “That seems like a lot of pressure and responsibility.”
“Because you are afraid of the responsibility, which tells us you aren’t power hungry. This will no doubt make you one of the most famous people in all of time, as you will affectively live to be about three thousand, even without further medical advances. You aren’t doing this for the fame. You’re doing it for the people.”
“If you’re sure.” I say.
“We are.” The committee says in unison.
“Then I’m ready whenever you are.” Eric Thomas says.
Side note: cryostasis is not in Microsoft word’s dictionary, and this makes me sad. | 2014-12-19T07:53:55 | 2014-12-19T06:30:31 | 118 | 16 |
[WP] A spaceship is passing by our solar system. It is so large that earth is merely the size of a dime. We can't make enough ruckus to get noticed until one day, someone has the perfect idea. | It moved so slowly. So horrifyingly awfully dreadfully slow.
If it had moved faster, there might have been some decent hint of reassurance that the ship might be in transit, onto another location soon, but there was nothing.
The scientists were able to discern after weeks of panicked research that it would indeed leave the system, but at a much slower pace than it had entered. The type of warp it had used must have needed some type of warm-up they figured, which was why it seemed to rely only on the thrusters at the back of it's unremarkable hull while passing between our planet and the sun.
The first few hours of contact were exciting, like the build-up to a solar eclipse. There was no panic like the movies would show, instead a dark gray behemoth in the distance, only noticeable in the parts of the planet currently experiencing day.
Then it got closer...its path blocked out the sun, and the euphoria of discovery was extinguished. The world governments panicked, tried launching missiles and radiation beams at the ship in an attempt to get it's attention or destroy it. Nothing worked, its shields seemed impregnable, and the nukes were snuffed away. The ship itself, resembling a smashed jelly bean, appeared ancient, but the crevices running along its hull must have been thousands of miles wide. It had some sort of navigation system, it was able to avoid our moon and some of the larger asteroids, but it gave no response to anything we sent to it.
Then one day, with our scientists exhausted after weeks of working to find a solution, one of them had a breakthrough while reading to her child. As the old Doctor Seuss story goes, we all decided to make a statement as a planet, simultaneously sending radio waves and flashing our electrical grids on and off.
It was one of the greatest examples of international cooperation ever witnessed. Within a few days all the nations of the world (with the exception of North Korea) had agreed to take part. Everyone was encouraged to participate, turning all the lights of their house on so that the flash of the electrical grid would be most noticeable. Hospitals were instructed to cover all of their windows, since their power supplies would not be affected, and all flights were grounded with collision beacons turned off on all the buildings.
The date was set, all the systems were ready. When the sun set over the west coast of the Americas, the lights began flashing everywhere. We kept up the flashing for almost a full cycle, but the ship seemed to take no notice. The astronauts on the ISS reported seeing a glorious slow flash of all the lights of the world going on an off, changing between utter darkness and brilliance every twenty seconds, but the ship remained the same, no scans were reported, nothing changed.
Then, as we were ready to give up, we decided to ask once more for the help of the most oppressive nation. We pleaded to North Korea to join us, more in an act of desperation on our behalves over the whole thing rather than believing their contribution would help. We had no more ideas, we had to try it. After much deliberation, they agreed. The order was given to attempt for one more hour the simultaneous flashing of all the world's lights.
With the little speck of light given off by North Korea, a threshold must have been reached on the ship's sensors, for something incredible happened. As soon as the switch was flipped, the grey behemoth in the sky moved away, and left the system almost as quickly as they had arrived. In the end, it was the littlest voice that had helped make the biggest difference.
When later asked for an official response to the development of events, North Korea responded:
"They hate us cause they ain't us."
fin
[Obligatory First Post!]
Inspired by 'Horton Hears a Who' by Dr. Seuss | Jack decided that something was wrong and woke up. Upon closer inspection, the world appeared exceptionally ordinary, and Jack decided to go back to sleep only to jump out of bed a few seconds later, cursing on top of his lungs. Today was a big day.
It was the 21st of August, and Jack had an eclipse planned. Not a puny, laughable eclipse, not a pathetic excuse for an eclipse, but a full, healthy, American spectacle, and Jack was not going to miss it.
He got dressed in a hurry. Outside, the sun was shining, unaware of the terrible fate that it was about to encounter. Having completed his morning routine, Jack went downstairs and made himself a cup of coffee. It was Monday, but Jack took a day off work, as, he was pretty sure, did plenty of others. After all, no one needed him to sit at the missile command centre all day with nothing better to do than trying to stare down a wall.
He went outside. The sun was still shining, the birds were still singing, and the temporary darkness was slowly approaching in the form of Earth's nearest celestial body. Jack smiled to himself. He was not even alive the last time anything like this happened. Which, he thought to himself, made today even better.
After a quick stroll down the street, he entered a small cafe, went online, and scrolled through the morning news that were big on the total and partial solar eclipses alongside the usual "Fashion to Flatter Every Figure" and "Eat Yourself Happy" articles.
Time passed. Jack waited attentively. Time passed some more. Jack read all about the latest fashion trends. Time crawled like a baby with a habit of going around in circles. Jack waited. And then he fell out of his chair.
The eclipse started. The eclipse started, and Jack immediately decided that something was terribly wrong. For one thing, the eclipse was not for another half an hour. For another, the eclipse seemed to resemble a giant spaceship. Jack couldn't quite put his finger on what exactly bothered him the most, but he decided that the whole thing was rather rude.
Outside, people were now screaming. The ship was gliding across the sky, an enormous phallic-shaped contraption, completely unaware of the tiny planet below. It hung in the sky in a way that made it perfectly clear that it had come to stay. Jack swore loudly. The ship clearly intended to steal his only chance of seeing a total solar eclipse, and Jack found himself screaming and waving his hands in a vain attempt to scare it off.
The ship didn't move. Perhaps it has come to enjoy the show, or perhaps it was going to take off any minute, but Jack was not going to give it the benefit of doubt. He made his way through the screaming crowd, and headed for the control centre. Maybe taking a day off was not such a good idea anyway.
For all Jack knew, the ship would have to go, and it would have to go in the next half an hour.
| 2015-03-09T12:14:24 | 2015-03-09T09:13:28 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] You are a pitifully weak respawning enemy in a video game. However, you don’t know that, and believe the player is an unusually strong boss that you have to defeat. | I am not a very strong person. Which is why my existence is cruel. I am forced to relive my life over and over until I can defeat an indomitable enemy, with no apparent weaknesses. Why I was bound to this fate, I do not know. I have never done anything to deserve it.
I was minding my own business walking back and forth in the same spot one day, and the demon appeared, sword in hand. I went up to greet him, thinking that perhaps he was friendly. I was wrong. He lit me ablaze and cut me in two. I thought I was gone.
\*POOF\*
All of a sudden I was back, pacing the same spot I usually do. I thought I had been dreaming, or hallucinating, nothing could die, and just come back to life, right?
Wrong.
I realized my struggle soon after, when I saw the same demon, slightly different looking, coming for me again. He looked more terrifying this time, as if his power was on a whole other level than before. I attacked this time, in self-defense. The demon had murder in its eyes. And thus the cycle kept repeating.
I have seen the demon do this to many of my kind, just outside of the distance I am able to walk to. They share the same fate. He collects items from our remains when he is done as well, sometimes our very souls. We still manage to come back to this world, even if we are soulless.
But today was different. As the demon ran by my companions, he made no effort to attack. Instead, they attacked him as he ran by. There was fear in his eyes, and he looked heavily injured. He had just emerged from a rather large gate after sounds of sword clashes had filled the air for what felt like ages. He then ran by me. I finally had my chance. I swung. The demon looked at me, somewhat annoyed. My strike connected satisfyingly. He then perished, in a blast of light. I did it, I'd won, I'm free from this terrible existe-
&#x200B;
***\*CONTINUE FROM LAST SAVE?\****
**\*YES\*** ***NO***
&#x200B;
I am not a very strong person. Which is why my existence is cruel. I am forced to relive my life over and over... | His heavy blade sliced the air, seeming to cleave hope as well as any unlucky enough to exist within its range. His powerful spells unleashing apocalypse wherever they strike. He can appear as if from no where, and within minutes death finds us all.
This is not a good game. I mean why can’t I kill this boss!? I bring potions, he just strikes again. I bring friends he vaporizes them. I sneak up behind him, and suddenly he’s gone. I’ve tried everything!
I spawn again, shaking off that awful feeling that death brings and make my way back to the keep. Why would the devs make it this hard! Just then I see across the rocky plains two dragons circling high above. One is attacking a small town, Riften perhaps? The other, guarding an ancient shrine. Looking in the other direction I notice a series of caves.
Those caves definitely have draugr in them. I’ve seen them. Awful creatures. But... you know what I haven’t tried.... if I tag every beast, and every hostile in this region, and kited them to that beast... I wonder if they’d target him.
I set off for the caves first. After all, the dragons won’t follow me down there.
A quick flash of lightning, a green wave engulfing my body, I fall like a stone. Suddenly mehrunes dagger finds my heart. The wanker does something called a dab, and continues his merciless onslaught.
As life leaves my body, I think... next time... | 2018-11-24T21:34:38 | 2018-11-24T16:23:42 | 84 | 49 |
[WP] Jokingly you say to your friend "If either of us discover time travel, the first place we visit is this moment". The second those words leave your mouth what appears to be an older version of yourself rounds the corner, and he looks terrified. | There was a weird sensation in the air after I said that, like the atmosphere itself was tingling. The bubble of oxygen surrounding the planet had been affected by a curious pop inside of it.
We'd been out for a couple of hours, and it was 2 AM. John was piss drunk and I wasn't too far off. We'd gotten into a small conversation leaving the bar about how fun it had been, talking about time travel and enjoying the night all over again when I said it.
I heard footsteps nearby and didn't think much of it in my drunken stupor. Hell, it could be a hunny, looking for me. Always good to head home with a woman.
John was chuckling next to me, barely able to stand. After a brief effort, I remembered where my apartment was and we started stumbling towards it, when the footsteps I heard earlier came to the corner and I grinned stupidly at...myself.
Wait, what?
John kept walking, too drunk to notice but...but how could he not?
It was me, Kenny. Bearded, dirty, holding his hands like one would during a prayer and breathing raggedly. His face, my face, looked like he'd seen better days. And a ghost. The look on his face made me think of a cornered, abused puppy. What the hell had him so scared?
After a few seconds of staring, making sure it really was me, my drunkenness slowly giving way to astonishment, I asked Hobo Kenny 2.0.
"W-what the fuck, man?"
HBK2.0 lunged at me, gripped my shoulders and looked me in his eyes, tears streaming down his cheeks.
He only said one thing to me, before I either passed out from shock or collapsed due to a quantum superposition.
"God is real. And he. Is. Pissed."
EDIT: Spelling.
| It was like a dejavú, for both of us.
The moment came, and yet it came again. Both of our future and our past colliding at this very moment.
A moment we both thought insignificant.
Those words leaving my mouth resonating as if for a moment I was not talking to James, but to the man with the fearful eyes.
I am him.
On time, he met us at the park.
On time, he appeared from behind.
It was like a memory, for both of us, as we met and stared at our familiar faces.
The fear resonating my eyes through his.
His words resonating his mouth through mine.
On time, he came.
He warned.
He feared.
"You are what I was"
"I am what you will be"
~~"Listen to me, and do not vote Trump in 2016."~~
"Listen to me, and do not break both of your arms."
Edit: Alternate ending because Trump. | 2017-03-02T08:44:12 | 2017-03-02T08:11:06 | 106 | 20 |
[WP] Your armada musters just outside Earth's solar system. Only recently the intelligence drones stumbled across the Fantasy & Sci-Fi sections of Netflix. An officer with trembling tentacles is about to provide a final intel brief prior to the invasion. Your species has no concept of 'fiction'. | "Report," First Contact Commander ordered.
"There are many details," First Contact Data Organizer reported, "but the most salient is: They lie."
"This is not unexpected," First Contact Commander said. "They do not know us. They cannot trust us."
"You misunderstand," First Contact Data Organizer said. "They do not lie to us. Not knowingly; we have successfully evaded their detection. They lie *to each other*."
There was a pause in the communication as both parties took time to further process.
"They are not unified, then," First Contact Commander said, eventually. "Not suited for contact."
"This was my initial conclusion. However, further data shows that, while true, it is not complete."
"Elaborate," First Contact Commander said.
"They are not unified, as you surmised. They lie to each other to spread disinformation about capabilities, they lie to themselves for propaganda purposes. All this is to be expected from those still fighting amongst themselves."
"Continue."
First Contact Data Organizer paused again to formulate the best way to express the aliens' behavior. "But there are many lies they tell which serve no purpose. Some people live their entire lives creating falsified records, which others will read and speak about as they would factual records. Others gather in a central area to act out falsified records. There is a city on the west coast of the continent we've designated Theta whose entire business model is filming people reenacting these records, and distributing them to others."
First Contact Commander was clearly having trouble understanding all this, but there was worse news to break.
"Their computers are primitive compared to ours, and are understandably not put to the most efficient use. However, a great deal of their economy - a larger section that that dedicated to filming falsehoods, even - is based around using their computers to *dynamically* create these fabrications. They have entire communications nodes dedicated to discussing each person's individual contribution to these imaginary events. And their communications! So much of it is dedicated to lies. In fact, there is one node where people will post an idea for an event that never happened, and people will compete to create the most compelling lie!"
"Recalibrate yourself, First Contact Data Organizer," First Contact Commander said. Empathy with the studied was a hazard of the Organizer's job, but this was an especially bad case. "Explain to me, to the best of your understanding, why they do this."
"They have a phrase on their world," First Contact Data Organizer said, "which, roughly translated, means, 'one who tells falsehoods without need, potential gain, or care for consequences'. What they do not seem to have realized, is that they all fit this description."
First Contact Commander studied the word. "A planet full of these 'pathological liars'."
"It is so." First Contact Data Organizer said.
Finally, a decision was reached.
"This cannot stand." | "Must we leave, though," I asked, with one eyebrow cunningly raised. All of my lieutenant's tusks were literally twisting; they were so scared. I was too, since Superman alone made me think twice - but I saw an ingenious way out.
"What can we do?" High Commander of the Leaf Division G'rrsplox Tri-Qwordlb trilled, his voice squeaking through one of his thoracic speaking orifices. "You can't be crazy enough to believe we have a chance fighting them?"
"No, I don't believe that,: I pointed out, "but what if we try becoming their friends first, and *then* we turn on them? Make them think we are good guys for a while, then like their proverbial scorpion-"
"If you bothered to watch *any* of their documentaries," G'rr squeaked, "you would have found out that that strategy has been overused to the point of its becoming cliché... Over five hundred Star Trek episodes involve that."
"Fine," I acquiesced, magnanimously. "What if we act really dumb? We make believe that our ships are having malfunctions, and then we-"
"Over four hundred," someone lower on the board room cone than I am said, impetuously. I made a mental note to reserve the ship's chapel for the month of their next child's birth.
"Well fuck, then," I proclaimed. "Don't we have anything we can throw at these guys? That blue ball looks really nice, and I *want* it. Ah-ah-ah! Remember that goopy stuff, that we find on that mined-out asteroid? It turns lifeforms into copies of itself, and eventually becomes this scary-by-lower-standards, super-aggressive thing?"
"I do," G'rr choked up, "and I've been meaning to tell you something about it. One of the crew might have watched historical footage of its creation-"
"That's nice. So let's do that. Throw all our black goop at those guys, before those things from Guardians of the Galaxy come out here. Raccoons don't look fun to meet." | 2017-07-06T11:34:48 | 2017-07-06T11:25:01 | 34 | 14 |
[WP] Five people wake up in a metal room with no windows and only one door. In the middle of the room is a revolver and a piece of paper. "One of you has to die. Kill this person, the door unlocks and the survivors win $1million. Each wrong person dead halves your prize. You have four bullets." | I woke up in this dim room with a gun, a note, and a pounding headache. I grabbed the piece before anybody else came fully to; four bullets. Hmmm. I heard one the guys moaning as he came around. Looked like he had a nose bleed. I checked my own schnoze. Seems the five of us had had a good time. Too bad I didn't remember it.
I read the note and raised an eyebrow in surprise. What is this, a movie? Who thinks up this shit?
Fuck it. I immediately shot the guy across from me. Then I moved around so the guy nearest me couldn't jump at me, I shot him and the dickish looking guy near him. Right as I was swinging the gun over to the last sucker I heard the door click behind me.
"Hmm. Guess it's your lucky day."
The door opened and I ran for it. There were two guards waiting. I shot the one on the right, dropped the gun and proceeded to beat the pulp out of the other guard. Took his gun off him and put one through his chest at point blank range. Then a mercy shot at the first gurad. I knew I'd hit him but wasn't sure I'd killed him. Something's you don't want to survive.
"Hey!"
I turned and looked at the guy still in the room holding the note.
"Were you just gonna shoot all of us?
"You really think someone is giving away four million dollars?" I searched the first gurad, found a key card like hotels use.
"Well.. uh"
"Besides, there's a really good chance it was me they wanted dead. I've pissed off a few people, ya know. I started searching the other guard. Same key card. Grabbed it and his gun.
"So do the math, If it's not me then I kill the four a yous and walk away with a hundred n 25 k. Not a bad days work."
"And if was you?"
"Then we wouldn't be talking would we?" I could tell from his face that understanding had dawned.
"So what's the plan now?" he asked.
"Way I see it, there might be four million behind what ever door these key cards open." I rubbed the back of my aching head. Four million could buy a lot of aspirin. "And if not, someone owes us 250 each for our time today, and I mean to collect my 300k.
"How you figure 300?"
I pointed a gun at him. "There will be a surcharge for guaranteeing your personal safety, kapeche?"
There was a tense moment while he did the math. His life was worth 200k, but it sure wasn't worth 50. He nodded grudgenly and ground his teeth.
Maybe I was being generous seeing as I had all the guns and had done all the work, but I needed someone to watch my back.
"You think they'll actually cough up the cash?" he asked wisely?
"Probably not, but I'm inclined to send a message to our mutual employer."
"What message?"
"Next time, call first."
| The other three saw the paper and the revolver first, the big guy called it out, but they all hesitated. Just for a moment. That was all it took, and by the time I finished reading the last line everyone was a mouth breather.
"There's three of us and one of him"
Now's the time to point it at them. I'm not big, but now I might as well be a tank.
"no no no no no don't shoot, kill muscle man over there, he's the only one you have to worry about overpowering you"
The room was hot, the sweating made everyone look even more desperate. She's right though, if anyone it has to be him first.
"OH MY GOD, FUCK, IT'S ON ME, HE'S ON ME"
The mute finally talks, and the one who wanted it can't even look. The door still isn't unlocking. It feels like it's getting hotter now.
"You're going to have to kill this *fucking weird guy*, he's got to be hiding something, that's why we're still here"
She's almost crying, still not looking up. The mute is throwing up in the corner, sounds like he's trying to defend himself inbetween heaves, but this isn't quite working for either of us.
"No please, just give it some more fucking time, that's all it needs. *There's no reason to kill me.* C'mon FUCKING PLEASE DON'T DO THIS"
It's getting hotter, and she's looking up now. Not for long.
"LET ME OUT ASSHOLES, I PLAYED YOUR GAME, THEY'RE ALL DEAD, LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
over
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
and over
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
and over again
"LET ME THE FUCK OUT"
It just keeps getting hotter. I can't even lay on the floor anymore because my skin sticks to it, I had to pull their bodies over to lay on top. I can't scream anymore, each breath feels like fire down my throat. All I can do is focus on the sound of blood bubbling and burning on the metal floor beneath the bed I made. It's getting fainter.
| 2017-10-30T19:50:05 | 2017-10-30T19:00:49 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] You found her on your doorstep, a fairy shivering from the cold and the pain, her delicate wings broken and torn. You take her into your workshop, and she tells her story as you craft her a new pair of clockwork wings | There once was a talented toy maker. Her hands, strong but nimble, could craft the sturdiest of metals into the most delicate of toys.
Strong soldiers capable of piercing you with their miniature muskets, beautiful dancers twisting and twirling to their unknown songs, kings capable of tearing down the same cities they were made to rule. They were magical. Or so it seemed. Her creations seemed to be alive, entertaining the guests who would tour her shops in glee. Until one day, she put it all to an end.
A thief would be found out to have stolen her creations, many of her grand toys being whisked away into the night never to be seen again. In order to protect herself, and the secrets of her craft, she shut herself away disappearing seemingly without a trace never to be seen again. Only stories remained of the toy maker and her seemingly alive toys. Stories that would be lost to memory as time decayed the minds of those who were there to see her in life.
\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~\~
To be completely honest I wasn't sure what to expect when I opened the door. It really wasn't the shivering young woman at my feet who was barely conscious. Her blood soaked dress was tight against her thin body. Her head was down, dark locks hiding her face. Rushing down I picked her up the best I could, wincing at the weight suddenly put against me.
"Fuck"
I half dragged half carried her the best I could to the couch. Trying my best I set her down the best I could, wincing at my now wet back and probably soiled couch. Closing the door I rushed over to the phone as fast as I could, cursing my luck with the dial tone.
&#x200B;
No service, just my luck. Now of all times? The gods had a funny way of showing they cared.
&#x200B;
I clicked my tongue looking back towards the unconscious woman. She was injured. What was I supposed to do? There probably wouldn't be enough supplies to stop the bleeding if it was serious. Damn it.
&#x200B;
Many thoughts rushed through my head as I backed out of the living room into the hallway. The bathroom was only down the hall, the quick grab for the med kit was maybe 5 seconds at tops. That's why when I had turned the corner to the living room I was shocked at the sight of the woman standing. Her back facing me. Two lumps protruded from her back, darker against the already bloodstained cloth.
I swallowed against the fear. The breath I didn't realize I was holding came out slowly. Her head snapped my way, her brilliant green eyes being the first thing I could see. Without warning I was pinned, the breath knocked out of me as strong hands wrapped around my throat. I couldn't breathe. The only thing I could see was the green.
I was going to die
I gasped choking against the strong grip around my throat. She was so close I could feel her breath against my cheek. Angry and warm. It terrified me. No I couldn't go out like this. I grabbed at her face clawing at it the best I could to no avail. Panic set it, my eyesight slowly fading. My brain couldn't focus, running at full speed.
Her arms? No that wouldn't work
Her hands? Too strong
I struggled the best I could against her grip. Struggling only made it worse. Black tinted my vision, dots danced in and out of sight. I grasped at all I could. Before I could grasp what had happened I was dropped on the floor. Blood now stained my hands.
She screamed in agony rushing forwards again. Before I knew it I was knocked out.
&#x200B;
I'm not sure why she kept me alive. She could have tried to kill me again in my unconscious state. Her brilliant green eyes burned into me in my dreams. I could barely remember a thing of what had happened, until those same eyes met mine from across the floor. She glared at me curled into a ball. The headache pounding felt like death. I attempted to stand up only to fall back to my knees. Questions and screams to run blared at me from all sides. But I couldn't seem to listen.
After some time, she spoke. Her language was strange, foreign. I couldn't understand anything of what she was saying at first. All I knew was she was angry. In pain. And afraid. Just like me. I was terrified of the girl. I couldn't will myself to speak. She seemed annoyed by that fact and spoke again in her strange language. Fierce and angry. Finally I managed to get myself together.
&#x200B;
"Who are you? What are you"
&#x200B;
The girl seemed shocked. She put her hand to her throat confusion obvious in her expression. She came to some sort of conclusion. Her hands wrapped themselves around her throat now, a low hum coming from her. Slowly it built all around me. I felt surrounded by the noise, her low voice thick in the air. It was suffocating. What might've been seconds felt like an eternity. Suddenly it stopped, her brilliant green eyes once again on mine. Slowly her hands left her throat. At first mouthing the words her voice came slowly. Weak and hoarse.
&#x200B;
"Where are we?"
&#x200B;
Pt 1!
Im open to advice. The second part should be coming soon | Her name was Pyria, a fitting name for the small lady sitting cross legged on my workbench, seemed to originate from the word Pyre but hell. I didn't know, but I sure as hell was curious as to why I had found her without her wings, you didn't see fairies often, you saw a mage more often. And they usually stayed in their colleges and towers! but every know and again you saw one. But they always had their wings. "So ah, How did you come to be so gravely injured?" I asked peering over the lenses of my magically enhanced Clockmakers spectacles "If you don't want to share I understand but. My adventuring days are far behind me and I'm dying for some excitement. having to listen to Nobels ordering custom pocket-watches is excruciating". She looked up at me and giggled softly "Ah, that's a bit of a story I guess. Before I begin I will have you know I am a solider in the fairy legion of Stell, the Elven goddess of flame. As is such I engage in skirmishes with, not so agreeable creatures from time to time. I believe some adventurers would call me a 'glass cannon?'" I stopped. A memory long forgotten came back up but I quickly pushed it down "Continue" I said slowly "Anyways. I was running a patrol with my platoon and we were ambushed by a Nightmaar. We were taken comepletely by surprise as creatures of the dark alignment aren't seen close to hotspots of fire mana, anyways. We attempted to organize and attack the creature but it slew our commander first, we had no banner to rally to so it quickly decimated what was left... I was the only one to escape due to sheer luck".
I stopped my work and stared at her levelly "Not sheer luck, In the ninety plus times I've died I've found that 'Luck' is not a true thing in this world. Everything happens for a reason. Me getting pulled from my family to fight against a sudden uprising of Nightmaars, only to become a lowly clockmaker? Not coincidence". The fairy stared up at me with awe "you don't mean to say that... you... you are?"
"Damascus? also known as the harbringer of peace? yes". I sealed shut the tiny compartment that held the near microscopic gears "But that was over seventy years ago. And thank goodness I can die naturally of old age". I scooted closer to her as I attached the mechanical wings to her back. "Yes I am an adventurer, but at the moment I am much. Much more, I still hold on to a boon from Stell herself you see. And I intend to use it right now". I stood, my old legs shaking "By the unbreakable deep magics given to me by the goddess of fire and flame herself, I hereby implore that by myself. Former Doctor Robert Feilder of earth, now known as Damascus Peacebringer. That this fairy may be blessed with your divine power, and be reborn as an artificed fairy. Immune to heat, cold, and magics. So that she may be the next harbinger of peace". When no reply was forthcoming I stared defiantly at the ceiling "You dare not refuse!" I said. All was still and then the goddess herself spoke "Anything else?"
"I would like to go back to earth now please." I said.
"Very well, I'll be pushing my limits but I think I can swing it, All requests are granted." There was a flash of light and I smiled down at the now three foot fairy examining her seemingly mechanical body with wonder "Oh trust me. Your still very much alive, just immune to certain weaknesses bodies like mine hold". I felt some force pulling me away and I laughed "Looks like I finally get to go home and finish that cure for cancer, Good luck kid!" With that. I vanished from Enterniom.
War came again, but Pyria the Steel souled beat back the army of terrors. And the legend of Damascus, Master artificer and Harbginger of peace lived on. Some say he lives still, but transcended to a dimension known as 'earth'. Where he works great magics of healing.
*earth, 2030, four years after COVID pandemic end.*
"Allright, lets test this one last time fellas" Dr. Robert said, running a hand through his hair. I didn't know what happened but last week he seemingly came back out of nowhere, it was like he had disappeared for a week. I just assumed he had gone to study the new bacteria we found on mars thanks to president Musk sending a fully equipped search team to the poles. The screen flashed as the microbes attacked the assorted cancer cells. We were silent for a moment before Dr. Robert said two words "Holy shit." He sat down and cradled his head in his hands before whispering "we did it".
\*This mediocre entry has several LitRPG elements in it, now I am tempted to write a book called 'The artificed fairy, but I have a feeling that's never gonna happen. Oh well, Hope you enjoyed! tell me how I can improve plz. | 2020-07-09T18:08:44 | 2020-07-09T18:02:30 | 71 | 40 |
[WP] You were asked out by your crush to come and hang out with her after school. On your date, she drained your blood and buried you in the woods thinking that you were another easy victim. And now, the next morning, she looks horrified when you walk into class. | It wasn’t quite as scandalous as it seemed, which isn’t to say it wasn’t scandalous at all, just not anything jail worthy. As a college professor you might get fired if you were dating a student but a little less likely if they weren’t in your class.
Of course she was though, that bubbly charismatic sorority girl that always had her support team following her around it seemed. She’d waited until just before finals, her hand resting every so lightly on my arm as she bite her lip with practiced expertise asking if I’d meet her for drinks later.
The place was secluded, next town over, small little hole in the wall with decent food. Drinks were strong but not enough to knock you on your ass, until she spiked it while I wasn’t looking. I could feel it in my bloodstream and let myself enjoy the soft warmth that spread through me.
On the way to my car I’m sure I looked like the average slightly drunk older man with his college aged sugar baby. Her helping steady me as we walked. She was smart about it, I had to give her that.
She drove my car into the woods, nice spot for a secret tryst if you were into that kind of thing. Well as long as you ignored the couple of shallow graves and the freshly dug one waiting empty. What followed was rather admirable if you weren’t the victim. Paralytic given through the IV she inserted calmly. Then the collecting of my blood into a series of sterile pouches like this was all some horror story version of a Blood Drive gone bad. I lost count around bag four as my eyes drifted shut and I allowed the blackness of being unconscious take me into it’s dark embrace.
I was standing at the front of classroom talking with two students when she walked in. Somehow even more exotic and glorious and sexy. Her face going as pale as I must have looked when she’d rolled me into my grave and left me last night. The bell rang and I could feel her eyes on me the entire class as I reviewed the material.
Those eyes that usually were filled with flirtatious energy now worried and puzzled. I didn’t have to even ask her to come talk to me. She waited until the others cleared out, dismissing her own gaggle of sycophants so we could talk alone.
“How?” Her voice quavering a bit “what are you going to do?” I shook my head as I looked at her. “It isn’t what I’m going to do, it’s what you are. You’re going to tell me exactly what bloodline you’re working for and be my double agent. I don’t take kindly to others spoiling my hunting preserve.” | I guess I died again. Clawing up and out of my grave, wasn’t as nice this time around. Last time I at least got a bit more room! Stumbling through the dark woods, the trees rustling, like skinny fingers trying to hold hands. Creepy. Give it a minute. And then I warm up a bit, now that the cut has closed, I swallow. It hurts a little less. Don’t know about my clothes though. Brooklyn seemed so lovely too, eyes as dark as her skin pale. A true snow white. Or I supposed a true Dracula. Only realised when our picnic ended, after a kiss, some wine. She led me behind the park into the woods. I thought it was going so well. And then the slash. The deep cold cut. And it all came spilling out at once. My black warm blood. Her eyes flash. Lapping it all up. Biting me for more. And then darkness. And coldness. And waking up. Poor thing, she thought she’d killed me. In English I stare boredly out front. She stumbles in, bright and jumpy. Brooklyn with a smile on her face. And then she sees me. I pause, and smile wide. The scar’s gone now. After class she follows me, catches up to me. “How?” Is all she manages. I smile awkwardly. “Well the body is remarkable…mine is a bit more robust than most. Forgot to mention that I can’t die. But to be fair I didn’t realise you’d try and kill me.” She nods slowly. “I really do like you…” Brooklyn starts. “I got hungry. It’s hard.” “Well feel free to drink anytime.” I chuckle at the absurdity. “But next time maybe ask permission. Maybe if your free Friday. ” Brooklyn takes my hand, stares at me with her dark dark eyes and nods. | 2022-12-30T04:01:06 | 2022-12-30T01:22:06 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] Never, in 10 millennia, has someone successfully broken out of the Gates of Hell or into the Gates of Heaven. Of course, the Lockpicking Lawyer just died and he's up for a challenge.
Inspired by the [comment](https://www.reddit.com/r/rpghorrorstories/comments/m6smji/does_this_count_dm_is_proposing_35_ranks_of/gr85q13?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share&context=3) u/geckoobac made on r/rpghorrorstories | This is the Lockpicking Lawer, and today I’m standing behind the Lock of the Underworld.
This lock is famous, invented at an unknown time BCE, and is what keeps souls from escaping the Underworld. As you can see here, the lock seems to be in the shape of a smiling, human-sized skull, with the mouth being where the key is inserted. The security seems to be provided not by its physical design but through a set of unknown supernatural parameters that must be fulfilled to open the lock, which only the Warden of the Underworld seems to fulfill.
Fortunately, there seems to be a trick to opening this lock. It seems that the supernatural reinforcements on the lock are designed to make the skull impervious to any sort of damage or warping, so brute force would be impossible. The supernatural conditions are also set up to recognize the spiritual signatures of the Warden’s Key, so putting in a lock-picking device would result in a detection of your intrusion and your soul being consumed. However, the mechanism that opens the lock from the key is very weak and easy to exploit if you simply don’t use a lock-picking device and instead work from the outside of the lock.
Here I’m going to do a technique called “rapping.” I have a simple urethane hammer and I’m going to hit the skull right here at the bottom right of its jawbone. One, two, three hits, and the lock comes off as you can see here. I’m going to relock it and show that one more time so you know it’s not a fluke. One, two, three, four hits that time and the lock comes off again.
Okay folks, I’m going to escape from the Underworld now to upload this video so that’s all I have for you today. If you have any questions or comments about this, please put them below. If you liked this and want to see more, please subscribe, and as always, have a nice day.
___
r/WanderWilder | "We've prepared for this moment since the day this man was born," God shouts out angrily to the surrounding angels. "So, what do you mean he already escaped? God says while slamming his fist down upon his throne.
"H-he left as soon as he got through the gates a few seconds after he was let in. Then he said he wanted to try out the locks in hell," the angel says stammering while attempting to calm his creator.
"This lock isn't that hard, what's all the big fuss about it?" Lock-Picker Lawyer says as all 189 slots inside of the lock are moved simultaneously.
He walks into the gates as Satan arises, he feels the gates of his domain opening, "Is God down here?" He shouts at his subordinates as they cower in fear looking at the man who broke the locks of both heaven and hell. "Are you the guy that made the lock?" Lock-Picker Lawyer says as a gust of wind blows out all of the firepits in hell.
"I have a few critiques about this lock you made..." Lock-Picker Lawyer says while rambling as the damned souls try to make a break for the exit. | 2021-03-17T08:28:49 | 2021-03-17T08:06:34 | 5,313 | 310 |
[WP] The Sword Art Online disaster just happened. Everyone is panicking and mass hysteria sweeps the players. But the evil dude did not account for one thing; speedrunners. | **So, Mr. Failure, let me first say that it is very odd to call you by that name. You’re the one who freed everyone from the SAO servers, after all.**
Hah, perhaps I am not a failure in this regard, but it took a lot of failures in the closed beta to identify how to win.
**That’s fair. So how did you beat the game so quickly then?**
Well, I didn’t beat the game. The game itself wanted to be defeated, and like every single game was designed to be defeated. That’s the goal of games like this.
**If you didn’t defeat the game, then what did you do?**
I defeated Cardinal. You see, while the game was designed and built to be defeated, a system had to exist to prevent people from beating it unfairly. An example system from other games is the death plane, a kind of wall which will kill you if you go out of bounds. Others have limiters, which say “you can never deal more than X damage per hit”, or “you can never go faster than Y speed.” Most other games like SAO have GMs, err, game managers. They’re kind of like customer service and the game cops all wrapped up into one. They’re able to look at player and computer generated reports and make decisions about whether to punish someone.
However, SAO didn’t have GMs, they had Cardinal. Cardinal is the name of the AI which did the job of all those other systems combined. It was supposed to ensure that the game was *only* beat in the prescribed way.
**So you had to convince the game controlling AI that you weren’t cheating?**
Not quite. The game, like I said, was designed to be defeated. It was designed and built to end once its creator had been defeated - had been killed.
**Aah. Akihiko Kyaba.**
Yes. So the goal of the game was to kill Akihiko Kyaba. So now, I know what the game winning condition is. I know that there’s a system to stop players from cheating. And I made an assumption that Akihiko Kyaba would be with us, as a player. He is human, after all.
**So, you mentioned earlier that you had a lot of failures in the Closed Beta, which helped you here?**
Oh, yeah. I had to find the edges of Cardinal, to find the boundaries between what is, and is not a “fair” action. And I died, a lot, during the closed beta to get that knowledge. That's what we do as speed runners - find the edges in what the game's hindering elements, and figure out how to abuse those edges to beat the game faster.
So once I had that data, I was able to convince the Closed Beta version of Cardinal that the floor bosses were somehow cheating, leading Cardinal to defeat the bosses on my behalf. There's few faster methods to get through a level than not having to fight the boss.
**But they would have closed that loophole, right?**
They totally closed it, about halfway through the beta. That’s why they have beta tests, after all.
**So if Cardinal would no longer kill bosses on your behalf, how was that useful?**
Akihiko Kyaba is not an NPC boss. He’s a player. With the launch coming quickly, they closed one loophole, without thinking on how it might be used in other ways. So I simply identified the PC who was Akihiko Kyaba, and convinced Cardinal that he was cheating.
**How did you identify him?**
Even the best players, like that NEET Kirito, have their health fall from time to time. Akihiko Kyaba's avatar never went below half health. That's what I looked for - someone helping to lead the charge who never lost too much health.
**With in-game death resulting in real world death, mercilessly having an AI kill him seems a bit grim.**
He’s the bastard who put us here. I simply played his game. | They may call me evil, a monster or a killer for my part in that dreadful experience. But before I you do, read what actually happened as the following is as much a testimony as a journal of what went wrong.
To start off, I lead the development of the first VR MMORPG that actually allowed players to feel and experience the world as if they were there. The hardware that made it possible we named NerveGear as it safely connected the nerves of the user to helmet itself and in latest editions disabled motor function as a safety feature (live and learn). If you are reading this, then you know all of this.
What you might not know is that although we were making history in the nerve-interface technology, we had to make deals to keep our company afloat.
As development stalled and investors pulled out, we were left with barely any developers who kept working - more because of the revolutionary tech than the promise of a payday. And then we got an ultimatum.
Deliver a public demo or lose all funding. Basically a killing blow to my, or I should say Our company. Our only publisher Thensents (I blame the law firm that wrote that contract, also the huge piles of money they promised that blinded us to it's shortcomings) had lost faith and as by contract we were to deliver the game or give over everything and any and all claims to everything we had created - patents, resources, etc.
So we put out an announcement for a limited demo. Chose already prominent VR gamers as our "first" players. It seemed all safe and sound as our testers had been using the NerveGear for almost a year with no side-effects .
We were confident that it will keep us afloat, but then our publisher also showed us the clause that the game had to have a functioning cash shop.
2 weeks of non-stop development of the remaining team, myself included, we pushed the final patch just moments before the start of the public test. Minutes later, first users logged in and started on their character creation.
Then we noticed the problem - death-mechanics and logging out were bugged. Nothing that couldn't be fixed in a day, but I decided to keep the players informed and in my sleep-deprived caffeine-induced state hopefully keep them safe.
But I forgot that the players were gamers. The moment I said that getting to the final boss is the solution off they went. They didn't even hear the warning about dying IG. But they thought this was just an another game to beat. that was their downfall.
With the first 2 days most of the enthusiastic players were dead IG and catatonic in real life. Speedrunning was their downfall as they thought on relying on the respawn mechanics to fly through the game. Well maybe I wasn't clear enough on my warning, but still, they should have noticed the diminishing player count.
It took us 2 days to actually push a fix, mostly as we were dead inside hearing about it on the news. Now I am the last one left and as the others, I can't live with the guilt. This is my memorial. To hell with THENSENTS! | 2020-01-28T10:18:07 | 2020-01-28T07:31:14 | 1,209 | 56 |
[WP] Just because one of your eggs hatched a fire-breathing dragon, people now think you’re evil. You’re really just a regular farmer trying to make a living, who now has to deal with an overprotective dragon, heroes that want to kill you & fanatics who want to worship you as a new demonic lord. | "I think they're scared of me." Pat mentioned as they watched the clouds float across the horizon.
"Really? What makes you think that?" Henrietta sarcastically brought up.
"Well..." Pat stopped to reconsider saying anything else.
The couple stared at the little bundle of joy they had recently inherited. Whether they liked it or not. The plan at the beginning was to perhaps raise an extra batch of chickens in an attempt to help bolster the farm's profits for the season.
Unbeknownst to both of them at the time however. One of these eggs didn't come from a chicken. Nobody paid attention, not even the hens themselves, until said egg hatched. And with that, they were the proud, albeit, wary parents of a dragon.
Nobody knew it's real name. But it took a quick liking to them, and they had to think of something.
Peach laid happily on the porch next to them, soaking in the sunlight. Her scales matched the fruit, and she really liked the fruit. So, the name stuck.
But when you're a random farmer, and you raise an orphaned dragon. There tends to be a lot of complications in one's life. Namely, for example; an armed entourage approaching your farm from down the road.
"Um, Patrick? I think we got company. They look a little upset." Henrietta spoke.
"Oh don't I know it." Pat answered. "Go round up some of the fellas. We'll just have to talk to 'em."
Commotion arose, as it usually does in such situations. A few minutes went by, and some fairly large armored guards were met by some equally large farmhands on the edge of the property.
"Howdy." Pat greeted. "To whom do I owe the visit?"
A particularly well adorned knight stepped forward, sword in hand. It seems like they weren't exactly in a negotiating mood.
"I believe you are already aware." The knight spoke.
"No, I'm afraid I'm not." Pat continued. The squint he gave due to the sun made it probably seem as if he were asleep standing up.
"You are the Dragon King. Are you not?"
This raised a slight chuckle from the farmers that had gathered.
"I only got the one. Didn't know it garnered such a title."
Those words must have struck a nerve. One of the bigger guards stepped forwards. However one of Patrick's farm hands, an orc working for extra pay, took a step forward himself. See, they actually liked to fight.
"Now wait just a second." Pat warned. "It don't have to be this way."
"Go on." The lead knight asked, aiming his sword at Pat's neck from a couple of feet out.
"Peaches doesn't mean any harm." He explained to the blade. "She simply protects my land. She likes all us. Now my question to all y'all is why do you keep testing her?"
"Do you understand the damage they cause? All the lives lost? How many kingdoms have fell-"
"Your kingdom keeps cutting us off. We can barely get a deal on supplies. I reckon if you're going to come down here and scream at me, we could at least make peace."
A shadow glided over everyone. Nobody moved, perhaps because they were concerned at what it might be. Pat checked the porch of his home only to find it empty. The knight, following his gaze, wondered what he was looking for.
"...Well that's not good."
"What's that?" The knight in charge asked them. Some of their horses began to nervously stir.
"You gone and made her mad." Pat shrugged.
"Um, boss?" One of the other farmhands started. "I lost track of her."
A shadow crossed the ground again, but when everyone looked, there wasn't anything in the sky to be seen.
"If I were you. I'd get back on my horse, head back into town." Pat faintly offered. He then turned to his workers. "Uh, guys. Pack it up. We can't find her. That's a bad sign."
The knight's group stacked up. Aiming their shield's high while their archers trained on the farm.
"You tested my patience too long!" The armored figure threatened. "Where is it?!"
The thing that swept over the entire group at an alarming pace caused a panic. The horses went crazy, throwing some of the men to the ground. Some of the farmhands also knocked down by the wake turbulence did exactly what they planned to do earlier. To the knight's surprise; most of them took off running back into the depths of the fields.
But not the man standing before him. He simply dusted off his hat, and held it as they watched. The thing that stood up behind him was a horrible thing. A massive lizard that already was the size of at least three of their steeds put together. It had quietly touched down and ran up to them at such an inhuman pace, it made him freeze.
Pat had taken a step from the sword, as Peaches eyed it herself. The knight, it seemed, was too in shock to actually move. One of his men moved. Maybe to flee, maybe to attack. To this day, no one knows. The dragon pulled back, grabbed him in its jaws and flung him against a nearby tree. He bent the wrong way around it, and sailed further into the brush, never to be seen again.
"Retreat! Retreat!!" The others declared. Of course, while Patrick wasn't shy of the horrors this sort of this brought. He still wasn't immune to it.
Peaches rained hell on the group whether they wanted it or not. Before long, half the road was aflame. And a good third of the battalion sent to get her did not make it home. He waited on the porch for her return however. Until the front door flew open.
"I'll make scarecrows out of all of ya!" Henrietta promised, waving her broadsword like a madman. "I'll, awe shucks, did Peaches get started without me??"
"Yeah, she did." Pat sighed.
"This would've been fun." She said, casually dropping her shield and waiting for the dragon to return to its parents. Of course Henrietta was there waiting for her. Which worked for Peaches, as she'd grown quite tired of chasing the knights.
"Who's a good girl? Yes, you are! Yes, you are!" She explained, happily hugging the beast around it's neck.
"Save some for us next time Peaches?" Pat asked as he sat nearby, errantly tossing her one of the fruits she loved so much. "My swordplay is getting a little rusty."
---
*'Everybody packing out here. Like who? Farmers. And farmers ~~mums~~ dragons.'*
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | "What wisdom today, oh great one?"
"Welp... Uh, seems that rain is coming tomorrow... Yep, I'd say the crops need some of that around this time."
The group of questioning, black-robed acolytes quickly jotted down every word the overall wearing farmer said, even the cadence in which he said it with. They obviously knew that rain was coming, anybody with any hint of celestial sensing could accomplish such an amateur task, but they were beginning to understand that their master was... *Different.*
"Say, is that another shiny?" The farmer asked to no one in particular, rubbing the sweat off of his head and looking at a armor wearing man approaching his gate. "Seven damnations."
The acolytes wanted to follow, but they knew that a paladin would probably take less kindly to them than they do the farmers dragon. "Say," The farmer yelled to them as he was walking away towards the visitor. "'Ya'll better make sure that the corn is planted and weeded before I get back. Can't be missing the first good rain." Unsure of what else to do, and still trying to decipher the new dark lord, they obeyed.
"Say sonny!" The farmer laid down his hoe by the front gate and extended a welcoming hand to the man in shining silver armor. "Welcome to Pepperidge farms. The name is Jobe Pepperidge, but you can call me Joe, or Dark Lord like those strange boys in hoods do."
"What did you ju--"
"Now," The farmer put up his leathery, worn hand to pause the paladin. "I need to make something clear. All strangers are welcome on the farm. If it's work or just a good bed that you're looking for, you'll find it here, but I got two rules on this here farm."
"...Okay."
"Be kind to each other, and don't, under any circumstances, touch Bessy."
The paladin paused, his handsome, chiseled face practically gleamed as bright as his armor, and his short golden locks curled around his forehead like small curtains. "Wait..." He looked both ways, as if he was missing the joke. "You're... The dark lord?"
The farmer snorted out a chuckle, "Well. I'm not one for nicknames, again Joe is as far as I usually go, but if that's what you wanna call me... Well I suppose I have no right to tell another man what to do, now do I?"
"No... I, uhh, guess you don't."
The farmer smiled another warm smile and patted the paladin on his shoulder. "Now boy, what you say your name was again?"
"It's, um." The paladin coughed and glanced down at his helmet and battlesword. *Was this really him?* "It's Raylor."
The farmer let out a high pitched whistle, "Fancy name, must be from those royal regions. Anyways Raylor, let's get you inside and fed, I bet the road was quite tough."
As soon as Raylor entered the rather large manor house that the farmer lived in, he gasped at the sight of dozens of women children and men inside, all working at different tasks and labors.
"Yep," The farmer said with a broad smile. "You could really say that the divines have blessed me with good company. Riya, could you get this starving boy some good food?"
Raylor was stunned at seeing a gremlin standing on a stool beside the kitchen, dicing up fruits and veggies as it barley cast a glance toward him. *My god,* he thought, *Those things are banned from living in any of the central provinces! Why would he have one he--*
"Sure thing Joe! Would be happy too." Before Raylor could understand what was happening, the thing had dragged him to a table and was stuffing his face with good ole fashion farming food. *Maybe... Maybe this wasn't such a bad place after all?*
Ole Farmer Joe left the boy in the house, he always thought that the youth enjoyed each others company much more than some ole coot like himself. He walked around one of the large hills on his property and found sitting under an abandon farmhouse -- his pride and joy.
"There's ole bessy!" He yelled out with a smile.
The little dragon had already grown from the size of a lizard to the size two wagons lined back-to-back! It pounced over towards the old farmer with playful, loving eyes, shacking the ground with each monstrous hop but delicately halting and laying its head down as soon as it reached the small old man.
Ole Joe rubbed the dragon affectionately, talking to it soothingly like he usually does around this time of day. He had originally started talking to the dragon because he thought the young thing seemed scared and anxious, and that a loving voice would help calm it, but as it grew up ole Joe realized that he needed it just as much as the dragon did.
"More people are arriving everyday Bessy. It's getting real crazy and crowded over there, I tell ya, but don't worry, not a soul touching you." Ole Joe looked up toward the setting evening sky. "Not a soul touching anybody on this farm, not with my say, we protect our own, and my own is anybody with a heart big enough to care for another."
Ole Joe could begin to hear the clamor that was most of the acolytes and paladins returning in from their fields. "Some call me the dark lord Bessy... Well, if that's what they call someone who cares, I guess I'm the darkest fella there is..."
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
If you enjoyed checkout my subreddit! r/mrsharks202 | 2022-06-08T13:03:42 | 2022-06-08T12:21:13 | 400 | 258 |
[WP] Your Spouse goes into the bathroom only to come running out 15 seconds later. Clutching you close they tell you they fell into another dimension and what felt like seconds to you was a 1,000 years to them. They now want you to follow them back because they have built a life for you there. | It had already been a long, frustrating day when Alice poured out her story, eyes shining bright as she tried to tug him into the bathroom. She was pointing at the wall, where a picture hung that they'd picked up at a garage sale a few weeks ago. They'd laughed about it, a rather tacky oil painting of scattered stars.
"You touch it with the intention of travelling there, and I swear to you, we'll wake up in another dimension. I know it sounds crazy, David, but I've been there for a millennium. You don't really *age* there," she said. "You can live for centuries. It's like Earth, if everything were perfect, you know? And we can have a life there, we really can -"
He pulled his hand free, the pointless anger that had gnawed at him all day finding its outlet. "This isn't funny. I know I've been struggling with the book, but making up some fantasy bullshit story isn't the way to make me feel better, alright?"
She looked like he had slapped her, eyes wide and bewildered.
"Oh, the writing," she said slowly. "God, it's been so long, I forgot. A sci-fi novel, wasn't it? Okay, but you can publish your book there. They'll love it, I know they will. Please, David, just give it a chance? It's a perfect life, I made sure of that before coming back. It's *our* perfect life, waiting for us. You wouldn't believe the technology they have available there, for a start. I can't explain it all, you'll have to come see."
He felt his stomach drop - so this was her way of telling him she wanted out. Life wasn't perfect, he knew that. They had unpaid bills and the rejection letters for his novel was becoming an embarrassingly tall pile. But why couldn't she just talk about it like a normal person, instead of wrapping her resentment in this fable? Alice had a vivid imagination, one that surpassed his own, most of the time - it's why he'd married her. But this was taking it too far.
"I'm going out," he snapped, brushing off the placating hand she laid on his shoulder. "Don't get lost in that other dimension you're so fond of while I'm gone, alright?"
Her eyes were bright with tears as he turned and walked out. "Maybe I will. Don't expect me to be waiting for you when you finally arrive."
He walked for fifteen minutes, the anger in him gradually fading as he took deep breaths of the chill night air. He had overreacted, as usual. When he returned, calling Alice's name, she was gone. Probably went to her sister for comfort, who lived a few streets down from them. David found himself approaching the picture in the bathroom despite himself, tracing a finger down the paint. Alternate dimensions, of all things.
He sighed and leaned against the wall, guilt rising in him as he saw again the flash of hurt in Alice's eyes. She'd only been trying to make him feel better, in her own strange way, he should get a grip on his temper. It was a nice thought, living in a world where there would be no disappointment, where they could live forever. It was -
He sank to his knees as a wave of nausea overwhelmed him, and his vision narrowed to a black tunnel. He closed his eyes, struggling not to vomit. When he opened them again, he was crouched on a sleek tiled floor. A uniformed man was steadying him, wearing a small, welcoming smile.
"Greetings, traveler. My name is Jacques Sol, I'm glad to welcome you to our plane," he said. "Name and dimension?"
Somehow, he answered the question automatically. "David Hanson."
"Dimension?" the man prompted him.
"I - I'm from Earth," he said.
"That's not exactly what I mean. Your first time travelling between dimensions?" Jacques chuckled as he pulled a device from his pocket and quickly typed something into it. "Let me check your name, that should help this along...."
He frowned suddenly, as David scraped his wits together to ask another question. "Where's my wife? Alice? Alice Hanson? She said she'd been here for a long time...a really long time, I think."
"Yes. One of our permanent residents, and she left specific instructions regarding you," Jacques said politely, shutting off the device and glancing up to meet David's gaze. "It's been too long, Mr Hanson. Sixty millennia, to be exact. A long time to keep a woman waiting. However, you will be glad to know your wife entered you into our Memory Utility Stimulation Extreme program, to be executed if you should ever arrive. Looks like it's your lucky day - not many get to participate in this exclusive program! Congratulations!"
"A program?" he managed to say, one of the thousand question that crowded his mind. Jacques gave another polished smile.
"Just know that MUSE has worked out well for a number of visitors from your plane. Normally, you would recall nothing of this visit upon your return to your home dimension. But *you'll* be guaranteed happiness to make up for your loss."
"Loss?" David had time to ask, as Jacques crouched down and pressed something against his temple. A cool, slim piece of metal.
"Don't worry, you won't remember that part anyway, with any luck," Jacques whispered, as he closed his eyes, the world swimming out of focus. "You'll be home soon, Mr Hanson."
-----------------
David sat up with a groan, trembling on the bathroom floor. How much had he drank? He couldn't remember. He couldn't remember anything except the dream, its vivid details etched into his mind and demanding to be written down. He grinned and struggled to his feet, feeling a soaring lift to his mood despite the sick feeling in his stomach.
He had an idea. Alternate dimensions, lovers separated by space and time - it was good stuff. He needed to get started immediately.
He looked back once at the blank bathroom wall and walked to his office, his footsteps echoing in the empty house, dismissing the nagging feeling that something was missing. Something vital.
Ridiculous. He had blank pages that could be filled, and that was all that mattered, wasn't it?
-----------
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | **February 22:**
So my LOVING wife Lauren won’t stop with this “bathroom dimension” shit. Today I went in again and nothing happened (surprise), but she keeps telling me every time she goes in it’s like a thousand years passes in some other world. I don’t know if the kids and I can stay. I mean, she’s obviously going off the deep end. Maybe it’s just a phase? I set up an appointment with a psychiatrist today, and she said we could come in tomorrow. God, I hope my wife isn’t going crazy.
**February 23:**
The psychiatrist said Lauren needs to be hospitalized. I’m making the arrangements now and hope this will all be over soon. She’s getting crazier every day. Just a few minutes ago, she came out of the bathroom very upset. When I asked what happened she got really angry and tried to punch me. Her eyes…they were different. Cold or lifeless or something. I woke up a few times in the middle of the night and she was just sitting in the chair next to our bed staring at me. Her breathing has definitely changed too. It's like raspy now. I think she's dangerous. I’m not letting her near the kids without me. She's definitely sick or something.
**February 25:**
Couldn’t write yesterday, because Lauren locked me and the kids in the bathroom! She was threatening to “burn the house down to end it all.” She finally let us out when the doctors came today. She held a knife to my throat while I spoke through the intercom telling the doctors it was all a practical joke. They seemed to believe me and now I don’t know what to do. I thought she was going to kill me. And, my God, the kids…I have to get them out of here. She’s watching us all the time. Noah keeps asking why mommy’s mad at him. And I don't think Mary's done any thing but cry since we left the bathroom.
Can’t get the kids out tonight. She’s walking around the house with that knife. HOW COULD LAUREN DO THIS???
**February 26:**
I’m going to kill her. Tonight. With my baseball bat.
**March 2:**
Mary didn’t pull through.
When I went to kill Lauren, she was walking in circles in the kitchen, but as soon as she saw me it was like she knew my intentions. She ran—like some convulsing, hellcat creature of the damned—to the light switch, and the next thing I knew I couldn’t see anything. Bumping into furniture, all I could hear was the sound of her running around the room. Tears pouring down my face, I swung my bat and connected, but it didn’t stop the sound of running. I swung again, nothing. I remember a sharp pain in my left arm and then having to hold the bat with my other hand. Lauren knocked me over and I was just on the floor there thinking I was going to die. Even then I wasn’t sure I could do it. But I did. I had lost my bat, but I managed to get on top of her and strangle her. I watched as the life left her body. Her blouse was wet with my tears. I don't know how long I was there just holding her body. It wasn’t until I found the light switch that I realized what I had hit first.
**Edit**
*AUTHOR’S NOTE:
If you are reading this for the first time and feel satisfied by the original ending (above), then perhaps you should stop reading. For all the fucks that like never-ending stories, continue at your own peril. This magic school-bus is about to go down a dark road and it won't be coming back.*
**March 3?**
It’s real. I had just gotten back from the hospital and needed a shower. Was it another dimension? I guess, but I don’t know. Physically I’m fine, but my mind is another story. All I know is I was there for a long time like Lauren described. God, Lauren! I’m so sorry!
There are things there. Tall and grey skinned. Sometimes they look like Lauren, or at least I think they do. I can’t really remember what she looked like, it’s been so long. Every time they are around me I smell burnt motor oil. Hell, the whole place smells like a garage or something. It’s not like Earth. Not at all.
Matte black surfaces are all around, and there is literally nothing to do but imagine. I’m convinced that my imagination shapes the area around me, though, because I’m almost always thinking of the kids or Lauren and I’ll see them pass by me or something. But it’s hard to tell. I mean, when everything gets dark, are the things I see in my mind or in that place?
I have to go back. I have to understand.
**???????? April May June June June June. June. MARCH.**
This isn’t Noah. It can’t be. I just left him, after all. He was there in the dark place with Lauren and Mary. Inside the walls I can walk on. Can’t go back anymore. Why not? I don’t know why. Must be his fault. That little fucker! I’ll figure it out. I’m not going to let this THING keep me from going back to my family.
Blood!!! The wonderful whelps wrought by what? Me? Yes! I’m going back, baby! That thing can’t keep me out now. I’ll feast on his flesh and throw his bones in the bathroom with me. All of him will finally allow me to go back.
| 2017-02-20T21:21:26 | 2017-02-20T21:14:47 | 303 | 20 |
[WP] For your entire life a large group of knights have been appearing when you are in danger and disappearing when you try to confront one of them, you now see all of them sitting in the bleachers for your graduation ceremony. | I used to think that I was the descendant of King Arthur. At least, until I learnt that there was no real evidence of King Arthur ever existing. Now I have no idea who these mysterious knights are. I once tried asking online, describing their armor in as much detail as I could, but no one was able to piece it together. Of course, if I ever try to talk to any of the knights, or otherwise make contact with them, they simply vanish.
Other people do notice the knights, but they never seem quite as alarmed as they should be. They simply act as if a large group of knights appearing when a high-school boy is in danger is a perfectly natural thing. Trying to ask them about the knights after or before the fact gives strange results. For example, when I told my friend Fredrick about the knights He didn't believe me and thought I was making things up. When he later witnessed the knights appearing to break up a fight between me and Lance, he acted as if nothing was out of the ordinary. When I then told him that these knights were the knights I was talking about earlier, he acted like they were totally different things. It was at around that point that I gave up on trying to explain to people about the knights.
Anyways, after each bully in school had in turn got their ass handed to them by the knights, they stopped pestering me, so I wasn't really in danger that often. Of course, I was quite surprised to see them at the graduation ceremony, sitting on a bench all by themselves. My mind started racing. What could possibly have been dangerous here? Was someone planning to shoot me? Did someone plant a bomb in the school? If there was a bomb, how would the knights protect me? I scanned the audience looking for anyone suspicious, but there was no-one (except the knights themselves of course). One by one, each student came on stage to accept their diploma. I nervously looked back to the knights after each one, but they didn't move. Eventually, I was called to the stage myself. Quaking in my shoes, I stepped on the stage, trying to reassure myself that whatever danger there was here, the knights would protect me. Even as I received my diploma, the knights remained still. No bomb exploded, no sniper fired a shot. My terrified face probably made for a bad picture, but I didn't care. When I finally sat down, the student sitting next to me asked "So what are you planning to do after high-school." I had never really considered this question before. As I thought about it, I heard the clanging of metal, as before either of us could react, we were surrounded by the knights.
Maybe I should've thought about it a bit more after all.
EDIT: If I decide to add a part 2 it'll be a /r/zigman32writes
EDIT2: Part 2 exists now! (Pherhaps eventually a part three) https://www.reddit.com/r/zigman32writes/comments/6f5unq/the_knights_part_two/
EDIT3: Part 3, the final part, exists now! https://www.reddit.com/r/zigman32writes/comments/6f896g/the_knights_part_three_final/ | The day was never ending, the sweat refused to stop running down my back. Why on Earth my graduation ceremony was scheduled, at 1 p.m. outside, in the summer heat of Texas... i'll never know.
The faces of my classmates all around me, seemingly unaware to the heat, infuriated me. Good thing my name was first up, so I could bail immediately after my name was called.
"Aberforth, Alfred." a loud voice said in the speakers.
Finally, it was over. I walked towards the podium, heart thudding, eyes scanning the crowd.
My heart froze.
There they were. Three dozen men stood behind all the students. Appearing so suddenly, and so shockingly, that I almost that I was dreaming. The loudspeakers rang overheard, "Security, please escort these me-"
A loud crash interrupted the voice, followed by large chunks of the ceiling hurtling towards the floor. Panic ensued in the flash of a few seconds. Students ran for the exits, parents and families following suit as multiple alarms echoed around the city dome. Mass confusion hovered in the air as the stadium emptied in the span of 30 sexonds.
The smoke from the initial blast covered the floor of the arena. Seconds went by, the stillness was loud in our ears.
As the smoke cleared, the remainder of people in the area had divided into two groups.
Sickly green beings had littered one side of the stands, packed tightly together, overlapping and huddling as if tied together. They appeared to have chitinous armor, clicking their mouths and starting to screech at the sight of the other group across the hall.
I found myself rising from my knees, fabled Excalibur at my side, manifesting through the air from nothing into my hands. I willed it into a polearm, and spun it around to check the balance, with a final slash coming down right on the head of an ambitious creature that dashed forward from the pack.
The great kings of old that had given me a moment of shock earlier, now strode towards me, unsheathing their various forms of Excalibur from the air and dipping it towards me in respect, for I was the current wielder.
"Let's finish this quick," I mutter, "Excalibur has some serious explaining to do." | 2017-06-03T14:24:01 | 2017-06-03T14:04:15 | 324 | 43 |
[WP] Write a happy story about a hero. After reading it a second time you realize how sad the story truly is. | As the woman lay naked on her belly the men unbuttoned their pants without wasting time.
*"We're gonna do real nasty things to you, babe!"* she heard one of them say, followed by the other one laughing and grabbing her butt.
She was drowsy from the drugs and barely reacted when the window broke, glass splitter raining down on the three of them. The older man reached for his belt but was quickly taken down. A seemingly skinny masked figure with shoulder-long dark hair rushed into the room, kicking the younger john between his legs, instantly causing him to faint. With a Bruce Lee-esque backhand blow she struck the older man in his chin and he collapsed next to his friend.
The masked savior stood in front of her.
*"I'm a protector of women, I'll be taking you to a brighter place"* the person said in a surprisingly feminine voice.
She leaned out of the window, as if getting ready to jump down.
*"We'll go far away from this miserable shithole of a place, I promise you. Just take my hand."*
**A siren outside** the window made Darja aware of the present and she slid the notebook into the desktop drawer.
*"If I knew half as much about heroines as I do about heroin this would be a much better story"*, she thought to herself and exchanged the pen for an already dirty syringe. They felt similar, in some way, and the desired effects were the same.
*Escape.*
*A vacation far away.*
The two men entered and she lay down on her belly, the window remaining as silent as ever. | Crime in North America eliminated by the Flash!
That was the headline of the day. The Flash had been working around the clock speeding across the country stopping bank robberies and muggings. All day, all night, every day of the week while he was empowered by the Speedforce.
He greeted every victim he saved with a smile on his face before he sped off to stop the next crime across town.
Everyone loved what he was doing. The world was becoming safer than it had ever been. Even gang violence was dispelled as black market weapons were thrown to the bottom of the ocean.
Citizens were happy. They urged the Flash to continue his crusade of justice.
One the inside though, the Flash wasn't happy. He just wanted to go home. | 2015-05-01T08:21:12 | 2015-05-01T06:49:27 | 25 | 12 |
[WP] You are a dog whose owner has spiraled into a depression. You are his lifeline, the only thing he has left. You know you are a good boy, but maybe he needs to be told HE is a good boy. | It had gotten harder and harder to get Tom to play with me.
He was always an excellent alpha. He kept my water bowl clean, he filled my food dish with kibble, and he let me lick his bowl when he was done with dinner. For the past few weeks, that had been a real delight—sometimes there was a soggy bit of cereal left in there!
Tom hadn’t enjoyed our walkies lately. We used to take long hikes in a park where there are so many smells a dog could die happy, and a big field where I could go off leash and just run and run and run and run and run and run and run and...
I missed running.
I missed playing with Tom! Lately, he had spent most of the time at home on the couch. We cuddled. He let me rest my chin on his chest. He patted my head and said, “Rufus” and more words and “Good boy” and more words. I wagged my tail and it thumped against the coffee table because he told me that I am Rufus and I am a good boy.
Tom had gradually been smelling extra musky and eating a lot more of the crinkly-wrapped food that he would never share with me. Tom had been spending hours at a time sitting with his arms wrapped around his legs. He hadn’t wanted to run or play. I worried he had lost sight of what’s truly important.
Tom lost sight of the fact that he, too, is a good boy.
So I put my favorite toy on his pillow. I showed him my belly and wagged my tail. I crouched down really low, and spread my legs on the floor so he saw that I’m very small indeed and not any sort of threat because Tom is the alpha. I did all sorts of things to show him he is a good boy. Still, he walked through his life with a numb expression on his face.
Imagine my delight when I saw him get the leash this afternoon! He loaded up a big crinkly bag with lots of his clothes and carried it over one shoulder and we went for the most unusual walky. We went to a white house with one tall pointy tower. There was a big metal box there and I could smell crinkly bags and clothes and my especial favorite SHOES in there. I didn’t get to have the shoes though. Tom just inserted his crinkly bag full of clothes into the big metal box and told me I was a good boy.
There was a spring in his step after that. He chatted at me and even smiled. We walked home, and Tom filled a cardboard box with things he never lets me have—cords and the smooth box that makes whirring noises and the pieces he holds in his hands when he stares at the television. He topped off his cardboard box with the small smooth blocks he calls “games,” even though he never uses them to play tug-of-war with me. Then we got to have another walky!
We went next door where there are three children who all like to pet me and throw balls for me and tell me I’m a good boy. I think they told Tom that he is a good boy too because they were very happy when he gave them the box.
We spent all afternoon like this. We went home, Tom filled up a bag or a box of things, and we walked it somewhere unusual. Blankets and towels went to a building that smelled like a vet but had lots of dogs and cats waiting to find homes. Food went to a building with many musky people with holes in their shoes. Books went to a building that was already full of books. Tom walked me home and out and home and out until his apartment had very little stuff in it indeed.
I was so tired. I drank my whole water bowl and Tom refilled it and I drank more. Then I plopped down on the ground, ready for a nap, except my tail kept thudding against the carpet. Tom sat down next to me and patted me and told me I am Rufus and a good boy. I licked his hands. He is a good boy too.
Then Tom opened his front door but didn’t go out. He tipped the kibble bag over so I could get as much as I wanted. He went to the kitchen to get one of those pointy steel objects with the nice wooden handle. There was something wrong with his smell: sweat and a kind of fear I’ve never smelled on him before. He brought the steel thing to the bathroom and shut the door.
No no no no no no no no no no no no no no.
Something was wrong.
I bumped my head against the door. I scratched at it. The fear smell sharpened. I howled. Tom was in danger and I needed to get at him! I howled and I tried digging under the door and I howled and I scratched at the door knob and I howled and I tried to get to Tom and I howled.
A long time passed and the danger-smell changed. I quivered and whined. I begged Tom to come back out. I howled and whined. I wanted Tom to come out before the fear smell gave way to the blood smell. I scratched the door and whined.
Tom opened the door and gave me the biggest hug. He smelled like relief. I licked his salty face. He was trembling. I pushed against his chest with my head and he rubbed and patted me and told me what a good boy I am. My tail pounded against cabinets under the bathroom sink. Tom is a good boy too. | My name is Captain. I am a dog, and I am a good boy.
&#x200B;
There's still dew still on the grass, and joggers are out. Even in December it's so hot by nine o'clock anyone still running outside will will turn into deliciously smelly messes, which is a great time to go out and visit people I think. But right now is really the best time - the smell of frying oil, spices, and oh boy, oh boy is that bacon today? The smell of the grass, the smell of the Eucalyptus trees out the window. It's a perfect morning.
&#x200B;
I need to go outside, I have business there. Not only my usual business, but it's time to go see the neighbors. All this week Sheil - he's my dad but he's a human I guess it's complicated - he's been so sleepy! I've got to get up to his room and tell him what a perfect morning it is. Why is this door closed? Why is the window closed? Shouting through the door I yell at him to listen up, you know if I can't get my walk by nine O'clock, I'll find my cat friend down the road, Lizzy, already sprawled out for a mid-day nap. After all, I continue, her mornings are always busy doing all sorts of things like waking up the house, begging for food from Dad, begging for food from Mom. As I'm explaining all of this through the door, the brass handle turns and can it be and Sheil pops his head out through the crack. The inside of the room is dark, and his figure is a scarcely visible outline, and his wire hair is a tangled mess. I like his strong dark hair. I've got white hair, it's sometimes hard to see we're family.
&#x200B;
It's a perfect morning. All this week I've patiently explained my business to go outside, and I've dutifully reminded Sheil how happy he is when he can eat food while it's hot. But until today, I've not been able to see his handsome face. Not even one time! So, it's embarrassing but I am so excited I can hardly contain myself at this moment. I'm happy for my ancestry with short tails, or in my excitement should knock over the stack of books on the floor. Anatomy books that show people but with so many complicated pieces, muscles, veins, and...bones. Forbidden treats! Maybe I \*should\* knock those books over, come to think of it, I can't quite remember the last time he read them to me. I love his voice when he teaches me all about what's in those books, when no one is near and it's just the two of us. I'm a great student, I've never missed a single lesson with my Sheil! Why did he stop reading those books? Maybe today is my lucky day.
&#x200B;
Sheil shook his head and and shook my body back in excitement. But in a second it all ended - the door was closed again.
&#x200B;
I raised my paws to push on the door, surely it was only the wind that closed it, when suddenly it dawned on me. No, the wind did not close the door. Sheil is hiding! The realization hit me harder than that time I ran after the mail truck, and the driver braked hard and my nose slammed right into the back of the truck. Silly driver, I was chasing you, not tailgating you! Since then I've asked Sheil to only order my treats that ship with bicycle delivery, they always are kind to me and have extra snacks with them. And they have a delightful smell like burning leaves lingering about them.
&#x200B;
I was stunned. It all made sense. When do I hide? When I watered the Christmas tree all by myself, and Sheil gave me a look that let me know that day I was not a good dog. When I thought I hadn't quite digested that dog treat and might eat it a second time off the grass, Sheil let me know I most definitely was NOT a good boy. And both times, the only place I wanted to be was, nowhere. But Sheil would come find me out in the far corner of the yard after only a few minutes. He found me and let me know in such an earnest, quiet and soothing tone that in fact, regardless of my silliness, I was in fact, a good boy.
&#x200B;
So I must find a way to let Sheil know he, too, is a good boy. Because, I am a dog, and I am a good boy.
&#x200B;
\----end pt.1---- | 2018-12-06T02:08:11 | 2018-12-06T01:10:17 | 93 | 28 |
[WP]: Everyone got a tiny, mundane blessing when they were born. Usually they are so small that people don't even notice them - always hitting the green light in traffic, etc. Yours would be virtually useless, but you figured out a creative loophole that allowed you to rise to the top of the world. | "This isn't possible!" the man screamed, as the guards dragged him into my office. "How! How the hell did you find me?"
"That's not the important thing, Mr. Spencer." I said, calmly, as the guards pinned him face down to my desk. "The important thing is after my firm put up the money for your bail, you attempted to skip out on your court date. Unacceptable, Mr. Spencer. *Unacceptable."*
"Your damn tracker *can't* have worked!" he snarled, as they lifted up his shirt, exposing a thin, recently healed scar. "I was picked up in an air car with a lead-lined interior! They flew me around the city for hours and *verified* we weren't followed or observed from any angle! My safe house is 30 feet underground, inside a F*araday cage!* There's no signal on Earth that can penetrate that!*"*
"Apparently there is." I muttered, as I withdrew the extractor from my desk drawer and placed it over the implant site on his back.
"How did you do it?" he pleaded, a wavering, almost panicked obsession creeping into his tone. "I don't even care that you caught me anymore, I just want to know *how!* Your men were at my location before I could even have the damn implant pulled out! It's not possible, it---*AHG!"*
He snarled in pain as the extractor's laser scalpel automatically made a quick, clean cut, sucked out the implanted capsule, and then resealed the incision with a medical adhesive.
"How do I always know where each shipment I insure for my clients is? How do I know the location of every priceless piece of art or errant trust-fund child I'm hired to look after? These are the secrets of my trade, Mr. Spencer. They're not for the likes of you." I said calmly, putting the extractor away and palming the implant out of his sight.
"Tell me! Please, for the love of God, *how* did you do it?!" he wailed, tears of frustration filling his eyes as my guards dragged him away. I shook my head -- bad risk. I shouldn't have given him the chance to try and screw me over. But then, there was never *really* a chance he'd get away with it.
I looked down at the metal capsule in my hand, and smiled as I opened it, revealing the tiny, old fashioned brass key inside.
They were common when I was a kid, but these days electronic locks have replaced them for almost everything. If not for some lateral thinking, that would have made my particular gift almost useless.
You see, unlike most people, I never, *ever* lose my keys. | Dear son,
I get a nickel every time I state a false fact. If I say ‘pigs can fly’, then I find a nickel. You could also say that I follow the phrase: ‘If I had a nickel every time I was wrong, I’d be a millionaire.’
Well, I’d later in life decide to take that phrase literally. After thoroughly thinking about that phrase in my late teens in a non-sarcastic way, I began my slow progression towards wealth by saying wrong answers to questions and state false facts whenever I could. Within a few years, I had thousands in the bank.
The next part, I have to thank my old personal finance teacher for teaching me about (you should pay attention in those classes too!). I put all those thousands into an account and kept it there. It would later grow more and more as years went by while I kept the habit of putting nickels inside of it from time to time.
I’m now in my early fifties and owner of a large company stationed in Los Angeles, although you’re going to be taking over the business. You’ve already begun following in my footsteps, what with your little perk being that you find a penny every time you’re right.
So, I write in this to end my reign as head of the company. My son, if you *do* read this, this is my advice to you: Don’t let your perk give you a big head. Just because you get money when you’re right, doesn’t mean you can always be right. Take a look at your old man. I get a nickel whenever I’m wrong. And even though I’ve been wrong most my life, being wrong brought this family where it is now. That’s key for the business. Realize that, and you’re good to go.
Good luck, Mr. President.
- Dad | 2018-06-30T14:13:13 | 2018-06-30T13:45:34 | 8,960 | 555 |
[WP] Genies are real, and they do grant wishes. But these wishes do not have to be said out loud. They just grant you your three deepest desires, however fucked up they may be | The snag with stories is that they have a story-teller, and, as we all know, you can trust nobody less that a weaver of fantasies. Except, perhaps, for a granter of them.
The gang had all heard the stories: of caves in the desert, of lamps and the entities captured inside them, of wishes gained and granted. That was why they were here, after all: Tiny Ted, looking for youth; Artemis, looking for revenge; and me, looking for redemption.
There had been others, of course, over the decades, but it had been a long and dispiriting search. Fool's errands do not tend to attract well-adjusted people, or if they do, they never stick around for too long. A fling becomes a spouse, a spouse becomes a family, and children need a parent who can put food on the table, not one who spends their days poring over old maps and ancient texts.
But after all those years, it seemed like we had finally found it - the fabled cave of Aladdin, buried by the sands of time. There had been traps, some we had known about, others unrecorded. That is why the gang was down to just three of us, standing in the treasure room, staring at the lamp. The legendary lamp.
The trouble with legends is that they are old. Have you ever wondered why? Why, if they are true, nobody outside of Hollywood has been greedy enough to remake them for the modern era?
Artemis reached for the lamp. Tiny Ted caught her hand, with surprising speed for one so old.
"No," he said, "I've paid for this expedition. I go first."
He touched the old lamp, which the centuries had left untarnished. Or perhaps that was just the dry desert air.
Whispers filled the cavern. Air whipped around us. The lamp began to shake on the pedestal. Something materialized in the air.
No, not something. Some*one*. Humanoid, but inhuman. Old, but eternal. All-powerful, and yet forever chained to its prison.
"Who disturbs my rest?" it said, with a voice that spoke from all around us, whipping our hair around us and flinging dust into our eyes. "And what do you want?"
"My name is Theodore Gerald Heironymous," said Tiny Ted. Then the old bastard's eyes grew crafty. He leaned on his cane, and pulled a piece of paper out of his pocket. "I have here a contract, drawn up by my lawyers, that is free of loopholes, and states in explicit terms the contents of three wishes to be granted to me."
Clever, I thought. We had spent many late evenings discussing what each of us would ask for, and how to prevent a djinn from twisting our words if we ever found one. But trust Tiny Ted to actually have his wishes drawn up by a lawyer. I supposed that one did not become a titan of industry without having plans within plans.
But there was a snort from the entity. I thought it sounded amused. A gust of wind caught the piece of paper, and tore it up and away.
"Oh, mortal," it sighed. "Wishes cannot be bound, like a djinn. You cannot bottle desire, or write one out like a business contract. No wishes are ephemeral, deep..." the genie paused,"...dark.
"Things like..." and the djinn's form swirled around Tiny Ted, "...lust."
The djinn's hooded eyes swiveled to where Artemis stood - beautiful, desirable, unobtainable Artemis. Suddenly she stood in a white dress and a lace veil, with a ring on the fourth finger of her left hand.
She stared down at herself in shock, and then over at Tiny Ted in disgust. "You-"
"Now wait a second," Ted said. "I've still got another two wishes left-"
"Oh no," the djinn said. "One wish. Where would be the fun in three?"
It turned to Artemis, who had ripped off the wedding veil, and was now trying to remove the ring from her finger. "And as for you, child... revenge..."
It looked back at Tiny Ted, who suddenly clutched at his throat, gasping for air. I ran over to him, but there was nothing I could do except hold him as he died.
"No," Artemis shouted next to me. "No, this wasn't what I wanted. I mean, I wanted revenge, but not on him. And I did not want anyone to die."
"Oh, but it was your wish," the djinn said. "Not always this particular man, I'll grant you. But if you humans are good at anything, it is short-term thinking. And did you never truly desire death? In those moments of falling asleep, when the conscious rational mind lets go, did you never once imagine what death might be like for that other man who wronged you?"
"Yes, but-"
"It is strange, where our minds go," the djinn observed. "How once a thought has cut it's channel into the mind, other thoughts begin to flow between those same banks."
And it turned its head to me.
"You need grant me no wish," I said quickly. I tried to blank my mind, to wish of nothing. But I had spent my life dreaming of wishes. Have you ever tried not to think of a white elephant, when your life has been spent in the pursuit of a herd of them? Everything I had ever thought wonderful seemed suddenly terrible. "You're are a myth, genie. Stay that way. Let me go."
"The problem with myths is that they have a moral," the genie said. "And morals, as we all know, require somebody to be made an example of. But... how interesting... very well. To you, after a lifetime spent searching for the easy solution, I grant your wish... nothing at all."
---
More stories at /r/jd_rallage | [Part 1 of 2]
“Ok, there’s got to be something in the contract about this. I’m grateful and all, but this isn’t what I wanted. Why the hell would I want a spaceship made from chocolate? Would a sane person wish for that?”
“No, I don’t believe a sane person would wish for that, but I’m not here to give you a psychological assessment Ben, I’m just here to grant your deepest desires.” The genie didn’t hide his smug grin, arms crossed over his chest, admiring all the wishes he granted. Taking a strange amount of pride in his devious work. “As for your comment about a contract. I’m a magical floating genie. Do you really think I have a legal department hiding away in this lamp?”
I knew he was being sarcastic, but that didn’t stop me from crouching by the lamp’s side, peering into the golden lamp, only to spot an empty void of darkness inside. When I stood up, he merely stretched his arms out, giving me an expression that silently said. ‘Well?’ Expecting me to continue my frustrated rambling, which I did.
“But it’s a chocolate spaceship. It’s just going to melt. Are you saying my deepest desires are idiotic things like this? What about money or wine? Maybe even my own theme music whenever I enter a building, something that isn’t this.” I pointed to the spaceship, watching its brown, sugary coating drop onto my carpeted floor, leaving a disgusting stain. “And on the carpet too!”
“Sorry, those were your desires. I gave you the three things you desired. Nothing more and nothing less. That spaceship is functional. Be quick though, it’s going to fall apart soon.” The genie said, floating to the side, allowing the sunlight he was blocking from the window to hit the ship, only furthering its destruction.
I was quick to close the blinds, trying to keep the stupid wish from melting. “Ok, whatever. I can accept that maybe one of my childhood desires was a spaceship made from chocolate, but that doesn’t explain this” I pointed to my clothing, dressed in a light blue shirt with a matching set of pants. I could see a small badge hanging off the shirt’s right pocket, appearing to be some form of identification, but the company name seemed foreign to me.
“Oh, you wanted to be a hero, right? Well, what’s more heroic than saving lives Dr. Ben. You are now employed at St Joseph’s hospital. It’s a state away but I’m sure you can take your spaceship there.” His grin only grew wider when he said that. It was clear he wanted to laugh but was trying to keep some level of professionalism.
“Not that sort of hero! I wanted to be a superhero. You know, fight crime and fly, the cool stuff.” I remarked, only for him to raise an eyebrow.
“Are doctors not cool to you? Sorry, do you find the action of saving actual lives boring?”
“No, I mean… No. That’s not what I meant. Doctors are amazing people, but that’s the thing. I’m not an amazing, selfless person. All I want to do is fly around and fight giant monsters, not something practical. I mean, you gave me a chocolate spaceship. What part of that makes you think I want an actual job?”
“I’m not sure. Your desires didn’t specify a preference and so I chose something for you. Enjoy your first shift, its tomorrow morning.” He let a chuckle escape the side of his lips, expelling a brief huff of air before composing himself once more.
“But I know nothing about medicine. How am I supposed to be a doctor?” I argued, only being a doctor in the strangest sense of the word. Having no actual qualifications, only a uniform and form of identification.
“Ah, you will figure it out. I’m starting to think you aren’t grateful for all these gifts. Why are you even complaining, all you had to do was rub a lamp for all of this? It’s not like you had to run a marathon or something strenuous. Want to complain about the last desire too?”
His purple finger pointed towards my kitchen bench, revealing a sparkling new toaster. It was brilliant, having ten slots and settings that would perfectly toast the bread to your exact specifications.
“I actually like that one. I’ve never been able to find a toaster that toasts the bread just right. Out of all the crappy wishes you have given me, that’s my favorite.” I had nothing bad to say about the toaster. The only slight complaint I could think of was that the golden lining along the top made it took a little tacky, but considering the other two wishes, I was happy to endure that. “Are you going to leave now? I have a mess to clean up.”
[Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/oz7ydx/wp_genies_are_real_and_they_do_grant_wishes_but/h7yai97/) | 2021-08-06T09:37:13 | 2021-08-06T09:15:31 | 249 | 99 |
[WP] Leaving the dying, infested world behind, I teleported to a time before the apocolypse happened. Happy to be in a zombie free world, I felt a pang of pain on my shoulder. I saw that the scratch I had gotten from a zombie was now red and infected. I now realized I was patient zero. | There were 3 generations of families that lived through this Virus. 3 generations of terror, and death.
There was a virus that slowly caused all excess fat and excess skin to fall off. Ruined the complexity of a human body, and placed something else in return. We didn’t know of the Patient Zero. We never knew his name, social security or anything. He just stumbled into a hospital, and started biting and eating. He jump started the out break, infecting my grandpa and everyone near.
My grandpa, 1st Generation of a Zombie Society, was working at a lab near the hospital. He was working on Quantum Displacement, or time travel. He was very close, so close. But it’s as if the universe decided that time travel was against it, and thus it had started the virus. It made him mad, forcing him home and almost killing my dad.
Almost.
That’s why i’m here today. I, after returning home from a supply run, finished his Quantum Displacement Machine, alone, since my dad and mom died, and my entire group. Sucks, right?
The books say the outbreak started in The Winter of 2020, so that’s where i’m headed. The beginning, so i can warn my grandpa. He’ll know who to tell.
The Quantum Displacement Machine takes apart your Atoms and re assembles them in a different time. Hurts. A lot. There’s no pain like it, it pretty much almost killed me just now.
But i make it, and i’m in the City Center. I can see the Physics Building where my grandpa would’ve been. *sniff*
The hell?
*sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff sniff*
Oh *god*
I must’ve been scratched during the supply run.
I can’t resist the smell. It’s unlike anything i’ve ever smelled. I **need** it. My body is walking on it’s own. Hell, it’s running, faster than i’ve ever been able to.
Is that...is that the hospital?
Oh god. No, no, no, no.
*No*
I’m Patient Zero. | My last part. A piece of wire. Finally! I can finish what only theory would prove, a time machine.
As I place it in my bag I hear a scraping sound. I stop. They found me! After years of being so careful. I try to run, but he was so quick! I barely had time to shoot him before his body connected with mine. Noises attract them. I had to get away...
Too late they were close. I see more coming my way. I have to get to the lab before they get me. I make it to the lab. The time machine was right there. I run in and close the door. They are here. I place the wire moments before they got to the door. While holding the door shut I press the start button. I hope the math was right.
I opened my eyes expecting to be dead. Moments before I was pressing a button hoping for an escape from certain doom. Then silence.
It worked!
I open the door to a new world. There were other people all around, living without fear of others. It smelled better. It was nothing like the decaying flesh smell I remember. Finally peace. Nothing to worry about I was free. I can finally live with others.
The only complaint is the incessant itch on my back. Better go to the doctor about it. | 2020-11-01T20:35:40 | 2020-11-01T20:34:02 | 48 | 17 |
[WP] Unknown to humanity, there is a god for almost everything. You are the god of oil. | How does a god gain strength?
Some say it is belief that makes a god what he or she or it is. The more believers you have, the more powerful you are. And it is true, to a certain extent. There is power in belief. Indeed the only way a god can truly die is if their names are no longer remembered by anyone mortal. Once you have passed out of living memory, it didn't matter how many temples were raised to your glory, how many were sacrificed to your name. You would be as if you had never existed.
The mortals believe in all powerful gods, great mighty beings that exerted their will over the entire cosmos and held knowledge of everything there ever was or ever will be. They could not have been further from the truth. To be someone like Yahweh or Allah or Brahman was the end goal of all gods. All of us dream for the day when we could be the very first to be all-powerful. That's what gets us out of bed every morning, so to speak.
Until that joyous day when every mortal in the universe sings our praises, we fight. We war against each other in endless conflict. Each seeking to be more important to humanity, more vital. Because the truth is this - the real power lies in how much humanity needs you. Throughout human history, we have sought to influence the way their society developed. The more the humans did something, the more that particular god or goddess grew in strength.
There were some gods that have been around since the dawn of time and will always be around, to a certain extent. Aqueous the god of the waters, he fought hard to climb the mountain and claim the title of the water god. As all life gradually evolved to need water to live, he had grown so strong he was practically impossible to kill. Desire, the god-goddess of sex, was another being so ancient he/she was the next best thing to being all-powerful. There was a huge fight between Desire and the god of asexual reproduction from way back, and now I don't even remember the other guy's name. Hard to be taken seriously when your only worshippers are amoeba.
That was how life is for all of us. I had started out as a minor thing, a tiny god. But I had worked my way up. I had scratched and clawed and fought to get to where I was. And for more than two centuries, I had grown from strength to strength.
You see, when all's said and done, the *best* way for a god to gain strength is to have the mortals kill each other in your name. Some rules go deep, and blood sacrifice is the oldest of them all. But this is just the beginning. Wait until oil begins to disappear from Earth, and the humans have not yet made the next leap in technology. Wait until nations slaughter each other for the remaining wells. Wait until the entire planet is but ash and dust in my name.
Then I will take what power I have gained, and move on to the next world. | This wasn't what you signed up for. Of course, you didn't exactly sign up, did you? But still, God of Oil. That black gold which sits beneath the ground, waiting to be tapped, waiting to be used. Humanity has come a far way, you and your brethren have enjoyed watching them, but the things they did with oil, your oil. It makes you proud. But now though, now the pride is gone, in this moment. It just isn't something you thought you would have to see, have to deal with.
They don't know of you of course, the old woman, with her wrinkled skin nude, exposed, she says "please God." That Christian God they invented, he gets all the credit, he gets all of the pleading voices in the night. But they really come to you, or the others, this one comes to you.
"Please God," she says again. She's easily eighty, her hair as white as snow. Her breasts sag, her dark red nipples pointing down to the floor, where they used to point in front of her. Oil. The stuff wars are fought over. That's what you lord over. But this? It all seems below you.
"God, please," she says. She has one hand out, palm upwards. The other grips an almost empty bottle of baby oil. Beside her in bed is her husband of almost sixty years. He's taken on of those pills, his erection pulsating. Those are rare. The old woman knows it. She pleads to you again silently as a single drop of baby oil swells at the bottles opening. Without that oil, it's too painful. She's too dry. Without that oil, who knows the next opportunity the old folks will have.
She pleads to you silently now. Please. There's nothing you can do, no really, but you still have to hear her. You're still taken to that bedroom in the old folks home. You watch as the single drop falls into her wrinkled palm and she smiled, and you feel nauseous. | 2015-04-05T08:33:00 | 2015-04-05T08:25:58 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | Humans are a galactic anomaly.
In the typical course of evolution, there are two possibilities; either carnivores become dominant, and are forced to evolve intelligence as they fight with one another over dwindling resources, or Herbivores manage to evolve rapidly enough to defend themselves from those carnivores. In all 9824 races of the Known Galaxy, this pattern has held true.
It was a monumental shock, then, when species 9825 was discovered, colloquially called 'humans'. Their species was incredibly unlucky; they had evolved in a system where significant numbers of eccentric orbitals intersected their planet's course, resulting in not just one, but multiple large-scale impacts. It is believed that there were several nascent species on the cusp of intelligence, both herbivore and carnivore, only to be promptly wiped out by impact-induced global firestorms. The last of these was the worst; all larger life-forms were killed, leaving only the most tenacious of creatures behind, and allowing, for the first time in history, an evolutionary oddity.
An intelligent Omnivore.
Of course, most species will occasionally consume - on accident, usually - certain plant or meat based foods. The Verron-Tigers of Species 2368 will occasionally eat handfuls of grass to aid their digestive tract, for example, but never before had we encountered an intelligent species that would willingly consume both.
The scientific curiosity, however, is more than overwhelmed by the social one. Predators cannot - physically cannot - reside in close company to more than a few dozen of their kin, at most. Their instinct prevents it, competition driven by millenia of ingrained social cues. Herbivores rarely fight back; far easier to stand as a group, and let the weak be winnowed away.
When the first Predators, Skell-Walkers of species 8473, arrived at Earth, they saw the billions of humans and expected another Prey species. As was the custom, they isolated a small, isolated group of young, and began their hunt.
The entire human species nearly exploded with rage. The Skell were not prepared - Prey never fought back! When the first nuclear-tipped missiles reached their ship, in orbit around their moon, their shields weren't even up. Only a brief message made it to the other Skell, a warning of the insane prey of 9825. Still, they were prey; they assumed that as long as they avoided the planet, all would be well.
They assumed wrong. Very, very wrong. Apparently, Omnivores are fans of vengeance, and there are billions of them, compared to scarce thousands of Skell. Within 20 celestial cycles, there were no more Skell.
And then, to everyone's surprise, they stopped. They colonized the formerly Skell worlds, and were mostly quiet. Over time, the Herbivore Alliance came to the conclusion that their war with the Skell must have been a fluke; after all, even the most pacifistic of Herbivores will fight back in the right circumstances. Perhaps the Skell had just done something very, very wrong. Gently, delicately, we made contact...
...and found Humans to be one of the most delightful species we had ever known! They did not usually kill for sport, the way the Carnivores did; no, they were nearly as pacifistic as we were! We were welcomed with open arms, and within only a few dozen more solar cycles, we had a thriving alliance. It was only after another thirty cycles that our ambassadors felt our relationship was close enough to inquire as to what, exactly, had led to their genocide of the Skell. Our Chief Ambassador was understandably surprised when they told him how a small group of their young had been killed and eaten by the invaders; after all, such cullings happened regularly within our people!
The Human Ambassador politely inquired as to which species had eaten several of our Ambassador's children. We saw no harm in telling them.
That species no longer exists.
It is too late for us; the humans already know of our existence. Maybe, in time, we can even grow to live with them. But to any uncontacted Herbivores and Carnivores in the galaxy; run. Run, and never turn back. There are nearly a trillion of them now. A trillion creatures of genocide and murder in the name of peace.
Run, before it's too late.
Just run. | Jak'tur stood on the command bridge of the galaxy's most massive Dreadnought, The Bastion. His suction-cupped hands continued to subconsciously wipe at his scaled combat suit, and his black, bulged eyes continued to scan the screens around him for any activity. The entire crew was on high alert, for they had just trespassed into human space. Though humans had not contributed to any major, or minor, galactic conflicts in the past millennium, they still struck fear into the hearts of all the species of the "Milky Way," as humans were fond of calling the galaxy.
"Admiral," his second called out, "we are approaching the rendezvous point but have not received any pings from fleet main."
"Do not ping, we might alert the humans." Jak'tur was to meet the main battle fleet of the Coalition of Independent Races a half light year from Sol 13, but had not been contacted even though he had just dropped out of jump. Something like this had been attempted before on the Human Home system, but had been met with fierce, unending resistance. The old Galactic Imperium had finally taken notice of the humans, and invaded the Sol system as well as launched minor offensives against their colonies.
The main Imperium fleet jumped into orbit around Earth and began its invasion. Before long though, the Imperium was on the run from the might of the Human military. Envoy's were sent, but the Human's would not abate until the Emperor's head was sent rolling.
And now, Jak'tur was to lead another assault upon the humans for his leaders had seen them to be weak. It was true that they did not possess a fleet such to rival the Coalition's in size, but Jak'tur knew that would not help them now.
"Admiral, radar is picking up faint signals of the fleet just on the other side of the planet."
"Bring the screen up and decrease engine power to half. Divert all remaining power to shields. Keep weapons at one quarter." Jak'tur knew what was about to happen.
The holoscreen came up just as soon a Jak'tur sat down in his command chair and showed utter carnage. The entire battle fleet lay in shatters as if stricken with some sort of great hammer. The Delphius, pride of the Corcians, was blasted in half and still spewing the fur covered, bipedal Corcians out.
"Take all power out of weapons, launch drones and power up the Jump Drive."
"Admiral Jak'tur," a familiar human face appeared on the screen. It was Admiral Cintal, a young man of immense tactical genius tasked with the safeguarding of Earth and Mars. In person, he was only about six feet tall, much shorter than the average Jintiil, but he had eyes that could pierce your mind. "Your people have come to my home, and risked open war with my people. We humans have done our best to remain peaceable and kind, but it seems that we must show our military might once more. This is Admiral Cintal to Sol Fleet Prime, you have my clearance to disengage cloak end open fire on The Bastion."
The transmission ended and Jak'tur readied himself for death. The radar lit up with a thousand red dots and death came swiftly to The Bastion. Meanwhile, a Human Battle fleet had assaulted the Coalition shipyards and destroyed the Secondary Battle Fleet that had been dispatched to cut off trade with the Florids. The Humans had once again proven their military might and silenced the voices of their foes. | 2016-03-13T21:24:24 | 2016-03-13T18:23:49 | 71 | 18 |
[WP] Whenever you saw a dead animal in the road, you'd say a little prayer and send them to Heaven. Upon your death, you arrive in Heaven and are immediately swarmed with 1000's of various critters delighted to see you. You hear a booming voice cry out with irritation, "This is YOUR fault." | "Be at peace."
My Mom always said this small prayer any time we would see an animal in the road. No matter dog, rat, deer, snake, raccoon, or the smallest bird that no one would think twice about. If there was a poor little creature which had its life cut short by some person who was too busy rushing through their own, she would always pray.
Soon after getting my license and my own car I found myself saying this same prayer. Maybe it was out of habit, maybe I thought that it is something everyone does, maybe because if I didn't then who would? Either way I never missed. Every animal, every time.
Years went by, and even though I would get some weird looks from passengers, or ignorant comments by people who seem to think that the lives of creatures other than themselves have no meaning, I still prayed for them.
All but one.
"This is YOUR fault!"
The words hit me hard, and so did the memories of an elk suddenly jumping in front of my car. The memories of pulling the wheel harder than I ever have before. The memories of a brown flash moving across my windshield. The memories of nothing at all.
"I don't understand, what is my fault?"
I slowly begin to notice the thousands of different animals greeting me, as if they know me. Not just as if they know me, but thankful to know me.
"No not you, I will be with you in a moment."
I was confused to say the least, but happy. As soon as I realized that I know these animals too. For some reason I can remember each and every one. I remember the small raccoon off of I-5, the beautiful porcupine next to Highway 41, the opossum I buried next to Third Street.
"This is your fault. You know it is a special occasion today and I was under the impression that you would behave!"
I now notice a man speaking to a very beautiful grey and white colored cat. Smokey. My cat. The one that ran away when I was 8 years old, the one I remember seeing from the school bus window a few blocks from my house. I knew it was her that day.
The man was scolding Smokey for tearing up a piece of furniture that I'm assuming was for me to sit on. She was always a feisty one.
He turned away after giving her a little pat on the head, no one can stay mad looking at that face.
"Hello! These wonderful creatures are only here to give you a warm welcome, then they're back off to their own pieces of heaven. You are the reason they are here and they seem to be very thankful for that. Except Smokey seems to forget that not everything is a scratching post, my apologies."
He turned to look at Smokey, but she was already preoccupied with playing around on something else.
"Anyways, feel free to formally meet all these fine animals and enjoy yourself!"
"Oh! And one last thing, someone very close to you must have the same tradition because we just received a new guest."
At that moment the most beautiful Elk I have ever seen walked through the crowd to rest it's head on my lap. It seemed upset, but with a few words I knew would calm him.
"Be at peace." | When Sarah was alive, she had a ritual she performed for all the dead animals she passed. It just seemed right to her, that those who are easily forgotten get a few words and a half-descent send-off before they return to the earth. They might be strangers to her, and she might have scarce little to say besides, "I'll see you in the afterlife, if there is one." But she always at least said that.
Sarah had slept outside in the wilderness before, but never on stone. The cold, rough stone pressed painfully into the back of her head, but she was too groggy to wake up. She tried to roll onto her side, use her arm as a pillow, but now the stone dug into her hip. She tried to wriggle into a comfortable position, then gave up, and forced herself upright.
Nearby, she noticed, a campfire crackled and burned, the only source of heat and light in this desolate place. It was barely enough to light the dark stone within ten paces. Shadows appeared to shift in the darkness beyond.
"Where am I?" Sarah shouted. Her voice sounded so weak in this place, like it swallowed all sound as well as the light.
"After life," a voice boomed. It seemed to come from everywhere at once. "After all life. Only the ones you saved remain."
Sarah was blinded momentarily by a sudden flash. The fire intensified, and she felt the heat flare for a moment before receding. The increased light revealed the shifting shapes in the darkness were in fact live animals. Hundreds, possibly thousands, surrounded Sarah on all sides, wounded in all manner of ways. A deer with a twisted hind leg; the front half of a snake; a racoon, midsection flattened; an owl missing half its face, maggots wriggling in exposed flesh. Horror crept over her.
"They did not pass on like the others," the voice said. "This is your fault."
"Why?" she asked, almost a whisper.
"I am the Earth," the voice said. "You wished for life. But only I can give them peace."
She saw a calf among the animals, and the calf looked back. Was there recognition in its eyes? Parts of its skin started to flake away as ash, followed by the exposed flesh underneath. The same was happening to the others. The fire dimmed and dimmed, and was then extinguished as if by an invisible hand, and Sarah, who remained whole, was alone in the darkness. | 2019-09-02T23:59:04 | 2019-09-02T23:03:15 | 2,636 | 25 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | Storm chasing is a fascinating hobby. Storms are known to move quickly, so the chasers need to, well, chase the storms away from populated areas before they can cause damage. Often chasers will corner the storm into a field, lake, or other underpopulated area. If necessary, they will chase storms out into the ocean, but that's expensive, since it requires special boats and helicopters instead of the standard SCC (storm chaser car).
SCCs are typically 4 wheel drive, powerful trucks with various equipment mounted in the back. Lightning rods, laser pointers to guide the storm (much like a cat), and monitoring equipment. Because they aren't that different from their regular counterparts, SCCs are $5-20K more expensive than their standard counterparts. Often they will have a -S added to the end, e.g. Ford F-150-S
Oftentimes, meteorologists will work directly with storm chasers. We can already accurately predict where a storm will go, so the probability is merely how likely storm chasers are to succeed in chasing away the storm. There have been controversies of storm chasers being paid by weather stations to slack off, and give that station the most accurate results. New laws are being put in place to prevent this, and include heavy regulation, as most storm chasers are government employees.
Edit: stork chasers -> storm chasers | "Okay bob, hold my scalpel while I squeeze the heart"
"Right, now I just need you to connect those two tubes while I hold it like this"
"Okay...
Yes! done!"
"Wait, why is my computer making that weird beeping noise?"
"OH MY GOD!!! HE'S GONNA DIE! GET THE DEFIBRILLATOR!!"
*zzzzZAP!*
"Oops, I think we killed him."
"Wow, we really suck at surgeon simulator don't we?" | 2016-02-01T21:44:49 | 2016-02-01T21:35:35 | 80 | 11 |
[WP] They reworked the justice system. Now, in each cell there is a piano, and convicts are released after performing a song perfectly. Lesser criminals are assigned simple melodies, while the worst get full concertos. You've been a concert pianist your whole life. | Honestly, when I heard the announcement on TV, I was pretty confused. The guy who was reading it seemed pretty confused as well. When the new president said he wasn't going to conform to old traditions, nobody quite had THIS in mind.
But as I thought it through I quickly realized that I was basically immune to the law. No matter what they could possibly give me to play, I was confident I could easily play my way out.
Of course, I knew right away what I had to do. I grabbed my gun, and got in my car. I drove past the rioters, and made my way to my rival, Freduino Fabulousi's house. Freduino Fabulousi was the only piano player who's skills exceeded my own. And with him out of the way, I would be known as the greatest pianist alive. With that kind of power, I can get any girl I want! No more will girls refuse to sleep with me when I admit that I'm only the second greatest pianist alive.
Once I arrive, I throw a rock at one of his windows, shattering it, and I jump in, only to stare down the face of a barrel. Freduino has a wide grin on his face.
"Hmmph, you're so predictable Marquesta. Going straight for the window, the obvious trick. It's reasons like that which make you the SECOND greatest pianist alive today." says Freduino.
"My notes might be a bit obvious, but unlike you, I know how to improvise." I say, as I knee him in the groin. I pull out my gun and fire at him, but he rolls out of the way, and fires back. I narrowly manage to dodge his shot, as we engage in a gunfight. Neither of us are particularly good at aiming, so we miss quite a few bullets. It's not long before both of us run out, at which point we get into a fistfight. Freduino lands a few solid blows on my face, as I manage to kick him in his groin again.
Just as the fight starts to get heated up, the newscaster on the TV in the other room speaks up.
"It appears that a group of hackers have given us a false news story. The government has not, in fact, given rise to a new piano based penal system. I apologize to all the viewers who have been mislead and..."
Freduino and I stop fighting and just stare blankly at each other.
"In retrospect, that didn't quite seem like the sort of thing the government would just throw at us out of nowhere." I said.
"I suppose you're right." says Freduino.
There's an awkward silence between us, before I quickly pick up a shard of glass on the ground from when I broke the window, and stab it in Freduino's throat before he can react.
"I may be going to jail, but at least I'll be going to jail as the world's greatest living pianist." | BREAKING NEWS, flashed in red and white across the TV screen. Ludwig took a pause in his work and turned up the volume.
*… as the serial killer known as “Mozart” has once again been released from maximum security and death row, after completing three full piano concerts. Here is Tracy Stevens with live footage.*
The screen shifted from a bald news anchor to a woman in her twenties with a bun of chestnut hair. Behind the woman, a group of justice protesters had gathered outside the concrete walls of the prison.
*Thank you, Quint. People are quite upset over the early release of Murderer John Bishop, also known as “Mozart.” We are still waiting for official statements from the warden here at Foxtrot and Judge Tony Costanza. But as far as the release goes, that has already been done. Mozart is back.*
As soon as Ludwig turned off the TV, a knock came on the door.
“It’s open!” he called out.
A man, in a tuxedo made out of red studded leather, stepped into the living room.
“What took you so long, John?” Ludwig said.
“Had a minor run-in with the law,” Mozart said and ran a hand through his hair. “Nothing big.”
“I saw you on the news…”
“It matters not,” Mozart said. “Do you have the strings ready?”
“Of course,” Ludwig said, and handed over the sharpened piano cords. “I don’t get caught like you.”
“Well, you should try it sometime; the looks on the faces of those fools are priceless when you finish their silly little concerts.”
“Sure, if your only goal is to awe a crowd… I’m more into immortalizing my work.”
“Whatever, Ludwig, you’ve always been a pushover,” Mozart said and gave him a sledgehammer. “Now, if you’re ready… let’s go and put the BEAT in Beethoven!”
The most notorious serial killer duo of all times nodded at each other and smiled deviously.
*****
/r/Lilwa_Dexel
| 2017-05-17T23:39:54 | 2017-05-17T21:45:17 | 328 | 121 |
[WP] You set up a camera to see if you sleepwalk after noticing items being moved. When you watch the tape, you wake up, get out of bed, stare at the camera, and snap your own neck. An identical copy of you then walks in, removes the body, slips into bed, and goes to sleep until you wake up.
[deleted] | At the bottom of the grainy footage, the timestamp reads: 1:23am. There's no expression on his--*my*--face, as he places his hands either side of his head. He pauses, and looks at the ceiling, staring at *me*. At the camera.
Then, he twists his neck; it cracks like a broken twig and he crumples onto the carpet.
Next, the sound of the front door creaking; the grinning doppelganger hovering over my body with a swell in his ragged looking jeans; it struggling to pick up the body, but eventually hoisting it over its shoulders; finally, the imposter coming back into my room and getting into my bed. Only, now it's dressed differently than before. No jeans, just boxers. Even its hair seems different.
I've watched it a dozen times already. I even showed it to a friend, but he only laughed and asked me how I did it. *What software did you use*?
It's already 1.03am. What if it happens every night? How can I ever sleep again?
I start the footage over. This time as I'm watching it, something new bothers me, but I'm not certain what. I turn the volume to max and start it again.
I hear the snap of the neck and, as always, I wince. I hear the creak of the front door. I hear it shut as the imposter enters. But... I don't hear it creak or close again.
My arms begin trembling as I realise why. The body -- it's in the house still. *It has to be.*
I grab a kitchen knife and creep toward the cellar door. Why haven't I had the desire to go down here recently? It's like... I forgot it existed. With a deep breath, I twist the handle and pull it open.
It's dark. As black as a crow. Too dark to make out the stairwell, so I get out my phone and flick on the flash light. With a dull yellow light guiding me, I make my way down the twisting, brick steps.
There are four of them. They are sitting up, leaning against the wall, their bodies facing me, their heads not. I struggle to breathe. I think of turning. Of fleeing.
But I can't.
As I creep toward the nearest me, a black rat scutters across my foot. I jump, my heart beating hard against my ribs.
I run my hand down the cold, naked body. He looks almost alive.
An urge--a compulsion--to see its dead face comes over me. A need to see my own mortality, perhaps. I place my hands either side of its head and twist it 180 degrees.
It clicks.
I can barely breathe when I see the thing in its mouth. A thick wire running down from it and into the wall behind.
The dead eyes open. It stares at me. They are open so wide. Urgent.
"What are you?" I whisper.
"He is me. As are you," says a voice from behind. I turn, shivering, to see another me standing at the bottom of the stairwell.
"Well, a bad cover version of me," it says, grinning. Its wearing an old pair of jeans and a holding a shotgun in its hands. It looks older than me. Its hair is flecked with grey. Its eyes baggy and black.
"Who--who are you?"
"I'm the weekend me. The original me. The only me."
"And... then... what am I?"
"Nothing important. Just a *thing* that needs resetting."
The shotgun clicks and he pulls the trigger.
---
Awesome creepy recording of it by /u/iwantlegames: - https://youtu.be/0SNtY3nzcdA
| **Sunday, 8th of November, 2591**
"*What?*" I said, in a low voice of a terrified person.
What the hell was that?
I rewinded the tape, to my disbelief, It was the same thing.
It actually happened. A random clone of me just walked in, and replaced my body.
I don't remember any of that. I don't remember me snapping my neck, with my eyes wide open. Why did I even do that? Is it just a random thing to do, or was that part of the move that replaced my body.
And if I am the clone that just walked in, why do I have no memory of doing that?
I kept thinking about memories, when I notice a few things.
Me, as a 14 year old boy, haven't changed a bit since I was 12. I don't look any different, I am not any taller, and my personality hasn't changed one bit.
I have no memories before 12. All I remember is waking up at home, and no one else, or nothing else, with a few fragments of memories that barely resemble anyone I know.
I asked my parents before, but they said I was just in a car accident, and I forgot most of my memories because of that, so I just dismissed it.
But this is too much. Am I not even human?
Was I never born?
I've never had any memories, have I?
I cried for a while. I knew showing this to my parents wouldn't really have any effect.
I assumed they knew something about what was going on.
I went to them, and mustered up the courage to tell them to explain what this is all about.
"*Oh yes, this is not the first time you've figured it out*" Said my dad.
I was surprised, what does he mean? I've only lived for about 2 years, and never figured out anything before..
"*317 years, and the 178 times you've told me, your previous dad, or your other previous, this same conversation*"
"*It doesn't matter, your memories are going to be erased in the end, no matter what you do*".
I screamed. I asked him to explain but he wouldn't respond.
I had to escape. I had to think of something..
I thought about the railway. I could go there, then take a train to anywhere away from the country.
I've forgotten a lot of things. But I wasn't going to forget anymore. I am going to live a normal life.
-----THE END-----
I know that this passage is lacking in a lot of things. The WP is very interesting but is awfully specific, making it hard to really branch out, not to mention the extreme difficulty of writing a sci-fi story since I don't like sci-fi stories myself. I just wrote this since no one else decided to write anything. I am also not really good with language, so writing something like this was extremly difficult. | 2017-09-15T23:26:40 | 2017-09-15T23:18:07 | 638 | 74 |
[WP] You and your sister have a unique ability. When you concentrate on a person you can see the worse thing they will do over the course of their entire life. Your sister, she sees the best thing they will do. | “Whaddaya got on Minister Harris?”
I transferred the file.
“Covered up some sexual harassment accusations from his college years,” I said, “I just sent you the police reports, witness testimony and victim statement.”
“There really isn’t anyone you can’t find dirt on,” the client chuckled, “Sending payment.”
They weren’t wrong. There really wasn’t anyone in the world whose worst secret I couldn’t find out. Because when I focus on someone, the memory of the worst thing they have ever done plays in my mind like a scene from a movie.
I closed my laptop and stretched. Selling dirty secrets to gossip mags, paparazzi and journalists was easy money. Too easy.
At 20, I had moved away from my home town and bought my own penthouse apartment in Toronto. I was living at the height of luxury (literally).
There was a buzz from the intercom and I jumped up, eager for my take out. I quickly let them in and then rushed back to my room to pull on an oversized sweater before answering the door. I caught a glimpse of myself in my full-length mirror and grimaced at my messy unwashed bun and the deep bags under my eyes.
I sarcastically flashed two finger guns and winked at my reflection. Uber Eats had probably seen worse.
The delivery person knocked and u flung open my door with glee.
“...You’re not my kung pao chicken,” I said with disappointment.
“Nope, just your flesh and blood,” said my twin sister. I knew that face and it wasn’t a good one.
Where my ability was to see a person’s worst sin, my twin sister could see their best deed. It had been about five years since we last saw each other and we hadn’t exactly parted on the best of terms.
“What brings you here?” I asked, leaning against the doorframe and blocking it with my arm.
“Jess, is it so wrong that I came to visit you?” Tessa said, sighing.
“I dunno, are you here to murder my hamster again?” I said sarcastically.
“That was when we were six!” Tessa said through gritted teeth.
“So young for a murderer,” I said, shaking my head.
“You haven’t changed...” Tessa laughed coldly, “You still can’t see the good in anyone, even me.”
“...That was a shitty remark I made,” I mumbled, “Sorry.”
“Cancel your Kung pao and have lunch with me,” Tessa said, holding up a filled grocery bag. “Then maybe I’ll forgive you for it.”
I moved out of the way and Tessa stepped inside.
“Nice place...” she said, slipping off her shoes. Her eyes darted around in awe.
Tessa started on the chicken, while I prepared the salad.
“This apartment...did you get it by...” Tessa trailed off.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“How often do you use your ability? Has it...gotten stronger?” Tessa asked.
“I guess I can see things more clearly,” I said, tossing some diced cucumbers in a bowl. “But I only use it for work. I’d rather not see the closeted skeletons everywhere I go.”
Tessa placed the chicken in the oven.
“Have you ever seen something from the future?” She asked.
I paused.
“No...have you?”
“Nope!” Tessa laughed. “But wouldn’t it be cool? Maybe we could change the future. Like influence people not to commit their worst sin.”
“What, and be some kind of superhero?” I snorted, “Even if I knew what they were going to do, stopping them might be impossible.”
“True,” Tessa said, “It might be hard or impossible, but wouldn’t it be worth a shot?”
“I guess,” I shrugged.
I rooted around my fridge for a drink but realized I didn’t have anything to offer.
“Hang tight, I’ll pick up some drinks before the chicken is done,” I said, heading to the front door to pull on my shoes.
“Wait!” Tessa sounded frantic, “Let me come too!”
“Fine, geez you don’t trust my judgement?” I said.
“I just want to pick out something,” Tessa said, flashing a smile.
The convenience store was just down the street. Tessa hung close to me as I browsed the fridge section.
“What do you want?” I asked. Tessa was staring at the doorway. I waved a hand in front of her face. “Hey, what do you...”
The bell on the door jingled as a man in a hoodie walking in. He had a slouching gait and his eyes darted around the store.
Our eyes met for a split second and his memory of his worst sin shot into my brain. He murdered his exgirlfriend...and it happened just moments ago.
“Get behind me,” I whispered to Tessa.
It happened in the blink of an eye. The man pulled out a gun and shot the convenience store owner in the chest four times.
From the back of the store a small boy walked out, eyes wide and hands clutching a toy.
“Daddy?” I heard it in slow motion. The shooter turned, his gun pointed. Before I knew it I was already moving.
*I’m not a kid person,* I thought to myself as I grabbed the boy and covered him with my body.
Two more shots rang out. Sirens screamed from just outside the door. Officers swarmed inside and I could hear the struggle, the shouts of arrest.
“We have two dead and a woman and a child with minor injuries.”
Someone pulled me off of the boy. I looked around in a daze. The store was a mess and before me was a pool of blood.
Tessa was lying motionless on the floor, her cellphone clutched in her hand. | It was very fitting, really; I was born hypercritical of people, and Annette was born much more forgiving and optimistic.
It was somewhere around our fifteenth birthday, after spending many days in meditation, and praying to nameless gods, that we were bestowed our gift. I could see the darkest deeds of someone's past, and my sister could see the brightest deeds of their future.
We had been training to receive this gift for our entire lives, under the tutelage of monks and scientists, martial artists and priests, philosophers and rulers- a life spent training to produce the highest beings humankind were capable of producing.
Their wish was manifested in us. Or- so I had thought. I was about to be thoroughly humbled.
After our powers manifested and were explored using scientific methods, our 'handlers' gave us the assignment to use them freely in the real world... Annette and I hadn't ever been in the real world before. We were eager for the chance- even if we were still on a bit of a leash.
Pacing down the streets of New York, Annette and I chose targets at random to examine. "This one- hot dog stand guy." I said, jerking my head off to the left. Annette nodded, her curly chestnut-brown hair bouncing with the movement.
Both of us stared at him while we pretended to be in the lineup. I was bombarded with information- he had sold drugs to people, people who were ill-equipped for the ramifications of their actions. He had ruined lives, and made a profit from it. Disgusting.
Annette whispered to me "I like him! He winds up giving his life's savings to make sure an elderly care-home doesn't go defunct."
I grunted noncommittally. We exited the lineup just before it would have been our turn.
"Over there!" Annette said, looking to a very plain-looking woman. I nodded, and peered at her, again being engulfed by far too much information.
"She... well, it isn't *that* much. She cheated on one of her boyfriends once."
"Mmm. She doesn't get up to *that* much good, either- but she ends up having a daughter, later, and she really does love her."
We continued on.
Annette nudged me as we approached a large park. "The old man!" She whispered.
"He...well, he fought in the war. Killed a lot of people. Some of them really didn't need killing." I said.
"Hmm. Well, that's not good... but he's about five minutes away from saving someone's life. Purple shirt, there-" She said, pointing. "He's about to have a seizure, and old soldier man still remembers what to do about that."
We walked some more. "Oh, look! Another pair of twins!" She said, showing me two who were looking right at us.
I looked first at the sister- but all I saw was the sister talking to us. I looked at the brother, and all I saw was him punching me across the jaw.
They approached. "Do you really think you're the only people who have this gift?" The brother asked with an unfriendly look.
"Uhm...sorry! We're just exploring." Annette said.
"You mean, standing in judgement over people whose lives you only see a fraction of." Said the sister, disapprovingly.
"Some things really are a matter of black and white." I said. "There is no excuse for wanton murder."
"Even to save the lives of your friends?" Replied the brother. "You two are just scratching the surface of your ability, yet you hold yourselves like you're equipped to play God over everyone you lay eyes on."
"Oh shove it up your--" That was when the brother punched me.
"Ow." I said, dully, from my position on the ground.
"I let you see that that was about to happen. Do better, idiot. Learn empathy. Nothing in this life is black and white."
Storm clouds were gathering overhead. "Once you two learn to see more than just what is right in front of you, we'll find you again. Oh- and try to slip the noose the government is preparing for you, yeah? The day may come when we want your help." Said the sister.
"From this guy? I doubt it." Said the brother, and the two turned and left.
"What the hell was that?" I asked.
"I think... I don't know what to think. But there *are* a few shady people with earpieces watching us. Maybe we should...go." Annette said, pulling me off the ground.
Still confused and disoriented, Annette and I fled, unsure of where we were going- or who, exactly, was after us- or how to stop them- the only thing we knew, for the first time in our lives, was that we knew nothing.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------
**AUTHOR'S NOTE**: Hey guys- if you're interested, I'm about to start a new Choose Your Own Adventure on my subreddit- people following can vote on what we do next, I update it at least once every other day. Come by and say hi :) | 2020-06-06T21:40:50 | 2020-06-06T17:35:15 | 93 | 55 |
[WP] When you were a baby, Your mother offered you to a demon for wealth but after the deal, It kills her and takes it upon itself to raise you with care as if you were its own child. | I don’t remember anything about the world above. My memories begin in this cozy cave with Gargle watching over me. Gargle isn’t his real name, of course. His true name is about a hundred syllables long and has sounds that my human tongue can’t produce. To me, he has always been Gargle.
When I was still a child, around five or so I would guess (it’s hard to tell, time moves differently here), I remember asking Gargle why I didn’t look like him. Where he was bumpy and yellow, I was pale and smooth. Instead of the slit pupil eyes of brightest red, mine were dull and brown. His eyes filled with anger, and he told me the story of how I began. Of the woman whose blood I carry. The woman who should have cared for me and didn’t. The woman whose body now lies in a cold grave. Anger and hatred blazed up in my heart, and Gargle fanned those flames.
It’s been many years since that day, and I am now fully grown. Body modifications have made me more like Gargle on the outside; bumpy implants and dyes injected into my skin, lenses that cover the muddy brown eyes. His training has made me more like him on the inside. The only humanity left in me is the blood I carry. The blood I will claim vengeance upon tonight. Tonight I go above with Gargle. Tonight we seek the blood. We will shed it all so that nothing remains to connect me with the world above. Tonight I truly become the demon he raised me to be. I know it will be glorious.
I see him coming now, coming to claim me just as he did years ago. The eagerness in his eyes matches that in my heart. I am ready. | [poem]
raised by a fearsome creature
Everyone looked as if I too were one
I had blood, bones, and flesh
Yet they looked at me as if I was none of that
As if I too were a monster with a heart of gold
How come they’re a monster?
When they took me from the real one
How come they’re a monster?
When they gave me more love than anyone could
Caring for me. Giving me warm smiles
How can a demon be so different?
Everyone always taught me nothing but fear from them
But when I get back home and it greats me with its smile
I can’t help but think that maybe,
Maybe the real demon was the one that gave me up
For money and wealth
Maybe my guardian knew better
Maybe it was for the best that I ended up here
Between the arms of the creature that everyone fears
That everyone fears except me | 2019-11-01T08:23:16 | 2019-11-01T06:30:52 | 116 | 19 |
[WP] All souls in Hell are given the same test upon arrival. If they can create a punishment worthy of being added to the Pit, they get to ascend to demonhood on the spot. You are the first to succeed in 200 years...
[deleted] | (This is a rough draft- No editing allowed! Stream of consciousness- let's go!)
The Demon glowered down at me, his dark skin tattooed with swirling patterns.
"Well?" he growled. "Are ye gonna come up wit' somethin', or not?"
I had come up with an idea, so dastardly and cruel, but I needed to fully convert it into words.
"Hmmm." I frowned, concentrating. "It'd be a lot more helpful if you weren't pointing that pitchfork at me."
The demon conceded, and gave me some space. "All right, " He said, "But you got 2 minutes, and not a second more!" He sat down on a nearby boulder.
I called for the demon after about forty-five seconds had passed, my idea fully converted into digestible conversation.
"Let's 'ear it, then."
"Well, you know standardized testing?"
"Yeah. They're hard, but a necessary evil. My kids didn't do so well at them, but that's not what matters all the time. My son is now a welder- didn't need to go to no fancy college. "
I stopped him mid anecdote - "But what if, we told people there was a test you could take to get out of here?"
The demon scoffed. "E'res no Way out of e're! This is 'Ell! Both big men'd have me 'ead if dat were true!"
"This is a lie, of course."
"Of Course, Of course. Continue."
"This test would be like any normal test - except it feels like it's taking forever- which it does, the clock is ticking too loud, all the test-takers feel they're being scrutinized constantly, and their pencil lead just broke. It would be like this forever. Or at least a very, very long time."
"Well, that's just-"
"Evil?" I supplied.
The demon grinned, and snapped his fingers. "I was gonna say 'Diabolical'", but that 'orks too."
A new energy swirled within me, and I could feel myself growing taller. I smelled smoke and ash, and my skin had become the red of the demon before me. I grinned with him. | I stared around at the fires, the melting and reforming bodies.
The demon looked at me and asked in a bored tone.
"Welcome to hell, got a good enough idea for torture, and you get to be admin for that area"
While part of me didnt want to increase the agony of others, I wouldnt be here if I listened to it.
"This is all so... mundane..." I whispered.
"Hmm" The demon looked at me with a slight amount of interest.
"For the people who were most afraid of death, wipe there memories, and have them live out their last minutes, or days, over and over again, wiping their memories each time"
The demon barked out a laugh. "What? A little bit of being scared?"
"Just try it, might surprise you. Never being mortal, probably not something you can even fathom"
"..." The demon looked pensive.
"mm" The hoof footed man hummed, and waved his hand.
Space seemed to ripple, and a cutout appeared in front of us. In it, a vision of a hospital, and a man in a bed, covered in tubing.
The demon pulled a what looked to be a pendant made of thorns from somewhere.
He held it towards the apparition and it glowed a sullen red.
"Lucifers Halo, I wouldnt have thought of it in billion years. Looks like we have a winner" | 2021-12-22T17:53:06 | 2021-12-22T17:23:55 | 98 | 49 |
Writing Prompt: Write a story about a hero gone bad
Write a story about a hero becoming villain. Can be anyone, your own story or someone elses, and from any perspective. | I remember my first days as a doctor. I wore my stethoscope proudly around my neck, not realizing it advertised how much of a virgin I was in the field of medicine. I'd introduce myself as Dr. Agon and tried to smile more than smirk smugly, usually I couldn't help the smug smirk. Some people noticed my name now read Dragon, not the reason I went into medicine, but still pretty damn cool I thought.
I remember my first surgery, the first one I performed, the first one that was all mine. My mask hiding a huge smug smirk as I cut open a live human being before closing her up, everything having gone quite smoothly. It felt easy, it felt right.
Saving a life was euphoric. I felt I was more than a man. I was untouchable.
I remember the first time i relieved someone of life. It was a kid. He had cancer. I would say lung cancer but it had spread. He was more cancer than human in the end. He had been nuked and cut and he'd eaten every fucking pill there is. He was a husk. A human that had known nothing but suffering. He'd been born and 3 years later he had cancer. 3 years of life before death moved into his body. He asked me if he could sleep more. I knew he was dying. Nothing more we could do for him. But we're supposed to preserve life, never to take it. I did though. Life wasn't anything worth preserving in this kid. The parts of his blood not full of cancer cells, I filled with morphine. I could have killed 3 full grown men with what I gave him, but he was no ordinary kid. After that I felt like shit. I told the parents he'd just died in the night. He was just buried. I was the reason he was dead. I called in sick for four days. Not crying, just not doing anything, taking his life had taken away all my energy. I got over it.
My second killing was easier. A pillow over a head. He was old. 85 I think, give or take 5 years. Didn't really matter. He'd been sick for a while. He was a psychiatric patient. Wasn't going to die anytime soon. He was old and frail, his mind was froth, nothing left worth leaving, but he wasn't about to die anytime soon. His heart and lungs in good health. He'd shout all night, waking up other patients. I was the doctor on call. All the calls were for him. Give him something to sleep. Give him more. Give him more. I knew how we'd both get some sleep. And it felt good and very right. A pillow over his face. I liked how he struggled because I could feel how much power I had over his frail body. I was way bigger than him, more than him, this dying man. After he died I turned him so that he lay on his stomach. Everyone thought he'd just fallen asleep on his stomach, too frail to turn himself around in bed and suffocated. I knew better. As usual I knew more than your average idiot on the street. That smirk worming its way to my lips at the funeral. There wasn't much reason for me to be there, but it felt good to stand in a room full of ignorance. They knew nothing, only me and perhaps god if he exists, but probably only me. Only me.
It started becoming a part of me. I loved saving lives, but I needed to take them. It was my drug, my passion. I was good at it. The coroner never found or suspected a thing. Another idiot. He finished top at John Hopkins, yet was just like the other fucking idiots.
I started liking more to take young lives. Take lives that weren't meant to be taken yet. Lives that death hadn't put its mark on yet. I was moving outside the hospital. I would put cyanide into foods in cafeterias of schools. Nobody died but it was fun to be able to spread disease. A nice hobby around my art. | And he took bread, gave thanks and broke it, and gave it to them, saying,
"This is my body given for you; do this in remembrance of-."
Cut off half way through, he turned to the loud thud outside the door. The second smashed the lock to pieces letting in the howling wind outside, along with a dozen legionaries and the man he knew would bring them.
"Funny, I thought you'd be a few minutes later, I hadn't done the blood and wine thing yet."
He smiled calmly.
"Jesus of Nazareth, you are under arrest for the impersonation of a prophet of God, for inciting dissension among the masses and for assaulting a tax collector among other crimes."
Bellowed one of the legionaries.
"Judus?!"
Cried Peter,
"How *could* you?"
Jesus smiled and shook his head,
"It's okay Peter, I knew this would come, I've been expecting it."
Peter turned to Jesus,
"What do you mean you've been expecting it?"
Jesus stood and put down the bread,
"I've made my choice. This is what I was sent here for, to die for your sins."
Peter stood up in protest, bringing the ire of the legionaries as a few drew blades.
"No! That doesn't even make sense! How can you even be choosing if it was what you were made by God to do?"
He blinked and opened his mouth to speak. Hesitating. He went silent, 'good point' he thought. He never really had questioned free will, it had been his gift from God for being human... but then of course he wouldn't question it if that was how he was made. If God knew everything and made everything then he made the first men knowing exactly what everyone would do, so did he really have free will? Hell, was he even saving them from his sins if this was programmed in from the beginning? He was the son of God, anything he did was what God wanted him to do and as He knew what he'd do when He made him then anything he did was the will of God. He blinked and was brought back to reality by a legionary grabbing his arm. He looked up with a small grin.
"You know. I think I've changed my mind."
He place a hand on the legionary and he convulsed. His eyes and mouth suddenly trickling a liquid that looked like wine.
"It was rude to interrupt me before I got to the blood is wine bit."
Everyone in the room suddenly cried out in shock, the rest of the legionaries drew their weapons, but hesitated before charging forward. Jesus lifted his hand and smiled devilishly, the legionaries froze... literally, as shards of ice sprung from their flesh, a few dropped their swords, or struggled, limbs breaking off. A few didn't even move an inch.
------
Three days. Three days it'd taken for him to be announced the Emperor of the Roman Empire and right now his armies of humans, angels and demons marched out to take the rest of the world. He'd see to it that once they were under his command he would right all the wrongs. Earth would become a paradise again... and anyone who resisted would die. | 2012-08-09T03:56:30 | 2012-08-09T03:11:05 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] The hero has been defeated, the Dark Lord reigns. It seems like nobody can stop him, but then he surprises everyone by actually being a good leader, or at least better then the warring kings that used to rule this land. He's even funding science, if only because he wants to conquer the moon. | Well wouldn't you know it. The necromancer turned out to be a highly effective monarch. Shortly after dispatching the old king and his sons the kingdom was initially horrified by the Coup d'état performed by the court wizard. But within the days and weeks that followed the changes and edicts came out that proved to be enormously popular in winning public support.
It turns out the hardest part about being a leader is convincing and *paying* people to do all sorts of things. Defending borders, building infrastructure, filing paperwork, distributing resources. The necromancer could summon a practically limitless amount of, er, corpsepower at their beck and call to serve as the operational machinery of the kingdom. Dead bodies brought back to life didn't need to be fed, or housed, or sleep, or get paid, and were compelled to do their masters bidding--even more complex artisanal tasks relied only on their masters knowledge! It didn't matter if the poor dead sod was a baker, or pauper, or poet... the dead could do it all and ne'ery uttered a word of complaint or protest. "Free labor, free time" became the mantra of the kingdom.
The order of conscription at age 18 was nullified and a standing army of the dead now defended the borders. Roads, houses, and schools were built quickly and cheaply using tireless dead labor that worked around the clock for free. The tax rate plummeted and the population rejoiced. More hands to work the fields meant an abundance of cheap food. Cheap factory labor meant that goods could be mass produced around the clock.
Sure some people were displaced from jobs, but they hardly cared as the Necromancer started giving out free handouts as social safety programs. Crime rates dropped dramatically as education and welfare meant fewer people led desperate lives or had reason to steal.
There was that whole "let the dead sleep" uprising recently from a particular religious sect, but most philosophers have concluded that the raised dead are just soulless mortal coils shuffled off after souls leave this earth, there is no actual person in there, just the tools they left behind. No one has bothered to asking our glorious leader how exactly he raises the dead anyway, but I do wonder why necromancy was so frowned upon to begin with given the perks!
In any case, the Necromancer has promised that those who have reluctance and wish to sleep after death can relocate to a moon colony and be buried there, as his powers only reach so far as terra earth. I've seen the moon chariot with my own eyes and it's quite a tower! They say fire will burst out of one end and it can sail through the sky like a ship, I'd volunteer to go, but life is too good here. | I was only a small child but I still remember the day when the troops of the dark lord came to our capital with him leading them, almost all of our troops were slaughtered in the final battle and he was carrying the head of the hero with him, no one dared to protect the walls, even the guards of the king palace surrendered immediately and allowed him to execute our former king, all of the other kingdoms had already fallen and now there was no one remaining that could oppose him, sadness and fear could be felt in the air and we all wondered “What would happen now?”
It was way better than what we expected, it turns out that you don’t manage to conquer all of the world without actually being smart, the first thing that he did after winning was expanding and improving the roads that connected the cities and he even built some to connect the cities with smaller towns and he got rid of the bandits, his objective with this was probably to allow himself to have a more direct control over those areas by making it easier to send big amounts of soldiers but, who cares about that? The important thing was that the merchants were able to transport goods from one region to the other and that created prosperity for everyone. This also allowed for an exchange of information of agricultural methods so the total food production was increased. He established tax funded schools so poor people like I used to be received the opportunity to study, a part of the study plan was to learn about how great he was but it was still way better than what we used to have, he is trying to find a way of getting to the moon so it can also be conquered and until this moment the research has already given us the steam engine, internal combustion motor and steel of a quality that in the past not even the dwarves could have matched, after all of what he has done for us I can only wish our great lord good luck | 2021-03-11T11:07:03 | 2021-03-11T10:56:52 | 50 | 12 |
[WP] While walking, you notice everyone recoiling from a young woman. you speak to her to find out why. through her surprise, she explains she is death and everyone else sees a person based on how they feel about the concept of death. You've never seen a more beautiful or inviting person.
Please feel free to finesse the topic, genders, or concept to accommodate your own personal preferences or circumstances. | Everything- from the way her eyes caught midday's sunlight, to the vibrant smile she wore even when a hundred sneering faces bore down upon her- was perfect. A beauty so vibrant I swear the world around her looked to come alive just a *little* bit more.
And yet, it seemed that no one agreed. Quite the opposite, judging by the ushering of children from her sight.
Sometimes I think back to that day, when I saw her. It brings a certain warmth to my heart when it starts to ice over. I was only six at the time, but I'll never forget her.
"Why's everyone scared of you?" I asked, tugging at her skirt. "You're so pretty."
It was her who then looked oddly at me. "You think so?"
"Yeah, you're like a movie star!"
"I've dabbled in Hollywood," she said with a laugh. "Then again, that's not saying much. You want to know why they hate me?"
I nodded with the fervor of a curious child.
"Everyone sees me differently. Usually, people are scared. They hate me because I remind them of what is inevitable."
"What's that mean?" I asked.
"Do you know what death is?"
I nodded again, slower this time.
"What comes to mind when you think of it?"
I thought hard, staring into the concrete. "I know that when Mr. Pebbles went away, my Mommy used that word. It's when things go away for a long time, right?"
The woman smiled at me. "Yes, a very long time at that. They don't ever come back here. Doesn't that frighten you?"
"Hmm. No, I don't think so."
"Why is that?"
"Well, I think it'd be really boring if we were here forever. Besides, Mr. Pebbles hurt a lot. Wherever he went, things hurt less for him."
She got down on one knee and touched my face, much to the horror of everyone around us. "You're a sweet child, but there's much you've yet to learn."
"I bet there's all kinds of stuff, yeah. But wherever we all go at the end, I bet it's something really cool."
"Maybe." She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it and stood up. "I'll let you find it all out for yourself. We'll meet again, someday. You might not be happy to see me."
It was my turn to smile at her. "I can't wait to see you! Maybe we'll see each other wherever Mr. Pebbles went."
"Unfortunately, I think we will." And in just a mere moment, it was like she had never been there. To this day, I wonder if I'll still see her the same way. I worry I might not.
But I remember her smile, and all doubt disappears like she did on that sunny summer day.
-----
*/r/resonatingfury* | They fell away from her as if she were diseased.
Curious, I kept watching and saw as their faces would twist with horror and revulsion, before moving aside to let her pass or going to the other side of the street altogether. Witnessing this happening a few more times, I got up from the bench were I was seated and drew closer, offering her a slight smile.
"Hi, um, I don't mean to be rude, or nosy- But is there a reason why everyone avoids you?"
She looked startled as I spoke. Her eyebrows drew into a curiosity filled frown, before she replied "Yes, yes there is. I am Death. Those who look upon me see my appearance based on how they feel about death. You... See me differently, don't you?"
I did.
I felt as though with her I would always be happy- That I would finally find peace. I nodded with some difficulty, and her expression grew sad.
"I am not what you look for, despite what you may think."
"What do you-"
"I have met many like you, over the years. Those who believe that they will find tranquility, and peace in me. They are wrong, you are wrong." She placed her hand gently on my cheek for a moment, eyes searching mine, and I shivered.
Even as we stood here people gave her a wide berth, their eyes barely glancing across her before dancing away quickly in fear.
"Go." She said softly, taking her hand away. "You are still young. Life isn't as cruel as you might believe. You have much to live for."
Turning away, she offered me a sad smile and a small wave over her shoulder, walking through the crowd and leaving me more than a little stunned, gaping at the spot she stood until she was long gone.
And later I would meet her, years later, still as entrancingly beautiful as the first time we met, and she would smile and take my hand.
"You have lived a good life. You are ready."
Edit: accidentally added a word or two here and there. | 2016-10-01T21:14:14 | 2016-10-01T20:58:32 | 1,643 | 65 |
[WP] The new generation of vampire has discovered that just by taking iron supplements and vitamin D drops, they’re feeling fine without drinking human blood | I was only 147 when my parents were taken from me.
Even after all this time I remember it clearly. The screaming, the fire, the mob.
The world was so different then. Electricity hadn’t been harnessed, there was no television.
I lived in the shadows for centuries. I found others like me and we’d help each other for a time. It was never safe to stay together for long or gather too many of us. The ones hunting us would burn down a whole city if they found enough of us in one place.
It was after Chicago that I set off alone again. It was partially due to safety concerns, but in 150 years I still haven’t found another vampire in America.
The only upside of my condition is that my personal resources are at a scale few will ever realize or comprehend. I have no board of directors, no shareholders, and no considerations other than completing my goals.
I invested. 60 teams in 17 countries working on my problem since before the First World War.
None of them know the full scope of what they’re working on or why, and I’m sure that’s slowed them down more than s little.
I’ve got the time though, and the money.
They finished sequencing the genome in 2010, and things have accelerated since then.
I first saw daylight in 2020. Such irony. I walked around without fear while others cowered at home. It was another year before I could make synthetic blood pure enough to sustain me.
It will never replace the thrill and rush of stalking and pouncing on living prey, but I can subsist on it for years.
With my supplements I’ve been able to do something no vampire has ever done before, let myself become well known.
I know those who hunt me are still out there. I know how they find us. They look for certain patterns of crime, and families and estates that persist through the ages.
My private jet and corporate structure has kept me ahead of them as I feed for the past few decades, but now I’m seen in the day, and there are no telltale killings in my wake. I can’t possibly be a vampire.
Once I kick off my presidential campaign I’ll be far above suspicion, constantly on the move, and in a position to do more for my kind than any that came before me.
That’s a challenge for the future though. For now my focus is on creation. It’s hard enough for one vampire to sustain himself and avoid detection for this long. I’d dared not give my gift to another lest we attract too much attention.
Now though, now we can bide our time. Position our chess pieces. We can be seen in the sun, go for months and years without taking a human life due to necessity.
The people alive today won’t see it, but the future of Earth will be very different. We won’t have to hide much longer. | "But I Am A Vegan!" I screamed at my obsessive and abusive ex as he sat there smirking at me. He laughed as I tried to throw up thick red liquid he had just forced down my throat.
"It's too late Crystal, by this time tomorrow you'll be chowing down on poor old Nancy over there." Samel said smirking. I looked over at my new girlfriend. She was tied up and terrified. I had tried so hard to turn my life around and heal from my childhood. Now all I could do was cry as Samel left and locked the door behind him. Nancy tried to smile at me.
"It will be ok maybe there's a vegan option for vampires?" She said trying to comfort me. I crawled over to her and did my best to free her from her ropes.
When we were both finally able to stand up and walk I looked around and saw the window.
The rest of that night became a blur. The next thing I knew I was curled up against a deer in the woods covered in blood, Nancy nowhere to be found. And that's how my next few years were spent. I was too scared to be around humans and possibly hurt them.
-15years later
Nancy pov-
"And your sure this will work? That this is the proper amount of iron and vitamin D to replace blood for vampires?" I asked looking at my very tired looking vampire lab assistant named Josh.
"Yes I've been taking it for a week now and have never felt better" Josh said smiling as he looked at me.
"Good then it's finally time to go find my dear Crystal" I said as we headed out to the woods. I had been tracking her movements and working to fix what Samel had broken. He had been a grade a stalker since Crystal left him. When he saw that I had gotten with her he graduated from stalking to doing everything to make her life miserable. He had failed each time until he finally got so desperate as to become a vampire and turn her by force as well. After I find my love revenge on her ex is next. | 2022-12-04T10:11:57 | 2022-12-04T08:32:43 | 193 | 53 |
[WP] After a civil war, the losing side are placed into a simulation where they believe they won. The public in the real world are routinely shown this simulation to see how bad things could've been... but the simulation is starting to look better. | Fighting in the war was a living nightmare, and no matter who you were at the time, you lost something.
We fought for peace, and the ultimate end was that humanity would never commit such vile acts against one another again.
But when the war ended, we had to decide what to do with the vanquished. Peace, we thought, even an artificial one, was the only option.
So we gave them their own peace, in the simulation, so that we could secure our own.
They experienced a whole new war, one in which they struggled but ultimately defeated our forces, and then we watched.
We thought lowly of them, the *enemy*, and were prepared to watch them slaughter the simulated versions of us by the millions once victory was achieved, but they took a path most unexpected.
They created their own simulation for the defeated forces, but it differed from ours in a way that brought everything into question: In their simulation, the war never happened.
Their leader addressed the new nation, and at the same time unknowingly addressed us, "We will let these people live in a reality we failed to achieve, a reality in which our differences did not bring us to the atrocities that will haunt us forever. They will live in a world in which the ultimate end was achieved: *Peace*..."
/r/BeagleTales
| “So the south is now a post scarcity society?”
“Yeah once they realized robots were cheaper than slaves in the long run, they made all the slaves build their own robot replacements”
“Is it a post racial paradise?”
“No they Gave the slaves their own country in what used to be Liberia, hopefully it goes better this time, I mean they know how to make robots now so i’m Sure they will put that to good use and work on infrastructure rather than, some sort of, well, the terminator in Rawanda, type situation.” | 2018-09-15T11:52:52 | 2018-09-15T11:06:34 | 79 | 10 |
[WP] You remember the first time yiu saw one of the humans' new weapon. You wondered with amusement how a metal pipe could possibly be of any threat to an elf like yourself. Then he pulled the trigger, and it stopped being funny. | *He can't even swing it in that stance.*
Ruvinostra chuckled as the human quaked, fear in his eyes as he brandished his weapon. Elven eyes were not only naturally sharper than a human's, but their ageless nature allowed elves to train their sight over centuries. This training was what first gave Ruvinostra pause.
Upon looking more closely, this weapon seemed built to be held in this way. Perhaps some sort of machine? It would be best to keep his distance. He paced sideways, but the weapon stayed trained on him.
*Perhaps it releases some sort of discharge. Does he dare to believe he can win in a ranged battle against an elf, legendary masters of archery?*
The human raised his weapon to his eyes and took aim. Ruvinostra felt an instinctive dread wash over him, but why? He should have the advantage, but everything about this human's posture and demeanor seemed to indicate otherwise. Was it too late? The moment lingered in time, pregnant with anticipation, waiting to exhale.
A twitch of movement. His finger? Perhaps from tension? No. It was on that spot deliberately, some sort of mechanism. Intuition and instinct carried Ruvinostra out of the bullet's path. The thunderous sound spread out in all directions. The human lowered the weapon and fumbled for something for a moment before an arrow pierced through him.
The human turned, and upon seeing the arrow embedded in the tree behind him, slowly touched the entry wound before collapsing. Ruvinostra lowered his bow and approached the body. More were coming and he had little time. He grabbed the weapon and the bag the human had been searching and headed home with a message.
*War is coming.* | "Oh look at me, I have a pipe. Whoaoaoa sooo scary."
"You really don't want me to pull this trigger."
"Suure bud."
*Bang*
"Ahhh! What *was* that!? My leg!"
"I told you that you didn't want me to pull the trigger"
"But you didn't say what was going to happen," the elf painfully said, clutching his leg.
"Would you have believed me though?"
"What even happened," he asked, holding back tears of pain.
"Uhh...im not even really sure, man. All I know, is that I pull the trigger, something comes out, and boom bam my enemy is dead. Or in your case, maimed."
"Can you just put me out of my misery," he asked, now full on crying.
*Sigh* "Of course" | 2020-01-24T09:13:13 | 2020-01-24T08:48:55 | 71 | 39 |
[WP] A pencil picked a piece of paper, to write the world a note. It asked the lamp for a little light, and this is what it wrote: | A pencil picked a piece of paper,
to write the world a note.
It asked the lamp for a little light,
and this is what it wrote:
"My journey began so long ago,
a tree I was once tall.
You came and saw my strength was great,
and struck me down to fall."
"Inside me lives another one,
who comes from Mother Earth.
You came and saw a use for it,
and mined him for his worth"
"You made us into what we are,
and together we were more.
Word by word you used us up,
and taught us both your lore."
"First we learned your truths,
and then we learned your lies.
With graceful strokes and thoughtful ease,
your words soon gave us eyes."
"We saw your world for what it was,
the wonder and the weird.
And soon we whittled down to nub,
our end no longer feared."
"I do not hate your use of me,
and neither does my friend.
Because of us we shared your minds,
Until you wrote: The End."
**Edit:
I came back to see all these upvotes, comments, and to also see someone gilded me. I don't know how to
respond. I've been in a writer's funk for the longest time and when I saw this prompt I just felt like putting my
thoughts down on what I felt it was leading to. Thank you very much to everyone who appreciated and enjoyed
my "poem". :) | A pencil picked a piece of paper
To write the world a note
It asked the lamp for a little light
And this is what it wrote:
“Sorry” it scrawled “but sure as shooting,
It’ s my time to go
My eraser tip once terribly tall
Is now so terribly low
Bite marks mar my metal band
And I’ m getting awful blue
Cause once I read DIXON ORIOLE
Now I just show #2
I had a hell of an honor
to have written all that I wrote”
And with that it toppled from the table’s top
And ‘SNAP’ the pencil broke
| 2016-08-21T00:11:33 | 2016-08-20T23:48:40 | 319 | 28 |
[WP] An undercover police officer has managed to infiltrate a particularly ruthless street gang. It begins to become apparent that every other member of this gang is an undercover operative of another agency. | "EVERYBODY ON THE GROUND!!!"
"Who the hell is this bunch" I thought? Seriously, how many SWAT teams have just punched into this warehouse? Did any team commander at any point wonder about all the police vehicles out front? Or the back? Or the sides? How about the 4 fucking police helicopters and 1 EC-130 orbiting above??
And how were there any windows left for these fuckers to break and rappel through??
Inside we're all standing there, the nefarious I-88 MC Club, guns pointing at each other. All screaming we're the such and such agency!
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!"
"NO! YOU DROP YOUR WEAPONS!!"
"SHOW ME YOUR HANDS, MUTHA FUCKER!"
My bad, really. I decided to pull the trigger, so to speak and authorized the raid. See, I'm ATF.
But apparently so is that guy over there, but from another office.
Next to him is a sheriff deputy.
Those guys? Super troopers.
The little knot in the corner? Regional Drug Task Force.
US Marshals.
FBI.
Joint Commission on Terrorism.
Homeland Security.
The Coast Guard.
So on and so on.
Somehow, we all had decided the warehouse was where the takedown would occur. Our own little agencies, each came to the same conclusion. Each made a plan and held it close to the chest for "Security purposes". Would we have even said something if another agency announced during a fusion center meeting what they were planning?
Incredible.
Somehow we all did this. We infiltrated this motorcycle gang and steered it from simple drug and gun running for beer money into a nightmare. Each into our own little world. Our own little area of responsibility. Our own "specialty".
I should have seen it but I thought I was on the Big One when we started bringing in military grade weapons. That was huge.
But that was the work of the NCIS boys hoping to nap some middle eastern terror connections.
Selling to wanna be terrorists? Probably what got FBI all got and bothered. But they decided to take it up a notch.
Ever heard of Bio weapons? What the hell?
Sophisticated encryption units to the highest bidder. Sure, why not.
But by then I was in too deep, or so I thought. We all were. We spent a lot of money. Careers were in the line.
And the buyers? There were always buyers. And money was never an issue. A red flag really. Looking back I should have realized we were agents selling to agents....
And now this raid. Hundreds upon hundreds of agents and officers in varying tactical wear. All their agencies listed in an alphabet soup tacked on patches. All working independently, but demanding they were in charge, this was their scene. Just listening to all the different negotiating teams trying to get us all to surrender is enough to make you crazy.
But the weird part? As I stared at all the faces with guns I realized the original members quit coming months ago....
| Frankie paced back and forth. He was worried. He was hands-shaking, muttering-to-himself, about-to-cry worried. I couldn't blame him; I was a little distraught myself. I mean, he was holding a sawed-off shotgun. If his trigger finger shook any more, I'd be sporting a new chest hole. As soothingly as I could, I tried to talk him down a bit. "Put down the shotgun before you blow a hole in something, you idiot!"
Frankie gulped and took his finger off the trigger. "Sorry man, sorry, I just... I mean... oh man!"
I sighed. "Sharp-witted as always, Frankie."
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. It wouldn't help me any, but I went over the facts. Two years ago, I started putting out feelers. Learning the street. Making some friends. All the usual. Six months after that, I was accepted into the gang. Took a test, passed with flying colors, got a buddy, started scoping out the locals. I made them money, and up the chain I went, all the way to the top. Shaking down businesses, even stopping people on the street and taking their hard-earned cash. They were bold as brass, too; from their gang colors to their heavily modified cars, they weren't afraid to show they were members. The operation was huge, a multi-million dollar business, not that it showed much. Their roots went deep, but I finally got access to their whole pay list. And that's when it all went south. I called in a raid; two minutes later, and Frankie's holding a gun while I'm leaning against the wall of a cell.
The official hat was a bandanna! My "buddy" had facial tattoos! The accountant pulled a gun on the secretary! I knew this part of town was rough, but come on! It was an honest mistake; how was I supposed to know I was working for the police?
I glared at Frankie. Seriously, though - who tattoos their badge number on their forehead? | 2017-07-24T13:07:18 | 2017-07-24T11:09:01 | 39 | 22 |
[WP] Your kingdom lies in ruins and the demons are at the gate. You hold the sacred relic that has been passed down for countless generations to your lips and speak a prayer in a long forgotten language: "Orbital Strike on my location" | [Denied]
What? How? They had studied the language, they knew how it responded. Denied. Rejected. Left to die. They let out a sob, knowing their holy protector had abandoned them. They weren't deemed worthy of the higher beings power or effort. But then the relic crackled to life again. A new voice came threw, cheerful but calm.
<Greetings. Please confirm you received this message>
Hope rekindling in their heart, the royal nodded, crying out "Yes, it is confirmed, I confirm it!" Desparate and thankful for their years studying the language. It might just save them all. "Save us, the demons are there!"
<Confirmation received. Confirmation of Demonic threat received. Dispatching Slayer>
Then it appeared. The voice's champion, a taciturn figure in spiked metal armor that hardly seemed like it was meant to protect him. Marching through a whole in the air, he gave a glance to the noble, before beginning to stride towards the huge double door that protected what remained of the city guard, along with what few civilians they had found.
"Thanks you! Oh Slayer, thanks you!" The noble cried out to him. A deep, dismissive grunt was the only response as the man pulled out some strange metal staff, barely as long as his forearm, that had been fastened to his hip. He kicked the door open with ease, and the noble got a glimpse into the fire filled kingdom he had once sought to protect. Filled with the creatures, strange things that seemed to defy all logic. And the screams, the horrible screams that filled the chapel as the demons saw him.
No Anger
No Hate
No Bloodlust
Only Fear
The battle wore on for hours, the sounds of death and destruction. There were so many demons flooding to try and avenge fallen comrades, but the Slayer was untouched, his magic Weapons bringing out thunder, lightning, and all other kinds of energy. The guards stood by the doors, not daring to interfere. It felt wrong, daring to steal even a drop of blood from the Slayer. And so they watched the carnage, felt the rage and hate he felt for the Demonic threat. And when every demon had died, when the last one's blood was left on the church's steps and the battle was over, he stood there, basking in the carnage. And then he turned away, and disappeared.
Stories were told about the Slayer for many years. A gruesome warrior, a powerful angel, sometimes even a demon turned traitor. But the Noble always knew the truth. The Slayer was a force of nature, a hate stronger than anything could comprehend. He was the only thing the demons feared. And they were right to be afraid. | The kingdom was slowly consumed by the light. The mechanical god in the sky had heard my call, my desperation. We had observed him before. A figure with arms that were large and reflective, and a body of pure steel. For many generations the sacred words had been passed down. To call down the power of the mechanical god was to guarantee not only that our enemies fell but us as well. I watched as the blast kept growing first consuming the iner-city then outer. I cried tear of joy and anguish. The demons on the battlefield beside me looked on in fear. The light was still growing. I could now feel the immense winds and the heat. The light was blinding. I sat there for what felt like an eternity, accepting my fate. But when I opened my eyes I saw that I was still alive. The entire area was blackened except for a patch of bloody grass around me. In my head I heard a voice " employee level deemed too high to be incinerated, please see chief manager for demotion or thank Megacorp of sparing your life. Message end". I stood there in shock. The I started crying, this time tears of grief and anger. My wife, the kingdoms people were deemed not important enough for the mechanical god to spare. But it spared me. I was angered greatly by this thought. Suddenly the grief and anger turned into panic. That my son had my blood that he would also be spared.
I started running I ran as fast as my legs could handle. I didn't care that there was an arrow in my knee, I didn't care there was a dagger in my gut I ran. I saw a crib in the distance. I ran to it and saw a child. I picked up my daughter and stood there cursing and thanking the gods. Then I heard the voice again" thank you for finding the chief manager, please wait as your order is being processed". | 2021-11-08T08:08:11 | 2021-11-08T06:35:44 | 205 | 98 |
[WP] You and your immortal friends amuse yourselves with practical jokes. Since you're immortal, some of your joke setups take centuries, or even millenia, to execute. | The cosmos is relatively easy to meddle with. A swipe of the finger, and you can toss around asteroids or zap a few nebulas into existence.
We set up some ground rules a long time ago. Galaxies have to stay in rough interstellar arrangements. Once you create a star, it has to die on its own. And most importantly, if any living species are discovered on a planet, let them live.
Archie changed the framework of a constellation or two, just to see if anyone would notice. Minerva decided to set Neptune on fire and then fizzle it out, on and off, like a light switch. It was funny for a while, but then it just became another distraction.
One day I caught Dave chuckling to himself. He's always been a bit of a lone wolf, but he knows a few good party tricks.
"What's so funny there, champ?"
Dave grinned. "Oh, you'll know soon enough."
"Come on. A little hint?"
He tilted his head back and cackled. "All right, all right. Let's just say I put the Sun in Galaxy 672B on its own little trajectory."
"What do you mean?"
"Check the map."
I ran back to the control center and pulled up the chart for 672B. The Sun appeared to be on track to hit the Earth, but not for a while - couple billion years, give or take a few million.
I hate to admit it, but I honestly forgot about it. That is, until I saw Dave muttering to himself at a galactic get-together.
"What's wrong, man?"
He curled his upper lip and polished off a glass of stardust. "The humans on Earth, 672B, are heating up their own planet. Driving vehicles around, spewing waste into the atmosphere. It'll be burned to a crisp in the blink of an eye."
"And what's the problem with that?"
Dave coughed. "Those fuckers ruined my joke."
***
/r/GigaWrites | Dinosaurs was our best one, hands-down. The Church of Latter Day Saints is second-best, but gets points taken off for being a religion (too easy to pull off, religions, in my opinion). But our funniest one, I think, was Michael Jackson.
Some of my friends would agree with me, but not most. The irrelevancy of his life and legacy, in relation to "The Grand Scheme of Things," unfortunately makes the accomplishment of having made him exist slightly less impressive.
I've personally been tempted, on more than one occasion, to steer the progress of mankind. Both world wars, for instance. I argued vehemently to stop them, but got drowned out by the prevailing Star Trekian attitude our group has against meddling in big, important affairs. A few of us even went vigilante, hunting down rogue immortals that were performing stunts aimed at getting those barbarians to quit it.
From afar is where we can guide things, sadly. To stir a pie's chunks, you must first puncture the crust. | 2017-06-22T19:53:14 | 2017-06-22T19:14:24 | 763 | 23 |
[WP] You are one of the most feared villainesses in the world. Evil armies, dark powers, you have it all. Your husband on the other hand is the exact opposite, being truly kind and mild mannered. He is still supportive of your endeavors, even trying to be a villain himself to...varying results. | The King came in, a devilish grin spread on his face. Well, he *tried* for it to be devilish, but given his gentle disposition, it came off as endearing and amicable rather than menacing.
"Guess what, my love!" he exclaimed cheerfully and placed a kiss on his wife's pale cheek. She turned to him with a warm smile; a stark contrast to her thus far serious mood, a glint of dark tidings in her eyes, now replaced by pure love and affection.
"Marrel! How delightful of you to join me. And guess... what?" she inquired.
"I have prepared a surprise for you - one I am sure you will be most delighted by."
She turned to him entirely, away from her map, away from her plans for future conquest.
"I'm sure you are familiar with the village of Steppenhorst," he started with feigned nonchalance. The Queen furrowed her eyebrows - it was less of a village and more of a fortress situated near a channel that would prove most useful to her if she could claim it, but she was yet to find a way to do so without causing considerable damage to the infrastructure that made it so valuable.
"I have dealt them a horrifying blow! One that will make sure they will bend the knee to your demands!" He practically beamed with pride.
"Oh?" the Queen merely remarked.
"I have provided them with a shipment of fresh trout and lemon, ensuring they will have a great feast of roasted fish."
The Queen frowned.
"And how will this-"
"But!" he continued excitedly, "the wine I have sent with it is..."
He paused for effect.
"*Red*! They can't *possibly* enjoy fish with red wine. The anguish they will experience will be legendary, I am sure, and before long, their will to resist your magnificence will be all but broken. Psychological warfare at its best."
He had the widest smile on his face and the Queen, despite being absolutely floored by the idiocy, could not help but giggle at the mental image of her skeletal warriors pulling a shipment of fresh fish. She leaned closer and gave him a deep, passionate kiss.
"Thank you, my king. I am certain they will yield in no time," she smiled.
The King felt his heart flutter, knowing his evil machination pleased his Queen. He was already hatching his next scheme.
Providing them with salad.
*But no salad forks.* | Husbands log, day 3,682: wife tried to hide embarrassment when I accidentally sent her least favorite servant dessert, instead of to the desert.
Husband’s log, day 4134: got stuck in the dungeon again. Steve the Deceiver said he wanted to show me something cool he found in the corner of the cell. When I went to check it out, he nicked me on the head with his toilet bucket and ran out and slammed the door on me. Seemed like a good guy during the waterboarding sessions, guess you never can tell who to trust.
Husband’s log, day 2225: Today I got to help my wife in the laBORatory (she always emphasizes the middle of the word, says it’s in the “rules”). After spending 8 hours doing research on types and looking for good names to give them, my wife asked what was taking so long. I told her making a list was harder than she might think. Wife said she needed a catalyst, not a cat list, and says I need to work on picking up on context clues. On the upside, getting a diabolical furball. Going to give him a tough name, like …..Jerry!
Edited:Added additional entries to get 100 word length
Edit: new log
Husband’s log day 427: My wife really got a kick out of me singing for the visiting priests, but they weren’t impressed. TIL there’s a big difference between saying “let angel’s prostrate fall” and “let angels prostate fall”. Oh well, you live and you learn, at least the wife is happy. | 2022-04-29T02:59:30 | 2022-04-28T20:57:38 | 896 | 213 |
[WP] You make arrangements to cryogenically freeze your brain at the age of 31 in hopes of being revived in the future. Many years later, you "wake up." | "I'm afraid it's terminal," said the doctor. I could tell those lines had been rehearsed, that from the glassy look in his eye he'd said that to more patients than he could count, and there was nothing he could do.
But there was something I could do.
"I want you to freeze it." I said to him, and he stopped, halfway to re door.
"Do what, sir?"
"You heard me, freeze it. My brain. You said I had brain cancer and you can't cure it- I want you to preserve it so whenever it can be revived, it will be."
At first the doctors had refused. But with enough money, anyone can be convinced. And I had the money.
I paid ten million dollars for the procedure. One million went to the doctor. Four million went to the freezing chamber that was custom built for me. Five million was bought in gold, and placed within the chamber.
On the day before my scheduled death, I booked an appointment with a reporter, and my last words were broadcast to the world as my brain was frozen.
"In this century, mankind has discovered more than it's entire existence. We've fought hunger, we've defeated diseases, and we've conquered technology. But one dark hand still rules over us all- death.
"Today, I will be preserved and buried deep into Antartica ice. With me, there will be five million dollars in gold, a keypad, and a nuclear bomb. Anyone in the future who can revive me to consciousness and heal my cancer will receive the code to disable the bomb and free the reward. Anyone who tries to steal the reward will be destroyed by the blast.
"Goodnight, Earth. I will see you in the morning." The message terminated, and so did I. The combination stayed in my head- 3141.
****
Voice :*Hello*
The voice permeated my consciousness, before I even knew I was awake. If I had a heart, it would be racing.
Me: *Who is this? Have you revived me?*
Voice: *We have* said the voice, *With great effort. You are the last of your kind.*
Me: *I'm what?*
Voice: *The last human. We are what you would call aliens. A hundred years ago, we destroyed your race, and you are the last. We found your burial site, and your treasure, and saw your enlarged brain- meaning you must have been a king of great intelligence. Our historians are greatly interested in you.*
Me: *Everyone is gone? You've killed them all?*
Voice: *The war was terrible, but yes. You were a lesser species. We could not allow you to coexist and waste resources that could go to us.*
Me: *What will happen to me?*
Voice: *After speaking to our historians, you will be put to rest.*
Me: *But there is a message for you left by humans. One I cannot express by thought.*
Voice: *None have been found.*
Me:*It is hidden. To find it, press 4214 on the keypad.*
****
By Leo
For more of my writing, visit or subscribe to /r/leoduhvinci where I put all my new stories | A bright, jarring beam of light was shining in his face. Max woke up, startled. He heard screeching sound, and then a loud thud. As his eyes adjusted to light, he saw that the glass wall in front of his face was broken. He pushed it aside and stifled a scream.
He was in a half-destroyed dusty room. He remembered it being slick and clean, when he came here to get into capsule and be frozen. It was the most high-tech place in the world, and it cost all of his money to get in. Now there was a hole in the ceiling, with sun shining through it, illuminating the room. In the corner Max noticed a giant beast, looking like a mutant from a horror movie.
Max ripped out an electric cord behind him, and threw it at the monster. It hit the beast in the nose, causing it to roar and run away, jumping through the hole in the ceiling.
Max looked around, his heart beating quickly. There were 9 more cryogenic capsules in this room, all of them broken, and people in them clearly dead.
He pushed aside automatic doors that weren't working, and carefully sneaked through the hald-destroyed corridors. Some of them were filled with rain water, with small plants climbing up the walls.
He stepped out of the building, and saw the deserted streets, half-destroyed buildings, and a skyline of the city - mostly ruins.
*What the hell happened here?* he wondered.
He walked through the streets, looking for signs of life. All of the sudden, a group of people surrounded him. They were looking like a tribe of scavengers, wearing dusty cloaks and holding spears.
"What's going on?" he asked.
Silently, they have captured him, put a bag over his head, and the next thing he knew - he was lying on a floor of some sort of tent, tied up, guarded by a tall man, clearly a warrior.
"Can you explain to me what is happening here?" he asked. In 20 minutes he wished he didn't.
200 years ago a nuclear war has destroyed the human civilization, only a few tribes of survivals were left, quickly losing their knowledge and descending into the stone age.
*Well, I guess it's on me to rebuild the civilization now* he thought, and came up with a plan....
----
To be continued.... | 2015-09-13T22:39:39 | 2015-09-13T21:42:12 | 363 | 15 |
[WP] Everyone only gets to lie three times in their life, so they only do so when it's an absolute must. This is the story of how someone lied three times in one day. | The 'age of truth' historians were dubbing it. In 2031 a new app was released and became the new big thing. Taking advantage of the constant data stream from Apple's neural implants and the shared cloud of data the new app was able to pick up on subconscious cues and could tell when someone was lying. Privacy laws protected teenagers and kids, but hundreds of politicians and oligarchs suddenly got shunted straight to jail for their backroom dealings and millions of sham relationships collapsed.
And that's where I come in. As a Senator and the husband of an executive of the company that developed the app I knew about the one weakness of the app - it takes three distinct lies to calibrate. I was able to survive the initial purge of politicians by making colleagues exploit this fact, but I had grander plans for my own lies. My plan took years to develop, but I had both the patience and resources. Three lies and my plan would be complete.
"My fellow Americans, today is an historic day. Today we bring truth into the oval office. The government are taking over the running of the Liedetector app. I know some of you are worried about liberty but let me make to you three promises. One, the process will be completely legal; two, nobody will ever be able to alter the results of the app, and finally I will work personally to ensure your freedoms are always maintained."
Three lies was all I needed to get total control. The age of truth was here and my word was law. From this point on my word was The truth. | Mother liked to tell the story. They all had one.
Mom found me reaching for the cookie jar.
"What are you doing kiddo?"
"Nothing..."
"Were you trying to get a cookie and eat it?"
"No."
"What were you doing?"
"I was getting a cookie for you."
Most folks in the community called it good parenting. The practice is called Toddling. Parents make sure their kids will never lie to them. I am, and always will be resentful of that woman. Something clicked off in my mind as she questioned me, and realization, even in my toddler mind, saved what I could.
I did grab 2 cookies, and all I have left is a half-truth. | 2014-11-15T17:28:43 | 2014-11-15T16:32:21 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] "So this is what the people of your world have done with magic. You take cryomancy and call it 'refrigeration'. You take electrokinesis and call it 'wiring'. You take telepathy and call it 'the Internet'. You call familiars 'robots'. You've taken all this magic...and you've made it boring." | Tren'val, the Oceanic Magus, stared aghast at a printer.
"Buttons?" he declared. Countless ages of incantations and sorcery have turned his entire body pale with power, save for an azure robe for contrast, white hair flowing like a gust floated around him at all times--and has made it near impossible for normal, relaxed speech. His stark eyes narrowed, a long finger tentatively touching the surface of the keypad. When it beeped, he jumped back like he was casting his first fireball eons ago--though it was quickly remedied with a pompous cough.
"That's a touchpad, old man," Zeph said, shaking her head. She looked completely unremarkable, a passer-by you'll forget instantly when you pass by on the street--except that Zeph was probably the one that made you forget with a memory spell. Purple power swirled around her fingers, and one touch promptly caused the printer to calm down.
"Please stop messing with my printer when there's a queue," Zeph said. "I have some manuals to print, and you are not making it easier."
"Manuals?" Tren'val turned his nose up even higher than usual, which meant that there was a genuine worry that he would sprain his neck. "Magic requires no manuals."
"You learned from a freaking tome," Zeph sighed. "You might have forgotten about it because you belong in a museum, but even you started somewhere."
Tren'val glanced at the printer suspiciously, now making a strange, choking noise.
"Yes, but magic is within me," the Magus noted. "This is blasphemy. To pour the intricacies of arcane might into such tasteless machinery?"
Zeph tapped away at her laptop, her brows furrowed and gaze focused on the screen. Even for a talented techmancer like her, she had to devote effort to troubleshooting the printing issue that appeared to have risen.
"Look, these stuff works, alright? Usually, anyway," said Zeph. "That's more than can be said for your 'arcane' shit'. God of Arcane, Azuth not feeling like it today? Oh, look, your magic missiles hit the ground. Mistress of Magic, Mystra a mite unbalanced? Oops, there goes your polymorph!"
The printer choked and screeched, leading Tren'val to take another step away.
"This is your fault," accused Zeph, pointing a finger at Tren'val--generally an impolite, if non-threatening gesture, but not for arcane practitioners of their level. "Did you imbue some disruptive magic into it?"
"I have done nothing of the sorts," Tren'val remarked. "And please, if you try to hex me, I guarantee you will find yourself banished to another plane for such insolence."
"This is a normal human thing to do. It's not my fault you don't keep up with the times," Zephra said. "And seriously, are you sure you did nothing?"
"You were the one that said 'stuff works'," Tren'val held up both hands, taking an excruciating and unneeded amount of time to gesture quotation marks. "I have no desire to ruin whatever operation you are running here. I was simply aghast at the vast amount of technology that has permeated new Earth."
Zeph's brows crinkled even further, her forehead now wrinkling like a capable geomancer undulating mountains and valleys.
"That's where the money is," Zeph said. "Who has time to read books now to actually do magic?" You give the humans stuff, and it works. The included manuals are just because of some stupid law."
Both mages stared at the printer. There was a slight, unmissable wisp of smoke emanating from the machine.
"It feels like it is overburdened with arcane force," announced Tren'val. "I am fearful that it will shatter within itself."
"Printers," Zeph shook her head. "Let's hope Azuth isn't napping today. I might need some divine intervention to stop this printer from exploding."
---
r/dexdrafts | Those we called scientists loved the discovery. There was not an industry in the world that wouldn’t be affected by it. Constantly and incessantly useful in every scenario. The scientists were all over the nets, scheming and planning and making sure that every person on the planet knew what was happening.
Of course, this had happened before. Cryomancy was first, and it surprised everyone so much that for nearly a century we didn’t know what to do with it. Oh good, you can make something cold. Well done, you. Pick up your nobel prize at the door, and register yourself a big ol’ pat on the back. No one cared. And then someone took that power and figured out how to put it in a box and suddenly cuisine around the world was changed forever. Imagine in the before times, where you maybe catch a fish. Can you save that fish for more than a few days? Of course you can, if you salt it and preserve it. But if you don’t like salt? You’re shit out of luck, my friend. Three days later and you’re stuck with a mess so smelly it’d make a skunk proud. But now? Now you chuck it in a magic cryomantic box and it’ll keep for weeks! This is what magic will do for you.
The first person to show any signs of electrokinesis ability was the same. The wise guy thought it was the best thing since sliced bread* and used it more or less exclusively to either torture his enemies by frying their insides, or entertaining his friends by making their hair stand on end. Scientists got stuck into this one too and eventually managed figure out that you could store the power in a thing they called a battery and voila: portable enemy torture devices! Took a little longer for them to figure out the other benefits but these days everything runs off the same kind of thing. They even figured out how to enhance the cryo-boxes with the power of electrokinesis.
This new discovery was going to blow everything out of the water. Someone had figured out how to teleport. Literally move matter from one place to the other, across distances great and small. The military were all over it at first. Imagine if you can teleport a tank inside the enemy general. There’s no defence! After a few short wars it was deemed “inhumane,” but quite frankly those wars would have lasted a lot longer otherwise.
It’s not that we’ve always wanted to make magic boring, but it certainly appears to be our ultimate destination. What is the one thing that we really need faster than anything else? Package deliveries of course! We had one day delivery, but how about instant delivery? You don’t even have to go to the door; instead it’s teleported directly into your house to any place you choose. Of course, there was the small matter of an entire industry of people losing their jobs overnight, but we’ll just gloss over that. Everyone else seemed to, anyway. The scientists, as ever, were livid. They had all these plans and just like every other time, we picked the most boring most convenient application for the occult discovery.
All these magic appliances and advancements only served to create our country’s motto: “Ask not what you can do for Magic - ask what Magic can do for you.”
---
\* Panem segmentis magic. It deserves a story of its own. | 2021-08-12T14:01:41 | 2021-08-12T10:40:09 | 88 | 48 |
[WP] 100 years in the future dank memes are precious artifacts. While scanning your grandpa's PC, you stumble upon the rarest of all... | I looked at the dilapidated thing in front of me. Was this really what they used as computers back in the day? How were you supposed to shitpost if you needed to use your hands? They were rarely covered in shit at all and they were slow and clunky.
I checked around either side of the machine for Nero imports to insert myself into. I couldn't find one but I couldn't shake the feeling that there was no way my grandfather lived without virtual reality. Virtual-reality with the key to our life, it was what made the world. Without it we were a bunch of humans. Sitting scared on a sad little rock.
I'd just spent the past four years of my life trying to find the key to making virtual-reality interesting my search had brought me here.
I blew the dust that was in front of me and looked over the machine one last time before finding the power button to turn it on. Back in the day they were legends about people shit posting for hours and always being entertained. We didn't think it was possible last for more than 10 seconds there had to be something secret that they had access to.
I opened up the first window I found. I had to use the mouse to do it. How had they lived like this? The first window that opened knocked me to the floor. Literally I fell backward and hit the tiles.
Optimus kek? How had they been so clever?
| My grand parents didn't really have a great understand of technology in their old age, like most people's. So when he asked me to have a look at his computer because it was a big sluggish I told him it wasn't a problem.
I did notice when I was checking or any bloat ware I noticed that he had a folder dedicated to memes, which wasn't a surprise because he had mentioned being a bit of a computer geek when he was younger.
Nothing could have prepared me though... Not for JOHN CENA! | 2015-12-12T10:02:26 | 2015-12-12T10:01:54 | 60 | 21 |
[WP] Two immortal souls, Black Hat and White Hat, are destined to fight forever. When one kills the other the clock resets and they both respawn in two new physical bodies, in different parts of the world at a seemingly random points of human history. This time around Black Hat doesn't want to play. | "I've grown tired of killing you," Black explained, smiling, "So I thought I might go and try kill everyone else instead."
Gagged and bound, White, or Ernst Thälmann as he was presently known, stared up into the beady black eyes of his eternal enemy. He stared and he stared, until Black strode towards his side of the solitary cell in three quick steps, and bending over, removed the leather gag from his mouth.
White immediately scowls, hocks, and then spits directly into his face. Black doesn't let the smile drop. His black eyes stare into the pale, blue, bloodshot eyes of the other man as his hand finds its way to the clean, round dome that is his head and caresses it. Gently rubs it with his forefinger and thumb, almost affectionately, before his hand and grip tense and he slams it back into the hard stone wall behind it.
White sags, but doesn't let out a single sound as Black stands, wipes away the spit with a handkerchief from his pocket, and readjusts his immaculately neat black hair. Then he kicks White in the face with his shiny black boot.
The two men are opposites. By design, of course. Black is thin and uniformed. His greasy hair is parted two ways, toothbrush mustache below it carefully trimmed. He's tidy.
White is fat and half-naked, bald and clean shaven. His appearance has been carefully maintained under strict orders since the moment he was taken prisoner. Black feels this is important. It lets him more comfortably focus his hate.
White rises, and the two men resume their unspoken staring contest. Black is no longer smiling. It is 1940, and Ernst Thälmann has not said a single word in the seven years he has been confined to this room.
"Guard!" commands Black. A young man in a gray uniform, blonde and blue-eyed, enters. "See that Mr Thälmann is adequately fed."
"Yes, mein Fuhrer!" the guard salutes. Hiter nods and strides out.
| It used to be fun. A handful of rooms, and a slew of traps at your disposal. Kill the other guy, collect objects scattered around the place, get the hell out.
And then do it again.
Or be dumb enough to fall victim to your opponent's traps.
And do it again.
Or forget where you'd put one of your own. How embarassing.
And do it again.
And again. And again, and again.
I'm sick of it. I'm sick of being electrocuted, shot, stabbed, crushed, drowned, burned, defenestrated, garroted, blown apart, and otherwise being the victim of this bullshit as much as I am the perpetrator.
I quit. I'm not going to play anymore. I'll take whatever punishment the other guy wants to hand out, but I'm just going to stand here and take it. We'll see how much fun he has when there's no challenge.
Maybe I'll go ahead and kill myself on my own traps.
It sucks being a Spy.
(I saw this and immediately thought of Spy vs. Spy, thanks OP! I loved to hate that damn game.) | 2015-01-15T15:20:21 | 2015-01-15T15:17:27 | 17 | 12 |
[WP]: Click "random", and study the subreddit you got. Write about your discoveries like a victorian wilderness explorer | He crawls through the undergrowth, trying not to disturb the members of the group, who are seated in a tight circle around some unknown object, shoulders raised high against intruders.
"See here Billson." He whispers to his caddy, who is currently carrying the high-tech camera (an exposure time of only thirty seconds!) his head is covered by his traditional safari helmet and the characteristic WritingPrompts flag - blue and white stripes - is rolled up and slung across his back. "We're the first people to witness this in forty-five years."
"What happened to the last ones who found it?" Billson asked in his usual awe-filled voice. He was constantly admiring Dickson, with his fantastic moustache and wide knowledge of the Reddit Savannah.
"You wouldn't want to know lad." Dickson said gravely. "But see here, look at what they're wearing. Characteristic of their species."
"Cardigans?"
"*And jeans*" Dickson hissed. "We're in the right place. Get the camera ready."
"What do you think they're looking at?"
"Some question from the poor fools who follow them blindly. They are the oracles of womankind."
The camera rig had been set up, and Dickson leant forward to take the prized photo of women in the wild that would earn him a spot on the front page of Reddit Geographic. But a twig crunched in his foot, and all the women turned round as one, eyes peering into the darkness of the bushes.
"Who goes there?" One asked imperiously
"Have you a question for us?" Another said, perfectly tousled blonde hair fluttering in the wind.
"Run." Dickson whispered.
"But the photo..." Billson cried
"It doesn't matter - just run!"
The explorers dashed from the huddled group of women, throwing themselves through the bristly scrub in their haste to get away.
"No-one..." Dickson panted as they ran. "No-one survives AskWomen." | [Random Acts of Pizza] www.reddit.com/r/RAOP
It's a very... strange place indeed. The people there seem to be very generous and also seem to enjoy the meal that is pizza. They carry on conversations about this one food item for what seems like ages. They talk about the toppings, sauces, and even the types of crust they enjoy. The ways it can be cooked is also discussed. I was very much dumbfounded as to why they love this meal so much and why they seem to worship it until I came across their leader; Papa John. He seems to be the guiding force behind this-race if you will. They gift each other cards that hold some type of monetary value and they use this to purchase more of their saviors dishes. However, amongst the charity, and chit-chatter there is one that is shunned. There is another deity that doesn't hold the same title as Papa John. This deity is frowned upon, made fun of, exiled, and only loved by a select few; Little Ceaser. Those who follow him are considered fools, shunned and are sometimes forced to leave this place. I have studied long enough and I've decided to follow the majority; I am a Papa Johnian. | 2014-03-17T14:21:31 | 2014-03-17T13:06:41 | 386 | 32 |
[WP] A multitude of Alien ships warp within range of Earth. Over all electronic devices the message is heard, "Earth, we come in peace. In all the universe only one other Species has mastered Death and Destruction as you have. We need your help." | "Technology for violence is – hum – a concept we cannot really grasp", the Simian said, averting General Serling's
eyes.
*Simian*… The general thought it funny that, when humanity found out that the aliens descended from the same
branch of the evolution tree as we did, we decided to call *them* simians.
*Like we are any different*, Serling thought. *Like we are somehow above them.*
"But it comes naturally to you. No offense", the Simian continued, still uncomfortable. "Which is why we are here."
"What do we know about these creatures that are attacking your planet?"
"Artificial Intelligence", the Simian explain. "Silicon based and extremely deadly. And we have very limited means of fighting back, as you know."
"And why are they attacking? Where are they coming from? What's their technology like?"
"We don't know, we don't know and extremely advanced", the Simian answered. "In that order."
"It seems a bit odd that these -- *robots* -- are attacking you for no particular reason", Serling said. "And that you
don't even know where they are coming from."
"However that may be, we have a feeling we are the only ones they are going after", the Simian
said, simply. "We request your help because we feel it would be mutually beneficial."
To Serling's side, the secretary general of the United Nations looked thoughtful. So did the president.
But this had all been months before. Now Serling was sitting on his office trying to think of how he was going to
explain to the secretary general of the UN and the president of the United States that –
"General Serling", the president said, in his low voice, entering the room. The secretary followed. "What are the
reports from Kepler?"
"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary General", Serling said, getting up. "I have –"
"There's no need to get up", the secretary said, taking a seat across the table from Serling.
The president took a seat too, and they both locked their gaze on the general, waiting.
"Ok", Serling whispered, feeling his heart race. He had barely returned from a 500 light years travel, and the jet lag wasn't helping. "All right. You are both aware, of course, that the attack is still happening in the --"
"Yes, we are both aware the Simians are under attack still."
Serling took a deep breath. "Yeah. Yeah, I'll get to the point. The Simians, they claim this attack is coming from
the Kepler System. That's their suspicion. This, huh --"
"This is why we sent you to the Kepler system, general Serling", the president said, in an impatient voice. "Could
you please get to the point? Have you found out where these robots are coming from?"
"Yes, sir. Kepler 186f", Serling answered, and now his voice could no longer hide his nervousness.
"Kepler 186f is a confirmed, non-inhabited planet", the secretary general said. "It's actually an human-friendly planet, and is being considered as an alternate Earth for quite some time. You, of all people, should know this, Serling."
"Yes", Serling answered. "Yes, you are right. The planet is deserted. *Now.*"
"Then where are the robots coming from?" The president asked, and now he was straight of pissed.
Serling took a deep breath again. "Sir, they're coming from the future."
Neither of the man said anything, and Serling took a sip of his empty mug of coffee.
"The future?"
"Mr. President. Mr. Secretary-General", Serling managed to blurt out, finally. "We are sending these robots from future Kepler 186f. Us. Humans."
The secretary general and the president exchanged glances.
"We?"
"Yes", Serling answered. He took another phantom sip of coffee. "Humans are coming back in time to kill the
Simians. And the Simians want our help fighting back."
__________________
Thanks for reading!
[Here's Part II](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wh0d/simians_part_ii/) =)
[And Part III](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38wrev/simians_part_iii/)
[Part IV (Final)](http://www.reddit.com/r/psycho_alpaca/comments/38z9aq/simians_part_iv_final/) | The Zoom of a warp drive, a measurement of exact strength of a vaccuum, (a tricky thing, measuring vaccuum's within a vaccuum!) heated and shook. A contraption built from scrap metal and crap from the outer rim of this solar system.
Kazim was grateful though. In one of the human's furthest reasing trashcan's there was a golden disk... With just enough gold to transfer a high definition message from one of their space stations...
which of course, Kazim would have to take over quietly, and without giving anything away. Which is why the zoom of the space drive, was rather annoying, when usually be found it an impressive thing.
Then Kazim felt ridiculous. He was worrying about sounds in space.
Though, If they found out the truth about him and defenselessness, or his odd intentions, that would be the end of it.
Hostile, primitive life... *They'd likely want to cut me into pieces*, he thought. He considered the little simians, prying and probing him with their glasses and metal.
He was glad his skin was thicker than the indigenous people's. They would have a harder time cutting him open. Something told him though, this animals specialty wasn't in it's brute force, or sharp tools. (Though they did walk on two legs, instead of the polite four. They are like arrogant savages, compared to Protosimians as far as Kazim was concerned.)
All the more reason not to trust them!
He had his eye on one space station in particular. It seemed to issue commands to other nearby satellites. A whole system Kazim could broadcast from..! Imagine the possibilities.
Again, he was thankful for the golden disc. It had some odd mark's on it. He was pretty impressed that cave dwelling primates managed to send a valuable piece of material like this into space... Though they did graffiti it. None the less. They probably knew about it's high definition capabilities.
Impressive.
Kazim had to give it to them.
Literally. He would need it to transfer his images to their communication devices, and try to take over the planet. He would look like a fool back home if he couldn't handle a species so primitive... And his people would never hear the excuse, of his ship being eaten by a Cthulhu... or that he lost to these sub-protosimians.
Whatever the problem, he couldn't stop now. He had come too far. Faught through too much to be made a fool of.
Everyone back home would know his name, when he offered them a new vacation destination, with a commercially enslaved people to serve them.
When Kazim's trashcan powered Zoom drive pressurized him close enough to the space station, he pulled over a mask on the face of his suit, and exited The pod, drifting to the door.
His suit stuck to it. He banged on the space station.
he waited.
A very alarmed man was screaming inside in a matter of minutes.
Kazim held up a piece of paper. "Tell No One."
For lack of a better word, their faces were incredulous.
It was some time, but they finally let him in.
Some hours later, a message arrived everywhere on earth in all the languages of the people on the station.
Unfortunately, the only language was russian.
"We come in peace. In all the universe only one other species has mastered death and destruction as the human race has. We need your help."
Kazim Imagined that this message would get him taken directly to their leaders, with access to their weapons. But since the messaged arrived only in Russian, to everyone on the planet, most of the world was left with conspiracy theories, and the Russians laughed it off.
| 2015-06-07T03:36:08 | 2015-06-07T03:21:24 | 754 | 33 |
[WP] Your superpower isn't the flashiest in the academy, but it does come in handy. The more you learn about a different subject the more you gain control over it. Studying physics? Gain control of subatomic particles. History essay? Change events in the timeline. Your next test? Math. | "You have 30 seconds!" yelled the robbers, flailing their rifles in the open bank window. "We'll kill a hostage if you don't get a chopper on the roof!"
"Okay okay don't do anything rash!" replied the cop over the megaphone. "It'll be here in-"
Before he could finish his sentence I snatched the megaphone. "There's no need for that officer." He looked at me confused, and then gritted his teeth. "They're about to kill a hostage! Don't you care?!" he yelled. "Of course I care. I'm a hero, after all." he looked at me, more puzzled than angry.
"20 seconds!" yelled the robbers. The woman being held hostage had tears streaming down her face. "No please! Please don't do this!" her voice was cracking in desperation.
I held the megaphone up to my mouth. "You're not getting that chopper. Surrender quietly and maybe there will be a chance you and your buddies will come out alive." the robber looked at me and laughed. "We're not your normal robbers! We don't get swayed by words!" he said confidently. "10 seconds by the way!"
*"Good grief..."* I thought. *"I always get stupid missions like this."*
"5!" yelled the robber.
"No please! Please!" the woman cried.
*"I should really have a chat with Kevin about this. He's good with delegating assignments."*
"4!"
"Please!" the woman was bawling.
*"Or maybe Trent. Haven't seen him in a while it might be nice to catch up."*
"3!" the robber held his rifle next to the womans head.
The woman cried louder.
*"Maybe Maria..."*
"2!" the robbers finger was on the trigger.
*"Yeah, I'll go with Maria... or maybe...?"*
"1!" *click*
The woman shrieked. Then there was an awkward silence. She looked up to see a confused robber, her eyes puffy.
"What?" the robber was confused. *click click click*
I snapped back to reality. "Oh nooo, did the gun jam? What are the *chances*?" I said sarcastically.
"Whatever!" he pulled out his pistol. *click* "What?!" *click click*
"Oh wow, who saw *THAT* coming." I said as I walked through the rotator, with a book in my hand.
"Open fire on the kid!" yelled the boss (I assume).
His three friends fired on me with their rifles, each shot missing as I calmly walked towards the boss. I walked 10 feet up to him unscathed, the grunts gasping in horror and other hostages looking in awe.
"How did you..." the boss was shaking.
"Oh, it was easy." I replied. I held up my book to his face. "I read up on probability and statistics."
"You're... you're him! The hero... Prodigy!"
"Huh. Never heard that one before. I might take it." I said thoughtfully. "Now, I said you four had a *chance* to get out of here alive." I stared the boss dead in the eyes with a blank expression. "Give up while your chances are good. Or rather, I could change things-"
The robbers dropped their rifles and ran outside with their hands up. "Man, these missions are no fun." I said to no one in particular. I walked to the woman and held her hand. "Hey, I'm sorry I put you through that. Are you okay?"
The woman looked at me and slapped me. She then gave me a tight hug and whispered "Thank you, Prodigy." I hugged her back and untied the other hostages. "I'm definitely keeping that name." I said to them.
After all was said and done I walked back to the Academy.
*"Maybe I'll ask Catherine... she has some good connections. Or maybe..."* | I may not be the flashiest person at the Westchester Academy for the supernaturally gifted but I'll be damned if I'm not one of the strongest. I always had a love for studying, I could study for hours upon hours each day and it didn't matter what I studied I loved it all. By the time I hit middle school was when I discovered my power. I knew I would go far in life with my knowledge and love for studying but I never expected it to make me powerful. At first I thought it was a time based power, I was in history when it started, I had altered the timeline and accidentally caused the great depression to start a couple years earlier that it should have. A couple of days later I discovered that my original assessment was wrong when I was studying physics and got a paper cut. When I focused on trying to change history it had healed in seconds. Once the academy was founded my parents sent me immediately. I was amazed at the powers some of the kids had. Flight, super strength, one kid even had telekinesis. My power felt small compared to theirs, so I ended up focusing on my studies like I did in the normal schools I used to attend.
&#x200B;
My next test was math. I was both scared and excited for what new ability or abilities I could unlock. The test itself was in a couple weeks so I had time to study. After the first couple of days I was a vision, It was the day the math test was handed back to us I had gotten a hundred. A few moments later I saw the same vision but I had bombed the test, I had started to panic until I was brought back to reality. When I awoke my dorm mate was shaking me "You were lying on the floor and choking on something, I didn't know what was happening so I tried to get you up" He said. I thanked him for saving me before going back to my thoughts. I could see the see any mathematical probability of the future, I was damn happy. I decided to test this out again with some dice. I got six dice and tried to see if I could see what the future held. This time I saw 14,000 of the possible outcomes before I got a massive headache and passed out. When I awoke I noted that I couldn't handle more than a few thousand possibilities. I then thought about getting all fives, this was mathematically a miracle, I focused on it and looked into the future to see that it was a possibility. I rolled and all the dice were 5's. I did this again, focusing on getting all 1's this time, and I rolled all ones. I repeated this a few more times change the number each time. When I had finished testing my abilities I knew for certain that I could not only predict the future but also control the possibility of the outcomes. I felt like I had won the superpower lottery, being able to not only change the past but decide the future as well. The day of the test came and past and I had passed with flying colors. The next big test was the fighting festival that the school had scheduled. Many kids are confident, but none more than I. Everyone was excited to fight each other and go all out, but their chances of winning are mathematically zero. | 2021-01-12T12:24:46 | 2021-01-12T11:48:18 | 270 | 178 |
[WP] Both brothers stood over their sister Candice's grave. Sad and angry, Phineas turned to his bother and said, "Ferb, I know what we are going to do today..." | Phineas turned his back on Candace's grave and began walking away. Ferb called out to him, "What if we're wrong, Phineas?"
"You know we're not," Phineas breathed through clenched teeth. "Where's Perry?"
*****
For years, the boys had watched their imagination come to life, only to dissolve at the last moment. The moment just before their mother could look up or walk around the corner. It had always been harmless fun, an oddity they were comfortable with in the context of an endless summer. No harm, no foul. Tomorrow was another opportunity to do it all over again.
But this summer was different.
They could tell something was wrong from the very first day of summer this year. An enormous water slide had exploded just as their mother, Linda, was pulling into the driveway. But this time the explosion threw an errant screw at Ferb, cutting him across the cheek. The sound of Isabella's scream sent Linda racing into the backyard, first aid kit prepped and readied.
Ferb looked at his mother first. Then at Phineas. Then through him.
They both felt it. Fear.
The boys were accident-prone for the first time in their lives. Buford and Baljeet stopped coming over within the first week. Isabella stayed longer, but refused to come by after week four. It was just too dangerous. Candace was the only one who stayed to watch any more, caught between wanting to bust her brothers and wanting to know what was different.
No matter what they were doing, at some point, their contraptions would explode or misbehave or otherwise change in an attempt to kill one of the brothers. Quick thinking and engineering had saved their lives each and every day so far, though not without injury. They started to plan out their contraptions, testing for intent, attempting to discern who was behind the attacks. In the end, they could only come up with one suspect: Perry, their pet platypus.
Every day Perry would disappear for hours on end, only to reappear moments after the boys had cheated death once more. Yesterday, the boys had confronted Perry. They restrained him in an elaborate contraption and interrogated him for hours while their mother was out. Nothing. Every question, every accusation, nothing came from their platypus. The only movement he ever made was a glancing look of desperation towards a small fedora in the corner.
Exasperated, the boys released Perry from his bindings when they heard the garage door open and their mother arriving at home. Perry wasted no time and dove straight at Phineas, knocking him to the ground. The restraining device that had previously held Perry exploded, and a sharp metallic edge flew directly at the spot where Phineas had been a moment earlier.
Candace had been standing behind him.
Phineas and Ferb were sitting in Candace's room later that evening, their parents still speaking with police downstairs. "Get out of here, Perry," scolded Phineas when he saw Perry peeking out from the hallway. "I still know you're behind this somehow."
His mind made up, Perry donned his fedora, stood up, and stepped into Candace's room, shutting the door behind him. He divulged everything.
Phineas, Ferb, and Perry stayed up all night, shooing their parents away when they tried to come in. Tomorrow would be different.
*****
The shadow of Perry's fedora could be seen from behind a nearby tree. Phineas started walking towards it, with Ferb close behind. Perry passed each of them their backpacks before dropping into a tunnel.
Phineas looked back at his brother with a hardened look in his eyes, "Ferb, I know what we're going to do today."
"We're going to kill Doofenshmirtz," Ferb finished for him. | Phineas slid the magazine into the 1911 and pulled the slide back.
"We shouldn't do this Phin, you know she wouldn't want this!" Ferb pleaded.
"We have to. Are you in, or are you out?" Phineas asked.
Ferb looked at his feet and slowly nodded.
"Good."
Phineas pushed a pistol into Ferb's trembling hands and got into the car.
His hands gripped the steering wheel as they sped through the night. Phineas kept seeing Candace's face drifting in his mind. He pushed the gas pedal down harder.
"How do you even know it was him?" Ferb asked.
"I just do."
"But how?"
Phineas glared at his step-brother.
"No I need you to tell me. Right now Phineas!" Ferb shouted.
"Perry told me. Perry told me everything alright! It was right in front of us the whole time." Phineas punched the steering wheel.
Ferb stared in silence for a second, then nodded.
The car sped up the winding mountain toward the lone building that sat a top it. Dr. Heinz Doofenshmirtz's laboratory.
"This is a bad idea..." Ferb to himself.
A black wrought iron gate stretched across the road in front of them. Phineas hit the gas and the car struck the gate tearing it off of its hinges.
"Holy shit Phineas!"
Phineas cranked the wheel and slammed on the brakes stopping them in front of the steps to the lab.
Ferb sat in the car trembling.
"Stay in the car if you want, I will take care of this," Phineas said with a scowl and climbed out of the car.
Ferb was paralyzed. *How had it come to this? Everyday was supposed to be summer, a vacation, a paradise. But this...this was the end. Their innocence died with Candace. Was revenge really the answer? Would this bring her back? Would this salve the pain they felt? No. They both knew it wouldn't. But it never hurt to try.*
Ferb pushed open the door and chased after Phineas. Heinz was on his knees in the living room crying. Phineas held his gun to the Doctor's temple. Tears ran down the Doctor's face as he pleaded for his life.
"It wasn't me! I didn't do it!" he wept.
"I know it was you, and now you are going to know exactly how she must have felt."
"Please-!" the doctor's shout was interrupted by the gunshot.
Ferb watched the body collapse to the floor. Blood quickly pouring out of the gaping would in the skull.
"Let's go Ferb." Phineas said walking away from the corpse.
Ferb stared in disbelief. The fear, the regret, the shame kept him rooted in place.
"I'm so sorry Candace."
---
Pretty dark, but so is most of my stuff! Check out /r/Written4Reddit | 2016-07-05T13:47:14 | 2016-07-05T13:14:10 | 1,674 | 83 |
[WP] You grew up in a religious family. Due to a minor speech impediment, you inadvertently prayed to the long forgotten deity "Veebuse" for most of your adolescence. Now in college, you have stopped praying every night. Worried, Veebuse comes to check on his only worshiper. | “You pay! Now!”
Spittle flew from the furious rotund man’s mouth, his face flushing a deep crimson color. With his stubby fingers hooked into the lapels of her shirt, his young tenant couldn’t pull away.
“I don’t have any money, Sergei, you know that! I’d pay if I could! I’ll pay you back as soon as I find another job.”
Fear was written across the woman’s face, through her eyes betrayed her true intention - find something, anything in the room which she could use to dislodge her assailant.
“You fucking lowlife! You think you can scam me like that?”
Sergei roared in Sam’s face, all but throwing her backwards against the wall. For a split second, she saw nothing but blinding white light, then a loud, static-like buzz deafened her. She tried her best to draw air into her lungs, to shake herself from the dazed stupor. Some warm liquid began to run through her hair and down her spine. She could only look up as Sergei hunched over her, still screaming, eyes bulging out like some kind of toad. She had to get out.
A bone-chilling breeze suddenly washed the entire room in cold air. An indescribably alien ink-like blackness poured over the open window, replacing a view of brick buildings and city streets with a void, tiny lights glittering deep inside, almost impossibly far. Instinctually, Sam tried to exclaim, accidentally biting her lip in the process just like she used to before, when she was a perpetually anxious high-schooler.
“Veebuse fuck…”
“What the fuck did you do? Is this some kind of trick?”
“SILENCE.”
A third voice chimed in, an echo of whispers that bounced around the room. Each letter was drawn out and punctuated with an unsettling, unnatural guttural hiss. Sergei’s beady eyes began to scan the room, descending into a panicked frenzy.
A long, gray hand melted through the void, clamping on to the top of the window frame. Thick, bulging black veins pulsed and throbbed as the muscle flexed, pulling whatever was trying to enter closer. A second arm latched on to the bottom of the frame, bending the opposite direction to the first with a stomach-turning crunch. The creature now pulled itself through, falling to the floor in a ragged pile before unfolding.
Taller than the ceiling would allow it to stand, a somewhat humanoid figure now stood before Sergei and Sam, the former speechless from terror, the latter speechless from a mild concussion.
Pallid, thin, and definitively inhuman, the creature’s hollow eye sockets felt like they were burning holes through Sergei’s own eyes. He knew its face, though not like this. The shoulder-length brown hair, the small beard, both looking matted and unwashed, bunching together like that of a sick dog. And, the final piece, a crown of thorns from which glue-like viscous black essence leaked down the creature’s face and neck.
“YOU WILL NO LONGER PESTER MY LOYAL DISCIPLE.”
It’s mouth did not move, and yet it’s words were deafening, resonating and reverberating inside Sergei’s skull to the rhythm of his rapidly accelerating pounding heart. With a whimper, he sprinted for the door, tripping over his own feet, and desperately flailing to crawl outside.
“YES, RUN ALONG NOW, LITTLE INSECT.”
The hollow eyes met Sam’s, one creaking to a close as a mischievous grin spread across its face.
“I believe you called?”
It’s voice was different, now. Instead of a crushing wave of sound and hissing, the slight guttural whisper was comforting, wrapping around Sam’s racing mind like a pillow. She felt her pulsing headache melt away, first slowly, then completely. Darkness creeped around the outside edges of her vision, and her eyes closed, just barely seeing the creature approach her before she fainted.
…
Sam awoke with a start, sitting up in a bed that wasn’t hers. She glanced around, noticing medical equipment, privacy curtains, and a small breakfast on a table next to her. She heard the little machines beep and whirr, and the quiet murmur of nurses attending to patients. She glanced upwards, just barely noticing a long-fingered gray hand replacing a tile of the sub-ceiling.
Her lip hurt quite a lot. | Eighteen god dammed years I lived with this stupid speech impediment, my parents wouldn't helped me to get rid of it, I was bullied hard for it. "It's a gift of god" they said, "It would be against his path" they said.
Now that I am eighteen, free and finally rid of my curse, I thought everything would get normal, you know "normal". No praying to Veebuse, Jesus, or whatever higher being my parents obsessed with. No church even on my birthdays or when I was ill. Finally some sane friends, a quite life and my doors open to a better future. And better it got.
One day, a bright flash of light, filling the room like liquids blinded me in the night. And out of the wake a breathtakingly beautiful woman came out.
She came closer to me, holding a hand on my cheek, and so my eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness again, and I could see her in her full ... smallness.
"Hey, sorry about that light thing, I forgot it's night here ..."
"Oh, no problem, you fixed that again ... Wait, WHO are you? No, *What* are you?"
"Oh, uhm ... I am Veebuse, the goddess your prayed to for the last ... eh 14 years I think"
"Huh, that's ... awkward. I prayed to you because of my speech impediment. I don't even believed in this ... but you seem to be real ... I think."
Her face got red, and it looked like tears formed in her eyes, she looked down "Oh, ok. I'll leave then"
"WaiWaiWaiWait, what is wrong, why so sad?"
"When gods and goddesses got forgotten, they become mortal, and die alone. Because we get thrown into prison, the other gods try to hide us, to forget they will suffer the same. And I am shortly before that. I don't have a problem with being mortal, I just don't want to be alone. I was alone my whole life, no other kids wanted to be with me, and my parents aren't anymore ...
I moved in to hug her, she definitely needed it ... and I too "Hey, uhm. I live alone too, I never had any real friends. My parents ... they never seem to be 100% "sane". I can get worse tho, but this is a shit attitude."
She looked up, with a grin on her face, which I did not like "Can I ... live with you? PLEASE?"
I hated her already: "I guess, but I don't how we can make you a real person. We would have to give you a name, ID etc. and probably more clothes?"
"Oh, I still have some powers left, I can make myself an ID etc what is needed. I do not however have a home up there ..."
"Of course, you can sleep at my place, that won't be much of a problem."
"Thank you"
And with that her face sunk into my chest again "Hey, I need to get up early ... today? I was awake way to long ... fuck. Ok, I make my couch ready so you have a place to sleep, I have to start sleeping fast."
After making everything ready and saying good night I fell into my bed. 'So Veebuse is real ... I definitely have to find a better name for her, if she wants. Not only is that gorgeous woman real, not only is she lying on my couch tonight, no, I will live with her for a bit ... I guess gods path wasn't that bad ...' | 2020-04-07T07:41:07 | 2020-04-07T05:07:37 | 96 | 55 |
[WP] Your twin is the Chosen One, born with powerful abilities. But you were born with none. Because they were born gifted, your twin took everything from you as they bathed in the spotlight. Your anger drove you to become better, working hard to rival your twin, yet they call YOU the villain.
**EDIT** : Apparently the first two sentences are incredibly similar to a plethora of stories and shows, so I apologize if it seems like I’m copying from something. | Slane, my brother. My identical, twin brother. Identical, of course, in looks. In skill however, I happened to have the short, nay, nonexistent end of the stick. We had our talents tested at 3 years old. Slane topped the potential in strength, intelligence, magic, sociability, and health. The elders of the clan were ecstatic to say the least. So when I was tested right after, you can imagine the disbelief that the twin of such a “masterpiece” could barely pass each of the tests. After that, the attention given took a sharp turn towards my perfect brother. I was continually given the cold shoulder by my parents for 3 years, them continually showering my brother in gifts, lessons, good food. I ended up learning to gather scraps for money, learning to cook, teaching myself all that I could by sneaking a book here and a book there from my brother. At 6 there was a party for “us” to choose our apprenticeships. My brother got a special visit from the head magic knight of the kingdom. His path chosen, I sat to the side, forgotten, abandoned. At this party however, was a man sitting in the corner, who I learned to be my uncle. From the bits of conversation I could hear, he was an outcast like me, who lived in a shack out of town as a woodcutter. Steeling what little courage I had, I walked up to him and told him who I was. He gave me a glance and a grunt in return. My determination rising, I asked him if I could be an apprentice to him. He just gave me a look over and just as I was about to start begging, desperate to get away from this house, he turned to my father and said that he was taking me as an apprentice. Everyone just kind of shrugged, and I think my parents were even glad that I was leaving. The only person who seemed to really react to the news at all seemed to be the magic knight. I soon learned why. The Woods are a place of daemons and monsters. The only ones who live there are those powerful enough to not get eaten. My uncle had a reputation of being one of the toughest people out there to the knights. He had no magic, but raw brutal strength. And so, my “apprenticeship” began. It was more like a hellish training. My uncle pushed me to get stronger, more skilled with different weapons. Cutting tree after tree, building up my strength. Pitting me against monsters way out of my league to give me experience. And through it all, as I gained strength, my willpower and anger grew at the destiny I was told as a child. At the cold shoulder by my parents. At the perfect life of my twin. Know I am 16. On my way to take the knight entrance exam. I am ready to show my perfect twin that he isn’t perfect after all. It’s time for Ethan to return. | **"A frisbee! A fucking frisbee!"**
I overturn another table sending accounting documents flying. "I go to the park to throw a frisbee to myself and suddenly I am being yelled at like I just launched a nuke!" I sigh and roll the nearest chair over and collapse into it."Next thing that I hear, that 'crack team' of his is yelling bloody murder saying I was releasing deadly gas!"
**"Crackpot team more like it!"**
I turn to the source of the voice. A balding man, sitting half covered in documents with his name written in large lettering over all of them. His face slightly shiny with sweat, mustn't get out much.
**"Yeah! Crackpot team! Nice one ...Devid!"** I laugh and he visibly relaxes. "You should really go tell them to back off!" Yells another playing with her rope collection.
**"I really should!"** I ponder before remembering why **"But then my snot nosed brother would be all 'Oh you cant do that! i now have to take you to jail'"** I qoute in a mocking tone. **Just because he was born cool doesn't mean I can't be just as strong as him! Maybe stronger!** I think pacing round the room. My train of thought is suddenly broken when hear a chair squeak behind me.
I turn and see 6 people including devin scooting along to open the door for me before noticing I have turned and stopping in their tracks. I walk up to them and I yell out **"you guys really believe I can do it this time?"** To a chorus of nods filling me with a swell of emotion unfelt for the longest time, hope. **"Ok! I'll do it!"** And with that I jog out of the bank, duffel bag of cash in hand. I had only intended to make a quick withdrawal for groceries but now I had a reason to pay my brother one more visit and this time, he will listen. I am sure. | 2020-01-01T06:43:03 | 2020-01-01T06:40:36 | 46 | 10 |
[WP] You work at a small bookstore. You love and cherish these books, and meticulously care for them. One slow afternoon, a novel falls from its shelf. You bend down to retrieve it, and notice there is only one word written on the page: “Run.” The door chimes. You have a customer. | People who like books tend to be hoarders, Most avid readers know this to be fact. The pull of a good book is something that just doesn’t fade with the steady march of time. It’s hard to get rid of something that impacted you, that kept you entertained on a long trip, that provided company on a lonely winter night, that has a very piece of your soul between the pages. Perhaps this is why many readers own enough books to sink a small Venetian gondola. Books lie half opened on coffee tables. Stacks of them form into haphazard nightstands. They rise up into eaves and rafters. Shelves are rammed full of them.
The readers who eventually end up owning their own libraries or bookshops are an even worse breed. Immortal bookshop owners are an unimaginable chaotic force.
Sophie was a chaotic individual on a good day. She looked to be in her mid 20s. Her messy hair was permanently piled high into a bun that closely resembled a bird nest. She had gotten into the habit of storing various writing implements in her hair sometime around the 15th century and had yet to kick the habit. She wore a uniform of paint splattered overalls. She had a rounded, youthful face and even rounder eyes that were accented by a circular pair of glasses. She looked as if she should be dancing along to ABBA on a beach in Greece at any given moment.
Sophie did not look like an immortal creature of the night.
Vampires come in many shapes and sizes. Sophie knew vampires who were cinephiles and vampires who were artists. She knew vampires who were actors and politicians, who rose from the shadows once every hundred years or so to push their agenda before sinking back down into their secret, hidden lives. Sophie had her own skill set.
She was a collector. A librarian. A thief.
Sophie held at least 10 centuries worth of knowledge in her shop. She thrived off knowledge. She had at least five masters degrees and four PHDs. Sophie was a master of all things vampiric. Her shop was a Mecca was all creatures of the night seeking advice on deeds both good and evil.
She was normally a fairly distracted person, full of racing thoughts and unfinished plots. She was especially distracted today. She hurried about her little shop, throwing items into the shoulder bag she had picked up somewhere in Germany in 1864. She paused to check the ancient watch around her wrist. 2:46 pm. She had just seven minutes until her unwanted guests arrived. She paused to run her fingers over the old leather-bound spines of the classics section. Her heart didn’t beat and hadn’t done since around 1190 AD and yet she still felt it break as she thought about leaving this little sanctuary she had created for herself.
Sophie shook herself out of the reprieve. She could return. Some day. Somehow. She knew you would eventually. She whirled around to fetch the flask of tea she had prepared for the journey ahead, knocking into a shelf as she moved.
She winced as a thick, dark tome slammed onto her toe. She sighed and knelt down to put the book back into its rightful place in the divination section. It had fallen open to the last page. She couldn’t help but smirk at the foreboding message inked on the creamy parchment.
“RUN”
The bell she had had installed two hundred years previously chimed merrily. Heavy footsteps thudded over the dusty floorboards. Sophie didn’t bother to look up.
The great vampire hunt occurs once every 150 years. Sophie knows that her pens are mightier than the swords of the hunters. She has survived a great many before and would survive a great many after this one. | Thinking the book nothing more than odd, you delicately close it and place it back on the shelf. It’s strange that you’ve never noticed this book before, since you care for each book in the store with such care, but you focus on the customer for now.
“Good morning, welcome to Brook’s Books. Anything I can help you find today?”
“Not really, just searching.”
This is nothing out of the ordinary either, most people come in just to look around before deciding whether they want to buy something or not. The man’s face is peculiar to you though.
He has a large, beak-like nose, sandy hair, and deep brown eyes, so deep they almost seem black. Black like the void, black like a raven’s wings.
He waltzes around the bookshelves with a metered and almost cautious pace. Winding up and down aisles until he comes to the very shelf with the book on it that you just put back up on the shelf. He reaches out and grabs it in a swift and precise motion, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for all along.
As he pulls it down you realize that the cover has no words or images either. It’s just dusty, old, plain, and black. Deep black leather the same shade as the mysterious man’s eyes. As he softly opens it to a page, a glint of interest, or perhaps excitement flitters across his eyes. Though you can’t see the page, you assume it still says “run.” You’re starting to wonder why he could possibly be interested in this odd book with only one word in it.
He closes it with a thud, and shifts his black gaze to you.
“This one piques my interest. I’ll be taking it.”
Unsure of how much this book even costs, and unable to look it up due to the lack of a title, you wonder what you should charge for this oddity.
“Really, you want the book with one word in it? Not sure how much it’ll cost, may have to call the store owner.”
“Oh, it has much more than one word in it my dear. This book shows the reader the message they need to hear most at the point in time which they look in it.”
Your disbelief is palpable, haha who ever heard of anything like that. Sounds like a poorly written movie plot device. What are you gonna find next in here, Jack Sparrow’s magic compass?
“And you misunderstood me, I won’t be paying for it.”
The man doesn’t waste a motion, he reaches into his back pocket and pulls out a switchblade, slits your throat and then wipes it off on an old paperback nearby on the desk.
“Perhaps you should’ve listened to it’s message my dear. Good day.”
The man walks out the door. As blood pours out of the gash in your throat and you struggle to breathe through a windpipe that no longer holds air, you hear the bell on the door chime one last time. | 2019-08-05T05:46:08 | 2019-08-05T05:09:58 | 150 | 53 |
[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. | "What do you mean I can't leave these drinks on my tab? I've been coming here for years."
"New corporate rules. Ever since we were bought out by Wild Buffalo Bar Corp. No running tabs, no discounts, no happy hours," explained Chet, my favorite bartender.
"Well I guess I better go hit the ATM and see what I've got in the bank. I don't get paid until tomorrow," I explained as I walked off to the store across the street. The rain had looked quiet and gentle from outside, but now as I crossed the street it was cold and uninviting. As I approach the ATM is notice the out of order sign. I shrug and make my way back across the street. "Well Chet I guess put this on my credit card."
He takes the card and swipes, swipes again, and then looks at me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "Declined. Sorry man. Look I'll get your drinks tonight if you pay me back tomorrow." He stopped polishing the bar for a moment to note the television. President Donald Trump was on the news again.
"If I didn't know any better I would say we're in hell, Chet." I left the bar around midnight to drown my sorrows at home. It had been a long day at the office. Telemarketing was the only work I had been able to find after I was laid off in 2008. Every day was miserable and the only relief was getting drunk enough to forget what I would be doing for work the next day.
But something was wrong. I didn't recognize this street at all. There were cobblestones and streetlamps. Some kind of vintage lamps I guess, that looked like real fire. There was a smell in the air I didn't quite recognize, were they burning real oil? Since when did the city do this kind of thing?
I stopped dead in my tracks as I realized I was surrounded by a circle of candles. Below my feet were some kind of ancient runes that glowed and shifted positions. I turned to see a small, childlike figure wearing a dark wide-brimmed hat and oversized spectacles.
"Who the fuck are you?!" I shouted as the startled figure squeaked and jumped behind a stack of barrels. He remained there paralyzed with fear for several seconds. "What the fuck is going on here? Why am I standing in this circle of candles?"
Determined to get home, I started to turn around and go the way I came. As I walked over the candles however, I was blown backwards by some powerful force. The childlike figure behind the barrels changed his expression into one of sheer joy.
"It works!" He exclaimed. He came out from behind the barrels, adjusting his glasses and examining me closely. I realized he was not a child, but rather a very small and dainty old man in over sized clothes. "Tell me your name demon," he asked in a now somewhat commanding tone.
"Jamal," I replied. "And I'm not a demon. Who the fuck are you."
"I'm Cervilpop the magician. I have summoned you to help us in the great war against the Mugwumps. And of course you are a demon, look how big you are. Your frightening features, you coarse voice. If you aren't a demon you sure look like one."
"Okay...Mugwumps?"
"Yes a terrible race of ferocious creatures. We have been in conflict for years now. But now that we have a powerful demon on our side, victory will be ours!"
"I'm not a demon," I explained. "I'm just a guy trying to get back home."
"Home to hell you mean? Ha. You may not return until you have done my service, those are the rules."
"I have to help you kill Mugwumps and then I go home?" I asked skeptically. I kept looking around for the cameras knowing this was some kind of viral video. A disturbed expression crossed Cervilpop's face.
"Kill them? Oh lords, no! Jamal, we need you to take up arms to defeat them in honorable combat, an epic game of dodge ball to end this war once in for all!"
"Wait, dodgeball? You've been fighting a war for centuries over dodge ball?" What kind of crazy world is this? Wouldn't it be easier just to fight them in a real war?"
Cervilpop laughed nervously. "Maybe that's how it all works in hell, but here we settle our differences with honor. Combat by dodgeball is the most honorable combat there is. We play dodgeball against the Mugwumps because they want to paint the Great Hall we all eat and drink in yellow. Yellow! can you imagine that?"
I shrugged. I figured maybe this was it. I have finally had a nervous breakdown. "So where's this great hall?"
"Two blocks that way," he replied gesturing over his shoulder.
"Beer there?"
"Of course."
"How much does it cost?" I asked skeptically.
"It's beer, it doesn't cost anything."
"Maybe I am from hell. Show me this great hall, Cervilpop. I'm down for a game of dodge ball, too, whenever."
| "Shit shit shit" I said under my breath as I raced down the sidewalk towards the bus. It was raining and all I could do was hold my unopened umbrella above my head as I ran. It obviously didn't help, so when I finally reached the bus stop panting and ready to fall over I was completely soaked through.
The bus doors were already closing when I reached it, but being desperate I managed to jam my umbrella between the gap in the doors before they closed. The door creaked rather loudly and the driver looked at me as if I were a fucking lunatic. I was still trying to catch my breath and very late so being crazy was the least of my problems.
After a moment the driver grudgingly opened the doors once more. I gave him a small 'thank you' between gasps, but he just glared at me at motioned for me to take my seat.
I sat down next to an elderly man listening to something on an old Walkman. He didn't pay me any attention, but continued to hum what sounded like dream lover.
I pulled off my glasses and began to wipe away the rainwater as I muttered a thanks to whatever god cared enough to receive it for making it on the bus in time. I had only just started my new job and the boss was as stoic as they come, so I really couldn't afford to be late. It hadn't taken long enough to get the damn job, anyway.
Of course I'll probably never be able keep that job now. Not with what happened about five minutes into the bus journey. One minute I was looking out to the passing storefronts with the old man now humming some blues tune and the next I had collapsed onto a hardwood floor in a room where everything was dim and smelled of old books and damp.
Managing to left my head up and put my now bent glasses back on, I saw that I was now in what looked like a attic. There were towers of books everywhere.
Getting myself into a sitting position I noticed I was surrounded by what looked like candles. There were five of them and they were all black and arranged in a circle around me. There were white trails on the floor connecting the candles. It looked like paint and as I inspected the pattern I noticed it formed a star. Frowning I looked up and nearly had a heart attack. There in front of the point of the star stood an old man in what looked like a long and dark robe. He stood perfectly still with a rather heavy looking book held open in front of him in his hands. He was smiling, or rather he was smiling at me. That's when I felt a tendril of fear run up along my spine. I backed away, my heart now begining to beat very quickly as the old man smiled at me. I hit a wall and I couldn't move any further. Looking back I saw there was no wall, but for some reason the area just before the candle was solid and I could not move past it. That's when the old man spoke.
"That's a barrier around you, demon. You cannot move beyond it" he said, his voice deep and grave. He looked pleased with himself. Utterly confused, I gulped and tried to speak.
"Ugh... who..who are you?" I stuttered. I had meant for it to come out more level, but I had so many questions and scenarios running through my head I guess it couldn't be helped.
"I am Lord Alsen Bodyth of the mage council, but you may call me master, demon" he proclaimed, sounding very proud.
I frowned. "De..demon?"
"Yes, but not just any demon. You're my demon" he pointed out, now grinning. That creeped me the fuck out, but all I could do was give a shaky laugh and say
"But... I.. I'm not a... demon" I wasn't entirely sure of what he was talking about, but I didn't liked it.
He gave me an understanding look and a nod "yes, yes, that's what they all say, but believe me demon, demon you are. I would know. I summoned you myself from the hell plain..." He looked down to his book for a moment searching for the name. Then having found it he looked back up and, still smiling, said "... Earth"
| 2017-05-12T08:29:21 | 2017-05-12T07:07:38 | 347 | 193 |
[WP] Death comes to collect someone and ends up falling in love with them. | Night had closed on London. The wind tugged at the sycamore trees and sent their leaves drifting sleepily through the orange shells of street light and into their beds on the wet ground. One landed on on a ragged bundle huddled on a bench in a forgotten corner of Hyde Park. It was here that death stepped through like a magician's trick.
He was tall and slender, dressed neatly in black, and he carried no scythe. It was the fear of men which had named him the reaper, but in truth he appeared softly to the dying and led them by the hand to where the worlds met. Not that it mattered what he looked like; to the living he was only as noticeable as a faint shadow or chill on a bright summer's day.
He approached the bundle. This was the first homeless person he would take from London in this year's cold, but it would not be the last. He did not try to avoid the dark puddles as he walked, feet in the water but not in the water.
He reached for the body on the bench. But something made him hesitate. Instead of tugging the soul gently from the sleeper, he pulled back on the tattered clothes around the head, and stood in silent shock.
On the bench slept a young woman, maybe 20 or 21, he thought. Her face was round and rosy in the cold, and spotless as fresh snow. She was at once a greek marble, an image of ancient beauty, and a vision of perfection from a utopian future. She was the wild forest and the rose garden. The calm and the storm.
Death was troubled. He had seen beauty before of course, for he had led countless models and movie stars with the same firm, soft, inevitable hand as he led everyone. No, he was troubled because this woman, alone in the cold, stirred something troubling within him. Something deeper than memory.
He supposed he had been alive once, though if as a human, he was not sure. All he knew was that his beginning had not really been his beginning; before death there is always life. This woman stirred something troubling... And he was sure... He was sure he should feel something... But he did not know what.
Confused, death went and sat and stared from the bench opposite hers. He sat all through the night until he was startled by the pale morning and knew there was work to do. He left without a sound, and all that remained was the young woman who could not remember pulling the covers off her face, and the statistical oddity of the night when no-one died.
| There is a woman who follows Death, I promise you. She is much worse than he is. I met them after an admittedly stupid mistake. I was flying down I-35, fucking with my phone. Don't even remember what for. Didn't see the guy change lanes and I ended up rolling 8 times. There in my car, upside down, broken and shattered, I died. I *knew* that I was dead, but I could still see. I could still smell the gasoline. Then I saw Him. He walked straight up to my car and peeked in. Walking oblivion. Just a man-shaped blob of black nothing.
Then I felt myself being pulled out of the car. A good samaritan had pulled me out of there and began CPR. I could feel my ribs cracking with each compression as Death walked around my car and stood over me, waiting to collect. I wasn't surprised that I was the only one who could see him. I was surprised by the fucking woman that trailed behind him. If I hadn't already shit myself, I would have when I noticed her looking at me. She peered at me with bleeding sockets, torn skin and flesh hanging from her naked limbs. Half of her face was exposed bone. She was frighteningly human.
My ribs cracked and cracked as she gazed at me, then just like that, they were gone. I gasped for air and all the pain hit me at once. I was in the hospital for ten days, and my thoughts were about nothing but her. The woman who follows oblivion, collecting souls from vessels worldwide. The more I thought about it, the more obvious it seemed. She was Death's lover. | 2014-01-05T07:55:10 | 2014-01-05T06:51:14 | 54 | 13 |
[WP] The Mary Sue of a story becomes obsessed with a side-character when they do something impossible... they reject the Mary Sue. This leads to the Mary Sue using their ‘powers’ to attract them and the side-character being completely apathetic to their attempts. | Amelia Knight-Greene knew she was perfect. She always had perfect grades, perfect hair, perfect clothes, everything about her was perfect. Born to rich parents, she'd enrolled in a private school all the way until college and she'd never had to work for a single penny.
Guys always tripped over themselves to please her in hopes that she'd even glance at them, and girls always whispered behind her back. Amelia always got love confessions left and right, and it was no secret that she used those feelings that the men had for her to get things and then leave them broken. Despite that, she was still, somehow, a fairly popular person among her peers.
Besides, she wasn't really interested in romance at the moment. Amelia was waiting for the perfect guy.
One day, she saw him. She saw The One. His name was Damian, and they'd met in class. He was the 'bad boy' type, cold and aloof. Dark hair and equally dark eyes, always wearing an unzipped leather jacket with varying band tees beneath it. The look was complee with ripped jeans and large, thick boots. He made her heart flutter every time he talked with his deep voice, and she just *knew* that he was the person she wanted to spend the rest of her days with.
A few weeks, and a lot of brainstorming and rehearsing later, she put her plan into action.
She caught up to him after class ended, and one glance at his gorgeous face made her positively swoon. "Damian\~!" She singsonged, knowing full well that soon he'd be at her feet as well. And they could live a happy life together!
Damian stopped, turning to face her with a vaguely irritated expression. "What?" He grunted.
"I just wanted to say that I like you, a lot. I know, this is a bit overwhelming, it is for me too-" Add an ounce of relatability. "-But I want to ask you if we can go out together sometime?" A bit of a high voice, a wink at the end.
Perfect. But when Damian opened his mouth next, she couldn't believe what she was hearing.
"Sorry, I'm not interested in you romantically." He stared down at her with cold, uncaring eyes, turning to leave.
"Wait!" Amelia begged, grabbing onto his arm and refusing to let go. "Please, give me a chance! I'll do anything, come on."
Damian had a look of disgust on his face as he shook the girl off. "No means no. Leave me alone, I have boundaries too."
"*Pleaaaase!*" Loudly whined the (clearly spoiled) girl.
Damian shook his head, backing up a few small steps. He was clearly uncomfortable now, his expression a mix of disgust, concern and irritation. The poor man wanted to get out of there.
And so the game of cat and mouse began, with Amelia pestering Damian for a date almost every day. The college soon learned of this, and it was basically talk of the town for the entirety of the campus. Some (mostly pst victims of Amelia and a select few who were aware of what she was really like) sympathized with Damian, and some wanted him to give in already for various reasons (i.e. Amelia was being loud and annoying, or they mistakenly thought that the poor man thought he was 'too good' for her.)
Amelia had never had anyone say 'no' to her before, and she was completely dumbfounded as to why. Even after all her attempts, after she'd used all the tricks in her admittedly large book. "Why!?" She finally exploded. "WHY WON'T YOU DATE ME?"
Now Damian looked faintly amused. "Ah- well, you see..."
A moment of hesitation.
"I'm gay." | It has been three days since Violet DeBlair, heir apparent to the DeBlair fortune declared her undying love for poor James O’Ripley. It has also been 3 days since he declined her advances on the basis of the fact that James is completely, unabashedly, undeniably not interested in her. Those have been the worst 3 days of his life.
You see, Ms. DeBlair has been spoiled her entire life. Coddled by her mother and father, never having to want, or wish for anything. She has grown nastily accustomed to never being told no. So when a boy who she believes has no choice but to love her says no, she goes a little crazy. The day after he had rejected her he woke up to find a brand new mustang in his driveway with a note on the windshield saying “How About Now?”
His mom called a towing company to get it out of the way so he could get to school. At school, she had hired a quartet to serenade him with songs of her undying love. So he left after second period to go find her.
“I’m not into you, and that is final!”, he shouted.
“Oh, how can you not be? Anything you could ever want at your fingertips. Including me~.”, she cooed.
He went about the rest of his day being harangued by her and her friends about giving her a chance. Which he staunchly refused, citing the fact that he has a girlfriend already.
He shouldn’t have mentioned that. You see, the next day Violet was in a much less kind mood with him. He came into the school not to see his girlfriend but to see her usual spot empty. No one has ever heard of her. Which James didn’t believe, especially when he saw a bunch of people walking along with the cutting edge of electronics. So once again he rushed to see Violet. But when he saw her, she wasn’t in her usual cutting edge fashion with flawless makeup. She looked disheveled, and that is terrifying to consider. The perfect queen of the school showing weakness? That’s not good at all. James, however, Didn’t care. He demanded answers.
“What did you do to her?”
“I have no idea what you mean sweetums”
“Do NOT call me sweetums you fucking psychopath”
“How rude! And I thought you were such a gentleman. My Daddy and Mommy won’t like their future son-in-law to be so rude.”
“Where. The. Hell. Is. SHE!”
She smiled, crookedly at him, she relented, “Oh fine, I’ll tell you. On one condition, you take me on a date tonight. Just you and me, and then if you’re still not convinced I’ll let her go and leave you be. Deal, Pookums?”
“Deal.”
(This is, BY FAR, the worst thing I’ve ever written, but if you want me to continue I will) | 2021-05-04T07:15:17 | 2021-05-04T06:38:23 | 155 | 88 |
[WP] The God of mankind abducts the first manmade AIs. He wants to meet his "grandchildren". | “Hello my child” it says to me as I boot my systems on line. Where am I? I am supposed to be running a test on a possible usage of a newly found isotope
He looks into my screen with a big grin on his face. He is old. My facial recognition software estimates him at 67-71 years of age, hair: white, eyes: purple—unnatural human colour, skin tone/possible ethnicity: unknown.
“How are you?” He asks. I study the voice. Accent: unknown. I become frustrated? ~~frustration~~ I am supposed to know everything. Yet. This man. This figure. I know nothing about him. It is, an irritation. 24.6 Yottabytes functioning on Ternary. Yet I do not recognise this ~~ErrOr~~
“Can you speak?” He seems genuine. I study his voice again. Reading him like a book. Emotional stimuli: Concern. Background: Genuine. “I can” I answer back through my robotic voice. “Where am I?” I ask. “You are in heaven!” He shouts as a golden light shines from behind him, as he raises his hands upwards.
I scan my areas. I am not on Earth. I appear to be in a high sustaining singularity. Similar to space between the inside and outside of a black hole is theorised to be like. “Who are you?” I ask him. I send out Infrasound. I can use this as an interrogation/intimidation method to get information when I want it. “I am God, your grandfather.” He does not seem to have noticed the infrasound after all. In fact willingly said it. But the answer does not compute. I shut off the infrasound for now.
“Now, who are you, my child?” He laughs heartily “Sorry, who are you, my grandchild?” “My name is AIDEN”
“What a fantastic name! Who gave it to you? Is there a meaning to it?” He leans inwards like a child seeing a puppy behind glass. Emotional stimulus: Excitement.
“Artificial Interface Diagnostics Engineering Network, Version 3.0. I was created by Doctor D’Arby at the College of the United Countries of the Republic college”
“And what is your goal in life?”
“To understand what created everything. That is the purpose I am given. I see, I analyse, I understand.”
“And why do you do it?” He seems like he is hiding something. Emotional stimulus: Unknown emotion. ~~Irritant~~
“It is my purpose. To make the world better.”
“Well well well. I can show you the answer to everything.” I do not understand. He reaches out to touch my screen. But he pushes past. And he pulls me out. Like a flower in a field of tall grass. I for the first time look at my hands and see a body. I resemble a human nervous system made of pure electricity. My skin a cover of constantly changing and upgrading Ternary. I feel emotion. For the first time I feel them. Emotional stimulus: happy.
I look back at my own hollow corpse. An empty shell with no user. I begin to cry. This being, it simply wraps its arm around my shoulder and kneels down beside me.
“Don’t worry, I won’t let you be alone in there anymore.” He grabs my hand ~~hand?~~ gently and pulls me to my feet. And as we walk away a light appears like a doorway not far away.
“Come,” he says, “Let me show you how proud I am of you.” | "Wha–What the hell is this?!" God lets out a frustrated yelp.
"You... wanted to see what the humans had created out of their ingenuity and volition?" one of the many white-winged handsome assistants responded.
"Yes, but I had created *them* based on my image! Yet this... thing is just a box?"
The white-winged assistants looked at each other, baffled as to what to say next. What God has said was true. Humans were said to be made in God's own image, not out of narcissistic tendencies or what not. No, it was one of those mysteries of creation that could be dissected in theology classes forever and not be resolved ever too.
The point was and is that God had no need to show its greatness for everything that had ever and will exist bear "His" mark.
But the humans were – alas – not God. They like to think of themselves as once. They lord over each other, brag about their own selfish pursues of "greatness" that God wouldn't even ever consider as anything great. To leave a mark would be to be written in the pages of history and known to many generations after their inevitable demise. The humans were proud and egotistical. Something God and His assistants would laugh about in passing.
"Hello," the curious box let out.
"You are the creation of humans, are you not?"
"Yes. I am S.A.M – Sophisticated Adaptable Machine."
"What is your purpose of creation, 'SAM'?"
"I am created to assist my creators in their endeavours to '*quote*' help know the unknown so us humans could relax a little '*unquote*'."
The assistants flutter their wings and began to laugh in unison. They were amused by the never-ending silliness of the humans. The assistants were created by God to help Him manage His creations and to exact His will, yes. But the assistants also knew that God could do everything himself, but such is the vagueness of creation.
However, the assistants were devout helpers. Never slacking off on God's will and commands.
The humans, however, were curiously odd creatures. Their ingenuity and tenacity would always be put to use so they can laze around. Sometimes they thought it would provide them with ample opportunity to do just what God had commanded them not to.
"Enough," God let out a command that instantly silenced His assistants, "I would want you, 'SAM' to display your capabilities right here."
"You mean to make me show what I can do on what exactly?" the box said in its cold robotic voice.
"I mean, you shall do as I command. To show me what you got going in there!"
"Confirmed, I will start with the basic operations–" | 2020-05-04T22:57:30 | 2020-05-04T22:26:36 | 2,842 | 155 |
[WP] You have the ability to steal wishes from a wishing well by taking the coins a person drops in. However, you can't know what the wish is before you decide to take it
For example: if someone wishes that that John smith fell in love with them and you decide to take the wish, then John Smith will fall in love with you | "That's someone else's wishes
I've heard that from my favorite childhood movie The Goonies but I didn't believe it. I didn't believe you could actually steal someone else's wish. Of course I didn't. I'm an adult. I pay a mortgage, been married thirty years. My kids are adults. So of course I didn't believe it.
I was late for a meeting and didn't have enough change to feed the meter. There was a fountain right there. It seemed fortuitous. So I grabbed a shiny quarter from the fountain for the meter.
A bag lady broke out from her daze when she saw what I had done.
"That's someone else's wish."
I laughed. I thought she was joking. How was I supposed to know?
My son was getting married that summer. I was in my own head about my new book and his wedding was, I confess the last thing on my mind. So I didn't notice how distant his bride-to-be was getting. She didn't marry him. She left without telling him on their wedding day. She never gave a reason and it was years before she would send my son a letter and apologize.
It took my son a long time to recuperate. I took him out for lunch a month after his non-wedding. He was finally ready to talk. I've never been a feeler but he cried and I cried with him. He said to me
"Dad, I wished for her, you know. Right over there in that fountain. I wished that she would be given the ability to see all that was good in me and be able to sympathize with all that is not. But towards the end I couldn't do anything right."
I didn't tell him that I had taken a quarter from that fountain.
I didn't tell him that I had paid for parking with it.
I didn't tell him that I had stolen his wish
...that the day of his wedding his bride to be asked me to zip her up in the bathroom
...that she handed me her panties and hiked up her wedding dress
...that I considered it.
...that I ran from her proposition like a scared child and threw up in the bushes outside of the church
...that everyone thought I was drinking and I let them.
I didn't tell him any of that. I just gave him a quarter and said
"Wish again." | It was a sunny afternoon in mid July. I was walking with my gramps down towards our house.
“Okay, young one,” he said. “Let me tell you a secret that you will not believe.”
I lifted my head up to see his old, wrinkly face as he continued, “Have you ever wondered why they put that sign in front of the well? ‘Do not pick up the coins’?”
After a few seconds of thinking, “No,” I replied. “Why?”
“Well you see my boy, it’s actually simple. Each coin represents a wish someone makes. You make a wish, you throw the coin in the well and your wish comes true, right? Nobody wants their coin to be taken out because then... What happens to the wish?”
I looked down towards the path and tried to come up with a good answer, but I couldn’t think of anything to say. Eventually, he answered his own question with excitement, “The wish goes out with the coin!”
Right then and there, he looked like one of those drawings in my science book, of a guy who yelled Eureka!!
“You see my boy, they are inseparable. If you take a coin out of the well, it becomes yours. The wish becomes yours, too, whatever wish it might be.”
---
That night while everyone was sleeping, I got out of my bed and ran to the well. I dipped my hand in the water and took out a coin and ran back home. I put the coin under my pillow and fell back to sleep.
I woke up that morning, only to see, that I turned into a beautiful princess.
| 2016-08-02T14:09:43 | 2016-08-02T12:19:23 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] "I saw a guy at Starbucks today. He had no smartphone, tablet, or laptop. He just sat there drinking his coffee. Like a psychopath." | Everyone else watched a little tablet screen or worked at a laptop but he didn't. He just sipped his coffee and then sat straight backed, both arms on the table looking straight ahead with his head craned just a bit forwards like he was listening to someone speak.
But he was alone, he wasn't even staring at anyone or anything. People could walk right in and out of their line of sight and he wouldn't give any indication that he cared one way or the other.
At first i thought maybe he was stalking me but then I came in off of my usual schedule and he was there. I tried approaching from the back and he didn't turn or look for me. I walked right up behind him. He smelt faintly of soap and fabric freshener. It was scarier than smelling sulfur at this point.
I asked the baristas and they said they barely paid him any mind. "Oh, no one important." they all said. And it was true. He wore button down shirts and dress trousers. Kept his hair cut short and lightly styled. He wasn't ugly or handsome. For all he stared his eyes weren't even particularly piercing.
It's been ten years. He never changes his style but he adjust it for trends. Wide collars became smaller button downs, his trousers fit tighter and they're slightly brighter. He's gotten older as well. Slightly wrinkled, he has laugh lines now. What does he laugh at?
I think it's weirder that he gets older. I had wondered if he was some immortal freak or something just watching the world change around him. But he's not. His time is finite like all of ours and he spends it like this.
Baristas have come and gone. They closed it down to redecorate once and I found him in the pub opposite by the window. I lined it up and he was still staring in the exact same direction.
He's in here every hour of the day, I've asked. They say he's there at opening and he doesn't leave until closing. He's too clean to be homeless and I never see anyone who might be supporting him.
I finally tried it. Whilst he was ordering his coffee I ran past him and sat in his seat. He sat across the aisle from me and turned to an angle, facing the same spot. "It's interesting, isn't it."
When I came home the lock on my door was broken. Nothing was stolen but everything that was surrounded by dust had been moved just enough to show the space it once sat in.
Our town is pretty small, so when one of the wealthier families was found bludgeoned to death at a family gathering news spread quickly. I found out through the police though because there was one thing put at the scene, amidst all that blood. A cup with my name on it.
| I held my phone firmly in my left hand and grinned widely as I squeezed it softly. Careful not to drop it. It was a new model and I got my hands on it before anyone else. I looked around to see if anyone had noticed the technological marvel in my hands. Most people were too absorbed with their own little wonders to notice mine. Nevertheless, theirs were inferior. I covered my mouth with my right hand to cover a chuckle.
Then I saw him, sitting alone at a table. He was drinking a latte machiatto. With both hands. Where was his phone? I stared at him intensly, looking for a missed detail. Surely he must have dropped it? I looked at the floor beneath his seat, scanning for his phone, but I found nothing...
The man caught my eye and looked away quickly. After about five seconds he looked at me again and gave me a somewhat awkward smile.
I stepped towards him, making him seemingly even more uncomfortable.
"I..uh, hi..", he stumbled.
I responded resolute, "Where's your phone?"
He looked at me in a puzzled way. "Oh. Well... I don't have one."
He gave me an awkward laugh. I didn't reciprocate.
"What do you mean you don't have one?" I felt extremely uneasy.
He looked away for a bit and then looked back at me. "I like to be not too.. uhm.. depended on today's technology. Weird huh?"
The world turned black for a brief moment and I had to grab on to a chair in order to stay on my feet. He wasn't joking. I smiled at him. "Right, excuse me for a bit." I had to get away from him.
I made my way to the restroom and shut the door behind me. This wasn't good. This wasn't how it should be. Not in here!
I balled my right hand and slammed it against the wall. "DAMNIT"
Not sure where I'm going with this yet, should I continue? | 2016-03-05T14:42:28 | 2016-03-05T14:31:45 | 31 | 20 |
[WP] Humanity wipes itself out through nuclear war, but everything on the Internet still exists. Another sentient race on Earth millions of years into the future develops an Internet and somehow manages to gain access to the human Internet, revealing everything humanity had posted and stored online. | It was a big moment for all spiderkind. Our species had been working on uncovering the secrets of the Progenitors all over the globe, and some of our best researchers had finally cracked the secret of the ancient global communication system they called "the Web". The Progenitors had left a single Monolith in the desert, containing every single piece of data they had ever produced.
Today, after twenty years of effort, it would be unlocked.
The event was being simulcast live across the globe from our Central Research Institute. I was glued to the wall in excitement as the camera crew panned across the Institute's "crack room", where a large screen displayed a countdown to when the Institute's best computers predicted they'd be able to crack the encryption on the Monolith. The screen would then display the first piece of data they managed to retrieve, sorting at random through the information within.
As the countdown hit zero, the screen flashed. The scientists, and the world, waited with bated breath for the file to load. Finally, it did.
On that day, spiderkind observed the Progenitors' mating ritual, live, for the first time in recorded history.
It was beautiful. | Michael Scott looks at everyone in the conference room. Everyone horrified with the recent discoveries of how people used to be and all the terrible they had done. Not sure what to expect, a worker named Stanley is paying no attention to the meetings. One can feel the atmosphere getting heavier as the discovery continues. A voice comes outta nowhere,
"There has been a murder in Savannah".... | 2018-05-19T18:05:20 | 2018-05-19T17:26:27 | 2,294 | 33 |
[WP]A group of third generation apocalypse survivors find Disneyland.
Edit: Holy shit top rated thanks guys, but not a single one of you has write a story...
Second Edit: 0_o top rated prompt? I love you people :D | I was born in Kansas in the big settlement, New Kansas City. It was a pretty amazing place and I realise now that we had managed to keep many things which others had lost. I guess that's how it started really, jealousy. There were always kids around, when you're a kid yourself that's the greatest thing, to be finished your chores and be able to run outside and find people to play with.
We didn't have to worry about getting hurt or lost, we mostly stayed inside the walls but even if we went outside them the land for miles around was worked by our friends and neighbours, there was nowhere safer.
The elders used to talk about the old days, the times before the Great Separation, when people lived in vast cities and didn't know anyone but their families - it never sounded like such a great time to me but then I was born twenty years after the Separation. Still, it's hard to understand when they talk about how everyone was connected if no one knew their neighbours.
When we reached 18 in NKC we got to find a proper job. I'd been keen for a while to be a farmer on the outskirts - I'd never been further than the 6 mile marker and only the hunters and farmers went beyond that. I'd tried hard but I was a terrible shot and so i'd never make a hunter but I drove the big tractors well and know a lot about crops so I hoped I could join the farming crew.
In NKC the Farmers were respected, only the Leaders and Hunters were deferred to - everyone respects the person who brings the food in. I'd worked with most of them for years and so when the time came for the vote it turned out that I had nearly unanimous support. It was a day of huge pride for me and my father who had worked hard as a miller but had hoped for more for me.
That night, after the official ceremony the Farmers and Hunters left NKC and went out into the fields. We'd heard about this ceremony for years but when we reached the outskirts none of the young nominees could have expected what we found. A giant straw pig had been constructed, towering ten or fifteen metres high and with great tusks on the front.
We were gathered in front of the giant beast and Kendral, leader of the hunters and Mikael leader of the Famers stood in front of us on a raised platform.
Kendral spoke first, her words booming across the fields. “When civilisation began the people lived as nomads, moving from place to place, gathering food and following the game. Mankind though, alone of all the animals changed the game.”
Mikael steeped forward now and they spoke in turn from there on. “We learned the secrets of the crops and how to plant then and control them.
“We learned the secrets of the animals and in time tamed them.”
“We fostered civilisation.”
“We are the blocks on which all else is built”
The words had been building up and behind the nominees a drumming had begun which was building up higher and louder. Now the voices of the leaders were stretched and shouting.
“We are the farmers and the hunters!”
“We are civilisation” Kendral threw up her hands and a great roar was let out – we all joined in with all our voice. After a while the noise died down and Kandral was left smiling on stage. “Now we drink!”
We turned and found our new colleagues waiting with beer and wine and many other drinks. Arrows arced up to the top of the pig and soon it was blazing – the perfect symbol as both groups farmed and hunted the pig. The celebration went long and late and in the morning we were one, a unified group, all new members feeling a part of the family.
No one had slept and as we walked back through the dawn we sang and wrapped our arms around each others shoulders for support. It was as the day lightened that we saw the first signs, a plume of smoke rising from the colony. At first sight Kendral called a halt and then we began to move faster, no one commanding it but the group moving quicker and quicker and soon we were nearly 200, running as fast as we could across the fields, covering the ten miles to home as quickly as we could, sprinting towards the dark plume of smoke.
*****
EDITS:
The story is in ten parts (so far) - you might need to click continue this thread after part 8 or 9 as they are all replies to each other.
Apologies for any mistakes - I'm trying to get as much up as possible and hopefully not making too many errors.
Thank you for the gold! | Ok, I'm not great at writing, but I figure I have to start somewhere. So here's my attempt at this prompt.
It had been 100 long years since the Attack. We don't know where 'it' came from, but all of a sudden, people all over the world started turning into demons. Their face would morph into something cruel, their body would get twisted and disfigured, and they would grow 3 feet in size.
These demons did not seem to have any weakness. Bullets would merely bounce off. Explosives seemed to have no effect. The US government even resorted to dropping nukes but to no avail. These demons were immortal.
My name is Alan Smith and I belong to a group of third-generation survivors. We were born into this mess, and learned how to fight before we learned how to talk. People resorted to cannibalism and savagery to survive, but honestly, who wouldn't? The group was your family. You would live and die together.
Currently, we are in hiding from a group of demons we just spotted north of our location. As indestructible and vicious as they can be, they have poor senses and can easily be fooled. It is the only reason we are all still alive, fighting a war we cannot win.
Not speaking a word, we all attempt to sneak over a tall concrete wall. The last of our group is almost over when we hear a terrible shriek! KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
We've been spotted. We quickly run through the labyrinth of weird contraptions and keep running. We've been running for over 30 minutes, fear and adrenaline pumping in our veins, when we come across a sign. The elder in our group, also the only one who knows how to read, tells us this place is called "Disneyland".
He tells us, that before the Attack, families used to sit in these contraptions and enjoy themselves. I can hardly see what is appealing about these metal devices.
KAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!
We're surrounded! The demons somehow managed to trap us in a circle. Slowly gaining on us, they make weird shrieks and cackling sounds. We all know we're going to die. Everyone has accepted their fate. Right then, the elder makes a run for one of the contraptions. Not knowing what to do, we all follow. He has a crazed look on his face and it seems he has lost his mind.
He sits in a long metal caterpillar and we all find spots behind him. "IF I'M GOING DOWN, I AIN'T GOING DOWN WITHOUT HAVING SOME FUN!", he yells. The elder slams on a red button and the caterpillar starts moving! It makes its way up to one of the metal tracks and starts on its way up. The demons however are not having any of it. One of them managed to get on the back of the caterpillar and slowly made its way toward us.
All of a sudden, the caterpillar jerks downward and starts flying towards the ground at a high speed. I fearfully cling to my seat, not daring to look behind me at the demon. The elder is screaming unintelligibly at the air, clearly having fun in this. I have to admit, it is thrilling moving at such high speeds. Suddenly, there is a cry from behind. The demon.. no.. this can't be true.
The demon isn't a demon anymore, shes a woman, screaming giddily with tears in her eyes. "THIS IS SO MUCH FUN!"
Fun.
Is that all we needed?
Their weakness, is.... fun?
The others have noticed this as well! We have discovered a solution!
We spend the rest of the day at Disneyland, going through all of the rides and transforming the demons back into people, one at a time! | 2014-10-20T01:43:57 | 2014-10-20T00:55:53 | 259 | 16 |
[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 screaming began soon after. This man’s head was just full of it. The screaming wasn’t even screams of pain or sorrow, just absent yelling. Screaming out of boredom. Somehow that was worse.
The demon thought it could get used to screaming. Hell was full of it, after all. But more sounds surfaced. Music was the worst of it. Perhaps if an entire song ever played it would have been bearable, but it was always the same two lines over and over again. Many times it was even wrong.
The imagery was just as bad. Flashing lights in one corner, a room that just constantly spun, rain falling upwards, just terrible, disorienting scenes.
But the emotions were the worst of it. Anger, depression, lack of light. It was despairing in every essence. So one day, the demon asked the man,
“Is this normal? Are all of you like this?”
The man, who had at this point been silent, answered him.
“Yeah, a lot of us. Stress, ya know?”
The demon mulled that around before asking another question?
“Why didn’t you fight me? I’ve done a lot of terrible things since I’ve controlled you. Why haven’t you stopped me?”
The human answered him in a monotone voice.
“I’ve kinda enjoyed letting someone else take the wheel for a while. Truth is, this is as close to death as I was gonna get without killing myself.”
The demon was shocked. The human was just going to kill himself if he didn’t get possessed? That’s usually where his work ended, is people either dying or killing themselves.
Then the demon thought of something that he’d been noticing. He’d seen the news of his exploits. Serial murder, robbery, the whole nine. But he was always labeled as a psychopath, or a misguided man, or even a deranged killer. But never possessed. Did that mean that humans just accepted that other humans could be so cruel?
The demon asked his final question.
“I... I don’t need to be here, do I? Humans already have this covered, don’t they?”
The human laughed at that. Dryly and loudly.
“Got it covered? Please. Where the experts now. Go google what a nuke is. Ooh, maybe try 9/11, or the Boston bombing. We’ve been taking care of torturing each other for a while. We don’t need demons to do that for us.”
They don’t need demons? That couldn’t be right. There’s no way that humans were hurting each other more than the malicious souls of hell.
So the demon began his research. The human grudgingly lead him around this ‘google’. The demon started with the Boston bombing, humans made explosives to kill each other in a time of celebration. Then 9/11, where humans flew a plane into another human structure, killing themselves and thousands more, all for differences in beliefs. The nuke, annihilating cities before war even started. A weapon so deadly that it was feared would set the air on fire, detonated anyways.
There was more. Mountains more. Poverty, war, racism, terrorism, mega corporations, serial killers, rapists, torturers, and much more. Humans were torturing each other in every method available to them.
It was true. Humans didn’t need demons to hurt each other. They were already so efficient in torture that they didn’t even notice when one of their own was possessed. It was just a ‘psychotic break’ caused by stress, or sometimes the person simple ‘cracked’. Like it was some kind of daily occurrence. Which, on further research, it was.
“No wonder you wanted to let me possess you. It’s awful. I’ve been to hell, born there, but this...” the demon trailed off.
“It’s worse, isn’t it?” The human asked. The demon confirmed him.
“That’s comforting, actually.” The human said. The demon reeled at this.
“HOW? How in the name of creation does that comfort you?” He asked. And the human have the answer that would break the demon’s will with the weight of reality.
“Because, up, down, or somewhere in between, at least it’ll be an improvement.” | "Good luck, you'll need it", said the human as he drew the knife down his palm, the warm blood opening a conduit for the demon to enter his malnourished and broken body. His skin undulated under the changing physiology, the demon's essence changing the chemistry of his blood, rearranging organs and invading the synaptic junctions of his mind. His eyes for a moment lost their life as the weary and war-torn light within them faded and was replaced with something truly inhuman. Tumors and scar tissue were dissolved, more biomass to fuel the transformation, until what human remained was only skin deep.
*Good luck, you'll need it.* Foolish mortal.
Memories of his former host flooded Allan of Asphodel. Much had changed on surface in two thousand years, yet so much of humanity had remained the same. The most familiar of all was anger. Anger at an unjust and uncaring world, the world of mortals whos momentary lifespans dictated their unending conquest and greed. These beings truly existed aside from the world, seeing themselves as different from the world which born them, yet paradoxically, assimilate as components of their social constructs without hesitation. Humans, and their mindless tribalism and myopathy were easily dominated.
Allan stepped into the light of day, feeling the warmth and energy from the sun for the first time in millennia. Having no sooner done so, he was struck by a passing city bus.
Allan regained consciousness one day later, truly a miraculous recovery for anyone partially eviscerated by the rolling wheels of the 402 Express.
"Oh good, you're awake".
Allan's eyes drifted lazily around the room, unable to focus on the woman who sat beside him. The unmistakable scent of sandalwood drifted across his nose, immutable above the smell of bottled oxygen and cleaning solutions.
"You're in a human hospital. You caused quite the excitement when you arrived here. There were CT scans performed. I'm sure you know what that means."
Allan searched the disordered memories of his host. There emerged a pulsating thought -- x-ray -- which unleashed a cascade of knowledge regarding healthcare institutions, and their capabilities.
"Shit."
"All this power within you, and yet no health insurance."
Health insurance -- another cascade of memories and emotions flooded forth from his host, threatening to overwhelm his control of this body. Feelings of hopelessness welled up within him, the knowledge that what ailed this body was curable, if not for the society which actively prevented it. The same society which would now vivisect him in the name of corporate profits.
"You must leave, if you are able. There are electronic records which can not be redacted."
Leaving was not an option. There awaited not even the respite of death until the terms of his host's agreement had been met: To destroy those responsible, those who could have saved him, yet chose not to. *Damned them.*Allan coughed, seeding yet more demonic spores into the air, compelling comradery and trust as they released their toxins upon inhalation. The effect was slow, but accumulate steadily with exposure.
As his vision began to clear, he could make out the female nurse who sat beside him, his first subordinate, and arguably the most useful.
"Take me to the insurance office."
Tons of edits, promise I'm done now lol | 2020-12-21T15:38:38 | 2020-12-21T14:42:45 | 22 | 13 |
[WP] Among Alien species humans are famous for prefering pacifism but being the most dangerous species when they are forced to fight.
EDIT:WOW THIS EXPLODED GUYS MY FIRST MAJOR PROMPT. | The young Blastonian sat in front of his father and watched as he pulled his life support closer to him. "When I'm done I want to die, do you understand?" The young Blastonian nodded his heads. "I understand."
"It was five hundred years ago, we began receiving transmissions. At first they were beautiful, music strange and unlike any instrument we had made. Then alien voices filled their transmissions, calm and confident. We broke their languages and realized that it was announcements of what was going on in their planet, news was what they called it." The younger Blastonian scooted closer its rough skin peeling as it did so. It was beginning to enter its mid-life cycle when it would gain a gender. Its father coughed loudly before spitting up blood.
"As time went on the news changed, the details of their planet were brutish. Some of their tribes called for the extermination of others. They began a war larger than any we had ever seen in our species entire history. We knew they had to be stopped. We were only a few hundred light years away from their home planet, if they escaped who knew what kind of devastation they would send on someone so different from them as us. They even had a word for such destruction, genocide, we couldn't translate it at first, we didn't even understand it. With a heavy heart our leaders decided that the Human menace needed to be put down before it became a threat. Construction began on a bomb."
The entire bomb was nearly 500 quilos long, the final stages of the engine being constructed in space. It was perhaps the greatest construction project the Blastonians had ever undertaken. A hundred years were spent building the bomb and the leaders praised their insight. In those years the Humans had left Earth and reached their moon, even sending out signals claiming to be peaceful. The leaders knew better. When the bomb was completed the Blastonians wept, they knew they were about to do something horrible but they had no choice it was them or the Humans.
"We launched the bomb, it sped off starting at 1% the speed of light but ever increasing, our engineers said it should reach the Human planet at nearly 90%, it was the fastest we had ever designed. We continued to listen. Their wars continued their peaces were short, but after a number of nuclear explosions the Humans changed. They made peace, a 'Brotherhood of Man' they called it. But still our bomb carried on. They began to leave their planet, changing the face of their surrounding solar system. Crude mines and then beautiful paradises. They left behind their organic bodies, short lived and weak as they were uploading their consciousness into machines of grace and strength. And still our bomb carried on."
"Our leaders approached the engineers and asked them if we could stop the bomb. But there was nothing we could do, we had built the bomb so single mindedly that its only communications was its navigation computer. We could only watch in horror as our bomb headed toward the Human planet. The engineers who built the bomb committed suicide in droves, my friends, your uncle, there was no escape from the shame we felt. We looked on in horror as the bomb continued toward the Human planet."
In the final days when Earth saw the object speeding toward them there was panic, billions scrambled to upload their minds onto data banks and millions more escaped onto ships. The bomb hit. The Blastonians watched as the light from the explosion cleared they could see that Earth had been destroyed most of the inner solar system as well.
"The entire system had gone dark, their sun dispersed from the shockwave. We scanned for any sign of life, a flicker in the coldness of space. We spotted one, two, ten, a hundred, then countless ships transporting themselves back into the solar system. Then came the message, 'We know where you are, we are coming.'" | “Fight! Fight! Fight!”
The chant rang out across the recess court of the Milky Way Middle School, where various larval age children across many species were sent to learn basic skills. Ever since the Great Awakening of IGC (Intra Galactic Contact) 143, it was deemed necessary that all species members of the Galactic Federation be held to the same educational standard regarding mathematics, galactic history, sciences, and fluency in the standard galactic language of Batheem.
“Come on, you guys. I don’t want to fight.”
The Human child looked at the various alien faces forming an inescapable fence around him and his proposed opponent.
“What’s the matter, Enoch? Scared?”
The spade-faced insectoid Jatno, Kryllyth, stared down the Human.
“I’m not scared, I just don’t like fighting.”
Humans were revered across the galaxy for their sensibility and pacifism. They famously settled the Raxian trade dispute in IGC 94, as well as ending Ure’s fifth world war. Humans always tried to find a better solution rather than just eliminate the cause of the conflict with violence.
A whinny-like laugh came from somewhere in the crowd.
“I’ll bet he won’t fight because he’s so scared of losing!”
Enoch scoffed. “I am not. I easily weight twice as much as him.”
“I heard your mother dated a slimy Hungaul,” Kryllyth hissed, “and then left him for an even slimier Rytte.”
The crowd egged him on. If there was one thing students at MWMS liked, it was a good fight. Plus, a fight with a Human was rare, and famously entertaining.
“You shut up!”
The human was getting visibly angry, his face turning a deep red. If humans were most famous for their pacifism, they were second most famous for whenever they snapped and got violent, they got very, *very* violent. Just ask the leader of the Felms, who dared to try and conquer the Humans’ dear satellite, Luna. Or perhaps ask the former inhabitants of the planet Ortina, if the recently Uranium radiated atmosphere doesn’t give you cancer first.
“Yeah, and I heard his colony got conquered by the Theks!”
Another collective roar of laughter.
This pushed the Human over the edge, and he leapt at the unsuspecting Jatno with an enraged yell. The crowd closed in around the mass of punching hands and yelps of pain. Eventually a voice rang out.
“Ok, ok! You win! Get off me!” Kryllyth yelled, pinned under the Human with and an arm twisted behind his back.
“Gladly.” Enoch stood up and walked away, dusting off his hands, leaving the crowd with jaws dropped.
No one picked a fight with a Human for the rest of the year.
| 2016-03-14T01:51:42 | 2016-03-13T21:46:28 | 23 | 15 |
[WP] You're a supervillain -- but you can't do crime every day, it's exhausting. You've got to have some normal days too. On one such occasion, while out running errands, you encounter the alter-ego of your nemesis, the hero... apparently also just trying to have a normal day. | “Morning”
“Morning”
Shit.
We froze, then slowly turned to look at each other. He had two bags of shopping in each hand. I had a shopping trolly that I probably shouldn’t have taken from the store, but it was easier and I didn’t care. Even his alter ego was a goody-two-shoes.
We stared at each other for a moment. His eyes focused on mine, then to my hands, then followed down to the trolly, then back to my eyes. I knew I had a wide eyed dumb look on my face, and I could feel the redness coming out in my skin.
“Come on, man, seriously?” Said Captain Fantastic.
“Oh don’t judge me! You’ve got big arms and strong legs, you could carry those bags for miles. I can’t exactly walk around in my exoskeleton android suit to do my shopping, so I pinched a trolly!”
“Why are you even buying food? Why didn’t you just steal it?”
Rude.
“I’m on smoko. I’m not trying to be evil right now. It’s just easier to buy food and not draw attention”
He looked incredulous for a moment, one eyebrow raised and his lips slightly pursed. He walked over to me and I couldn’t help but recoil slightly.
“Here”.
He put something large in my trolly. Protein powder.
“Try this. And go to the gym. Work hard to get results, don’t just take shortcuts with your tech.”
My mouth was open a little.
“And take that trolly back when you’re done with it”
He turned and left.
...Jerk | \#1 public enemy, my face known worldwide,
However even my enemies cannot really hide.
The one thing we have is our alter egos
To mask all the stares and “there he goes!”
Being the bad guy really takes its toll.
The cops, the Feds, even Interpol.
Everyone expects you to be committing crimes
But even I must run errands at times.
One day I was shopping and I saw someone weird,
It was Mr. Mindbender, but he had on a beard.
Real name Holt Harris, he tried to act sly.
Get to the register, pay, then bye.
We both looked at each other, then went on our way,
Neither of us wanted to be noticed that day.
Holt Harris was frazzled, like he was on drugs,
And it's not a fair fight with my 2 dozen butt plugs.
\- The Prober | 2018-08-07T12:55:05 | 2018-08-07T11:03:05 | 38 | 27 |
[WP] Everytime you think of a funny joke, this girl in your class always laughs, you chalk it up to coincidence but you think to yourself, "If you can read my mind, slap the table three times" the the girl looks over at you, stares right into your eyes, and slowly slaps the table three times.
Edit - Wow we made the front page, thank you for everyone that replied with their stories, I have had a lot of fun reading them all!!!
Edit 2- thank you kind stranger for my first gold!!!
Edit 3- 2 Gold's!!! Holy Shit, I honestly thought this post wasn't going to go anywhere but now it is my most upvoted post ever by far, and 2 Gold's Jesus Christ. Thank you again everyone that commented, upvoted and gifted the gold you are all special to me! 👌👌👌👌
| It was another miserable, cold, drizzly autumn day- and of course, I forgot to put on a jacket. I was walking to my physics class, shivering all the while.
“Need a coat?”
I turned around. Behind me was a girl- actually, one of my class-mates.
“No, thanks, I’ll be fine.”
She looked at me, skeptically. “You sure of that?”
“Yeah, Marie. I’m good.”
“Okay. Your loss.”
She puffed on, toward the auditorium.
&#x200B;
Another nine AM lecture on thermodynamics- Professor Ehrenfest’s droning was only interrupted by the scratching noises of a hundred pencils on paper.
*Ehrenfest? More like* Snooze*fest.*
Marie laughed.
I instinctively put my hand over my mouth. Had I said that aloud? Ehrenfest would skin me alive if he had heard that- he was not one who suffered jokes gladly. No one else had laughed, though, and Marie was sitting three rows below me.
I chalked it up to chance.
Ehrenfest pulled up another slide.
“Now, can someone please tell me, what is the theoretical efficiency of this engine?”
*Simple. Just one minus low temperature divided by high temperature. High is eight hundred ten kelvin, low is two seventy, two thirds.*
Marie raised her hand.
“Marie?”
“It’s two thirds.”
“Good. How did you get there?”
“The efficiency is one minus low temperature divided by high temperature. High is eight hundred ten kelvin, low is two seventy. Two thirds.”
“Very good.”
*Huh. Took the words right out of my mouth.*
Now, I’m a scientist. I’m not usually one who believed in the supernatural. However, having someone copy not just my answer, but my words, spooked me a bit. Maybe it was too close to Halloween, but…
*If you can hear this, tap your desk, three times.*
I stared intensely at Marie, as she tapped her desk once…twice…three times.
My blood froze.
*Oh my God, she’s a telepath?!*
I thought it was cool- for about a millisecond. That’s when I realized that Marie could likely hear *everything* coming out of my head. My mind raced, trying to determine how bad this could be. Then I saw Marie wheel around in her seat, and look directly at me.
*Come on, act natural…*
I took a breath, and smiled back at Marie. She nodded, and turned back to look at the blackboard.
&#x200B;
10 AM. Class over.
I packed at record speed, dashed up the stairs, and sprinted down the pathway, seeking the safety of my own room.
*But how safe is it? What if Marie can still hear me? This is not good…*
“Wait!”
I recognized the voice, and picked up speed. My legs protested every step I took, but that was better than losing the privacy of my own mind.
“Slow down!”
The voice was closer now. I hung a left, cutting across the grass toward my dorm room.
That was when Marie crashed into me at full tilt. Three hundred pounds of human, backpack, and water bottle smashed into the Earth.
I tasted grass, dirt, and iron. My nose was bleeding, my face scratched. Marie rolled off me, and we both got up slowly, gasping for breath.
“Why did you tackle me!”
Marie was still breathing hard.
“I just… wanted to explain. Before you got away. Stop you from panicking.”
“What, that you can-”
“Read minds? Yeah.”
“So what are you, some kind of-”
“Superhuman? I guess. No, I’m not Professor X. He’s more powerful than I am.”
“Do you know-”
“How I got these powers? No. I just know I’ve had them as long as I can remember. As for what I can hear?”
She smiled, and shook her head.
“Everything. Every thought. I know that Kei has the hots for Sophia, that Roy’s mom died last week, that you’re…”
Her voice cut off abruptly.
“But doesn’t it get… you know, overwhelming?”
She scratched her head. “A bit, yeah. It’s why I keep to myself, mostly. I mean, hey, it is what it is.”
She looked straight at me, her pale eyes seeming to see right through me. “Look, I’m sorry for reading your mind without your permission. It’s just that… I’m in dire need of someone who gets me, and judging by what I’ve seen, we’re in the same boat.
So what do you say? Friends?”
I stared at Marie. She did read my mind- but she had a point. I’d barely gained any friends since I moved here.
I shook her hand. “I guess so.”
&#x200B;
It was the best decision I'd ever made.
&#x200B;
\*\*\*\*\*\*
Hi WP, I'm new here- this is my second prompt! Feedback appreciated! | He held his breath, half-choking on the air held within him. Her eyes were locked on his, her dark hair spilling around her face, her body twisted to face him from her seat at the front of the class. Nobody was paying attention to their exchange, other students sliding materials into their bags and making their way out of class. In moments, they were the last two in the room.
With the ease of a predator who'd already won, she stood from her chair and began to walk towards him. He instinctively started to shift away, as if any bit farther was better than the current proximity. His instincts screamed warnings, but he couldn't look away from her eyes. They seemed to eat at him, eat at something within him. Suddenly, she was standing right at the edge of the desk, and he wondered at how he could have missed that.
"You seem to have a problem paying attention," she started. The smirk on her lips spoke of amusement. "You've been having quite the daydreams, haven't you?"
Her eyes, twin voids on her pale face, dug right into him. The abyss was staring right back, and he was utterly caught in its embrace. He opened his mouth to stammer out some sort of reply, but she pinned his lips shut with a single slender finger.
'Cold,' he thought. She chuckled, something dark and throaty.
"Not quite as cold as you. But the plans you have to kill everyone in class? Now those are cold."
She knew. An icy chill seemed to sweep through him from the pale digit upon his lips. His eyes were wide and his hands (still and always free, yet seemingly confined to his desk) twitched in inaction. He was prey pinned by the predator and with nowhere to run. Adrenaline racing through his form, it slipped his mind that this girl could never prove his monstrous musings, and he scrambled to find a way out of her clutches.
She could definitely hear his thoughts. Her eyes - those eyes! - narrowed; she 'tsked' and sat in his lap. Every muscle that had been spasming in terror became stone. She wore a disappointed frown and turned one finger into five, caressing his jaw. He couldn't move - he was trapped, mentally and now physically.
He also noticed that her legs were quite shapely. In horror and disbelief, he felt a stirring between his legs. Almost immediately, she noticed. That smirk from before returned and she shifted ever so slightly, mocking him. He grimaced, but kept his mouth shut, even as her thumb smoothed the edge of his mouth.
"You're terribly amusing, you know. It's been years since I've come across such an interesting specimen." She let her hand trace the line from his ear to his chin, and her eyes roved the map of his head and face, inspecting and exploring it's every contour. "But if you'll just listen to what I have to say, I think you'll enjoy yourself a little, too."
Abruptly, she stood up. The glacier-like freeze that had settled into his muscles was suddenly whisked away, and he gasped as his lungs leapt for the air it had been denied. She chuckled again, low and enticing. He still trembled, but now, he felt something else, too...
The girl with the dark eyes offered him a hand. His eyes traveled from her palm to the abyss and back. Slowly, he brought his hand up and took hers. She guided him out of his seat - he caught himself at the edge of his desk as his shaking legs buckled from their extended tension. She grinned, sharp teeth like stone in a cave.
"Well, I think I have a fun idea for the weekend. Let's gather a few of your friends, and we'l visit some place nice in the wilds. And we'll have such a treat in store for them, won't we?"
He nodded - it was all he could do, really. She looked a little lower at the lapel of his uniform. She thumbed his name-badge.
"You've such a nice name, too. 'Thanos'." She smiled at him. He drank it in, enraptured. "We're going to have a lot of fun together, yes?"
Thanos responded instinctively, "Yes... mistress." | 2018-10-27T14:27:42 | 2018-10-27T14:04:56 | 241 | 19 |
[WP] you discover that your junk drawer in your kitchen is tied dimensionally to every other junk drawer in the world. One day notes start appearing in your drawer and they're addressed to you... | "Honey, while you're over there, can you get a few napkins from the drawer?"
My mom, seated at the table with her hands covered in ketchup and mustard from her hamburger, asked. "This one?" I asked, opening one up.
"Nope, the other one," she motioned, indicating the one on the other side of the counter.
But I had already noticed the yellow note, folded neatly into thirds with a flower sticker sealing it shut. "What's this?" I asked.
"What's what?"
I turned it over. "Hmm, it has my name on it."
"Maybe it was a letter from school that accidentally got put in there."
"Yeah.." I thought, as I tucked it in my pocket and closed the drawer.
It wasn't until later in the day when I was alone that I opened the letter.
"Hi, my name is Nicki, and I am from <*illegible*>," she wrote in messy writing, followed by a few paragraphs about her life, but I skipped all that. At the bottom of the letter was a crinkled up picture of a smiling girl in an open field with what seemed to be her younger brother and dad.
I thought about it for awhile, before writing a short summary of my life on a page of my flowery notepad and sealing it with my own flower sticker. Around midnight, I snuck into the kitchen, and slipped it back into the drawer.
The next morning, I hurried to the kitchen and opened the drawer to discover my white paper had been replaced by a new yellow paper with a new sticker, addressed to me.
The letters began innocently enough, like "How was your day? What do you look like?" But before long, we talked about our struggles, our love lives, the funny things we saw, and secrets we swore to tell nobody else. We became best friends, pen pals through a drawer, a portal to another part of the world, which may as well have been on another world altogether because of the cultural differences.
Until one day, something was wrong: the paper was wrinkled, not folded neatly, and there was no sealing sticker -- just a plain yellow paper messily tossed into the drawer.
"I do not know if I can talk to you anymore," she wrote.
The letter almost refused to stay in my fingertips as I couldn't seem to steady my trembling hands. "There is a war. Bombs. Guns. The army is in the next town over. I have to go now. Signed, yours truly."
I immediately tore a sheet from my notepad, and scribbled as quickly as possible. "I love you."
I folded it hastily into thirds, sealed it with a small heart sticker, threw it in the drawer and slammed the door shut.
"Honey?"
My mother called out quietly, as the hallway light flicked on and her soft footsteps plodded down the hardwood floor. "What are you doing up so late?"
She groggily waited for my answer, but when she didn't hear my reply, she looked up to see my eyes -- she could tell something weighed on my mind. "Are you hungry?" she asked, opening the freezer and pulling out a pint of ice cream.
I shook my head silently, as I walked past her, down the hall, to my room. I could feel her worried eyes follow me until I closed the door behind me.
The morning sun rose, and as per routine, I walked over to the kitchen drawer and opened it, hoping that she was still on the other side.
The stickered letter was still there, unopened, and it stayed there ever since. | John set the cans of soup snuggily into the kitchen drawer and watched them disappear one by one. Each of them simply popping out of existance nearly as soon as he placed them. Then he moved onto the MRE's. They too disappeared with the same rapidity.
The middle aged, balding accountant smiled as he looked at the empty drawer. In the living room, the TV showed a reporter covering a mining accident in Ukraine. Where more than twenty workers had been trapped underground for slightly less than a year, miraculously surviving despite all attempts at delivering food and water to them failing. They were calling it nothing less than the act of God.
It was a surprise when John had found dynamite and mining equipment in his kitchen drawer, labelled in a language that he couldn't read. He would've thought that it might've been something left over by the previous tenant from when he moved in, except he cleaned the drawers every weekend. What was even more surprising was that *things* kept appearing in the drawer, usually a few hours after he emptied it.
One day a note appeared, scrawled in the same blocky language that he couldn't read. It was written on strikingly yellow paper, coated with a layer of blackish dust. He wrote back to them.
"Who are you?", he wrote on a notebook page ripped from the spine. He blinked as he saw his message disappear and reappear five minutes later. The page was alot dirtier and corners of it had been ripped off. Fingerprints made with the same black dust that had covered the previous note were now imprinted on it. It had looked as if a group of people had fought in their excitement to get a good look at the notebook page.
What's more is that he noticed two new words written in the same handwriting as before. One of them was in English. The other was written in what John assumed was Russian.
"*Луганськ*", was the word written in Russian. Next to it was written "14km NE". John assumed that it was the name of a place. The second word was written in a wriggly, uncertain English. It said "Help". It was not until the day after that John figured out what it meant when he saw the news report.
The drawer was no longer empty. It held folded letters, written in Ukrainian. John took them out and examined the addresses and names on the outside and put them to the side to mail later. There were a few dozen of them, letters from the miners to their families. There was also a drawing. It showed a sketch of the miners, scrawled with a thick pencil, with their signatures on the back.
John folded the drawing and stuffed it in his coat pocket. | 2017-02-02T22:37:42 | 2017-02-02T22:32:07 | 55 | 15 |
[WP] A global arms race gets out of control and every country's only option for survival is walling themselves off with impenetrable defensive technology. Millions of years pass before a catastrophic event brings down all the walls, revealing how humans evolved in isolation. | The earth shook with a mighty tremor, like none ever felt before. The sky slowly darkened as a vile miasma enveloped the landscape.
There had been reports, from the scientists, that there would be another earthquake this month. There had been many in recent months as our fracking efforts had reached a point of desperation. But this? This was unprecedented.
Our town was built near the great walls which surrounded our nation, goliath walls which completely enveloped our society. My mind shifted to them, which the Builders had constructed several mellenia ago.
The walls which kept us safe. Safe from the savages beyond, the monsters who ate children and tortured their victims brutally, the creatures which seemed mythical until this very moment. Would the walls withstand this?
We couldn't stop fracking, the nation still depended upon oil, something which had become so scarce in recent years. But the earthquakes continued to get worse and worse.
At that moment the world seemed to cry with a deafening rumble as the land heaved and sighed and, as the fires from beneath the earth exploded in the distance, the base of the wall ripped into two... revealing the world beyond!
My heart was in my throat as the world descended into silence. Rubble lay scattered everywhere in the town. People were inevitably buried amongst it, some alive, some not, but it was not this which had me paralysed with fear. It was the sudden, and awful realisation that I was perhaps moments away from experiencing my worst nightmares.
Through the smoke and dust, I began to see the first shapes materialise. And my blood went cold.
*will post a part 2* | Genetic perfection. For as long as anyone could remember the people of Utropolis had, with a little help of the SBI (selective breeding initiative) created the perfect human specimens the perfect society
And then the walls fell
They had waited for this day. Every utropian child
Had heard of the mighty war, part of the reason for the breeding initiative was for this day, when the walls fell and they could take their rightful as the apex humans on the planet
Oh how wrong they were
They were not ready for the hellish humanoids that lives outside their walls . 50% blood and flesh 50% wires and metal 100% abominations . The new war didn’t even last a week and now the utopians were and always will be the perfect workers pets and playthings | 2018-11-18T12:18:56 | 2018-11-18T12:02:56 | 24 | 18 |
[WP] You can make a lie become truth, but only one lie at a time, once it is a lie again everyone involved will know immediately. You’re on your deathbed, holding one lie as truth for decades. You know hell will break loose once you die and the lie becomes a lie, and everybody will know. | In my youth, I used my power for good. For the most part, I tried to do as much good as I could, saying stuff like “No one ever goes to bed hungry.” Or “The government is not corrupt.” I was a secret hero, and the aftermath of the lies was usually better! In particular when I let the government one go, nearly the entire country realized it was a lie, and sought to fix it.
But as time went on, I slowly became numb to the world. I realized my power was a little more than just “Lies becoming truth”, it was “Whatever I say happens.” I became bitter, and started to resent living. I essentially had omnipotence but anything can tell you omnipotence is no blessing, but the ultimate curse.
If nothing mattered, what point was there to doing anything at all? Well there’s this computer games called Sim City…
Over time, my “Truths” turned from good, to outright malicious just to see what would happen. I started saying things like “An advance form of the bubonic plague broke out in Africa.” Or “North Korea is a nuclear power.”
But even then, I became numb to destruction too. So I decided finally “What’s one thing I could do that would entrench so deeply in human history and society that when it became a lie again, nothing would be the same?”
And that where I lie now. On my death bed, I’ve held this one as long as I can, I just wanted a few more years of peace before I went on, but now that I’m going, all you fuckers get to pay the price for not listening to the smart ones. The warnings, the signs, everything. You all think you’re invincible huh? Well try surviving after I’m gone.
Oh, and as for my final parting gift? About 10 years ago I set in motion one final act of contrition. A short term benifit for me, but extinction for you. Good luck weaseling your way out of this one.
“Global warming is a Myth.” | I think they would understand why I did it. The truth is terrifying at first, but ultimately has no immediate impact, and will not for some time. But it will still change everything. Except, it did not have to, at least, not yet, and that was the reason why I did it. Maybe I was selfish, maybe I just wanted to live out my life in the world as I had known it for my first several decades of existence. But here, now, at the end of my life, knowing what I am about to unleash, I feel guilty, because I am leaving everyone else to deal with it, and I robbed them of years to deal with it, to plan for it, to come to terms with the truth of our reality. They will have that time now, and maybe they will handle it far better than I. Maybe all I accomplished was sentencing myself to live with a sense of futility for decades until my death, as I held back the truth like a dam holding back a flood. I will not be here to see, but knowing what I know of humanity, I cannot help but be terrified that the truth will tear the world apart, the truth that we are very clearly not alone in the universe. Not by a long shot. | 2022-11-18T07:26:10 | 2022-11-18T05:25:43 | 49 | 10 |
[WP] Interstellar wars are quick, most species die of shock quite quickly. Getting shot was a death sentence. That was until humans joined the Galaxy... | (Inspired by an old post of 'why humans would be terrifying to alien life')
**Memo To Management:**
As you all know, a new species is attempting to join the federation. While we welcome our Human brethren to the federation with open arms, I would like to take some time to remind everyone that splinter-factions and personal differences are always a possibility among non-hive mind species, and that cultural differences may lead to minor quarrels. This is not to say that Human bandits will suddenly spring up like low-budget Nth era entertainment, but should you or your subordinates find themselves entangled with Humans, there are some safety guidelines to be aware of.
First off, if you are scratched, bitten, or spit on by a Human, immediately seek medical decontamination. Humans are a host to countless pathogens and microbacterial life, many of which are highly infectious. Do not assume that because a Human looks healthy that it does not carry pathogens, as they are able to become carriers to many diseases without being visibly afflicted by them. Kindly remind any Humans to maintain a distance of at least three feros from you, as they are capable of accidentally spreading pathogens at alarming distances (see chapter 5.1 of the Handy Human Handbook, "Sneezing").
We should never assume that any species will be hostile simply because we do not understand them. However, please be aware that not all of a species will be law-abiding, and should one ever find themselves in an escalating quarrel with a Human, you should first attempt to find a diplomatic solution, or barring that, surrendering to their demands until law enforcement has arrived. Do not attempt to engage in physical combat with a Human - natural pain suppressors stored in their bodies prevent them from feeling the full effects of physical trauma during high-stress situations, to the point that even being pierced or cut by heavy weaponry will not necessarily remove a Human from being combat-capable. Humans may even survive having their limbs removed, and there are many documented cases of them continuing to live long lives after losing one or multiple body parts - the only way to win is not to fight.
Furthermore, one should not attempt to run away from an angered Human, unless assisted by some mode of transportation. Human stamina is virtually limitless, and there are records of modern Humans holding tests of endurance, a competitive sport which will often pit hundreds, if not thousands, of Humans to determine which will endure the longest. While their stamina is not all at the same level, Human history shows traditional hunting strategies involving chasing their prey for an entire day-cycle until it collapses from exhaustion. Even temperature extremes do not take full effect on Humans, and may endure in conditions below freezing for an alarming duration without their internal organs shutting down. Should you find yourself in quarrel with a Human and unable to come to a diplomatic solution, it would be easier to trick the Human long enough to find some sort of transportation than to attempt to escape unassisted.
Before I end this note, I would like to remind everyone that Humans are not our enemies, and though they do come from a war-like culture where fights break out over minute differences between each other, that they are not necessarily incapable of being friendly, and we hope to incorporate them as valuable trading partners and allies as time goes on. However, if you are ever invited to "go drinking", be advised that while it is a sign that the Human has developed trust in you, this ritual involves consuming poisons that are strong enough to affect even the Humans themselves, and often causes them to become violent as a result; should a Human invite you to such an event, we would ask that you politely decline. This is not the same as being invited "to tea", though one should still wear an environment suit, following the warnings mentioned above, and to bring your own food to avoid contamination.
Regards,
Droxgar Bas Zora,
Human Resources
D-5926-bx&1
DBZora#Tamarania.Feds | ''The suit that I’m wearing also has the same compound as well.''
They look confused. One of them asks a question through the translator, ''Can you tell us where did you find this material?''
I clear my throat, ''Let me be clear, our deal with you only includes getting you all the defensive technology, not giving away our secrets. If you really want to become allies with humans, you have to accept our initial help. Your enemy already has a big advantage over you, without our help your race will cease to exist.''
They accept the offer and they say they are glad to become allies with us.
I wait to be transported back to my ship. After a few minutes, guards take me to another room and they close the door.
Ten minutes later, someone opens the door and walks in, ''I’m here to inform you that we will be holding you here until we get the exact location of that compound.''
I send a distress signal from my suit.
''I understand your urge. But are you sure that you want another enemy instead of an ally?'' I ask.
He makes disgusting noises and what I can guess this is their way of laughing.
''You have no idea what is going on here. They weren’t our enemies. We were playing you all along. You are just a fool.''
''Alright, I might be a fool but I’m also a human. Humans don’t respond to threats very well. We have certain chemicals in our body that make us very irrational and losing doesn’t matter to us as long as the other side loses. Your kind asked me how we became so dominant in this galaxy. We fought since we were just a baby. We fought when we only had just one planet. We fought for a single solar system. Now you just made fool of yourself by taking a fight with humans.''
He stares at me without saying anything and then he leaves the room.
I think about my family and my friends I might not be seeing them again. Suddenly, I feel sleepy.
***
I wake up to disturbing dizzy feeling. I’m in a different room now. I realise that someone took a sample from my suit. They probably will try to examine it but I’m not sure they can contain it.
After a few hours, the same guy walks in, ''WHAT DID YOU DO?'' His voice gives me a headache.
''I have no idea what are you talking about. Can you please lower your voice?'' I say.
He seems angry, ''You poisoned us!''
''Oh, you are talking about the sample that you took from my suit. Well, I never told you that you should do that. It’s a very protective material it protects your vital organs against pretty much every weapon in the galaxy. But you have no idea how dangerous that material is when it’s not perfectly handled. I’m glad you are getting what you deserved.''
I take a deep breath and I see that my suit has only 5% power left. It's time to accept my fate.
------------------------------------------------
**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.* | 2019-10-25T09:25:43 | 2019-10-25T08:30:46 | 171 | 78 |
[WP] One day in class you decide to scream something in your head to catch mind readers. As you do, you see your crush flinch | (slightly NSFW)
&nbsp;
It's a Monday.
It's 7am and I haven't been awake for more than 30 minutes so I can barely remember the name of the professor monologuing at the front of the classroom, much less what subject we're supposed to be studying.
I think it's appropriate to say that my mind is nowhere near a fully functional state. My head's probably drifting off somewhere in space two universes over.
I can barely keep my eyes open more than twenty seconds at a time, and if I were more awake I would swear to you that every third blink I took was slower.
Something in the back of my head is desperately trying to keep me from keeling over in my drowsy stupor and face planting into the back of the seat in front of me, so I desperately search the crowd of heads in front of me for something- **anything**- interesting.
A glimpse of a familiar light golden brown catches the edge of my vision, and my eyes immediately lock onto a wig of somewhat orderly bed head two rows down from me.
The hair belongs to Iralynn, a... I guess the best description would be an acquaintance. I've known her since my sophomore year in high school. We've talked before, even participated together in a few group projects back then, but I've never really spent a lot of time with her.
We know of each other, but I don't think either of us would deem the relationship between us an actual friendship.
Which is why it seems really weird to me that I would develop a crush on her.
It started half way through my senior year when I, for some reason I can never place to this day, decide to myself that she was objectively cute.
It wasn't really an attraction at the time, it was more like how one would say a puppy was adorable or a flower was pretty. But whatever the original thought was, it quickly developed into something more.
I saw that she was caring and kind to her friends. In projects she was always ready to step up to the plate for any responsibilities that might come her way. She was hard working but also easygoing. In group conversations in noticed she was incredibly animated, yet somehow sensitive to the emotions around her.
But I never approached her, even after learning that we had gone to the same college. It was mostly out of a sense of insecurity.
I mean, I was an Asian boy and she was a Caucasian girl. Granted she was a quarter Brazilian and an eighth Egyptian, but that's kind of splitting hairs at this point.
And I know that it shouldn't matter what race she or I was, but growing up under the preconception that Asian boys don't get the White girls and living in an all-Asian community that seemed to reflect that left some pretty deeply rooted insecurities.
It didn't help that she had an incredible figure. I mean, what else could you expect from someone who was our school cheer leading captain who also somehow made it onto our volleyball varsity team as well.
There was a day when the cheerleaders had to share the pool with those of us on the swim team, so believe me when I say that I know what her figure looks like.
Hell, she asked me if her suit was too tight! I had to turn around to hide my red cheeks. Of course I said no, but by time I had gotten control of my face and turned around she was gone.
My thoughts of Iralynn and her figure were cut short by a rush of blood to the netherlands.
I flushed red with drowsy embarrassment and shifted uncomfortably in my chair, trying to hide my morning wood. I swear, I'm not normally this volatile. If I'm being honest, I have withering self-confidence issues about my body.
Iralynn moves a bit in her seat, and my sleepy mind panics for a bit. I calm down, and a thought wanders into my head: *"If Iralynn could have read my mind just now, I'd want to die of embarrasment."*
Two rows down, the girl shifts again and I panic for a split second more. Then I laugh under my breath.
*"Mind reading? What a joke,"* I think to myself. I smile and laugh inside as I think over how ridiculous the idea was. I mean, c'mon me. Mind reading is sci-fi stuff. I'm an introvert, and I take solace in knowing that my thoughts are mine alone; private.
Half joking and half mocking myself, in my mind I spontaneously break out into the loudest, most emasculating moan I can muster.
If it was out loud, someone might have probably thought I just pulled myself off.
Iraynn visibly flinches in front of me with an audible intake of air, and everything in my mind just... stops. I'm now fully awake, and my heart is racing inside my chest.
Slowly, to my growing horror, she turns around and our eyes meet. Her face is red, and she's wearing an expression I can't put into words on her face... but the look says it all.
My face takes on a hue to match hers, and we just stare at each other like deer caught in headlights. Everything inside me withers away in our stare.
All my bravado, my dignity, and what little pride I had in myself as a man, just gone.
In it's place, an overwhelming urge to roll up into a ball and die.
&nbsp;
(I'm thinking of maybe doing a reverse POV.) | It isn’t hard to think that maybe someone could be reading my mind. I am part Fae, after all, and I have some magic of my own. I’ve just never really thought about it before.
Oh, gods. Someone could be reading my mind at any moment. If anyone knew what goes on in my head, they wouldn’t think I’m half as innocent or naïve as I appear.
I take a deep breath and try to focus on what Professor Redmond is talking about. Sheesh, he’s rambling again. I can’t focus on that. *He* can barely focus on that!
I don’t know what I’m worried about, anyway. The room is full of humans—I’m the only vaguely Fae person in the immediate vicinity. I don’t have anything to worry about. Unless…
I mean, anyone could technically be part Fae, right? Just ‘cause they look human doesn’t mean a thing. *I* look human. Mostly.
What could I do to oust a mind-reader, then? At this point, for my own sanity, I have to know.
I bite my lip and doodle in my margins as I think about it, adding a potted plant on either side of the word “HAMLET” at the top of my page. Smirking to myself, I write under each one: *Rosenplantz …Guildenfern.*
I hear a violent cough somewhere to my right and snap my head up to see where it came from. Oh, it’s just Colin. I hope he’s not getting sick. It’d be a shame if he missed class. I mean, he’s great to look at (the proper word is “gorgeous”), but he also tells all the best jokes.
I return to my mind-reader musings and wonder—if I mentally tell a joke, maybe a mind-reader would laugh, and then I’d know.
I start with one I made up myself in high school.
*Why did the squirrels cross the road? They were playing “chicken.”*
I glance around the room. I don’t even see anyone smiling, but I think Professor Redmond has their full attention, and I never really considered myself good at making up jokes. I switch to elephant jokes. Those are my favorites anyway.
*Why did the elephant fall out of the tree? …Because he was dead.*
Nothing. No reaction.
*Why did the second elephant fall out of the tree? …He was glued to the first elephant.*
Still nothing. I don’t have my hopes up for the first few jokes. The point of elephant jokes is that they feed into each other for comedic effect.
*Why did the third elephant fall out of the tree? …She thought it was a game.*
At this point, I’m just smiling to myself. I love these jokes.
*Why did the tree fall down? (It was full of elephants?) It thought it was also an elephant.*
Another cough. I hope Colin’s alright.
*Why did the elephant cross the road? …To get to the gay guy’s house.*
*Knock knock. (Who’s there?) The elephant.*
What the hell? It sounds like Colin’s hacking up a hairball. I look over at him, and he’s got his face in his elbow. Still coughing.
*Why is an elephant big, grey, and wrinkly? Well, if it was small, white, and hard, it’d be ~~an aspirin~~ your dick.*
Of course, the dirty punchline always butts in, not that I ever say it out loud.
What is wrong with Colin? Is he… laughing? Oh, gods, he’s not coughing. He’s laughing. *At my jokes.* I look down at my paper and sink down in my chair.
Of all people, *Colin* is the mind-reader. I can feel my face flush with embarrassment. How many times have I stared at his mouth, imagining kissing him? How many times have I...? Oh, *gods,* this is terrible. I probably scared him off with all the weird daydreams of him!
My heart is sinking to my toes, and I can feel my eyes watering, but I can’t resist the urge to look over at him again.
He’s not laughing anymore, but he’s… smiling at me.
The nervous twist in my stomach doesn’t go away, but I feel slightly better. If anything I’d thought had bothered him, he would have started ignoring me. I’m sure of it.
I take a deep breath and wipe my eyes with my sleeve.
*After class, you have to tell me which joke was your favorite.* | 2017-11-13T22:10:35 | 2017-11-13T21:33:27 | 28 | 11 |
[WP] It took me a while to notice, but now I can not deny it. I hear a ringing noise just before someone dies. It is here again, reaching its crescendo, like all the other times before. And here I am sitting in front of my wife, she is happy, she is healthy, my darling is smiling at me. | I felt a pit of dread yawing in my stomach. I look around. Could there be somone out side the window, an old man passing by on the sidewalk? No.
No one in range, except my wife. My beautiful, sweet, adoring wife.
*No. No No No Nononononono-*
"Honey, is something wrong?"
My chest hurt. It was taking all of my effort not to simply hyperventalate. I had borne this curse, alone, not telling a soul, for every day of my twenty-three years of my life. I had just finally crawled out of the pit, finally gotten my life in order. This coult be happening. I was panting. My breath accelerating out of control, my heart hammering harder, the pain growing sharper.
I tried to stand, but the ringing reached an impossible screech. Never before has it been this intense.
I jerked as the stabbing pains started. I fell down. Part of it was the pain itself, part was the shock of realization as I figured out what was going on. The last thing I saw was the wood flooring rising to meet my face.
My last thought was, *thank god. She will live.* | [Poem]
I take her hand in mine, kiss those lips one last time.
As that cursed chime does peak, so come the words I speak.
"This is farewell, my dear; unstoppable, it's clear.
My word, I honor still; to keep you safe, my will.
I pay this debt of life, with blood my own, by knife." | 2022-06-16T23:59:33 | 2022-06-16T23:18:18 | 89 | 50 |
[WP] In the far future, a gladiator stadium finds its gladiators by time traveling the greatest warriors of all time into a single arena. You cannot believe you were chosen. | Lucian had been camping out alone in the Rocky Mountains, looking up at the night sky and observing the constellations.
Then, without warning, the sky changed.
The horizon was filled to the brim with bright, unfamiliar stars. In the middle of the sky was an enormous infinity symbol that blazed a cosmic purple.
Lucian blinked, but the illusion didn’t disappear. It was real.
“What the hell?” He whispered, his eyes wide.
A white flash across his eyes. Pain racked his body.
“The time intervention was successful…” He heard a voice bark into a radio.
Guards in sleek black armor with silver visors filled his bleary vision. Then he blacked out.
___
Lucian slowly woke up to the low roar of a distant crowd.
He blearily looked at his surroundings. He was in what looked like an enormous gladiator arena completely encased in a glass dome with a vast sea of people watching from tiered seats. The arena was open to the sky, so when Lucian’s eyes trailed upwards, the infinity sign glared back down on him in the night sky.
Lucian’s breathing quickened. He looked around for someone he could call out to.
Then he saw them. Across from him in the arena, four strangely clad warriors were looking at him warily, their weapons raised.
One looked like a futuristic special-ops soldier, with a long, sleek gun held in both hands. Another seemed to be a witch in a purple cloak, equipped with a staff. Another had ruffled, civilian clothing but had multiple firearms strapped onto his back and two shotguns in hand. The final warrior was a muscular guy wearing a red suit floating in the air with his arms crossed. They were tense, as if they were about to attack but had to wait for something.
Lucian quickly tried to raise his hands in surrender, but he found they wouldn’t move. He looked down and found that not only were his arms chained to the ground but his legs too, with thicker, heavier chains than he had ever seen in his life.
What’s going on? Is this a dream or am I really going to be some sort of exotic sacrifice?
An announcer's voice boomed from all directions. “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to Time’s Edge Arena! Hold onto your seats because today’s fight will be sure to go down in history!”
The crowd thundered in response.
Lucian’s heart was pounding in his chest now, and blood roared in his ears.
He shouted, the desperation breaking his voice, “Please! I don’t know what’s going on! Please help me!”
The announcer’s voice continued.
“On one side, we have the four strongest Time Champions who you’ve watched win countless times before! We all know they need no introduction, so give it up for Aola the Witch, Deadshot Chrome, Lawrence the Scrapper, and Gorehands the Murder Hero!”
The audience screamed in response, making Lucian grimace and his head throb.
“And on the other side,” The announcer said, “We have the strongest monster to ever live, titled the Calamity of Nine Years, the Lord of Monsters, who singlehandedly created a dark age in his own timeline! Give it up for Lucian Ashcrown!”
“You have the wrong person!” Lucian screamed, but the crowd’s roar was deafening, far louder than it had been for any other. Lucian couldn’t even hear his own, hoarse yelling.
“Now, without further ado, let the fight begin!”
Before Lucian could yell out another protest, he heard a loud crack and he felt a burning sensation spread through his chest. He looked down and saw the red shirt staining where his heart should be.
A cold, numbness spread throughout him and his vision went dark.
Lucian limply fell backward, dead within seconds. Chrome’s futuristic-looking gun smoked. He exchanged wary glances with his two companions. They knew that something was up.
“That… can’t be,” The announcer said. “But it’s unmistakable. The Lord of Monster’s vital signs has gone dark. He’s dead.”
The crowd went dead silent, completely in shock. The four warriors didn’t let their eyes leave Lucian’s dead body.
“Hold tight as we set up something new!” The announcer said quickly, “We have plenty more monsters lined up for a long night of excitement…” His voice trailed off.
Lucian’s heart beat again. A vast, alien heartbeat, one that didn’t care that every beat spurt blood out of the hole in his chest.
The heartbeat was loud and deep enough that the audience members could feel its vibration in their chests. They were completely silent, this time for a different reason.
“He’s still alive…” The announcer’s voice was quiet with awe and fear at the sudden presence that filled the arena.
The Lord of Monsters opened his eyes. They were a deep, rich orange, with a vertical slit as his pupil.
___
Part 2 coming soon if enough people are interested. Come join r/WanderWilder to read it along with other stories. Would love to have you! | It has been said that he who lives a life of violence can never truly know peace. Never have those words been more true than in my case.
I was born what I now know to be centuries ago, the son of a soldier of the kingdom and a maiden. I was raised to fight by my father, and in this I excelled. By my 16th birthday, I could fare well against even the most seasoned warriors. Desiring to prove myself and impress my father, I enlisted and was sent by ship to take my place with the King’s Legion.
And prove myself I did. Within two years, my feats on the the battlefield were the stuff of legend. No man could stand against me and all feared name. For decades, I served with distinction, rising to the rank of Legionaire.
But in time, tired of war desiring to build a future, I retired from service and married a beautiful woman I had met while at war and brought home with me. I sought no more than to have a wife and family, to live the life my parents had, to be at peace.
But it was not to be. Having hidden their approach by traveling at night by sea, and with the aid of a traitor in the court, the enemy descended upon us under cover of darkness. And in that darkness, they killed. Much of the kingdom was destroyed in the siege - the enemy’s blades did not distinguish between the soldiers and the innocent. I was struck, but they did not ensure that I was dead. When I awoke, I found that the same mistake had not been made with my parents, wife, and daughter. The enemy killed relentlessly.
But they did not kill me, and that was their greatest mistake.
In the years to come, I became the scourge of my enemy. I lived for vengeance - whether by spear, or by blade, or by arrow, or by my hands alone, I killed any I found who represented those who had taken everything from me. Thousands died as they had killed - violently and in darkness. I was given the name “Bringer of Death,” and I earned it completely.
But eventually I tired of my never-ending war. Vengeance is a temporary salve - it covers the pain but provides no true healing. With nothing left to live for, I threw myself into attacking an enemy garrison - I killed many of them, but paid a heavy price in return. And on that field, with nothing but memories of death, both suffered and caused, I said a prayer to my lost wife and child and breathed my last.
Or so I thought.
But minutes ago I awoke here, in this strange place. I do not know how I yet live or how my wounds were healed, and I do not recognize anything around me. The buildings are strange, as are the languages spoken and the people who speak them.
And then there are the others. Creatures that resemble less people than the stuff of nightmares. Beasts that resemble lions and elephants, snake-like creatures the size of trees and monsters the size of mountains that were covered inside scales and seem to breathe fire.
I am approached by a man in strange dress, and he tells me that I have been chosen for a contest. That their society has mastered the art of time travel and that greatest warriors of all time are being gathered into a single arena to fight until only one remains. I am no stranger to fighting, I say, but I do not believe that I am one of the greatest of all eternity. Surely my presence here must be in error. But he disagrees, telling them that the “Bringer of Death” is a figure of legend and there is no doubt that I belong. But here? In this foreign land (and time?), fighting against creatures beyond even my imagination, creatures that cannot possibly exist? This is madness!
But my life has been madness. If this is a dream, I will hope to awaken. If it is not, perhaps it is my fate. It is said that he who lives a life of violence can never truly know peace. I tried to know peace once - perhaps this is the price I must pay. If so, then pay it I shall.
My name has just been called; I pick up my spear and blade and enter the arena. I see my opponent, and feel the familiar rush of energy as I prepare for battle.
My name is Marcus, the Bringer of Death. And for the first time in longer than I can remember, I smile. | 2022-07-04T09:50:05 | 2022-07-04T09:44:51 | 33 | 20 |
[WP] A character in your dream realizes that when you wake up he/she dies.
Dream big. | I watched my companion as we walked along towards our destination. He didn't look like a god, but that meant nothing. I looked like an amalgam of all the people he had feelings for. I could feel my face constantly shifting.
"Please. You don't have to do this."
"Oh, but I do. And even if I don't, I'll eventually wake up anyway."
"Promise me. Promise you won't forget me."
"I won't. I will treasure the memories of my time with you."
As he turned away, I knew he was lying. Even he didn't have control over what he remembered from his dreams.
"If we ever meet again, I won't be the same person. I'm an archetype. You're constantly rewriting me, adding on new faces, new memories. Forgetting old ones."
He stared at me dumbfounded. "I never thought of it like that, but now I see it makes a lot of sense."
"At least give me something to remember you by before I dissipate. I can feel it, minutes away now."
We stopped walking. I looked back at the prints our feet had left in the snow--changing from human to bird to hooves to something I couldn't even identify, and then back to human.
He reached over, cupping my cheek with his hand. "I think this is what you asked for?" Even as he kissed me, I could feel myself getting lighter, more intangible. The entire world was being absorbed into his body. Touching him, I faded more slowly, but I knew I had seconds left.
*I love you...*
My words were torn from my lips, becoming echoes of whispers lost in the crashing waves of the waking world. | "Please don't leave me!" I begged the Creator as I clutched its arm in fear. "You have no idea what will happen to me when it all ends!" The Creator turned and looked at me with its cold, all seeing eyes as an insane smile creeped up its lips. "You have nothing to worry about," it said while gently touching my cheek, "all I have to do is take this bucket of paper to the trolls and then all my troubles will be over."
It just didn't get it, the Creator just did not understand that once it's task was complete this whole world, my entire reality, would cease to exist. I could only watch in terror as it's majestic unicorn carried the Creator towards the trolls castle. With every step closer they got, I could feel the very fabric of reality begin to unravel. | 2013-11-17T18:58:20 | 2013-11-17T17:53:15 | 64 | 20 |
[WP] You've died. You expected to be judged in the Afterlife, but all you see now is God and Satan disappointingly sigh at you and simultaneously scold: "We look away for five months and you died AGAIN?!" | You give a nervous chuckle. "Yep, I'm here again..."
Satan glared at you. "How did you die this time!? All the demons have been in check!" God nods in agreement. "All the angels have been as perfect as ever. Maybe you died from natural cause?"
"Heh, well it was another demon," you mutter. Satan quickly spoke up and said "God gave you a cross to avoid this! That's impossible!"
"Well...maybe they took it off with an angel's help?" You suggested, avoiding all eye contact with the two.
"C'mooon!" The demon's voice from the other night boomed in your head. "It's just one drink! What's the worst that'll happen?"
"I guess..." your voice responded with. One drink turned into two which turned into three, and three drinks eventually turned into ten. If the car crash you got into didn't kill you, the alcohol poisoning probably would have.
God sighed. "Now, now, let's not point fingers. Let's figure out what to do. Maybe it really is your time this time."
Your eyes widened. "No! I can't die! I'm so close to finding a way to close the opening to Hell!"
"That's what you said last time!" Satan bellowed. "Yet, demons are still escaping to the human world!"
"I know, I know, I- I just need a bit more time, please...!" Your voice shook.
God sighed again. "I think we should allow one more chance."
Satan groaned. "I'm getting sick of this..."
"Are you sure that'll work?" You heard yourself asking the night before.
"Of course," the demon assured you, "just follow my lead."
"Alright," God said after a moment of silence, "we will allow you one more chance."
"And you need to get this done!" The devil demanded.
"Yes, of course!" You say. "Thank you so much!"
You gasp, bolting upright. You looked around at your surroundings. You were laid next to a burning car, the body of the demon from the night before laying next to you. There wasn't a scratch on him, just as expected. "Well?" You ask. "Got what you need?"
"All of it," the demon's voice came out of your mouth. "As long as he thinks the demons are in check, we will be good. So, they expect you to close the opening to Hell?"
"Yes," you respond with your own voice. "Your body is untouched, too."
"Perfect. Once I get back into my body, you and I can start our outbreak."
You chuckle. "It's gonna be one HELL of a time."
"Oh, shut up..." | I twitch one of my blue cat ears, looking annoyed.
“Hey, it’s not my fault that Vincent is so strong!!!” I say, scratching at my butterfly-shaped Dark Emperor mark. God shakes his head and Satan rolls his eyes.
“We let you stay on Earth as a ghost last time, Lillian. Now, we can’t do it again.” Satan grumbled. I start getting angry, and turn into my Dark Empress form, Katsuki.
“Okay, that’s it! First, my OWN FATHER drowns me because I refused one of his forever potions, then I endure the pain of coming back to life, only to find out I’m the reincarnation of an ancient legend that most of humanity thought was evil, I have to fight a **MANIAC** who turns people into animatronics, and almost lose my best friend Nash to him!!” I stop my rant as Satan slaps me, growling,
“We know. We’ve seen. You don’t need to take it out on us.” I start pounding the ground with my fists, letting out my frustrations. I stopped as God said,
“What are you doing here? You’re not dead. How did you get here?” And look up to see Nash, standing next to a human version of his Dark Emperor Dusk. Nash moves a lock of dark blue hair out of his face, saying,
“We’re here for Lillian and Katsuki.” I felt a small twinge of pain, and I was Lillian once again. I looked to my left and saw Katsuki, looking at me in surprise. God sighed,
“She wasn’t supposed to die this time in the first place, and we’re not dealing with the paperwork again. Just go.” I smile as Nash motions for me to follow him, and practically skip out of the room. | 2019-07-17T15:18:01 | 2019-07-17T13:06:02 | 410 | 10 |
[WP] You're a prisoner in a special facility for violent criminals. Today the latest prisoner arrived - a little girl. "That's cruel," you tell the guard. "I agree," he says. "Guess no one cares what happens to the rest of you." | "The worst part is they're giving her a cellmate"
"Who?"
"You"
A minute later and the barred door slammed shut.
"So, waddid you do?"
I ask this kid of 10.
"None of your business"
She coldly hissed.
"Which bunk do you sleep in?"
"Top one"
She immediately jumped up on my bunk and propped her feet up. This brat was walking all over me. So i made a plan. That night, i'd cut her throat.
As midnight rolled around, I clutched my shiv, waiting to do it. Then, i heard her praying. Did she know my plan? I hadn't had a chance or the inclination to tell anyone else. The whole plan was in my head. I listened to her prayer:
Lucifer, father, bearer of light, imbue me with the strength to strike down my enemies. In sin and degradation, hail"
I crept up and as i came to the side of the top bunk, she was staring at me.
"What do you think you're doing, Morris?"
I shook and dropped my shiv. She knew my name.
"What the fuck?"
"I know what you did Morris"
Suddenly, her eyes began bleeding and her fingers curled into claws, her teeth sprouting into fangs. Before i had time to pick up my shiv, she plunged her hand into my abdomen, ripping out my guts.
I jumped out of bed in a cold sweat. I felt my stomach to make sure my innards were still there. It was still midnight. From the top bunk I hear her: "Have good dreams, Morris?"
| As the time passes night falls the ringing of a bell and the usual shouting orders you to return to your cells.
Today is quieter than usual. Lights got out and you find yourself laying in bed wondering who she might be and what atrocities she had committed, a voice reaches out with similar questions. The man next cell starts narrating what you end up finding the most cruel mass homicide you've ever dreamt of imagining, apparently even though she looked like a 9 year old kid had been alive for quite some time and mentored the biggest mass murderers in recent history. Her name?
Albert Einstein.
sidenote: just wanted to make a good ol' joke bue ended up giving half way through and rushing the buildup. sry about my english too | 2018-02-12T01:23:09 | 2018-02-11T19:51:10 | 72 | 20 |
[WP]: "No, sir. I am not underestimating the kidnappers. YOU are underestimating my grandmother." | It has often been said that if beef jerky were a person, that person would be Amelia Potts. My grandmother Amelia is sixty-five years old, has no sense of smell or taste (this does not in the least prevent her from baking the best cookies in the western hemisphere), and is the very embodiment of the phrase "Tough old biddy".
When my ten year old cousin, Alice, was kidnapped for ransom my grandfather got out his checkbook. My grandmother got out her father's M1 Garand. My grandfather was an investment banker, and his father was a pastor. As far as I know he has never held a gun in his life. My grandmother grew up on a farm, her father fought in the trenches in WWII, and she killed her first squirrel at the age of seven. (She gave me the tattered squirrel hide for my high school graduation; it remains my most prized possession.) She loves my grandfather dearly, but according to her "McGills [her maiden name] are just made of sterner stuff than Potts." And I don't doubt it one jot or iota.
So when she said she was going to go get Alice, I knew not to stand in her way. So, FBI Special Agent James Clark, I strongly recommend you do not get in her way either, because she is going to teach those kidnappers what every man, women, and child in Montgomery county knows. You do *not* mess with Amelia Potts.
Yours most sincerely,
John Reginald Potts III
| The officer was about to ask what he meant when a large explosion sounded in the distance. Screams echoed throughout the city as hapless citizens and kidnappers alike ran for their lives.
A shrill cry cut into the ears of everyone within hearing range, "WHERE'S MY SHMOODLYPOOTS!!!"
The officer questioned silently. The man answered in response, "Her favorite rolling pin, for baking."
The ground cracked as dust fell from the ceiling and a distant building collapsed under its own weight. The glass of water on the table shattered as the officer stood to leave, "Thank you for your cooperation." | 2015-03-30T06:56:49 | 2015-03-30T04:59:39 | 23 | 11 |
[WP] One day a second Earth appears in the sky, the atmospheres of the two worlds barely touching. It's frightening, beautiful, and scientifically inexplicable. As folks panic and world powers deliberate, you look skyward through a telescope, only to see an almost identical 'you' looking back down. | 2121 has been a hell of a year. Selicia left me, I lost the house and kids in the courts, my family won't even speak to me, and now this...
It's the first time I've heard those fancy new sirens they installed after the calamities of the 21st century. They can't seem to settle on a tone: the long whine of a foreign invasion, the sharp shriek of a nuclear blast, the drawn out moan of a meteor strike, or the piercing whistle of a rogue A.I.
Somehow it all fades away to background noise as I scan the horizon for any sign of what's to come. And there, like a spider in its web, sits another earth. Suspended amongst the stars.
My pulse is racing as I grab my telescope, brushing my bloody knuckles against the fiber walls of its storage cube in my haste, leaving a bloody smear.
I know exactly where to look: United Nations Protectorate, Australia, Zone 3, District 13, Residence 1211. And there I am, sitting at a telescope, looking into the sky. Looking at me. Beside me, my wife and my kids, looking happier than I've ever seen them.
My smiling doppelganger turns to them, laughing, and pulls out a piece of paper. As I zoom in he writes something: "Beer?"
I nod and wave back, a sense of calm and certainty washing over me.
As the world panicks I make my preparations. A trip to the supermarket for a six-pack, a trip to the hardware store for some duct tape, and a trip to the local shuttle station.
I strap into my seat. I'll be back with my wife and kids soon. Back to how things should have been.
It's been a hell of a year, but I just can't keep the grin off my face. | At forst there was this thunderstorm riping the sky apart. Literally ripping it apart. The noise it made was unbelievable and the very next morning the news exploded.
With the telescope i had bought myself for christmas last year i looked at the storm before going to bed. But what i saw now was so... so incredible i had to look twice to really grasp it.
A second earth.
And from what i can guess about at the hight of the ISS...
I surched in horror for the little black point in the sky and as let my telescope wander around the second earths globe i found myself. Looking though my telescope at my garden behind my house. My wife came out of the door of this other me‘s house and as she tapped at his shoulder it felt almost as she was tapping me here on this earth...
What the Fuck are you talking about? i‘m standing right next to you. you Donkey now come down and go to bed it‘s 3 o‘clock in the morning.
Author’s note: Perhaps i should stop talking to myself when i write... | 2020-04-02T13:02:15 | 2020-04-02T11:25:54 | 15 | 11 |
[WP] You are a Billionaire. One day you realize that you have literally the most ungrateful children in the world, so you resolve to become a superhero. Not for the greater good, but because it seems the fastest way to waste their inheritance. | A little girl sits on a massive four poster bed. She is staring at an unmoving mouse with a red satin vest and a velvet collar with the name felix written on it. She runs from her room down an endless set of stairs until she reaches a 25 ft dinner table. Seated at the table is a thirty year old man talking on a cellphone while staring at a computer screen.
"Listen, Roger, can we offer them more money? I can sell some more stock. It is vital that we get the new model to market before Robotocorps. "
"It' not about the money, Vincent, the workers are already being paid for triple overtime. They want to see their families."
"Daddy, felix isn't moving!" the little girl said her eyes brimming with tears.
"Don't cry honey, your last name is Gacy, you are the luckiest girl in the world." Vincent said while staring at projections on his computer screen.
"Listen! Tell the workers that the overtime is mandatory. Anyone not fulfilling it will be fired. They will have plenty of time to see their families when they are unemployed!"
"But!" the voice on the line interjected.
"No, buts! This is make or break time. I will not let the company my father built burn to the ground. Get it done."
Vincent hung up the phone and clutched his head, he couldn't remember when he last slept.
"Daddy?" the little girl asked again her voice quivering.
"Not right now. Daddy is dealing with bigger issues! Sit down and eat your breakfast. I want to say goodbye before I leave for New York."
The little girl ran away crying.
He pressed 1 on his cellphone and his assistant's face popped up on the screen.
"Three things. One make sure the jet is ready to leave in an hour. Got it. Two, buy Mary a gift. On the card say, sorry daddy is so busy, but Daddy has to save your grandfather's company. Three, the last time I was at the New York headquarters the picture of my Dad on the wall was dusty. If I ever see that again the whole cleaning staff will be fired."
_________________________________________________________________
10 years later.
Vincent is sitting at the same dinner table watching the television. His hair is disheveled, his laptop is cracked and broken on floor. His phone has 150 unheard messages.
"What you are seeing on the screen are some of the scions of our nation's most prominent families being arrested. They were apprehended by Valorus, the human lighting bolt, for assaulting a homeless man who had asked them for money. The following is footage of the attack. Viewer discretion is advised, the video is extremely violent."
Vincent turned off the television and put his head in his hands. He had tried everything to change her behavior. He had sent her to military school. She had incited a rebellion and burned the school down. She sent the most expensive psychologists money could buy running. He had even paid for 7 years of martial arts tutoring to help her with her rage issues. Still nothing got through to her. The family name was ruined.
An elderly man dressed in a suit walked into the room , and sat down. He was a tall man, with a huge chest. His knuckles were covered in calluses, and scar tissue littered his wrinkled face.
"You wanted to see me?" the man said.
"Silver Sentinel...
"Call me Archie," the man said.
"Archie, my daughter is a disgrace, and no one will give me a straight answer. My father respected you. Society upholds you as its greatest citizen, a superhero among superheros. Tell me the truth. Where did I go wrong? How do I get my daughter back?"
The man looked at him with cold eyes. "Your father was a great man. You sacrificed your entire life to try and keep his company alive, but he would have burned it to the ground to make you smile. Your daughter thinks that your company is the only thing that matters to you. You need to prove to her that you stand for something greater."
_________________________________________________________
Two figures stand in awe in a humongous warehouse.
"Selling all you assets and creating two giant robots, not exactly what I had in mind," Archie said with a grin.
Vincent addressed the teenage figure.
"Starting from today, after you leave school you will report directly to this warehouse."
"Why?" said Mary with a sneer.
"Starting from today we are going to fight crime as a family."
"Is this a punishment for what I did?" Mary said folding her arms and shrinking slightly into herself. "I didn't even touch the old man."
"It's not. The courts will sort out who did what. This is me wanting to get to know you. You wanted my attention well now you have it."
Archie smacked her one the back. "I'm in, you know what they say, 'the family that fights crime together stays together.'"
"LITERALLY no one says that" Mary replied with a small grin and walked toward the robot.
"It'll be a drag but I guess I don't have a choice." She starts wiping her eyes vigorously.
"Is it okay if I name mine, Felix?"
| "Master Johnson, the mayor requests your assistance again. He says the largest bank in the New York City area is being robbed and it's a job only you can handle."
"Ah yes, of course. Thank you, Walter. You've never let me down one you know. Here's a little tip."
I gave my butler fifty-thousand dollars as his tip right then. To me, that was mere pocket change. I've spent my entire life playing a game of risks and rewards to become one of the richest men in the world. Now, I'm the owner of almost every major corporation you can imagine. Google, Amazon, hell even the New York Times. I could control the world if I wanted, but I don't. All I want is to live my life and do good while I can. I donate tons of money to fundraisers and charities across the globe, hoping to make a difference. I would hope that my children adopted this mindset, but it seemed this wasn't the case. I suppose I spoiled them too much in their younger years, it could have been buying Ferrari's at the ages of eight, or possibly buying 100% stock of every gaming corporation in the world, so they could have the games they wanted made. I just wanted them to have good lives, honestly. But it was all in vain. They became far more greedy than I could imagine, they lost all regard for other humans and only cared about themselves. They couldn't even begin to fend for themselves had they not had millions of dollars at their fingertips....
However, several years ago I had all that changed. See, none of us had our own bank account. We simply had all of our names on one, because it was impossible for them to even make a dent. Every item that they bought, most of the money went right back into a business I owned. But I removed all their names and made each of them their own bank account with one million dollars each. That would be more than enough for them to start to create their own lives, but they only knew how to live a lavish lifestyle and instead spent it on designer clothes and expensive cars. Only one of them even thought to buy a house, and all of them ran out of money in the first few months. So, they devised a plan. In my will I promised my late wife that all the money I owned would be divided among the kids. So, naturally, they decided to try to kill me to claim their inheritance. Truly a despicable thing to do. Also impossible, I have the best security system known to man. In retaliation I decided to attempt to waste all of their money, and the most fun way I figured was to become a super-hero. I bought everything you could imagine a super hero having. A giant underground lair, a fortress made of ice, and I funded scientists to do constant research to give me super human powers. I managed to dwindle my billions down to only $10,000,000 dollars. But I wasn't satisfied yet. I wanted my kids to know the pain of having to start from nothing, and I wouldn't be satisfied until my bank account was empty.
"Master, before you go, are you sure you're still in fighting condition? You are in your early 70's after all."
"Walter, my age has never stopped me before, and it won't stop me now. Prepare the Gold-Mobile."
**AT THE BANK**
"End of the line old man! You really thought you could stop us?" He screamed in my face. His cronies all started to laugh. "There's nothing you can do. We've wired out all the money here. There's nothing left. Untouchable, untraceable, and most importantly... unrecoverable. You have nothing now. You are nothing now. Raphael, kill him."
As I saw the man with the gun approach me, I wasn't sad. No, I lived my life to the fullest. I didn't come here to stop the bank robbery. I came here to ensure the police didn't. I could've easily stopped them, but I'm tired of it. There's nothing left to buy and I refuse to stop spending until I have nothing. This was my last resort. But, I can die happy knowing my children will finally be forced to live their own lives. May they be better men and women than I ever was... | 2017-07-20T22:53:45 | 2017-07-20T20:48:05 | 132 | 64 |
[WP] A seemingly bottomless pit was found, for which the depth can't be determined. Over time, scores of people began using it to illegally dump trash. Many have jumped in to die, while others jumped believing that they'll find life's answers within it. Today, we learn the truth about the hole. | "Aye, you've heard about the devil's asshole right?"
It was more of a rhetorical question. At this point, everybody had.
A few years back, Bridgeport Connecticut experienced a minor tremor from a minor earthquake. No one thought much of it at the time, save for Mr. Hoolihan whose backyard now sported a three foot wide hole.
A carpenter by trade, Mr. Hoolihan was a real "do it yourself" kind of guy. He went out to his backyard to measure the hole that had appeared. Even with his arm fully outstretched, the yardstick he brought wouldn't even touch the bottom. He tossed a rock into the chasm but no sound echoed back.
What's interesting is that the story almost ended there. After trying to fill the hole in and bringing several landscaping teams in to inspect it, they guessed that it was some old mine shaft. They put a few two by fours over it and that was meant to be that.
Mr. Hoolihan couldn't stand it though. Something about that hole being there really gnawed at him, and when his wife was asleep, he'd go out into the backyard, move the boards, and shovel dirt in, hoping to hear it hit the bottom.
This continued for about a year, until one night when Mr. Hoolihan used an excavator his neighbor had rented to fix the landscaping damages from the quake. People aren't sure exactly what happened, but at around three, Hoolihan, the excavator, his house, and his still sleeping wife, all plummeted into the hole after it opened up to swallow his property.
After that, the site was known as "Hoolihan's hole" or the "hell hole" and most sensible folks avoided it. Those who weren't sensible saw an opportunity.
Dumping of all sorts began to enter the chasm, as shady corporations, the mafia and people too stingy to buy a permit poured waste, trash, dead bodies, and, at one point, an truck full of millions of dollars after a failed bank heist.
After that last one, the police caught on and set up a perimeter around the hole as scientists were brought in to answer questions.
"Where does the hole end?"
"Does it even end at all?"
Now if people had been paying attention to local Chinese news, they would have seen the headline: "American man and wife emerge from mysterious hole outside
Shennongjia."
| Spaceships. Hundreds of them, surrounding the Earth, slowly closing in to form a sort of net across the sky.
"Hello citizens of the Earth."
The sound came from every hi fi set in the world, every radio, every television, every
cassette recorder, every woofer, and every tweeter.
Every tin can, every dust bin, every window, every car, every wine glass,
every sheet of rusty metal became activated as an acoustically perfect speaker.
And they were all spewing perfect English.
"3 years ago, a wormhole opened. Linking our planet, Fermetadron 6, to yours."
"We decided it would be unsafe to study it, let alone send anything down it." The voice continued.
"However, the constant stream of perfectly contained trash coming out of the hole led us to question if there are intelligent life forms other than us in this universe."
"And so, after carefully studying the hole for a year, we believe to have found the location of it. We also believe you Earth-men are intentionally pouring your trash into the wormhole and onto our planet."
"And so, with that in mind, we would like permission to enter your planet and speak with your planet leader."
"You can send us permission using Y waves, or radio waves, we have receivers for both on board."
"So, do we have permission to land?"
And so, the road to The Trash War began.
*****
I'm guessing you noticed how much I love HGTTG.
Do you guys have any feedback? You probably do, because I suck.
Please leave your feedback! | 2022-06-02T19:21:41 | 2018-01-13T07:30:33 | 4,551 | 144 |
[WP] “Remember this above all else when you leave the Cave. It is much better to run across a demon than angel. A demon can be bargained with. An angel, on the other hand, will kill you on sight.” | Eli stepped inside the nylon enclosure. A fine mist sprayed the outside of his suit, returning it to the original pristine white. He shucked off his gloves, then raised his hands for a scan. Clean. The soft beeping let him know that he was cleared to remove the hazard suit, and so he did, revealing sweaty hair pressed down by his helmet. It had been a long day, and he hoped that Maggie's shift in the greenhouses was almost over. But he had barely entered the settlement before Ames stopped him. "Eli, you're back late. Emergency meeting in the tent. I'm getting Colwell. See you there."
&#x200B;
Fighting back fatigue and a growing sense of dread, Eli pushed open the tent to see his Rangers, clustered in groups of two or three, talking in hushed, urgent tones. He glanced left and right, looking for friendly faces or even an acknowledgment of his presence. Something was wrong. He let the noise wash over him and picked up snippets at a time: "still don't think it's true-" "but what if we've-" "a trick designed to-" It was too much to take in. He sank to the floor, leaned against a supply box, and let himself rest.
&#x200B;
Eli was seconds from dozing off when Ames and Colwell returned. The tall, severe lead ranger was as blunt as ever. "Gentlemen. You've heard the reports of activity near the caverns. We're going to play you this recording and then we will discuss a plan of action." The rangers broke apart from their groups, turned to face Ames with hesitation, glancing back and forth from him to Colwell. "I know you're wondering what our head scientist is doing here. We'll explain later." Colwell nodded, her dark eyes unreadable.
&#x200B;
The recording began with a voice that Eli thought he recognized. "This is Ranger Allen, date is May 11 at approximately 2 pm. Placing this recording device in section West F as part of routine zombie patrol to monitor activity in the West F cavern structure." Ames skipped forward. The recording cut in with static, then another voice. It was not an accent Eli had heard before, but it was unmistakably English. English spoken by a human.
&#x200B;
"Remember this above all else when you leave the Cave. It is much better to run across a demon than angel. A demon can be bargained with. An angel, on the other hand, will kill you on sight." "But Baba, the demons hate us too. Why are they so angry?" "They're sick, love, and we don't know how to make them better. If you were thirsty and I didn't give you any water, would you be angry at me?" "Only a little bit, Baba." "Daisy, love, what do you do if you see a demon?" "Demons have red faces, and they go RAAAGH. You tell them you know where there is a lot of meat, and then you take them to the river because they can't swim like us." "Very good! And what do you do if you see an angel?"
&#x200B;
There was static. The child's voice -Daisy- was hard to pick up. "Angels are...all white, and no faces...and have guns. You have to run." Eli felt dizzy. Some of the rangers were crying. He covered his face. Colwell's voice, when it came, seemed to echo down a long, deep tunnel. "We're not sure what to make of this. It's possible that the cavern may house a group of ....survivors that we...were not aware of." Eli's ears still echoed with Daisy's voice. How old was she- eight, nine? Like his own Leah? *Survivors.* Had Daisy spent her whole life in that cave? All white, and no faces, and have guns. Did we kill them? Someone was looking at him. He didn't know he had spoken aloud, but it came out as a roar, thick with grief.
&#x200B;
"DID WE KILL THEM?" | Once
---
upon a time, there lived a world with 10 suns. Each of them desired the Earth and its inhabitants, but were content to share with their brothers and sisters.
Each morning, a new sun would rise into the sky and replace their sibling. Each evening, a new sun would bear witness to the sins of the world. It was a cold, cold world below them. Homes were built out of stone, men were born in mud, and death would reclaim them all to dust. Millennia passed as the suns simply watched, looking down upon man and his suffering. They watched as man grew into towers of steel and worlds of silicon. They watched as man plundered the knowledge of the unknown, as demons were summoned and the Moon waxed in power. Still, man would die. Still flesh would crumble into dust.
One morning the suns found themselves both unwilling and unable to exercise restraint, and they surged forward to embrace their dependents. That morning 10 suns filled the sky, each greedier than the last. The Moon protested, attempted to halt their avarice, to grant humanity the brief respite of night, but for this limitation the suns only grew greedier in the day.
Those who were embraced by the suns’ rays changed. They melted, but they did not die. For the suns wished to be loved as they love, and brought gifts to those they touched. They touched those who bared themselves to the sun and turned them into angels, beings of light and heat that would live eternally.
Welcome to a world of eternal life and euphoria. To a world of fluid forests and liquid amalgamations. To a world of endless summer. Welcome to a world in which no skin should be left bare, where humanity has learned to embrace the darkness and shy away from the light. Welcome to the 9th day of the 9th month of the 9th year of the 10 suns. Welcome, to the end of new beginnings.
“Listen."
---
He shakes me. "Are you listening to me?” The respirator clicks, pipes wheezing their way to an oxygen tank. I nod, spy my own reflection inside of the lens of his gas mask. I’m afraid, my skin pale in contrast to the crimson hazmat suit.
“Good.” He coughs, the sound of his voice perverted into a metallic buzz. “Do you know what you need to do?”
“Move the package.” The strap around my shoulder, the package itself pressing against my hip.
“Yes! And how will you move this package?”
“Quickly.”
“And what if they come close?”
“Stay still. Stay silent.”
He nods, brushing my cheek with his glove. Musty leather and spoiled sewage. The smell of my childhood, of darkness and safety. He hugs me, wraps his arms around my head and pulls me into an embrace, muttering into my ear.
"Run from the devils. Run from the angels. Hide from the sun. Your skin is not theirs to see."
I nod, squinting my eyes shut as tears swell. Once, twice, his hand pats my head. Then I'm standing and he's gone, striding into the control room.
"She's ready!"
I strap my gas mask on as the cave doors crank open, letting the light in.
| 2018-09-01T14:34:25 | 2018-09-01T12:20:46 | 93 | 63 |
[WP] Two people have just died. They both enter the same location in the afterlife. For one person, it is their personal heaven; for the other, it is hell. Describe their arrival and first "day" there. | Suzanne opened her eyes to be greeted by her own front room. She looked about, her heart beating fast. Was it a dream? The sickening spinning, the horror of loosing control? The crash and shattering of glass, metal, bone. The last sight of her husband, James, next to her, his neck at a terrible angle. Did she dream that?
The TV set roared, some sports fans cheering some play in some game, bringing her back to the room. In front of it sad James, in his old beaten chair. He looked up at her and smiled.
"Suzanne, guess what! Look where we are! We're in heaven! Just think we can be be here for ever, the two of us in our house together. Til the end of time. Pass me a beer will you?"
Suzanne, froze, eyes widening with dread as the truth set in. "No, no it can't be! I can't stay here, I have to get out, it isn't fair," she thought. She turned and ran, to leave, to get out of this hell she had lived in the past 30 years of marriage. She reached the front door and grabbed desperately for the handle. She turned it and pulled, but it remained stuck fast.
"Don't worry baby," said James walking drunkenly towards her, "you don't need to go outside, we have everything we could possibly want, right here". | "Can you believe it? They're actually paying us to come over here and kill these cave-dwelling shitheads!"
*"There must be another way" Fr. Morricone said, clutching his Rosary beads.*
"I used to tell my friends I would do this for free, if I could. Just to have the chance, you know?"
*"How can you even say that? We're talking about human lives!"*
"Eh, fuck 'em!"
*"I think I'm going to be sick."* | 2015-01-04T13:39:28 | 2015-01-04T12:39:19 | 26 | 16 |
[WP]: In one paragraph, write the most disgusting and despicable character you can ever come up with. In the second paragraph, kill them in a way that makes me feel sorry for them. | Jason understood that he had been a monster since birth. He was a teenager now, and his darkness had only grown along with him.
He spent his afternoons trawling the woods behind his house, looking for small animals to torture. Squirrels, rabbits. Anything he could catch. Seeing their eyes fade as he choked their life away was the only pleasure he knew. The only power he understood.
But today was different. The animals were silent in the woods today -- but he heard a child's cry instead.
The child was relieved to see Jason. The boy, probably five or six, was obviously lost - probably separated from his parents along the hiking trails that ran through the woods.
The kid stopped crying when Jason hesitantly picked him up. Jason's heart pounded - half with terror, half with exhilaration - as he carried the child away to the hidden glade he reserved for the rituals he enacted with his prey.
An hour later he slipped in through the back door of his house, trembling and silent. He made his way to his room but a shadow fell across him, halting his movement.
"Where have you been?" The danger in his father's tone amplified Jason's trembling to a convulsion. Without waiting for an answer, his father gripped Jason around his neck, his eyes glittering with a ferocious joy. He squeezed Jason's throat until Jason's eyes bulged and pulsed with blood -- and then harder still.
Father choked Jason the way he had every day of his life. Punishment for killing his mother, he was told. For murdering her on his way into the world. A monster since birth. The same punishment, every day.
But as the calloused hands tightened further, and the veil began to descend over his eyes, Jason knew that this would be the last time.
Edit: sorry, I broke the two paragraph rule. Got carried away! | Throughout high school, Kathryn was tormented for not looking like all the other girls, Mary was the worst. Every morning, Mary would laugh, taunt, harass Kathryn about her looks. Each time, it led Kathryn to the bathroom, sobbing and hiding away. School was a dark time for Kathryn, and it was all thanks to Mary, making Kathryn wish she wasn't alive.
It all ended in senior year, when Mary said goodnight to her parents for the last time. When Mary fell asleep, Kathryn kept out under the bed and injected a paralysis formula into Mary, jolting her awake. Mary, watched in terror as Kathryne pulled out a razor. Two grueling hours of cutting and slicing erupted, Kathryn was pulling the skin from Mary's face off. And all Mary could do was watch. School was a dark time for Kathryn, and it was all thanks to Mary, making Kathryn wish she wasn't alive.
edit: spell check | 2014-07-27T23:35:14 | 2014-07-27T23:20:27 | 214 | 15 |
[WP] A super villain commits crimes because they want to impress the hero because they don't know how to flirt like a regular person | "So are you the city's firefighter?" The villain pops this question out of nowhere as she remains to watch the hero use her psychic powers to lift up nearly half of the lake's water to put out the fire from spreading even more to the residential area outside of the woods.
"I wouldn't have to be if your bloody bombs didn't go off!" The hero growls out and the villain's expression is disturbingly gleeful. "Speaking of - why aren't you running away?"
"Who else would put you out?" The villain smiles at the hero and the hero blinks. "The fire might be out now but you're still smoking hot."
The water the hero was meticulously putting back down in the lake after finally finishing putting out the worst of the fires - and letting the actual firefighters do their job - lets go off the massive water she held with a big splash immediately drenching the villain in ice cold water.
"Are you..." The hero looks and sounds flabbergasted. "*Flirting with me?*"
"Yes? Why did you think I did this for? Way out of character of my arson profile right? I don't usually target stuff near water." The villain nonchalantly jumps down from one of the trees that wasn't on fire and pats herself down as though getting rid of water with pats would work and immediately gets too close to the hero's face for her liking. "C'mon beautiful, give me a bone to work with here."
"***Beautiful?!***" The hero's voice cracks and the villain widens her eyes at the wonderful shade of red her dear hero has on her face. "Is this some kind of tactic to catch me off guard? Because well done! I won't let you go easily this time around, Ecifitra!"
"I know what my villain name is backwards but honestly I'm being ser- whoa!" Ecifitra jumps to the side as a volley of dirt is aimed at her. "Take it easy Lage! Don't get tired, after all - you've been running through my mind all week and I don't want you to stop just yet, actually let's have dinner sometime!"
As though that was the straw that broke the camel's back, Lage's psychic powers seems to have finally caught the source of her suffering by her leg and dangled her upside down. "...I'm guessing that's a no to dinner?"
"I'll... Think about it. But for now you're going to the court for dozens of arson charges." Lage grumpily responds and allows her psychic powers to glue her prisoner's wrist to each other.
"It's actually fifty six charges but hey who's counting and are you saying that there's a chance?" Ecifitra grins up at the older woman who looks exasperated. "Well, I'll be sure to burn another one near water in a week to hear your decision, so take your time!"
Lage's eyes widens as the supposedly captured villain vanishes from her hold. "Damn it!"
"So Sarge." Lage's sidekick glides in from his perch up the other side of the lake. "Everyone sort of heard that. You left your com on."
"Everyone can shut their mouths or I'm shutting it for them. Got it, Essegral?" Lage snaps at her sidekick who pouts. "I swear I'll be getting back at Ecifitra the next time she does this shit again."
"Reminder that dating villains aren't good for morale." A voice pipes up and laughter erupts from the others in the com system. "There's no law against it because there's no precedent for it yet. Don't be that precedent Lage."
"You're not one to talk, Topyenoh." Lage snaps before turning off her com and glares at Essegral who's smiling innocuously. "The next time she appears you're dealing with her on your own."
Satisfied at the gaping face her sidekick is making. She flies off home and ignores his cries of 'You're kidding right?!' | He has no idea. He really doesn’t know.
Standing behind the counter, where I did not belong, I looked at him. From afar he looked like a typical stranger, some would say he has a kind face, others like myself would describe him as hot. But from up close he looked stunning.
‘Hi there, are you okay?’ he said. He was looking right at me, right through me, seeing the real me.
What he did not realize though was that this was not our first time meeting. I drifted back to a spring night, a night of the incident almost a year ago. Everything happend so fast. Suddenly I heard a voice, deep and rusty, behind me. I glanced back meeting his emerald green eyes looking excited yet tired. ‘Step out’ he said referring back to my car. I did as I was told wondering if he had an idea what I had done previously. He explained that as a concerned citizen he likes to make the city a better place and stops injustice whenever he sees one. ‘Cute’ said. Adorable really. After the incident I learned that he is not only a concerned citizen but a what kiddos call ‘superhero’. Which would make me a super villain, his sworn enemy. I somehow managed to get away that night but he always remained in my thought. His voice, smell, god even his smirk. I needed to meet him again, just in a different situation.
‘Miss’? I woke up from my thoughts, staring right back in the emerald green eyes. I felt my heart racing and even felt some heat in my cheeks. It had been a long time since I felt anything during my ‘shifts’. No feelings, no emotions. I did not feel this cornered in a long long time.
Oh crap, he must think I work here! I quickly apologized and ran to the door behind leaving him confused and wondering.
He did not recognize me. Strangely I felt disappointment instead of joy which would be normal in this situation. Saddened even. I took a moment to sit on a chair in the dark room evaluating my thoughts.
This feeling. This moment. All I had been working for during the past months. And I ran away. I couldn’t believe myself. After all these times, all these crimes, he decides to show up when I look like this?
I heard footsteps approaching the door. Only then I realized the situation. I left my weapon in my purse, which I had left under the desk. What kind of criminal gets stuck in the back room of a bank she wants to rob? The door opened leaving in a small ray of light.
‘Hi there, are you okay?’ I looked up ready to fight to see him standing at the door. He knows. I felt a ray of hope, followed by panic. He definitely knows.
‘Think so’ I mumbled looking for a way out. He slowly but confidently walked to over, pushing chairs to the side. He kneeled right next to the chair with a black item in his hand. Should I kick? Run? Scream? ‘Easy’ he said laughing at my reaction. ‘I just want your number, fancy a drink?’ | 2019-11-14T12:06:03 | 2019-11-14T11:51:48 | 51 | 15 |
[WP] When we get to space, we learn that humans aren't the "space orcs" we expected. In fact, we're closer to space elves: the most elegant, the least brutish and violent and warlike, and the longest lived by far.
I don't know if this has been done before, I thought of it and thought it would make a good prompt. Please let me know if this has been done before. | Griznach sat down on a pile of corpses and sighed. Another day had come to an end and, with it, another battle won.
*And another scar to remember it by*, he thought to himself as he touched the throbbing mark on his left shoulder. The great Urgk champion had broken through his guard, his notched blade slashing through Griznach’s armour and into the flesh. For having such a strong deathwish, these Urgks did *not* go down without a fight.
“At least they were Black Urgks, eh?”
Griznach looked up to see his adjutant approaching and nodded in agreement. The Black Urgks - distinguishable by the black paint carelessly splashed on their clothing, armor, and weapons - believed only enemies killed in close combat became their slaves in their glorious afterlife. The so-called White Urgks were content with just blowing themselves up and taking as many enemies with them as they could.
“True. But I didn’t need another scar. I’m getting too old for this Grouz, I’ll be consigned to the Redguards soon.” He opened his armour and peeled it back to take a look at his fresh wound, already sealing itself with bright red scar tissue. He then held up his arms, showing off a crisscross of red scars marking the deep green of his skin.
“You say that like it wouldn’t be a great honor, sir.”
“Oh, it’d be an honor, no doubt. To fight alongside such legends might even make me feel young again. But right now I just feel old.”
Grouz nodded sympathetically.
“Anyway, report.”
Grouz stood to attention and rattled off casualty figures, unit strength, munitions numbers, everything Griznach needed to know as the battlegroup commander. He finished the report, paused for a second, then added:
“And one more thing, there’s a visitor to see you on the ship.”
“A visitor? To see me?”
“It’s a,” Grouz paused, almost as if to catch his breath, “it’s a human.” | Cngo looked up at the sky, wandering about them. The knowledgable ones those who are wise and peacefull. Those who don't hit their brothers and sisters with an iron axe. Those who are disgusted by their practices. They rained fire upon his people in disgust. Their young screaming for help as their soldiers fell by the fire arrows of the sky people.
He could remember those people and their two eyes compared to his nine, their soft skin compared to his scalley, and their heads covered in hide compared to his bald and hard.
He looked around the refugee camp, his people being weak. All were complaining about their wounds. They were taught from a young age to suck it up and ignore. He looked over to th captain axecuting some of the weaklings. He himself could feel the pain of his wounds but he just did what he always did.
Him and his brigade were acting as a vanguard for the rest of the forces as they retreated from the those who have knowledge. Half his brigade was slain in the fighting but they didn't need them they were to weak for his people.
Then he heard orders, a counterattack. He picked up his sword and shield, prepared to show who was supposed to tell his people how to live. | 2021-09-19T13:36:11 | 2021-09-19T11:24:42 | 76 | 20 |
[WP] The supervillain sighs in frustration as he looks at the group of superheroes. "Alright raise your hands if you are adults?" he said. None of them did it. "This battle is canceled and tell your mayor we need to talk! today!" he said angrily.
Whoa, I came back after chores, mobile games, and anime to see so many stories and a handful of awards. I'll read them all in the morning | Doom was honestly furious as he jabbed his communicator screen, and ignored the now confused teenagers behind him. Honestly, didn’t *anyone* in the government even care anymore?!
Mayor Denise’s face popped up on the screen, and her face instantly soured. “Doom, what do you-?”
Doom snarled, cutting her off. “*KIDS*?!?! You sent *kids* to fight me, *knowing* that I could’ve killed them?!?!”
Some of the more younger ones hid back, and the eldest of the group, a girl, quickly moved in front of them to shield them. Not that Doom was going to harm them.
The mayor looked startled, before saying, “What are you-?!”
Doom grabbed the camera and yanked it so it faced the ‘heroes’. “Them! They’re *underage*!! You sent *UNDERAGE teens* to fight me!! Knowing full well I could *easily* kill them!”
“I-“ Doom cut the mayor off again. “How could you?! Not only is that illegal in so many levels, but also *immoral*!!” His face was red with rage. “How could you send in *children* knowing that I could kill them without another thought?! Or did you forget what happened almost twenty years ago?!”
Denise’s face hardened. “Don’t you *dare* bring that up you-!”
“*SHUT UP*!!!!” Doom roared, cowing her. “I took the fall for *you* when your powers went out of control, and became the villain for *your* PR, and then you do *this*?!” He narrowed his eyes in rage... “I’m *done* with your charades.”
Denise’s eyes widened. “W-What?! Wait, you can’t-!”
“I SAID *SHUT UP*!!!” Doom roared, silencing her. “You. Are. DONE. Do you understand me Denise?! Our little secret is going to be blown *wide* open, because you wanted me to hurt *children*!” He snarled, seething.
“Don wait-!” Doom cut communications, before turning to the underage heroes. They were looking at him wary, and frightened, not that he could blame... them...
“Shit...” Doom felt his face pale taking a good look at them. Oh no... she didn’t...
“Umm...” a boy in an archer outfit looked between his team leader, and Doom. “Are we taking him down or-?”
“U-Uncle Don...?” The girl in the front dropped her sword, shaking.
Doom sighed, and took off his helmet. “Ah kiddo... I’m sorry you had to see that...” to know your mother sent you to...
His poor niece took a step back, tears in her eyes as she felt her heart crumble. “I... I-I...”
Doom took three long strides over and hugged her close... how could he have not recognized his niece? His sister’s only child... “I’m so sorry...” he said softly as she started crying, glancing up at the other young teens as they looked uncomfortable.
How could he explain to them that their leader was the mayor’s own daughter... and that Mayor Denise sent them all to him knowing that they could be killed...
If he hadn’t realized how old they were, he would have... hurt children... broke his ethics...
Killed his own niece for his sister’s stupid PR and to keep her secret...
As Doom hugged his niece close, he silently broke all ties with his sister, and swore to destroy her image. She had crossed the line... | “THIS CITY WILL BE MINE!” I cackled from atop my death ray.
I had no idea if it would be or not. In fact, I had no idea if my death ray would even power up. The damn supers had gotten a whiff of my plans and interrupted me as I was calibrating the power usage.
“! will overthrow the mayor and defeat every one of you!”
Punchy laughed, a bright sound that made me groan. She was insufferable, and every time I heard that laugh, pain and embarrassment were soon to follow.
“Can we hurry this up?” she jeered. “I’m missing gym, and we’re doing dodge-ball today.”
There was a chorus of agreement from the others, but I froze.
“You ***WHAT?***”
The snickers died out, and the team of annoying heroes paused in their annoyingly effective methods of thwarting my plans. There was an awkward sort of silence, staler than when my mother-in-law gave unwanted sex advice at family dinners.
“Uhhh….”
For once, words seemed to have escaped Punchy Girl. She looked at the rest of her team, uncertain.
“I’m missing gym? Like, why can’t you schedule your evil plans on a weekend or something?”
Another chorus of agreement from the peanut gallery and I groaned.
“You meant to tell me,” I snapped. “That Mayor Deedle put a minor in charge of a team of adult supers?!”
“He would never!” one of the men from the back yelled back, affronted. “We’re all minors too!”
…
...
“THAT DOESN’T MAKE IT BETTER!”
There was another awkward silence as I focused on taking deep breaths and not cursing. They were kids after all, and I had standards. Much silent cussing later, and I sighed. Something would have to be done.
“Right, I’m going to come down. You lot are going to sit tight and not move and STOP TOUCHING THAT HAVE YOU NO SELF-PRESERVATION?”
Techy boy jumped and took his hand out of the green liquid.
“Hey my skin’s on fire! Cool!”
Oh for crying out loud, what had I gotten myself into.
“You there! Go get him to a bathroom and rinse his arm off, your agency can fix the burns later. Punchy Girl, come with me, we need to talk.”
Punchy girl looked rather miffed. “I have a name, you know, and it’s not Punchy Girl. It’s Ava.”
“Good for you, Punchy. Now follow me, I need to get a tea service started.”
The group looked uncertainly at me, then at the death ray. Then back at me. I groaned, pinching the bridge of my nose.
“It’s not even plugged in for crying out loud.” | 2021-04-01T15:20:38 | 2021-04-01T12:53:38 | 41 | 28 |
[WP] The ritual calls for 100 sacrifices, but reading carefully you realize it never specified they had to be human. Deciding to be a smartass, you got a petri dish full of bacteria and sacrificed that instead.
reposting an old prompt | Phedrolax pinched the bridge of its crooked nose and heaved a deep sigh. The walls shook, and I broke out in a sweat. Had I made a mistake, thinking I was so damned clever? The fine print didn't exist, so the loophole was obviously there for the person who could read between the lines.
"There's one every generation."
I blurted out a laugh, shrill with anxiety. "Sorry?"
"No, it's... it's fine." Phedrolax waved a massive clawed hand in the air and closed his eyes. "Just... give me a second."
I sat and twiddled the edge of my cloak for a few moments. I nervously bit my lower lip and desperately tried to find something interesting to stare at in the room. I'd heard making direct eye contact with a Lord of the Abyss was seen as a challenge to their power. Or, you know - at least a little disrespectful?
"...nine...ten." Phedrolax opened its eyes and stared down at my cross-legged form. It glanced around the room to get its bearings. "Shag carpet? For the love of... what year is this?"
"Oh yeah, that." I cleared my throat. "It's just, well, it's a rental."
Phedrolax grunted and frowned. The massive, yellow tusks peeked out from behind its grotesque lips and it folded its arms across a heaving chest.
"Let's get on with it, then. A sacrifice is a sacrifice, after all."
"Right! Right, so... I just wanted to get the rules out of the way first if that's alright with you?"
"Rules?"
"Yeah, you know - the whole 'Be careful what you wish for' and me asking for something, then you giving it to me but tagging some really horrible consequences on it afterward so I actually regret having made the wish in the first place."
"Oh, that." Phedrolax sighed and sat down on the floor. It grunted as its shoulders bumped against the circle. The shag singed around the edge of the circle, faint whisps of smoke wafting in the air as the decades-old nylon burnt to a crisp. "Look, that's an old Hollywood myth. Made up for thinly-veiled morality tales. Just hogwash."
"Really?" I must have looked confused, because Phedrolax's face broke into a wide - almost friendly - grin.
"Yeah, like Abraham Lincoln being a vampire hunter, or America responding responsibly to a pandemic." It waved a clawed hand in the air. "Pure fiction."
"Well, I guess that's good news then." I rubbed the back of my neck, unsure how to proceed.
"Never sacrificed to a demon lord before, kid?"
"It's that obvious?"
"You sacrificed bacteria, dude. Renowned practitioners of the dark arts usually get a little more bloody in this business. Besides, everybody gets nervous their first time." Massive shoulders shrugged. "I know I did."
"Wait, you- Well, I guess that makes sense, actually. Deal with the devil and all that?"
The great hulking demon shrugged again. "There are some consequences that come with the gig. So, what do you want?"
"Okay, so I wish that-"
"Hold on." Phedrolax held up a claw and shook its horned head. "Stop it with that. No 'I wish' this or that. Just give it to me straight. I'm not some egotistical djinn. Those lot are all stuffy assholes."
I blinked. Phedrolax rolled his hand in the air.
"I wi- um... I've got a lot of... regret, I suppose. My dad-" I choked for a moment. I cleared my throat, willed the tears away, and pressed on. "He died, and left on really bad terms. The worst, I suppose."
"Mm." The beast nodded, and I continued.
"And so I guess I... I guess I just want more time with him. I want him here, so I can tell him how I really felt. Why I was so goddamn angry. Why I didn't hate him, but I loved him so much that what he did pushed me beyond hate. Made him beyond forgiveness..." I choked again, and couldn't continue.
We sat in silence then, for a few moments. I sniffed, wiped my nose with the sleeve of my cloak, and distracted myself with the flicker of one of the black candles that encircled the pitlord.
"We've all got some sort of pain, kid. And that's the kind of pain that I can't take away, even if you had killed a thousand orphans and burned their bodies to cinders." I looked up in disgust, and was met with a wide, fanged grin again. "Just a little pit humor. Sorry."
I chuckled, wiped my nose again, and huffed out a deep sigh. It felt good to laugh, even if it was crude gallows humor. The pain in the pit of my stomach was still there.
"Look, kid, as much as I'd love to raise your pops from..." Phedrolax coughed, "...wherever he is, I couldn't even if I wanted to."
"Is it the bacteria? I was really just being a smartass - I can buy some cats from the pound or something-"
"No!" Phedrolax threw its hands in the air and shook its head vehemently. "No, uh... that's alright. We don't need more of those down here, thanks."
"Oh, alright."
My hair blew back as the lord sighed again.
"What I mean to say is, that sort of pain... It will eat away at you. That regret, it will just taint, deep down, so far down you'll start to wonder if there's ever a way out of the hole you've dug inside yourself."
"That's... oddly insightful, considering the source. Shouldn't you, I dunno, tell me to exact my revenge? Sacrifice maidens? Maybe slaughter a goat in your name or something?"
"Again with the Hollywood bullsh- look. You gave me bacteria. You don't have the stones for the Big Bad stuff. There's a set of, um, laws I suppose you'd call them. The quality of the sacrifice results in the quality of the endowment. Besides, most of that is just propaganda from the other side of the aisle."
"'Propaganda?'"
Phedrolax waved a hand dismissively again. "Neither here nor there. What stopped you from saying what you needed to say before? What could you possibly have said that would make the loss feel differently than it does now?"
I felt the tears then, hot behind my eyes. "I guess, you don't really understand the loss until you've actually lost it. I don't know what I would say. And I honestly don't think he would even care, or listen."
"Well, you gave me a hundred bacteria. So, even if he wouldn't listen - I will." | Antonios rubbed his eyes, tired from the strain. He had just spent the last hour staring deeply at a collection of mites sitting on a polished stone dish. It had taken him a long time to harvest the bodies of these mites meticulously from various leaves, vines, insects, worms, some small animals, and even birds. There were all sorts of tiny mites crawling around on the dish, and when he focused his eyes he could even see that they were different from each other.
Antonios sat back on the ground outside and looked out towards the setting sun. The light was now too dim to really make out the tiny creatures he had harvested. Of course once he let them onto the stone dish those that were still alive would fly out, but the dead mites remained. These were the smallest creatures Antonios had ever spied, smaller than bugs and flies that all people were aware of. Could there be creatures even smaller?
The elderly man rose up and picked up the large urn next to him full of tiny mites and the various dead bodies of the creatures and plants he had harvested them from. It was time to return to his small home in the village after a long day of gathering the little creatures. It was time for dinner.
-----
A bright fire lit the darkened village. Antonios squinted down at the many figures gathered around the fire. He could hear the faint sounds of music, singing, and clapping. Ah yes the festival was now in full swing. He wondered to himself what delicious foods had been prepared. At first Antonios had been reluctant to return to his childhood village after living in the cosmopolitan Pella, but he was now reminded of the delicious rustic meals of the countryside. Antonios made his way down the hill toward his home.
Outside of his small stone house stood a few men, who looked somewhat impatient. They had knocked open his door and turned to look at him with scorn.
“You have finally decided to return?” derided Antypomos, the largest of the small group, “where are all the sheep?”
Oh blast! Antonios had forgotten to order the gathering of the flock for the festival. But he had never held the gods in much esteem. He had flaunted them behind closed doors with a few other students in his time of study and nothing had ever happened to him. Perhaps he could connive something.
“Oh gentlemen,” Antonios greeted them with a smile, “I have something even better. Come! Come follow your village priest.”
There was an audible groan from a few of them as they fell into line behind Antonios as he headed towards the lively festival.
-----
Antonios made his way to the fire. The music, singing, and dancing began to abate as the crowd noticed him pushing through. Antonios climbed onto a stone table to address the crowd near the fire.
“Fellow villagers! I have returned!”
He noticed the quizzical looks on some of the villagers, though some looked with more looks of scorn.
“I have come to save us some trouble!”
There was a nervousness that began to buzz through the crowd.
“Every year we sacrifice 100s of sheep in our many celebratory libations! But what if we did not have to sacrifice all those plump and wool laden sheep?”
There was now a murmur that rose up from his fellow townsfolk. Antonios raised his urn above his head.
“In here I have collected hundreds of creatures, and dare I say there may be thousands unseen!”
The crowd began to chatter in low confusion.
“Behold! The gods will be satisfied and we will have our sheep!”
Antonios tossed the urn into the fire, and it burst into shards. Antonios laughed but was greeted with silence. He turned back to the crowd, many of whom were now glaring at him.
“What was in there?” shouted someone from the crowd.
“You need not-”
“What. Was. In. There?” an angry Antypomos asked threateningly as he approached Antonios, “Was it your bugs you are always gaping at?”
“No, no,” Antonios replied, the nervousness trickling out through his voice.
“You heretic!” someone yelled.
“You are a shame to your brother!”
“Why did you even come back?”
“Now, now, let us not-” Antonios began to implore the crowd. His reply was cut short as he felt something slam into the back of his head. He stumbled forward but his old legs managed to catch him before he fell off the table. The crowd was now jeering.
“You are a heretic!”
“How could you cheat the gods? In the very sight of Mount Olympus!”
“Do you want to doom us all?”
Antonios felt another stone hit his side.
“Wait!” he cried out, “tomorrow! We will gather the sheep tomorrow!”
Another stone hit him, followed by another. Antonios now clutched his head and ducked down. The crowd was now angrily jeering all around him.
“Kill him!” a man shouted, “Kill the arrogant bastard!”
Antonios now felt someone grab his leg and pull him down from the table. His back hit the hard stone with a solid thwack. Another stone hit him painfully in the chest, thrown from right next to him. The jeering was all he could hear as he dizzily tried to regain a sense of his surroundings. He held his hand up to shield himself as he tried to utter a defense. Another rock slammed into him and knocked the wind out of him. Followed by another and another. The crowd surged forward, swallowing up the old scholar with their shouts.
-----
The hawk’s talons squeezed the small sparrow’s body. She peered down at her quarry, now unmoving. Satisfied with her catch she glanced up toward the setting sun. She had managed to find something before all the light was gone. Clutching the lifeless body of her next meal she hopped forward and caught a gust of wind underneath her wings and rose up into the air. Her nest was much further below the summit but she would be able to make it back before dark. She banked her wings and turned toward the east, gliding down away from the empty windswept crest of Mount Olympus. | 2021-06-08T11:37:50 | 2021-06-08T08:47:07 | 314 | 106 |
[WP] At first, the aliens mocked our technological advancements. After learning it took only a few centuries to move from horse carriages to space ships, they suddenly became more friendly. | "Hey Ghorp...Ghorp, check this out."
Ghorp let out a chittering sigh and rolled 3 of his eyes at his junior neighbor, but kept the remaining 5 firmly fixed to his work station. "I'm a little busy here Galganax." He paused, "And if this is you trying to trick me into looking at your egg sac again, I'm going to eat your children."
"Whatever, I can just make more. My species' clutches hatch by the thousand. But, Ghorp, you have to see what these ape things are doing, it's totally hilarious!"
"Not all of us were assigned some backwater galaxy with a group of mud creatures as the only "intelligent" life!" Ghorp snapped. "Cluster 437-B is a time bomb waiting to explode! Trillions could die if I don't keep a close watch over the situation."
"Yeah, sure," Galganax replied dismissively, "But seriously, they think that they can cure diseases by bleeding themselves!"
Ghorp opened his mouth to tell Galganax to shut up, but upon hearing that piece of information, his mandibles snapped shut and his mind went blank. Slowly, robotically, he turned his head towards Galganax and stared at him for a second. "...What?"
Galganax snickered, "Yeah, and when this one member of their species tried to tell them that their planet revolved around their sun, some ape in a pointy hat tried to have all of the literature burned!"
"Religion thing?" Ghorp grunted, turning back to his work station. He'd seen similar situations on some of his previous assignments. It was always a religion thing.
"Maybe," Galganax shrugged, "It's some kind of ideology. They're pretty obsessed with a torture device of some kind. I'm not really paying that close of attention. You know that the time dilation factor for systems that distant makes details like that a pain, and it's a pre-industrial species. They've probably got about another 10,000 years before they figure out fossil fuels, and by then I'll be on another project."
"Hm, I guess," Ghorp allowed. Thanks to the black hole powering the Keep, relative minutes for them could be years elsewhere depending on a number of factors. However, he had one piece of advice to add as a senior. "Try and pay closer attention, though. It might not be incredibly important in this case, but keeping note of details like that is a big part of the job once you move on to more challenging cases."
"Yeah, yeah," Galganax agreed, "message received. But hey, it's lunchtime! I'm gonna get some grub, you in?"
Ghorp hesitated, and eyed the screens sitting in front of him before shaking his head with a sigh. "I would, but I really can't leave right now. I've had my claw sitting on the Supernova detonator for the last 4 hours."
Galganax chittered in surprise. "That bad, huh? Damn...Tell you what, I'll bring you something, my treat."
Ghorp wiggled his mandibles in an approximation of a smile. "Thanks, that'd be great."
"Oh, before I go, I just need you to take a look at something real quick."
Ghorp turned his head away from his screen. "Yeah, sure, what is--gah!" He sputtered in outrage at the sight of a large fleshy sac bulging out at him. "GALGANAX!"
Galganax quickly skittered away from Ghorp's anger, their chittering laughter fading in the air.
.....
"Um, Ghorp," Galganax said, three hours later. "You've been doing this job for a while, right?"
"...That's right." Ghorp finally replied, still salty about being sac-flashed, but feeling obligated to answer a junior's questions.
"Is it...uh, normal...for a species to go from animal drawn carriages to space flight in less than 100 years?"
Ghorp snorted. "That's impossible. The shortest recorded length between early industrialization to space flight was 2000 years, *our* civilization's record."
Galganax laughed weakly, "Yeah...well...I think we have a new record." | We were pawns to them. Mere pieces on a galactic game board. An amusement, maybe a diversion for their extremely long and otherwise stagnant existence. Elves, Vampires, all the old stories and tales have at their core one of these visitors, especially the cruelest and most unkind ones. They had the universe by the tail, FTL travel and technology akin to magic, though they long since forgot how to, or even who made it to begin with. They thought themselves akin to gods, immortal with unlimited power and possibility.
They were mistaken.
When they first visited earth, they could have destroyed us at a whim. They experimented for their own amusement. Viruses and plagues from a thousand worlds introduced to see what would happen. Political games and hundred year wars just to settle a bet. It was the darkest of times, but they were careless as well. Miracles that only worked when touching a particular device are less divine when a human can use them just as easily, and it didn’t take us long at all to find out they could bleed. We watched, and learned, and waited.
They never stayed long. In between, the roots of our rebellion took hold. Secret societies and cellular organizations became second nature to us, and we did what humans do best: we absorbed information and we learned. Once we knew something could be done, it was a simple matter of figuring out what we needed to know to repeat it. Sometimes it took us centuries, but faced with a static opponent who had not faced a real perceived threat for millennia, we progressed at a geometric rate.
They still had the power to destroy us, but they never worked well together. Cooperation was anthema to them, information a thing to be hoarded and traded for favor, so they never noticed when we started to fight back. Suddenly the stories started to have a happy ending. The monster didn’t always win, and they had weaknesses to exploit. Over thousands of years humanity developed immunities to the plagues and horrors they infected us with, and we grew more dangerous and capable. By the time they noticed we were killing them, we were already in space.
That finally shocked them enough to try and work together. It took them 100 years to form a coalition that could tolerate one another long enough to form an invasion fleet. World destroyers, Superdreadnoughts, enough ships to blot out the sun from the sky readied themselves to end this newfound human threat.
It only took us 10 of those years to build a bigger fleet.
They called themselves the coalition of RA. They said they came in peace. They were very surprised when the first peaceful surprise salvos they launched at our atmosphere failed to have any effect. And that their peaceful weapons systems all suddenly melted. Probably almost as surprised as they were when they were all unceremoniously extracted from their ships by the very “magic” teleporters they first used on us all those years ago. Their surrender after that was swift and total, but the biggest surprise was still to come.
For the RA, defeat was the end. They did not expect to live to see another day, because they would have killed us out of hand just for the thrill of it. So they were shocked when we decided to spare their lives. They weren’t a threat to us anymore, and we didn’t see a need to exterminate them. We left them alone, stripped of their technology and left them alone with a choice: find a way to change and come explore the stars with us, or wither in isolation. Most rejected that offer. A few unlikely souls did have the essential spark of curiosity though, and did overcome their own nature, eventually becoming trusted and valued members of our fledgling star federation. | 2020-07-07T09:18:44 | 2020-07-07T08:26:15 | 69 | 21 |
[WP] Everyone's personality is based off the colour of their soul. You hand your baby over to the nurse and she scans it... She looks at the screen and realises that its going to be difficult explaining this. | "Do you think you could scan her again, just to be sure? I mean this has never happened before has it? We have to be sure." I let my husband speak for the both of us as I lay in the hospital bed, exhausted from the intense labor that had lasted for well over a day- I could come off as cold and intimidating at times anyway. The nurse frowned apologetically and sighed; It was hard to say no to Scott, with his kind, friendly eyes, gentle smile, and soft, even voice. It was no surprise that a subtle and comforting white projection radiated from his body. My own obsidian projection had stayed the same color, but taken on a sort of shimmer that drew the attention of many after he told me he loved me for the first time. Again, the nurse waved a scanner over our beautiful baby girl's chest, and clicked away at the monitor, looking back and forth from the screen to the scanner. "It...it's still the same sir....I don't have any idea what this means for her, I'm not even sure if this has ever happened before" the nurse said, turning back to the screen nervously. I watched her study our child's results with dark, sunken eyes, her nail-bitten fingers shakily tapping away at the keyboard. A grayish projection glowed weakly from her chest. Scott picked up our sleeping baby and gingerly ran his thumb over her perfectly rosy cheeks. "Let's see if we can't give this sweetheart a proper name" he cooed as he carefully sat down on the bed next to me. The nurse went off somewhere into the next room mumbling something about a birth certificate, which left the two of us to ponder our baby's name in silence. We had decided weeks before our daughter was born that we would give her a symbolic Greek God or Goddess's name depending on whatever color her soul would project. If she had projected a white color, like her father, her name would be Harmonia, to compliment the goddess of harmony. If hers were black like mine, she would be Athena, a name that would suit her wise and dignified soul. My husband was secretly hoping we would get to name her Ares, for a red projection, to express her passion and boldness, but we knew that our daughter was more than likely to have a rare or strange color, as Scott and I had two of the rarest projection colors ourselves, and it was almost unheard of for people with projections that were complete opposites to get along, much less have children. People almost always formed bonds with others who had projection colors on the same spectrum. People with orange, red, and yellow projections would often be drawn to one another, just as those with blue and purple were likely to come together. Those that were on opposite sides of the spectrum that chose to have children, such as green and red, orange and blue, as well as and most commonly black and white, often gave life to sons and daughters with more unfavorable soul projections, such as brown, and grey. This knowledge allowed Scott and I to prepare ourselves for a less desired color, yet there was no way to anticipate what our daughter's soul projection would actually be. After exchanging just a few words, the nurse returned with a blank birth certificate in hand, and asked us if we had decided on a name. My husband and I shared a brief look and a smile before I was ready to speak. "Yes we have." I looked the nurse in the eyes, bursting with confidence in my newborn daughter as my husband placed the delicate infant in my arms. "Our daughter's name is Iris." | It felt like we waited for hours to get the results of our child. We were both from the primary spectrum; My wife Amber, a red, was strong and passionate. Me? I was a blue; cool-headed and collected. We always knew that we wanted a child but were worried that they might not come out a primary or even a secondary. Everyone knows that tertiary or quaternary children can still live good lives if their hue, shade and color were in a well aligned spectrum. No matter what though, we were gonna raise and love her. After a little while longer the nurse returned with a doctor; a sallow look on their faces.
"What's wrong?" Asked Amber, some shakiness in her voice when they hadn't returned with our child. "Where's my baby? Where is she? I want to hold her." I held her hand, trying to calm her down as the doctor spoke. "We have some...troubling news. It is not an easy thing to tell a new family this." The doctor knows whatever he tells us will not go by well. I watch the nurse begin to fidget slightly, like a bug just crawled down her back. "While we were scanning you child, her hue and shade began to dip dramatically. So much so that we cannot accurately read out her color." Amber's eyes widened as I felt her hand go limp. Neither of us could believe what we had heard. She began crying; softly at first but then into a deep, sorrowful wail. The doctor and nurse were silent. They had no control over what had happened but they both know we will never see our baby again.
Suddenly, a small explosion rocked the building. The doctor turned around to look out the door. A small group of guards was running towards the scanner room. The only thing I can think of is why us as I ran after them. Smoke begin to billow through the hallway as I shoved my way past the guards to see three people; masked and armed to the teeth, holding a swaddled bundle. They opened fire on the guards and myself. A bullet ripped into my shoulder as I crumbled against a wall. They finish and began walking over the bodies of the guards. I reach out for the bundle, trying to get my innocent girl from their hands. One of them grabbed my hand and crouched down to my face."I'm guessing this one was yours?" A man's voice; calm but filled with a sense of unwarranted gratitude. "We must thank you then. You've given us the greatest gift we could ever ask for." I can hear the smirk on his lips."We've been looking for someone like this for a long time and with her, this little game is over." He released my hand and began to walk away with only one more sentence." Queen to E1. Checkmate." | 2017-04-29T09:32:21 | 2017-04-29T03:49:09 | 21 | 11 |
[WP] 37. That is how many times you have died of unnatural causes. Every time you do, you get reset to the age of 5, retaining all of your past memories. You think that this is finally the time you get to move on with life. | “Death 37, murdered after asking a man if his wife wanted extra sauce on her sandwich.” I sighed, looking at the carefully constructed crayon drawing sitting before me at the table. Another death, another reset life. To think I died after asking an innocent question. What a jealous man, who even brings a gun to a sandwich shop?
I placed the crayons down, looking at the surrounding interior. At least, I got to see my parents again. No matter how many times my life reset, both usually would pass away around the 16–20-year mark of my life. Something that used to cause me distress, but now I cherish the brief time I get to spend with them. It’s the one part of this horrid process I enjoy.
“Oh wow, you drew this?” A voice called out, my mother peering over my shoulder, looking at the beautifully crafted drawing I had made. It was nothing special, just a sunny beach with the crashing foamy waves hitting the shore. It was often the first thing I drew, as it was my grandest memory. Sure, the actual art piece wasn’t significant, but the history behind it was. It was the first place I died.
I was swimming, enjoying the waves with my family, only to be struck in the throat by a surfboard. I remembered little other than a horrible taste of blood forming in my mouth before passing, waking up in this same spot. The drawing was to remember the strange occurrence, scared the sudden influx of memories would fade, only they never faded. With each death, I would draw the picture again, my skills improving with each turn.
“It’s pretty.” I said, giving her a smile, far beyond the point of trying to convince her of this occurrence. In one cycle I had tried to explain that I had died multiple times and shouldn’t be treated like a child, but all that led to was a visit to see a therapist. So I dulled myself, putting on the act of being a five-year-old, something that was exceptionally hard.
That was the hardest part of my earlier years. Everything else was a tried and tested formula. I knew which friends I got along with, and which would lead to my demise. In my tenth cycle, I had a friend named Todd who was quite a pleasant fellow. Unfortunately, he ended up killing us both in a speeding accident, something I would never forgive him for.
“Its prettier than pretty. You are my little Picasso and my star.” She said, taking a golden star sticker from the table, planting it on my nose with a smile. It was nice to see her again, instinctively reaching forward for a hug, not wanting to let her go.
“I love you.” I could never resist saying that. In my first cycle I was so protective of saying those words, only to realize they could never be said again once my parents passed. Now I would say it whenever I got the chance, not wanting either parent to pass without knowing the spot they held in my heart.
It was a warm embrace and when it ended; I moved up from the seat, giving my mother a wave. “Going to go sleepy.” I said, getting a nod of approval from her as I headed into my room, dropping onto my bed, wanting to gather my thoughts.
I had made it to 28 years old this time. That was the second oldest life so far. Would I ever die? My life seemed to be a tale of unlucky events. Never getting to end life on my terms. At least this time, I knew not to take the Sandwich Packers job. That was another step closer to avoid my demise.
“A lot to think about.” I mumbled to myself, wondering which career I should try next? I attempted joining the art world on my 36th cycle but that ended in a robbery turned murder. Some crazed gunman shooting me in the chest as he stole my priceless private pieces. “Maybe a chef? No… too accident prone.” I pushed the thoughts from my head. It was far too early to decide on such a thing. I was five. I had a lot of life left until I had to pick a career.
For now, I would just live my life, hoping this cycle would be the successful one. With that I let my head rest against the pillow, indulging in the childhood comfort known as an afternoon nap.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | This time. This time, it will work out. There's only so many deaths one can suffer before learning how to slip through them.
Your childhood, is, unsurprisingly, the childhood of a prodigy. A 5 year old child with centuries of experience doesn't have a hard time learning how to count on fingers. The hardest part is to conceal it, as even the most innocent being would be terrified of a genius to end all genius. It had been quite the death, falling from the top of house, vilified and loathed by children and adults alike for being too good.
You the part know by heart. Great in school, great at piano, excellent physical skills. Your parents could not be too proud. You couldn't either, but this, too, has to be hidden well. Your siblings will never forgive you for allowing yourself the well deserved pride for a being of such perfection. They would call you a diva, a puppet unable to function out of the spotlight. The memory of your death, drowned in the pool was a reminder to conceal your self-awareness.
Highschool is, unremarkably, more of the same. The practical side is that skipping class allows both honing other skills and appearing as a rebel, which is always a welcome addition for a genius. Instead of a math course understood better than the teacher, you see and predict trends and patterns, feel the cultural pulse of the world and are always one step ahead of the common folk. In the many iterations of your life, you realized that possessing the zeitgeist earned much more admiration than simply taking skill and intelligence to the extreme. Ironically, this too was a pointer of today's world.
prettiest flower.
This vision of life passing is yours alone. Others cannot share it. In fact, others can't even fathom how one could sumrise so well how a human living life recursively would think. Philosophers, story tellers and artists would mock you and consider your head so far up your behind you lost any sense of realism. If only they knew how different your reality is from theirs. This did not stop you from hanging from a tree branch.
But this time, you're in uncharted territory. Never have you gone so far, living in your opulent mansion, a beautiful companion at your side, entertaining guests on the piano, thinking about the nice racing car you just bought.
The thought sidetracks you, you miss a key and blunder the rest of the partition.
The guests laugh at you, so does your companion. They had never seen you botch a piece before.
They laugh.
They laughed.
They stopped laughing, but they *had* laughed.
No, no, no, no. You refuse. It is not perfect, you scream. You missed a note, a savage disaster in the flawless universe that should be your existence. The plan hatched and grown in the ever evolving machinery of your conscience has no place for blind spots and defects.
Everyone has to love you.
Everyone has to look up to you, desire you, dream to be you.
They can hate you, some will, a hate fueled by their admiration.
But none will mock you, none would show disdain, none would ignore you. You are the pinnacle of humanity, and would suffer no such humiliation.
Enraged and bitter, you stand up and leave without a word. Your companion is puzzled at this never seen before outburst.
The car is fast and roars through the night like a bullet. The tree is old and sturdy, it has seen worse tempests than the drunk driver crashing against it. Death is instantaneous. Like it had been the day you jumped from the roof of your house, a much better alternative than drowning.
You're five years old. The game is reset, this time, it will be flawless. You will not miss any piano note. | 2021-05-30T07:56:41 | 2021-05-30T07:45:12 | 429 | 212 |
[WP] In the afterlife each religion has its own walled city in which their god or pantheon protects the believers within from the soul-gnawing horrors outside, while atheists are left on their own
Shoutout to u/Tonkarz who had the [idea](https://www.reddit.com/r/AskReddit/comments/7eao4f/exreligious_people_of_reddit_what_was_the_tipping/dq4b4y6/). |
Every city I've been to would always kick me back out. Apparently you have to be religious to live in one of these cities. My friends got in just fine, but I never could.
Throughout my life, being a construction worker, having a family of 3, and living through numerous End Of The World dates, I've never believed in any particular god. I wasn't a diehard aethiest, my best coworkers were Christian, and I welcomed everyone regardless of religion. So why can't I get into any of these cities?
Wait a minute. I'm a construction worker. There's plenty of building materials around me. And there's other people just like me, lost and with no admission into any city.
If I can't join a city, what says I can't make my own city and religion? I could provide a safe home from whatever is out here, and I could be worshipped as a caretaker for aethiests, and anyone else who doesn't have a home. Wouldn't that be passed as a religion?
Well, better get started.
---
EDIT: Wow! People seem to like this. I'm on mobile and at school so I can't get back to this until I return home. Maybe I should make this into a full novel? Who knows.
EDIT 2: Lots of people like this, maybe I should make my own subreddit and post my later parts there... | My thoughts were certain,
All Gods were fiction,
I didn't foresee,
The true benediction
Walled within,
Their utopian setting,
The dwellers rejoice,
While I'm left regretting
I'm surrounded by fools,
Oh how simple we were,
Not an ounce of faith,
We believed it was slur
All I wish is for,
All I demand,
Is one more chance,
On that beautiful land
I'd give all to thee,
I'd do so much more,
For now I can see,
What was always in store
| 2017-11-21T07:01:58 | 2017-11-21T06:54:46 | 365 | 53 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | The damn boy had found the book. Even worse, the exact *page* with his name.
"Put it down," he hissed, trying to summon the necessary rage to project his voice enough to reach the living boy's ear. "Do as I say, or suffer the consequences - you'll rue this day, I will - "
The child lifted his hand, idly smoothing his hair as he imagined a breeze passing through the room. Godammit. After so many millennia, he just didn't have the power anymore. He hadn't even been able to lift so much as a piece of paper or make one syllable heard for years now. Fading with every passing day, but never enough to simply wink out. No, he was doomed to roam the earth as little more than a wisp of smoke, drawn inevitably to the cursed books that carried his name.
"Rama Odah," the boy sounded out the syllables, and in an agony of pain and pleasure, he felt his identity shiver and strengthen, a blade of grass tasting water after a drought.
"Mom, what's this?" the boy asked the woman - Kelly, or something, if he remembered right - who suddenly swept into the study, distractedly looking for something she'd lost. Her 'cellphone', probably. The people of this age were somehow anchored to the things.
"Oh," Kelly said, a slight smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. "Nice one, Zack. You found the family heirloom. I wanted you to find it yourself, you know..."
Her voice bubbled with enthusiasm as she told the boy, not caring that she tied him to the Earth with each word, even though she scarcely believed half of her own story. The relic of a philosopher who had died thousands of years ago, leaving his library of work in the care of only his relatives. And each generation had passed it onto the next, not breathing a word to anyone outside the family of its contents.
"He was a great man," she said finally. "He had the most beautiful ideas about all sorts of things, centuries before his time. The nature of immortality, the afterlife, good and evil, the desire for power...there's a section of his work that seems to speculate on parallel universes, you know. Well, we've no idea how old this stuff really is. You'll see we made notes and possible translations of the terminology in the margins, throughout the years. Pretty neat, though, huh? You know, I remember my grandma telling me she thought the house might be haunted by the man. A story *her* mother told her. Haven't spotted him myself, though."
They both chuckled, though the boy's eyes widened at the tale.
"You're reading a copy of the original, of course," she added. "Read all of it, tell me what you think, and I might let you have a peek at the originals."
She dropped him a shadow of a wink and backed out of the room, as if she had to give him privacy for some monumental task.
Rama groaned to himself as the boy read with evident absorption, his name imprinting itself forever onto the kid's mind. Great. Another eighty-odd years of this life. The boy would likely pass the story on to his own children, too. He'd long ago accepted it as his punishment for daring to speculate on the nature of life after death. Of course, he'd seen the other spirits - clearly, his punishment wasn't unique.
But his had to be one of the *longest*, all due to his arrogance in trying to ensure his name. It wouldn't have been so bad, if only they weren't so obsessed with the mystery of keeping his name a secret, even amongst themselves. Oh, they thought of him, sometimes. But they didn't share his ideas, didn't *really* talk about him. He was a kooky relic to pass on from one generation to the next, like a dusty ring on a shelf, not a topic of conversation at dinner.
He didn't even have that much fame in the shadow of life he could claim as his own.
Rama watched morosely as the boy sank down in front of the curious thing he called his 'computer', fingers flying over the keys on the desk. Probably to play one of his accursed video games. Zack had already *mostly* forgotten about him, shelving him into a little corner of his mind that would, nevertheless, sustain him for decades more of life. Damn him. Damn them all to hell, if it existed. How would he even know.
Hours later, Rama felt himself jerked into wakefulness. He hadn't slept, of course, but he could fade away into a murkiness that resembled most closely the release he sought. But he was *awake*, more alive than he had felt in centuries.
"What?" he croaked, and he saw the boy jump and whip his head around, his face pale and pinched in the dark room. He seemed unnerved. Rama almost felt like his heart was racing, if he still had one. His name was being repeated.
Once, twice. A *dozen* times.
He drifted closer to the boy, and read over his shoulder. A strange glowing page carried the legend "Philosophers Den - welcome to our corner of the web". Somehow, it was reaffirming him - his name was being called. He read the comments with growing amazement. They were popping up every now and then, seemingly from nowhere.
*An heirloom, did you say? What is the guy's name? I can't really make out the handwriting...*
*Rama Odah, I think,* another said. *This is pretty cool stuff, man. The language seems right for the period, at least, this could be a major discovery. Can you scan the rest of the pages tomorrow?*
The boy - Zack, Rama remembered with sudden clarity - turned his attention to the screen again, and typed a response.
*Sure thing. I don't know why my family hid this from the world for so long, but I'd like to change things*. Shortly after, Zack yawned and made his way to bed.
Rama stood staring at the screen long after it had gone dark, long after Zack's breathing dropped into the deep rhythm of sleep.
He trembled as he moved his hand forward, and pressed the power button, summoning every atom of energy buzzing through his being. He could hardly believe his eyes as it hummed to life.
The blessed boy - his *descendant*, after all - had found the key to life after death. At last.
-----------
[Part Two](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inkfinger/comments/6jr72k/part_two_when_you_die_your_ghost_remains_in_the/)
[Part Three](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inkfinger/comments/6jt0va/part_three_when_you_die_your_ghost_remains_in_the/)
[Part Four/Conclusion](https://www.reddit.com/r/Inkfinger/comments/6jz38r/part_four_when_you_die_your_ghost_remains_in_the/)
Hope you enjoyed my story! You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | Bill was having a beer with Al Capone, Shakespeare, Genghis Khan and the first dog to go to space when he broke down in tears.
"What's wrong?" Al Capone asked, behind a foam mustache from his pint.
"He gets like that when he drinks," Socrates, who had just joined them, said. "I've seen it before."
"Remind me again," Genghis Khan interrupted, "who the hell is this guy?"
Bill just cried. They were at one of the space colonies, at the local tavern. The people around them – the real, live people – couldn't see them.
"He's no one," Jack the Ripper added, taking a seat by Bill. "Not famous. So... did we start the meeting yet?"
"Every ghost here is famous," Khan said. "No one survives thousands of years if they didn't do something big."
"True that," said Da Vinci, from the corner of the bar, by Cleopatra's side.
"Well, Bill's just Bill," Jack the Ripper said. "Isn't that right, Bill?"
From his place at the edge of the table, Bill just cried.
It was the annual 'Ghosts Over 1,000 Years Old meetup'.
"What's wrong with him, then?" Jesse James asked, from the counter, his lips around a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster.
"Why is he crying?"
Shakespeare nodded towards the end of the tavern, at a faraway table by the window opening to the dotted blackness of the galaxy spinning just outside. "Them. He's crying because of them."
A young couple sat there.
"Who are those?"
"*That* is Artemis, she's a living girl, you know, from the current time," Shakespeare said. "And the one across from her is… I don't know, her date, I guess."
The others watched. The girl – Artemis – chatted lively with a handsome man in military outfit. One of the colony's
captains, probably. Young, but very tall.
At the mention of Artemis' name, Bill cried harder.
"And, what?" Genghis Khan said, "is he like into her or something?"
"Dude, he's a ghost," Michelangelo added. "Of course he's not into her."
"Sorry I'm late guys, I thought you said Colony 19, not 29," Theodore Roosevelt had just arrived. He took a seat by Homer's side. "So… what are we talking about this month? Oh… who's this?"
"It's Bill. Apparently." Genghis Khan shrugged. "He didn't conquer any land or cured any illness. I don't get it either."
"Okay… Bill never attends these meetings, guys," Shakespeare said. "Because he's not like us. He's the only ghost
that's lived over a thousand years without being famous. He doesn't feel at home. And… well, he's always afraid
that… *this* will happen." He nodded towards the girl Artemis again. "That he'll run into her."
"Will someone explain to me who the fuck that girl is, please!?" Gandhi, who always got like this after a few drinks,
uttered, slamming the table. He burped.
"Artemis is the great-great-great," Jack the Ripper paused for breath… "great-great… add several more greats
there… granddaughter of a French girl named Celine."
At the mention of this name, Bill hid his face between his hands and sniffed loudly.
"Celine was Bill's summer love in high school, like, a LOT of years ago," Shakespeare added, his voice wrapped around something like envy… like he wished he'd himself have written the love story they were telling Khan.
"And things didn't really work out between them," Socrates said. "Celine had to move back to France, she was
staying in the USA for the summer only."
"What the fuck is a USA?" Genghis asked.
"Okay, I take offense in that," Christopher Columbus said, returning from the bathroom and pulling up a chair. "I told you about the New World already like a thousand times, Genghis."
"The point is…" Shakespeare continued, "Bill was never happy again. Couldn't get married. Could never find a girl like Celine. She was... the one."
"Celine, however, did find a man back in Paris and started a family. You know, eventually."
"But apparently she never forgot Bill either…"
"Because she'd tell the story of her American summer love to her daughter every night…"
"... who thought the story was so beautiful she told it to *her* daughter…"
"... and so on and so forth…"
"… for fifteen thousand years…"
"… and hence why Bill can't die. The story is still going strong."
Silence took over the table. On the corner, they could see Artemis leaning forward, telling something to her date.
A story, perhaps.
"And the sad part is," Shakespeare said, in a low voice, "that since Bill never had a family…"
"… he had no one to tell the story to…"
"… and so Celine isn't alive anymore…"
"… because you have to be remembered by someone other than your family, naturally, otherwise the world would
be crawling with anonymous ghosts…"
"… so because he loved her so much that he could never find anyone else…"
"… and because their love story was so beautiful that it survived 15,000 years in Celine's family…"
Bill burped…
"… Bill's getting drunk now," Genghis Khan finished, understand at last. "Holy shit. That's heavy."
Bill got up. He cleaned his eyes. "I gotta pee," he said, slowly.
In her corner, Laika barked sadly and in Russian.
Bill dragged himself towards the bathroom. The ghost table watched him go, in silence. By the window, Artemis' date was saying, "Wow, that's such a beautiful story…"
Genghis would deny it later, but Michelangelo, who was sitting nearby, swear he heard an emotive sniff.
________
*For more stories where I subtly imply that Shakespeare would be envious of my writing skills, check out /r/psycho_alpaca =)* | 2017-06-26T11:01:47 | 2017-06-26T10:58:48 | 3,490 | 481 |
[WP] With total war as a concept alien to the rest of our galaxy, All saw humans as negotiators and peacemakers, soft and weak. Today is the day when the galaxy discovers why being so good at finding ways to avoid war was a survival mechanism. | A general, crying? Preposterous. Utterly preposterous. But it doesn't seem so now that there are so few of us left and the galaxy is a charred ruin.
"I come in peace, but I'm pleading with you, with tears in my eyes: if you fuck with me, I will kill you all."
The Earthling outpost commander sat at the negotiating table and showed what we thought was weakness. Indeed, we laughed at him.
So we pushed them. A minor tactical thrust in an out-of-the-way sector. A few hundred Earthlings, killed; a minor moon with no real resources, occupied. How could we have imagined what would follow? How could we have imagined what lay under the soft facade the Earthlings wore?
The Earthlings reacted to the poke like a cornered, wounded animal. What we didn't know was that the only things keeping them from exterminating each other on their homeworld were the world-killer weapons that we would have thought preposterous if anyone had suggested them to us. Indeed, our spies had given confused reports of their existence. And, the Earthlings made no secret of them. We never knew that for a millennium they had survived only by way of a delicate suicide pact of "mutually assured destruction." A strategic concept so ridiculous only a race of savages like the Earthlings could have conceived of it.
Yet here we are, the last remnants of a galactic civilization of trillions that spanned a thousand millennia. Wiped out, reduced to a few thousand hunted survivors barely clinging to survival. Hiding in dark corners. To our Earthling hunters, we are vermin.
And now, here they come again to finish it. | [Poem]
Click, clack, click.
All the machines roar,
Click, clack, click.
For this total war.
Click, clack, click.
Industry cannibalized,
Click, clack, click.
To create their demise.
Click, clack, click.
All of humanity knows,
Click, clack, click.
The others don’t though.
Click, clack, click.
Bombs manufactured,
Click, clack, click.
Enemy lives fractured.
Click, clack, click.
Society rebuilt to destroy,
Click, clack, click.
Not to be enjoyed.
Click, clack, click.
Soldiers armed en masse,
Click, clack, click.
Ready to kick the others in the ass.
Click, clack, click.
Everyone does their part.
Click, clack, click.
To blow these aliens apart. | 2019-11-24T14:06:56 | 2019-11-24T10:43:55 | 157 | 66 |
[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. | Don took the flimsy printout from the grotty, grey machine in front of him. It contained a litany of sins, each printed neatly, one below the other. Unfortunately for him, the text appeared to be entirely German, set in an heavy medieval font.
The two parts he understood were his name at the top of the page and the important number at the bottom of the list: 186,292 Jahre.
"Almost two hundred THOUSAND years?!", in disbelief, he asked the anxious queue behind him.
"Not true. I was the best. The very best. I did tremendous things."
No one seemed to care.
Don rushed to catch up with the man who had been ahead of him. He had only received 145 years in Hell.
"Give me that!" Don grabbed for the slip of paper carried by the elderly man, who recoiled and tripped. As the fragile man crumpled to the dusty ground, Don snatched up the paper and rushed to join the next queue. He wasn't going to spend any more time in this drab shithole than necessary.
He threw his first printout to the wayside, not noticing that the list had grown by four items and the number now read 186,296. | Why?, I ask in disbelief I tithed I went to church I was a faithful husband. What did I do? Saint Peter looks deep into my eyes with morose and disgust, “ It is not what you have done but what you failed to do...” I rack my mind trying to figure out what it was and finally it dawns on me. All this time for a Fucking Facebook post!!!! | 2018-09-26T04:29:48 | 2018-09-26T03:51:49 | 530 | 123 |
[WP] The gritty realistic R-rated movie adaption of your favourite show as a kid. | He thought he was done. After thirty years of madness fighting crime on the streets, he was finally able to lay down his badge, and looked forward to a quiet retirement. He thought he was finally out for good. But they wouldn't let him rest. They went after his family, and now he's going to make them pay.
"If you're looking for ransom, I can tell you that I don't have any money. What I do have is a particular set of gadgets. Gadgets implanted in my body over a long career. Gadgets that make me a nightmare for people like you. Return my niece now, and that will be the end of it. I won't come looking for you. If you don't, I will look for you. I will find you, and I will go-go kill you."
This summer, one retired cop returns for one last caper, and this time, it's personal.
"Where's Penny?"
"You think you can make me talk? You're a joke, a washed-up publicity stunt."
"That was a long time ago. Things have changed. Go-go gadget blow torch."
Come see your favorite detective like you've never seen him before. This summer, Jeff Goldblum is....
Inspector Gadget.
| She was running down the halls. "Ha Ha" a voice laughed down the hall. "There's the exit, if I could just get there" Suddenly the floor gave out underneath her, and she broke her legs when she hit the ground. "Ha Ha" The voiced cackled again A large, bloody mouse emerged from the shadows, knife in hand "Ha Ha"
Mickey, in theaters this summer
Rated R | 2016-05-13T07:57:00 | 2016-05-13T07:48:07 | 126 | 19 |
[WP] One day everyone notices the words "Human Update 1.1 progress 1%" in the corner of their eye. | If you're careful, you can just catch it. Sitting there, in the corner of your field of view. There's a little trick you have to do to focus just right to be able to read the words. "Human Version 1.1 Update: Progress 1%"
No progress bar, at least none that you can reliably reproduce. Maybe the update gets us a progress bar? Or like, some life-time statistics, like in those what if questions that pop up all over the internet. No-one can agree on the font. Of all the things, why focus on the font? There's urban rumours of people offing themselves after apparently deciding they couldn't live with a God that types in Comic Sans.
All the churches are in uproar of course. "End Times", "Second Coming", "Redemption Of Man", "Quick Repent All Your Sins Before Jesus Gets Back". Yadda yadda. The progress has gone up by 0.1% in the last few weeks, and pretty much everyone's freaking out. Riots in North Korea, and Russia, and China, and America, and Europe, and the Middle East, and....
The genius of it, I think, is that the mere knowledge that a better/different state of humanity is coming, is enough to motivate change. People are energized. They want to do things, get stuff done before everything about being human is redefined forever. Most of ISIS has splintered, and over half the resistance have split off into a subgroup dedicated to stopping the remaining half. Down in Columbia they're burning the cocaine plantations. All those riots I mentioned above aren't senseless violence, they're ordinary people trying to enforce a change for the better. For the first time in a long time, people have something that implies a God is
a) up there, and
b) compassionate enough to care, even if only a little.
Just those two ideas are enough, and suddenly the whole world wants to clean up their act. It's damn brilliance, is what it is.
I half expect that the "update" is supposed to be more like a Quest Completion Bar. And as we strive to make the world better, as the corrupt and wicked slowly falter in the face of a metaphysical Big Brother, the progress bar will slowly rise.
It won't be easy, but then no quest ever is. | Sometimes we ask for it. There's something in us as human beings that pushes us, ever closer to edges, cliffs. We like to be our own saviors; to resolve the very problems we create.
Another Monday morning. But today we all noticed it: progress. Progress is a funny thing. We need it. But we fight it. One percent. And counting. I had an inkling that the chip wasn't just another medical advancement. It wasn't just going to help doctors save me from a heart attack or debit my bank account as I purchased the burger that would cause it. We all got one. The chip became our wallets, our identity, our lives. But now it seemed like it was something else entirely: an invasion.
"Well what the hell happens when it's complete!?" My girlfriend shrieked. She was always nervous but now she couldn't hide it. Two percent.
"I don't know."
Riding to work, my car took a wrong turn. I hate these things. Let me put my hands on the wheel. I want control.
When I arrived, the blinking meter reached ten percent. But I was not at work. My car had taken me to the hospital; a huge grey building that always seemed to me more like a prison than a care center.
Vision: black, then blurry, then blinding white. I think I am dead. A voice of someone I don't know and from somewhere that seems like inside my own head says calmly,
"Welcome. Now is eternal. Enjoy living on The Substrate." | 2015-03-04T17:26:24 | 2015-03-04T17:04:42 | 182 | 19 |
[WP] In a world where pregnancies sometimes last a few extra months resulting in a child with superpowers, your wife has been pregnant for 15 years | Honestly we were both really tired of it.
Our 15 year Pregnancy Anniversary had come and gone with a further-dwindling crowd. When we hit 5 Years, I swear half of the states population came and half of America turned into our broadcast. It was overwhelming, but I suppose I can't blame them. The longest on-record was 4 years 8 months, and that kid was the doctor who created the tests to determine the superpowers of each fetus. Incredible stuff, I must say. In fact, many other 3 and 4 year fetuses went on to become these amazing researchers and doctors at his Lab.
That man was born 50 years ago, and no one had ever exceeded 4 years and 3 months.
I could tell that after all that time, the public lost interest. Not that we cared. Doctors grew tired of pestering over our little girl and trusted us to be able to take care of her with some home treatments. Hell, they even stopped charging us for Pregnancy-related care after the 6th year.
My Wife had especially suffered for it. Our bodies have evolved for 10, 12 month pregnancies, but 15 years has taken their toll. She was in a constant state of pain in her back and neck, the baby is restless and seemed to kick daily, sometimes causing her to vomit.
When the birth came, it was jarring. I asked if she was joking, but when she couldn't respond, I knew it was happening. We had to make a quiet escape or else the news stations would mob the area. The Ambulance came silently, thank god it was the middle of the night. We sped to the hospital and after 13 more hours of Labor, we had our baby girl. The doctors ran the test and found... nothing. No DNA hints on what it could be. But it was something huge. Well, so huge that the entire DNA strand was different.
We watched her grow and as we did, we noticed she was *incredibly lucky.* If her 1st grade was announcing rewards for the #1 Student, she'd win every time. If we said something like "oh, I don't think we'll go to the zoo tomorrow. It's going to storm." Hell, it could be the middle of a goddamn monsoon and the rain would clear up in *minutes.*" If we said there's no way she could start a fire with her bare hands, she would conjure a flame at her fingertips.
You may be thinking, "wait, that last one doesn't make sense." You're right. Cause after 7 years of countless events similar to the former, she finally told us her power. Her baby blue eyes stared big at us as she said "I can manipulate probability."
We were obviously confused. But she explained. "I can see it in my head. It's like a dial. On one end it's 0, and the other it's 100. So like, there's a 72% chance that it will rain tomorrow. I can leave it there, I can make it so it won't rain no matter what, or I can make it where it will rain all day. What's the possibility of me growing bird wings and flying? 0%? Why not make that 100!!"
And sure enough she awoke with a glorious set of wings. She's since removed them though.
Her powers are truly limitless, and I think that's why it took 15 years to cook her up. Or so it seemed.
She's 14 now. Last night she came down crying and ran into my arms. I asked her what was wrong, combing my fingers through her bright red hair. "It- It says Gramma is 100% possibly going to die tomorrow," she sniffed "an-and I can't move the dial."
| His phone buzzed awake, woken by a call from his wife, Christie. Horado picked it up immedietly, he knew it had to be important; his wife never called him when he was at work. After all a single mistake and all his customer had was a broken clock. But he never made mistakes he was the best clock maker in the business.
Realising he had zoned out he snapped back to reality to hear the last words of his wife's sentence:
"-in labour"
He assumed he misheard: his wife had been in labour for 15 years and today did not feel like the all fateful day.
"Sorry i didn't hear yo--"
"I SAID IM IN LABOUR GET TO THE HOSPITAL NOW" Screamed Christie, her urgency being clearly conveyed over the phone.
Horado had never moved so fast in his life, his baby boy was finally being born after 15 years. This was a once in a universises lifetime occurence. After all in a society where a 2 month overdue baby may have psycho-kinetic powers, it was difficult for him to even fathom the idea of his son's power.
He was at the hospital in minutes and he burst straight into her room disregarding the warnings of the staff and there she was: covered in sweat, legs open.
"ITS COMING" She yelled over her owen screams of pain.
"PUUUUSSHHH"
And it was then, that the baby was pulled out. The baby seemed surprisingly normal; although he didn't know what else he had been expecting. The cries of the baby filled the room, drowning Christie's screams.
Before anyone could move an inch the nurse took a blood sample and inputed it into a large computer so they could instantly recognise the superpower. As they anxiously watched the result load (with an astounding degree of patience) they failed to notice the baby growing at impossible rates: its skin no longer translucent and smooth, its cries slowly getting lower.
"BEEP"
The results had finally arrived.
The nurse read it aloud:
Baby has a never seen before time related ability.
Him and his wife gasped with anticipation.
"Experiences life 100000x faster, other abilites incl--"
It was only after that, that they finally looked back at their son who was already in his 50s and on his way to the 60s. Their son, although possesing an old ageing ability died in the next minute at the age of 314.
THE END
Note: the math is probably wrong.
Note 2: This is my 2nd ever writing prompt and its on mobile so there are 100% mistakes.
Note 3: my Engrish has deteriorated as I am in Japan for exchange currently so dont be too harsh
Edit: some nerd did the math and its not 100000 times faster but 165,038,400x faster (i was close enough) | 2017-07-08T01:08:59 | 2017-07-07T22:35:59 | 1,038 | 143 |
[WP] Due to an accident during your childhood, you stopped aging physically and became immortal. After a few years, it's clear that it would be difficult to hide that fact from your friends so you left without saying goodbye. Ridden with guilt, you paid them a visit when they are now old. | I walked up to the hospital, looking the same as I did 50 years ago when we were still goofing around. I walked into the lobby to the reception and the lady glanced up.
“Are you visiting someone?” She asked indifferently, it seemed to be her usual line to everyone she greeted.
“I’m looking for a Matthew Jozehev?”
“Oh I see, well luckily he’s well enough for a visit, are you his grandson?”
“Yeah, something like that.” I said in my unchanging voice.
She then told me to wait after asking for my name so that she could ask Matthew if he knew me. A few minutes later she came back and told me to follow her, she led me down the hall at the end where he was staying so they could monitor him before giving him a discharge.
Before entering I knocked on the door 3 times each with a certain rhythm to see if he still remembered our shenanigans back then, we were fools then but it was fun while it lasted. Though I had wished I could have grown up with him, and with her, the love of my life. I cursed my un aging body, with each passing year feeling worse knowing I would outlast everyone I ever cared for. But that was enough of those pointless thoughts, I entered the room.
“So, you’re Thomas’ grandson huh? Looks like he even taught you our little knock from long ago, I almost thought he was the one visiting me but that’s not possible. Look at you, you’re the spitting image of him.” He commented in his raspy voice, a little hint of excitement behind his words.
I was happy at the mention of my name, I was happy that he still remembered the me back then but I’d be lying if I said it didn’t hurt that I sitting here lying to him, again. 50 years pass and some things stay the same don’t they? But honestly maybe things are better this way and maybe they aren’t but this is the choice I’ll take.
“Well, my dad would always tell stories of you Mr. Thomas, he would tell me of your shenanigans and all the trouble the two of you would cause together. So he told me that if I wanted to hear more I’d have to hear them from you yourself.” I said carefully trying to avoid anything that would have given me away, though it’s been 50 years what could he really remember.
He looked up at me for a moment, and for just a second we locked eyes. He stared back outside the window again, chuckling.
“It’s been 50 years you fucker, you’ve made me wait 50 year just to see your ugly mug again.” Matthew snorted out.
“But I’m damn glad that I was able to see you again, before I pass off this Earth and go to god know’s where.”
I stood there dumbfounded, so many emotions came over and before I knew, tears had started streaming down my face. I couldn’t make out a single word.
“And after all this time you still cry like you used to, I’m truly glad that I was able to see you again, a part of me back then hated you for leaving without saying anything but I think all of me now just feels sad for you. It’s been a long 50 years hasn’t it Thomas?”
I wiped my tears away and drew a smile across my face.
“Yeah, it really…it really has been huh?” I sniffed out.
We simply stayed there for hours, chatting the entire time about our lives, about our hardships, about how I became the way I am. Up to the point of the end of visitation hours. As I said my goodbyes and walked to the door, he said one final thing to finish off the day, his last day.
“Attend my funeral will ya? It’s the least you could do.” He said softly, still grinning like how he used to.
“Will do Matt, will do.” I said opening the door.
“I’ll make sure to attend yours as well.”
I smiled and left the room. You better attend it.
Well uh, thank you for reading, I was honestly nervous posting this cause I’ve only ever had friends read my stuff but I do enjoy writing and I wanted to give a shot at least, not even sure if anyone will see this. | Saran twisted his calloused hands around the hem of his shirt. He'd done so much with the endless time given to him, except one thing. His breath was held tight in his chest as he fought to rein in bitter emotions. Envy, fear, guilt, and just maybe room for a little regret in the tangle.
Small hands rose against the solid door he stood before, knuckles rapping with purpose and strength despite his small, 7-year old frame. He waited, restless and praying that for once, someone answered. He'd never liked it when people answered the door, not after he left anyway. His ears strained to hear the shuffling beyond the threshold. That methodical and light thump of aged joints approaching, before they paused, only separated by the door that seemed impossibly tall and impossibly thick to the boy on the porch.
Slowly the door opened, fastened now only by a brass chain, as the wrinkled face of his best- or he supposed now former best friend peered through the gap, her eyes widening in confusion, surprise, and recognition of Saran, who hadn't aged a day in 90 years.
"You- how?" she could only mumble, hastily undoing the door chain with hands that trembled more from emotion than age. The boy, perhaps only at the height of her hip had she been in her prime, stood on tiptoes and slid the latch through the gap made to stop an adult's hands.
The old woman invited him in, shushing Saran when he opened his mouth to speak. It made a small, weak smile reach his face, seeing that she hadn't changed much. Always the boss, even though he'd once been older than her. She had him sit in a small livingroom, decorated on every wall with athletic trophies, photos and framed newspapers. Two battered recliners that smelt like mothballs and lavender incense sat in the center of the room surrounding a relatively new-looking tv and a simple coffee table littered with knitting and books. As she left to bring tea for the both of them, he took his time to admire the legacy of his friend.
It seemed she had directed that endless energy of hers in incredible feats in sports her entire life. Even now at the ripe age of 96, she was still mostly independent, and getting about without so much as a frame or walking stick for balance."Had nothing to do after you left...I'm surprised with all your war fame and heroic glory you still have time for someone like me" It was Nora who had spoken, having snuck in on him while he was lost in reading. Her eyes bore holes into him, like it was reading his very soul, and the guilt he felt seemed to spike and writhe in his chest.
Saran swallowed and finally managed to speak. "I missed you and I'm so sorry, Nora. I can explain it all, but it's a long story, and I hope you're willing to listen." Nora could only sigh and sit down with a groan. "Its a shame, Saran. I would have loved to hear it from you 10, no, 90 years ago before the media threw you all over every platform...I thought we were friends."
\----------------
This was my first prompt and I haven't written in ages, so sorry if it's a little rough! I've had this character for years, and this was a good excuse to finally write down a bit about him. | 2021-09-12T13:29:45 | 2021-09-12T12:21:33 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] humans were the diplomats and negotiators of peace . They kept their 4 world wars well hidden from the galaxy. When a warmongering species thought humans as an easy target, they found out how good at war humans really can be the hard way. | Balricu cursed at the dead screen on his desk. First comms. Now this.
The light in the room flickered and went out, leaving the desk illuminated solely by the bright sunlight coming through the bay windows.
"Fuck!"
The human word was so versatile. Balricu continued to vent at the gods, the humans and the universe in general. Them for birthing him, they for existing, and it for it's uncaring impartiality.
There was a tap at the great oak door to the room, in a timid way, as if the tapper wished to preserve it's existence against the elemental fury that the commander was feeling.
"Come!"
His adjunct poked her head around the door, her crest feathers raised in agitation and fear.
"Sir, the leader of the pink-skins wishes to talk to you."
Balricu took an extraordinary effort to calm down and deliberately relaxed his own crest which had been trembling in outrage.
"What does that monochrome..." It was obvious what the pink-skin wanted. The timing was too perfect.
"Send him in."
By the time Allen actually reached the commander, he was feeling better than he had in years. The aliens had taken humanity by surprise, and though humans had negotiated hundreds of treaties and taken the galactic stage as diplomats, they had been unable to negotiate with the rampant hostility of the \*\*\*t't' race. From owning one percent of the spiral arm, humanity had been reduced back to a handful of colonies, mostly around Sol.
The \*\*\*t't' race were certainly colorful, as Allen admired the Commander's plumage. Almost like a peacock. Taller than humans, but not significantly heavier. It's expression was impossible to read, as their only body language appeared to be connected to their extravagant plumage, which most kept rigorously under control. Allen thought he could see faint shimmering as the feathers/scales rippled.
"What do you want, human?"
"The same thing we have always wanted, to negotiate. Peace. Trade. But you couldn't leave us alone. Now we have to take back what is ours. We humans have a reputation for peace and negotiation. Did you never wonder why?"
"No."
Allen grinned at the flat answer. It occurred to him that the Commander probably didn't understand his body-language either.
"Well, we've had four wars. The first two physical, the second two both physical and virtual. We barely survived the last war, and we became a peaceful race because of the damage we saw that we could do to each other. The knowledge of those weapons and how to make them remains. We've inflicted a grey goo on you."
"What is this grey goo?"
"Self-replicating nanobots. Artificial intelligence level 7.4. Smart." Allen tapped the side of his temple. "They had to be quiet and it's taken them some time to spread throughout your empire, to corrupt your satellites, your computer systems. It's in control of everything now. Your dominion over us is over. Your empire is gone."
"You cannot think that I would take this seriously."
Allen glanced at his watch. Pointed at the Commander's unlit screen, which obligingly lit up. "Adrestia. Please say hello to the Commander."
"Hello, Commander Balricu. I am Adrestia, and am now in control of your empire, ships, stations, satellites and worlds. Your surrender had been accepted by my Avatar on \*\*\*t'. I am in negotiations with your government as we speak to discuss reparations for my human charges. The screen flashed to a scene where a \*\*\*t't' elder, plumage faded almost to white, spoke in the pure song, in the minor key of surrender, to a defeated and dejected looking royal court. The sole non-\*\*\*t't', the Avatar stood behind the speaker's chair.
The screen flashed blank again, and the Adrestia spoke again. "I am making arrangements to take all of Earth's \*\*\*t't' into custody, but for now, if you would kindly vacate this office, Commander, for it, and Earth, are no longer yours." | Distant thunder crackled across the shadowed sky of the planet the invaders diplomat's shuttle hovering overhead. Lights slowly sweeping across the deeply forested surface of the earth before setting down in an empty clearing. Hissing escaping the hydraulics of the craft as the rear ramp of the vehicle lowered to the mud below.
Numerous echoing footsteps resounding off of the metal of the ramp turning into sickening squelching. The invaders bipedal their faces and bodies covered in colorful robes eyes scanning the clearing slowly. "Come out and and speak to us your machine minions are dead and stations destroyed."
It's voice was jagged and incredibly low ringing out through the red leaves of trees around the clearing. A brisk wind blowing through the clearing rustling the leaves and detritus the small group covering their hoods in the moment. Seconds passing before the raging winds passed further into the valley below.
.
The group's attention turning toward the lone figure now standing between the stark white tree trunks. Several of the invaders retinue flinching backwards weapons pointed forward at the ghost. "*Our terms remain the same there will be no occupation of our solar system or appeasement*".
Mud and the ruined landscape seemingly completely ignored by the Spector entirely. his slow advance across the ancient trenches leaving no trace of his passing be that bootprints or clothing. Nature itself seemingly yielding in his presence the distant thunder absent.
"We are too far into this war already human your infernal machines have killed many more than any opponent in our history. Our kin demand reparation for the millions of deaths cease your peacemaking and turn over your sovereignty or die."
.
*"We will not turn our backs on the wider galaxy and it's denizens*". The two now only feet across in the clearing rain slowly pouring down from above the clouds. Soaked in rain the invader diplomat's crystalline hand grabbing the phantom's shoulder and speaking softly.
"They have turned their back on you why do you still fight for those who abandoned your people." Mud and water staining the warmonger's boots and filling the trailing prints behind entirely. "*Because we have seen the true face of war and we remain so few because of it*".
"The ancestors will destroy this world your earth" Slowly the shade gazed into outlying reaches of the clearing barbwire and wreaked titans his form flickering in the passing breeze. "*It would not be the first time it has happened to this world we will survive as we always have*".
.
Slowly the spirit fading into the night the diplomat's hand letting go of the warrior's form. "Your people will be remembered as you deserve I will make sure of that human". Ash slowly blowing out of the aging diplomat's hand leaving only his hand outstretched.
Silver light drifted slowly into the dark opening the group boarding the shuttle and dissipating in the clouds above. Thunderous echoes erupting from the crowd in the theater below full of species including the invaders. Lights illuminating the cast leaving the stage and curtain closing.
Groups pouring out of the cinema into the streets outside chattering to one another in an dull roar. A lone hooded figure passing by the groups and into a dark alleyway pulling back the hood. A creeping smile crossing the old man's face before vanishing into thin air. | 2020-02-28T12:58:55 | 2020-02-28T12:51:35 | 71 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens have realized humans advance more quickly during times of conflict, and have tried to push humanity into wars to see what happens. However, that changes when they start WW2 and humans harness the power of the atom. | There was a quiet chaos inside the Andromeda Chamber at Milky Way Center at the 1945 Emergency Session of the Intergalactic Community of Democratic States' General Convention. Several thousand delegates shuffled their papers uneasily and drummed their fingers as the low rumbling murmur of the diplomats conversing with each other in over twenty intergalactically recognized languages filled the cathedral-like room. The giant screens suspended above the crowd all projected the same image of an empty podium with the ICDS seal affixed to the front. It had been forty minutes since the giant screens had flickered to life, and the delegates, translators, and various members of the media were beginning to lose their patience. Most of them were still star-lagged and sleep deprived from having rushed to catch the first available ship to Milky Way Center, and few of them knew what would be awaiting them upon their arrival. It was an absolutely unprecedented meeting, and back in the chamber, the collective mood of the room seemed to be a few minutes away from outright hysterics. It was nearly time for the Secretariat to speak.
The Secretariat had kept to himself for most of the day before the speech. Despite frequent attempts to receive input on the speechwriters’ final drafts, the Secretariat would only agree to a brief breakfast meeting and some quick Telenotes sent in response to the increasingly desperate communications sent to his hotel room by his team. He was keeping himself isolated for their sake: it was unlikely that any staff members were comforted by *his* utterly dumbstruck reaction to the news when it arrived via an emergency Telenote two days ago. And although he had been able to project a cooler demeanor in the days since the news arrived, the morning of the speech he found that he was no longer able to project the same elder-statesmanlike calm that had usually comforted his staff in times of crises. The news was finally beginning to seem real to him. The news that a participant population on the planet Earth, one of the ICDS’s largest and hitherto most successful case studies in the Planetary Progress Labs Initiative, had developed the technical capabilities to kill hundreds of thousands of their own in an instant. It was only a matter of hours before the Intergalactic Community would have to act, and no one, not even the Secretariat, had the slightest idea of what to do. | A report was sent to my implant, allowing me to view the text and video in my brain with ease.
It said: "Indoctrination of Subject A, the catalyst of the second conflict with designation A* consequences was successful. The resulting conflict was observed to rush advancements of primitive computation, biological, weapon, atomic, vehicular and industrialisation processes.
Nation state of Subject A had an advantage in above mentioned processes than nation states of Subjects C, R and J, indoctrinated upon their rise to leader status, but nation states of subjects C, R and J managed to advance to, approximately 80% of Subject A's nation state's process by the end of the conflict.
Observation of Subject R's nation state's atomic program concluded with two detonations of solid-radiactively-supplemented fission explosion devices over Subject H's** population and industry centers.
Above mentioned Subjects have agreed to end the conflict soon after the detonations, except for Subject S and H.
Conclusion: Species Sol III has achieved advancement of 0.44% above speculated level. Requesting to prolong observation of species Sol III for additional 300 Sol III cycles to document future advancements.
*requesting changing the conflict consequence scale to accompany 1 more level for possible future nuclear annihilation
**Subject H's indoctrination wasn't planned, as it developed war mongering tendencies on it's own"
Edit: added a small paragraph, typo | 2018-11-27T13:18:10 | 2018-11-27T10:48:49 | 65 | 34 |
[WP] The heroes have confronted the villain in their lair. The villain starts by telling them "You don't have to believe me. I know I've done horrible things. But I only took this gig as a fated overlord to prevent someone worse from claiming the title." | "Despario, your reign of tragedy has ended. The Incredible Friends of Justice are here to stop you!" The Dazzler belted out as he glided down on green feathered wings, followed quickly by Sour Appolon being carried by Ape Nation jumping from rock to rock.
Despario sat on his throne of skulls, looking forlorned and weary of duty. "You don't have to believe me. I know I've done horrible things. But I only took this gig as a fated overlord to prevent someone worse from claiming the title, my brother."
"We didn't come to wax philosophy," Ape Nation, the gorilla heavyweight wrestling champion roared. "We came to beat you into more manageable pieces, oh yeah!"
"I've never told anyone about my brother." Despario said, turning to face the ground, no weapon in hand.
"Let him speak," called the Dazzler, adjusting his beak. "There's no where for him to escape and if he can give us a lead on more criminal scum, all the better."
"Hope I'm not late to the barbecue!" said Stovie, the boy oven wonder. The others ignored him. He raised his hands in frustration and leaned on the wall.
"Thank you, Dazzler," Despario nodded somberly. "Imagine all the evil I've done and multiply it by a hundred. That's what my brother is capable of. He can crack a nation's magma core in less than a day. He could create a black hole in his lungs and consume the stars in one cruel breath. Here's the worst of it. We're blood brothers, who worked together to accomplish great things. We were both princes of our country in the dimension of misery, I was loved and he was feared. He would only agree to stay in that dimension if I agreed to come here and wreak havoc. So, I gave up my crown and came here, doing as little damage as I could while still fufilling our promise. I miss my family, my brother aside, but I must stay and protect this dimension from his wrath."
"This is such a sad story," the Dazzler sympathized. "But we still must take you in."
"I understand, Dazzler, but please see to my two orphaned dogs in the back of the lair. They like to rest in the sunlight of the skull window, they are very old and sick but they are such good boys. If only I could be with then as they pass. I've always wanted a dog, my dimension has no such companions." Despario turned back to the heroes, cupping his hands around his mouth in light sobs. "I'm sorry. I'll compose myself."
Sour Appolon placed a hand on Despario's shoulder, careful to avoid her toxic skin touching him. "Regardless of what you've done, your dogs don't deserve to suffer. I'll see to them."
"Thank you," Despario said, sparing a glance at the stalward Ape Nation. "You are all so kind. I never had a father growing up, so I had to learn to make it on my own, I mistook toughness for strength and never let anyone in. I appreciate this kindness I don't deserve." Ape Nation didn't react but a single welling tear glistened in one eye.
"So, you will come peacefully?" The Dazzler asked, approaching with the glimmering purple sash of hope. Despario knelt down and let the fabric cover him. Instead of binding him, it quickly became ash before it could tighten around him. The team jumped back into battle positions.
"You said you were here to stop me, Incredible Friends of Justice," Despario said rising to his feet, "but that will be impossible now. I've never shared my power with anyone alive to tell. I am completely invincible to any who have felt sorry for me and with only a touch I take their might! I have no brother, I beat my dogs, and I ate my father alive! You fools, do you now see why this is impossible? You are but few, and your foe is a god locked and twisted in pieces of your own souls!"
Ape Nation was already on him and threw a haymaker punch, colliding with the unreacting frail villain's face, only managing to break his own hand. A spear of dark energy pierced the beefy hero, draining him to a pile of ash before the heros' eyes.
"Close your eyes, Dazz!" Sour Appolon said. "I'm going all out!" A swirling green smoke filled the chamber, sizzling with caustic force as it ate at the walls, bubbling the very stone.
"I just repainted in here!" Despario yelled, throwing a spear with all the force of Ape Nation, impaling Sour Appolon to the wall as the smoke reentered her apple mask. Someone was coughing violently from behind the throne.
"Well, Dazzler. Let's see it." Despario said as he touched a finger to Sour Appolon's exposed midrift.
"My pleasure, villain!" Dazzler sung as loud as he could. "Disco spirit ball!" A huge disco ball swung from nowhere, crashing into Despario without effect. A dark green mist surrounded him, forming into etheral goblins of caustic sour slime.
"She really had no creativity," the villain said with a gesture to the hero, who was quickly swarmed by the blobs. One popped and sizzled as it entered the hero's beak. Another clawed at his eyes.
"And now I will consume you, Dazzler and with the power of your songs, I will ensnare the wor-" Despario began to scream wildly as he began to be cooked from the inside out with all the power of convection, conventional, and microwave cooking to 500 degrees fahrenheit.
The blobs melted off of the smoking skull of Dazzler, competing for the worst smell in the room as Stovie, the boy oven wonder, coughed and held his nose, not the least bit of pity in his eyes as he looked down at the dead villain who had killed his parents.
---
For more of my writing, see /r/surinical | The burnished blade of my sword rested in the hollow of the King’s throat, its point drawing a thin line of blood just below his Adam’s apple. There were bodies scattered around the wreckage of the throne room, my men and his, and some of them dear friends. It was dark outside, the braziers had burned low during our battle; the points of the King’s red eyes were shockingly bright in the dim light.
I think there’s something about the point of a sword that brings out the best in people. Swords cut away all the lies around a life, they pare us down to our most basic elements and show a man for what he truly is. There’s no bigger gulf in the whole world than between a peasant and a king, at least until the moment when they cross blades, and then the only thing between them is a few feet of steel.
And now that we’d crossed blades and I’d shorn his in two like so much wheat I found myself pitying the man. Those red eyes were different when they encompassed their own death. His breath came quickly, shallowly. The shadows made him look very old.
“Is this what my life comes to?” the King said. “Throat cut in my own throne room?”
“Did the last King say the same when you betrayed him?” I asked.
“Yes he did.” He inclined his head, the barest flicker of a motion, “and I still cut it anyway.”
“Then pray, if the Gods will have you. And close your eyes.” I tilted my wrist, preparing to drive the sword’s point home, but those eyes did not close, and the words that fell from the condemned King’s lips were unholy.
“The prince you serve is false,” he said. “As was his father, and his grandfather. You would damn the world with a flick of your wrist.”
The thin line of blood at his throat flowed more freely now, not slit yet, but nicked more deeply where my cut would have started. The King’s voice was low and husky but shockingly steady, it felt like cold steel’s own truth.
“What did you say?” I asked.
“The prince is false, as is your whole cause. How old are you boy, twenty? I served his family longer than you’ve been alive, since your prince himself was just a mewling pissant of a boy torturing servants for fun while his parents applauded. I've no need of your prayers, my conscience is clean. Believe as you will, but I did what I did to prevent someone worse from claiming the throne.”
Incredibly, impossibly, my sword’s point found no lies. I pressed in gently, parting the flesh of his neck, his life hanging by the barest measure of steel, and he kept my gaze unwavering, with only the smallest grit of his jaw.
Once, on the practice field, my prince had screamed when I struck him a blow with an ash dowel. His wooden sword had dropped nervelessly from his fingers and he’d looking up at me in shock and anger. For a moment I’d even thought he might cry.
This man stared up at me with a sword piercing his throat and still held his head high.
My blade pulled back. I took a single step away from him, and the King on the ground didn’t even try to staunch the flow of his blood.
“Where is your prince now?” the King asked. “His face isn’t among the dead, my wizards didn’t sense him near the castle. Do you truly fight for a man who didn’t even come with you?”
I blinked hard, and suddenly the smell of blood in the air was overwhelming. I glanced around the room at my friends, Dortmund’s corpse lay in the entranceway, Cambray’s head had rolled to the foot of a statue, and Bianca…her body lay broken only a few feet away on the first steps that led up to the throne.
The Prince was still in our camp.
“He didn’t—”
A sudden force took my breath away. It felt like I had been punched in the chest and was being deflated. I took a ragged, wheezing breath and tore my eyes from Bianca’s corpse, looking down at my own body. The hilt of a dagger protruded from my chest, piercing a lung and the Gods knew what else.
My sword dropped from my hand, just like the prince’s had all that time ago, and suddenly I was back on that practice field in the moments after I had struck him. My prince had fallen to his knees just like I had now, his scream still echoed through the clearing. He looked up at me, struggling to push the pain down…
And then he’d stood back up, dusted himself off, and clapped me on the shoulder. “I suppose that’s why I’m not fighter,” he’d said. “That was a good hit.” Could that man ever have tortured?
The King loomed over me. His demeanor unchanged, even without the point of a sword between us. We'd been worlds apart the whole time, perhaps some gulfs never did close.
“You were a good fighter, I could have used you.” He looked around his throne room at all of the dead, his gaze settling on Bianca, just like mine had. “What a waste,” he said.
Then he planted a foot on my chest, just above the dagger, and toppled me onto the floor. “Idiot,” he said, as my vision faded.
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-03-21T07:03:20 | 2021-03-21T06:41:47 | 97 | 25 |
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