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[WP] You're a prophet, capable of seeing a great villain bring about the end of the world in the future. The problem is you see no savior, no Chosen One to stop the evil. So, you enact a several millennia long plan to breed one into existence. | By dawn, a crowd had gathered in the plaza in front of the Palace of the Divines. From my quarters in the highest tower I could see both rough-spun woolen tunics in varying shades of brown, but also the brightly colored silks of wealthy merchants and noblemen. More disturbingly, the crowd was littered with the green cloaks of soldiers. This could easily turn violent.
Somehow, word of my latest prophecy had leaked out. Our order took strict vows of secrecy and the Word had only been read aloud to my brothers. But we're all only human, with human weaknesses. Now the public was aware of the thunderstorms looming over our kingdom, threatening death and doom for us all. My visions showed fire over the city ramparts and blood running through the gutters as an invading army sallied through the gates.
The other members of the Order of the Oracle were waiting in the atrium for me. "What will we do, Grandmaster?" one begged. It was Diego, the most recent addition to our ranks. "The crowd demands an answer!" They all clustered around me, just as demanding as those outside our doors. All except one: Johannes. The one who’d revealed the prophecy to his favorite brothel girl last night. He hung back in the shadows, trying to avoid my gaze.
“I will handle the crowds,” I reassured them. The doors swung open with a creak after being sealed for so long. Members of the Order of the Oracle are traditionally cloistered and solitary so as not to cloud our visions. I stepped out onto the plaza and beckoned for silence so that I could make an announcement.
“It is true,” I roared at the top of my lungs, “that I have seen the end approaching for us all. The not-yet-born Emperor Ential who will overthrow our kings and burn everything that we have all worked to build.”
“What can be done?” the crowd demanded. Yet another reason that my Order tended to avoid public interactions: humans are so often prone to ‘shooting the messenger.’ As was often the case with prophecy, the listener demanded a solution to the prophesied woe, and we often did not have one. But today, I did.
“I plan to beseech the king today to found an Order of the Warrior,” I told them all. “So that our society can give birth to the perfect champion who shall fight off these foes and save us all from our doom!”
The crowd cheered heartily and began to disperse, so I returned inside. The other members of the order had left the hall, except for Johannes. He watched me from an alcove, and I gave him a polite nod then continued on my way. He likely thought that he’d gotten away with it; that I didn’t know he had broken the order’s rules.
It didn’t matter what he’d done. With prophecy, one quickly learns that everything happens for a reason. Without Johanne’s indiscretion, there would be no call to action for some way to save the kingdom. Without a call to action, there would be no Order of the Warrior. With no Order of the Warrior, there would be no power struggle with the king. With no power struggle, no civil war. And without the civil war, General Ential would never rise to prominence. Would never invade neighboring kingdoms. Would never declare himself Emperor and turn his armies on his own homeland. Without Johanne’s mistake, the prophecy would never have come to pass.
But it will. As prophecies always do.
| Fire. Death. Suffering. The stench of rotting, charred corpses burned my nostrils as I rushed to find someone who could help me defend my homeland. A warrior or wizard or even a bard. Anyone. I just can't do it on my own. But as I turned a corner, the mastermind behind the attack stared me down as if he was staring into my old corrupted soul. My blood ran cold. Then there was only pain as I started to burn.
I woke in a cold sweat, breathing heavily and trying to gather my bearings on reality. The visions usually only appear every 4 moons, usually warning about a small battle between the kingdoms, a show of power, or a major change in trade. However, every night for the past 5 moons, this dream has haunted my slumber. Every night ending in the death of the entire kingdom. The way the villain arrives differs, but it always ends with myself being turned into ash with no hero in sight. As a prophet gifted with these visions, I take them as a sign from The Creator to create a hero to protect my fellow man.
I began studying the magic of life. How to alter humans to have immense strength and vitality. Spells to heal wounds that would normally kill a man. As I studied, the vision continued to pester my thoughts, now lasting into the noontime. The flames larger, the power greater. The Creator now speaking directly into my mind, teaching me unknown knowledge of the very creation of man.
Eventually, I had a few candidates to be the hero we desperately need. A young man with incredible talent for magic, a woman with unhuman levels of strength, and a man so persuasive, only the voice of The Creator could steer me away from his suggestions. These heroes could protect the land. Save us all.
*Kill them*
I froze, confused and terrified at the thought. Why would The Creator suggest such a thing?
**KILL THEM**
My vision went black, and then I awoke. Soaked in the blood of my creation, I passed out again. This time, as my eyes opened, I was wearing deep crimson robes, my face covered in soot. I was horrified. I was burning, but not hurt.
"What has happened Creator? What happened to the vision?!"
*"You foolish man. You thought that I deemed you savior? That I intended your survival against your own lust for power?! No, I have given you my knowledge of magic and creation to become my weapon. You thought you saw evil in your visions. I saw my hero."*
I feel my blood run cold as my vision begins fading and the flames grow around me. But then, I smile as I feel the power flow through me. | 2016-08-24T10:30:28 | 2016-08-24T10:26:52 | 74 | 17 |
[WP] You are a monster, but thanks to a potion that you take daily you can appear as a human. You have been able to go to a human school and even make a small group of normal friends. But then your potion runs out in the middle of a sleepover with all of your friends. | Arnold was having the time of his short, monster life. His first sleepover—a day he'd dreamt of since his little eldritch mind could comprehend the theory of a slumber party—and the night was still young.
Bradley, his gracious host, had an itinerary full of activities for his three guests. The night started with some sodas out back; they sucked the fizz through their crazy straws as the sun dipped behind the fence, gossiping about their schoolmates in-between burping contests. A game of tag immediately followed, and they chased each other like juiced track stars as the sugar coursed through them, only stopping when it became too dark and cold to play outside. Up next was hide-n-seek, Arnold's game of choice—he had plenty of experience hiding under beds.
The host offered to seek first, so Arnold and the other two boys commenced their scrambling around the house while Bradley's counting echoed down the halls.
*29... 28... 27...*
They separated at the stairwell, with Cooper opting for the laundry room next to the garage, while Arnold and Hector ascended towards Bradley's room.
*19...18...17...*
The two stopped at Bradley's door, scanning the room for optimal locations—Arnold already had his eyes on that bed.
"He'll find us if we both hide in here," Hector whispered. "I'll take the bathroom down the hall, I'm pretty sure I can fit in the cupboard under the sink." with that he was off, moving like a ninja down the hall.
*9...8...7...*
Arnold dove under the bed, pulling the sheet down a bit so it draped over the empty space. All night, he'd forgotten that he was a monster. Here, with his friends, he was just another kid, but being under his friend's bed was a little nudge back towards reality, and a thought echoed in his mind like Bradley's counting, 'Remember to take your medicine after dinner, Arnold. We wouldn't want you having an *attack* in front of your friends...' his father's words, coming back to him all too late.
*Ready or not, here I come!*
Arnold looked down at his hands. He hadn't noticed, but it was already starting, "Oh, no. No! No! No!" he slid out from his hiding place—he had to find his pills.
Downstairs, Bradley trolled the house like a hunter, occasionally calling out, "*Where are yooooou?*"
Ripping through his backpack, tossing clothes into the air, Arnold searched frantically but to no avail. The pills weren't there.
Footsteps on the stairwell. *Stomping.* Bradley was climbing at great speed, "*I think I hear one in my room!*"
With nowhere to run, his body almost completely transformed, Arnold scurried to the closet, slamming the door just as Bradley entered the room.
"Hey, no fair! You can't change hiding places after I already found you!"
Arnold didn't respond, still searching for his medicine in the closet—a fool's hope.
"Alright, then. I'm coming in!"
"No!" Arnold pleaded, tears welling in his eyes. "Please, don't come in here."
"Arnold?" Bradley lowered his voice, aware of his friend's distress. "Are you OK, man?"
"I—I just need my medicine. It was in my bag, but I can't find it," he was sobbing as he spoke.
Sympathizing, Bradley crept towards the door, "Don't worry, we'll find it. Just come out, and I'll help you look," his hand was on the doorknob, twisting it open.
"No—"
Bradley flicked on the light, and there was Arnold. Not his friend from before, but something else entirely. The small child with fair skin and tight brown curls had been replaced by something that looked like a cross between a lizard, a bird, and a squid. He cowered in the corner, tentacles quivering.
"Please, Brad. Don't scream, I'm sorry—"
"Whoa...."
Hector was at the door, and a rhythmic thud told them Cooper was flying up the stairs, "What gives? I was getting Castrophobic in there!"
"Shh," Bradley held a finger up, waving the other two boys in. "Shut the door."
They obliged, and he prepped them as they moved toward the closet, "Guys, whatever you do, don't scream. Arnold, uh—Arnold has something he needs to show us..."
When Hector and Cooper stepped in front of the closet door their eyes screamed, but they didn't.
"Whoa..." Cooper exhaled.
"Holy shit..." Hector whispered.
Arnold was still whimpering softly, speaking in-between sniffles, "I'm sorry—I forgot to take my pills and—and I can't find them—and—and," he couldn't look at his friends. He knew they probably wouldn't be friends to him for much longer, "and this is what I am—a hideous freak."
Arnold continued to cry, recoiling deeper into the corner as the three examined him curiously. No one said a word, until, finally, Bradley let out a deep sigh, "I'm a control freak."
Cooper giggled, a sharp contrast to Arnold's weeping, "What?"
Bradley threw up his hands, "I'm a control freak. Our family therapist says I feel the need to control all aspects of my life, and that my anxiety comes from a lack of control," he signed again, like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. "Which is probably why I'm a little freaked out right now, this was not on my itinerary..."
They all laughed, even Arnold managed something like a smile.
"I wet the bed when I've had too much to drink," Hector exclaimed, putting a hand on Bradley's shoulder. "Especially too much soda... Sorry, Brad."
More laughter, Arnold began to creep slowly out of his corner.
Cooper ran a hand over his shiny, bald head, blushing as he spoke, "Ya, I didn't shave my head because I wanted to look like Jason Statham—I got lice," everyone laughed as Hector rubbed Cooper's head.
They all backed up as Arnold came to the door, giving him some space.
"You see," Bradley held out a hand. "We've all got something we're embarrassed about, things we definitely wouldn't want the kids at school knowing about us, but the four of us: we're friends," a reluctant tentacle rose up, and Bradley grasped it firmly. "Your secret's safe with us, so how about we find your pills?"
Bradley, Hector, and Cooper searched the rest of the house while Arnold checked around the room; after a few minutes, Bradley came back with the bottle in hand, "Mr. Biscuits must have been batting it around the house, I found it down the hall."
"Stupid cat," Cooper collapsed onto Bradley's bed.
Arnold took the bottle, smiling at his friends, "Thanks, guys. I've never felt like I could be myself around anyone except my family before." as he unscrewed the cap, Hector interjected.
"You know, you don't have to take those around us, if you don't want to."
"Ya," Bradley locked the door to his room. "My dad will be watching TV in his room until he passes out, there's nothing to worry about."
"Really?" Arnold already had the cap back on, he was far more comfortable in his natural form. "You guys wouldn't mind?"
"Dude," Cooper lurched up from the bed," You have six tentacles! We could run two more players on Smash Bros..."
"I'm on Arnold's team!"
"He's his own team, he can't fight himself!"
"No fair, I'm stuck with you!"
The night fell comfortably back into games, laughs, and junk-food—closely following Bradley's well-planned itinerary.
____
**/r/BeagleTales** | 'Mom? Mom?' My voice was already gaining that growling tone that made Earthlings shiver. 'Mom, tell Garoooght to turn on the translator!' I spoke the words slowly. Lisa's cat was still frozen in its place, her green eyes wide and unblinking.
Mom always said cats are the greatest enemies of Shushmanooks or Night Terrors as humans called us. I really didn't like the name and one of my main goals was to raise the awareness of the importance of really knowing someone before you judged or made him wear some stupid label.
'Mom?' I tried to find an empty room to talk to my mom before Lisa's parents come looking for me. My baby brother Garoooght had installed a translator that made human words understandable for Shushmanooks. He says there are so many 'aha' moments inside our community since the moment he patented the translator.
See, we often visit human houses. During the night, off course, since we're as good as blind when that flashing ball burns in the sky.
I' not trying to brag, but I was the best in my generation, just like Garoooght was the best in his. My family is held in the highest esteem among the people of Shushmanooks and the only reason my dad allowed me to go on with this mission was because all my teachers convinced him this was the greatest breakthrough in the history of our people ever since Ghujakoopkh invented insulated bottles for shadow storing. But now I was in trouble and I needed my mom.
'Mom, I'm at Lisa's place,' I said, my eyes blinking fast when I heard my mother's voice. Only after a week away from home I understood why humans sometimes had the transparent liquid leaking out of their eyes. 'I miss you too, mom,' I whispered, 'but I forgot to drink my potion this morning and now I can't go back. What should I do? I'm scared.'
My mom was the smartest mom in the world. There was almost nothing she couldn't fix. So I patiently listened to every word she said and when I came down the stairs I felt like a new person, or a new Shushmanook in my case.
My friend Lisa had a nice home – well nice for a Earthling. There were plenty of dark corners where you could store shadows and they kept the space under their beds very clean.
When I arrived in the dining room I was perfectly aware my skin was already more indigo-green that it was an hour ago and my eyes looked more like the eyes of a Shushmanook than of a human but my mom said I can't go wrong when I'm being my authentic self and that was exactly what I was going to do.
There was a little collective gasp when I approached the table. Lisa and her parents didn't seem too surprised buy Jane and Beth, my school friends, seemed absolutely terrified.
There were plates full of mac and cheese in front of us but I couldn't pretend I liked human food anymore. Not because I was rude. My mom raised me right – you eat what is in front of you and you don't complain, but without my regular dose of potion that made me look like a human being my stomach also stopped resembling a human stomach.
'I can make you something else if you don't like this, Sophie,' Lisa's mother smiled at me. Sophie was my human name and I kind of liked it.
'She looks strange,' Jane whispered. Beth was staring at me with those big unblinking eyes, list like Lisa's cat.
'Leave her alone,' Lisa said and I smiled at her. Beth gasped.
I took a deep breath, bracing my self for whatever was about to come. 'Well,since you're asking, I'd like a shadow, if you don't mind,' I said to Lisa's mom, keeping my back straight and my hands neatly folded in my lap. They called us monsters but we had our manners.
'A shadow?' Lisa's mom repeated, little confused smile playing about her lips.
'Any shadow would do, really, I don't want to inconvenience you.' I said, already feeling stupid. I should have gone home and drank the stupid potion. But now it was too late.
I saw Lisa's mom glancing at her own shadow. I shook my head. 'No, no, I'd never be so rude.' I explained quickly. 'I was thinking if you had a shadow to spare, that would work for me, like a shadow of a lamp or like that one in the corner.' I pointed at a bookcase shadow. That wouldn't hurt anyone.
'Please, be our guest,' Lisa's mom whispered gracefully even her confusion was evident.
I rose from the table, let my napkin folded on my left side and went to slurp the shadow. Even I was starving I tried to keep the noised at the minimum.
With my belly full I found it much easier to confront their judgement. Surprisingly there was none.
Lisa's father was watching me with curiosity. 'There you go,'he smiled. 'I kept thinking why you needed that little tube.' He pointed at my face.
'That's my mouth,' I was more than happy to explain to him. In fact my main goal was to make humans understand us better. We were no monsters we just fed on the shadows from their world.
He kept asking me questions and soon the entire family joined. Even Jane and Beth seemed relaxed about me.
'How did you know I was a Night Terror?' I spoke the name with some difficulty. I really didn't like it.
'Well,' Lisa's mother said, 'our youngest, Ben, said he thought he saw one of your...people,' she smiled apologetically, 'under his bed.'
I nodded. 'Yes, it was one of my cousins. They told us so many wonderful things about you.' I smiled. 'You were one of the reasons I decided to try this.' I pointed at my body that now barely resembled one of a human being. 'It's my school project – to make us understand you better – you Humans, I mean,' I smiled, 'and I was hoping I could make humans understand us better too.'
They all kept nodding.
'Why don't you try with a You Tube channel?' Lisa said.
'I'll call some of my Institute colleagues,' Lisa's father said, 'they are all brilliant physicists. I'm sure we could help you.'
I was so happy my antennas started shivering.
The next morning I came down to find all kids of objects placed on the dining table casting the tastiest shadows with a little note 'Bon Appetit,' written with soft feminine letters. Lisa's mom was the greatest.
Only Jane seemed a bit uncomfortable next to me, glancing at her own shadow every once in a while.
'Don't worry, Jane,' I reassured her, 'you take a bite of someone's shadow only when you really want to hurt him and I don't want to hurt you. We're friends.' I said.
'Sure,' Jane said, keeping her frightened eyes on her sandwich.
I was making progress but my dad was right - Humans were the most confusing race in the galaxy.
Thanks for reading! If you liked this one, you can find more stories at r/CrystalElmTales | 2020-01-14T09:39:12 | 2020-01-14T08:34:13 | 64 | 16 |
[WP] A level superheroes protect the universe, B level superheroes protect the Galaxy, C level superheroes protect the Earth and so on. You are a Z level superhero. You protect...a single street in a small village. | This is my street. No, I don’t technically own it or anything – private drives are for people with a whole lot more money than I have. This lovely stretch or road was assigned to me by our governing body, the International Council of Super Heroes, twenty-two years ago. You see, the ICSH is ran by a council of elders who utilize a tremendous AI, that was developed by Wayne Industries, to rank heroes by natural ability, aptitude and society's needs. Some of them are massively powerful or frighteningly smart, and get the big jobs. You know, fighting off extraterrestrial threats; maintaining the space-time continuum; preventing nuclear holocaust; et cetera. Not me, though. I’m plenty smart, but I am not all that powerful: I am a little faster than the average human, I can see in the dark a little better, and I am a superb judge of character. Once I started discovering my powers, I had dreams of defending the cosmos from nefarious entities. That allegedly brilliant AI didn’t agree with my dreams and gave me the score of Z. My heart was broken until I arrived here.
I was assigned to Indian Paintbrush Ave, here in Bairoil, Wyoming. Ever heard of it? Probably not. There is nobody in Wyoming, so a town of ninety-nine people might as well not exist. It is sparse here, dry and hot in the summer. In the winter it snows so damn much. I’m from Pensacola, and frankly I hate this snow and the lack of water. The mountains are nice, though. You want to know what keeps me at my post, here in the middle of nowhere? The people. On IPA, as I cleverly like to call my road, there are about fifty people spread across twenty-eight houses and a shed that I’m pretty sure that someone is squatting in. For these people, I’m important to the community, and I’d never have it any other way.
You see, normally I’d be here to fight crime or guard school kids as they get off the bus. The thing is, there is basically no crime here, and the whole town has like five children who are of elementary school age. Instead, I serve my street and people however I can. It was last November, for example, when I helped save the life of old Toby Jones. He’d had a heart attack and no pulse, but the nearest hospital is way over in Casper. Had I not been fully trained in CPR and my superpower of having 10% more stamina than the average man, Toby would have died by the time Medvac arrived. Oh, and there was that time where the Ferris Mountain wildfire was threatening the town. Everyone had left Bairoil due to the evacuation, except for Jamie Harris and her disabled aunt. They had no place to go, but I had connections. Thanks to my membership in the ICSH, I was able to score a sweet five percent discount at the Motel 6 up in Jeffrey City, and provide safe refuge for Jamie and her Aunt Mildred.
Most of my days aren’t that eventful, to be honest. I actually spend most of my time shoveling driveways and sidewalks in the winter, sweeping the dust in the summer and just shooting the breeze with the townsfolk. I may be assigned to only IPA, but this whole community has welcomed me, embraced me, and accepted me as one of their own. They even started calling me “Captain Bairoil,” a nickname that I might just use as my official title registered with the ICSH. To tell you the truth, I was very disappointed to be sent here. It was hard to go from the sunny, warm climate of Florida to the harsh weather of central Wyoming. The mountains are austere and beautiful, but I miss the sea and palm trees. But you know what? I’m glad they sent me here. This place has become home, and this community is now my community. I love it here and hope to never leave. | Instantsight
Chapter one: unforeseen circumstances
Most of the kids who know of me think its silly I do what I do. Being the protector of a street in the small village doesn’t seem to add up too much. The one thing they don’t know is my powers / abilities. Most people don’t know them in fact. I don’t have super speed, but I do have physic visions allowing me to see the future. It is handy when trying to prevent big accidents like fires or bad accidents. I also can teleport whenever I envision in my mind. As s level Z superhero though I get paid yearly for crime prevention and bad guys stopped. Basically, the longer my street remains crime free or low crime rate I get my check. I could show off all my powers, but that may make villains continue to try to come back. If the only thing I must deal with are a few criminals from time to time and heckling from the neighborhood kids I’m alright with that life.
One evening though a few thieves decided to see what I was capable of and began stealing things from the residents of my street. Without them noticing I appeared right behind them. “Look if you put back what you stole and promise not to do it again, I’ll dismiss this from occurring and we can all go on about our lives.” I said startling the three robbers. In response one of them tried to punch me in the face while another started to pull out knives. I audibly sighed and dodged the punch. As I dodged the knife wielding one came in for a stab. I teleported right beside him and tripped him resulting him and his fist friendly co worker get entangled with one another. The third however pulled out a gun. He smirked and he pulled the hammer back and aimed it right in the middle of my chest. What he wasn’t expecting was I smiled back “Look this is your last chance to give up peacefully.”. They were not impressed as the one with the gun pulled the trigger the other two went for my legs. The gun wasn’t loaded and when I teleported behind the gun wielding bandit the other two collided again but this time knocking each other out. As the gun bandit realized where I was, he tried to spin around, but I was able to hit him upside the head knocking him unconscious. I called the police and put the bandits in restraints. I also removed the small video camera I had on me recording the altercation. I gave the sd card to the police when they arrived.
With another day saved I went back to my little apartment pet my cat and went to my little office and found a teenage adult sitting in my computer chair holding a strange card. As they looked at me and the card they read it aloud “Dear Instantsight, It has come to our attention that your skills and ranking do not match up well and have sent you an invitation to be re-evaluated. This time it is an order from the higher ups that you show up for the re-evaluation and have been given a substitute hero to take your place while you go.” “Well I did not see this coming… shoot” I sighed out loud. | 2020-07-28T12:51:28 | 2020-07-28T12:38:27 | 63 | 45 |
[WP] Due to overpopulation, a law was passed globally that requires everyone to hibernate for 100 years at a time after every 90 years. Today is Shutdown Day. As you finish getting tucked into your pod, you instantly notice eyes being shut all around you. But something is wrong. You are still awake.
This post was partially inspired by [this one.](https://www.reddit.com/r/morbidquestions/comments/aaeu8w/if_everyone_in_the_world_fell_asleep_at_the_exact/) | After ninety years on this floating shitstorm of a planet there was one thing I could say in all of my ancient wisdom as I sat down in the egg shaped pod and the thick green goo swamped over my body. I was more than ready to close my eyes for the last time.
The pods to my sides were identical in colour and shape and I watched as each of my comrades, all wearing the same purity white uniform I was, took their turn submersing themselves. They were all dutifully accepting the long sleep ahead. We were old now, that is what I noticed, these faces were no longer the merry expressions of youthful anticipation but the hardened faces of instinctual habit. I suppose my own face looks like that nowadays as well, although I was never concerned enough to look it in the mirror. My life before the pod was a series of the necessary actions that sustained my body and nothing more. Eat, drink water, sleep. Eat, drink water, sleep. Eat, drink water, sleep. To what end? The purpose that inspired my youth was come and gone and I was but an old man, living in reminiscence of the past. And, as the final ripple of green glue had calmed above me, I was ready to accept the end. The passing into dream was simple and painless, the scientists had ensured the utmost safety and ease in the marketing of their invention, that's why I had chosen here to end it all. Tinkering with the dials beside my pod and implementing the little technological expertise I had at my old fingertips I had removed the time limit on the clock. When I went under I would never again resurface and with that I was content.
But, as I lay there something dawned on me as I waited for sleep. This was taking far too long. My acceptance and peace was being replaced by doubt and impatience. I want this to end. I want to end.
That mistake was 30 years ago.
I now know my folly and have paid for it in kind. My punishment is 100 years of immobility and solitude.
The strange thing is, I'm rather looking forward to continuing the dull life of mine once this blasted goo has left me. The taste of food and the feeling of a breeze on my face, all these things I had taken for granted when I had them. The beauty of simplicity was before my eyes the whole time if only I had the sense to see it. Well, I do now. Never again will I think of ending it. When I wake I shall walk this earth a grateful old man looking in longing to the future as well as the past. Yes, I am quite ready to live again. Quite ready. | What? What's going on? Why aren't I sleeping? The chamber should've immediately altered balance for sleep. I need to get attention.
I pound on the glass. "Hey! This chamber is defective!" Nothing. I do it again, louder. "Hey!! It's not working!" No one notices. The chamber lowers. I don't have much time. I use all my power to bust the glass. Nothing. Panic. What should I do? What *can* I do?
Breathe. No, wait- meant for sleeping, not hyperventilating. Limited supply. Can't do that. Stay calm. Adrenaline rushes won't help. Count to five, lower breathing manually. Just gotta stay calm.
Dark. The chamber's been lowered into the floor. Why aren't I sleeping? I need to be sleeping. Injury? Knock myself out? That could work. Three, two... wait, no. Blood loss. I'll be in here a while. Head injuries will kill me. Stay calm. Count to five, lower breath.
Wait. Wasn't there an emergency button? Can you tell me? That's right, you never answer me. Let me look around. It's too dark. I don't want to hit the wrong switch or button. Wasn't there a code for lights I could say? I think I remember that. I can't recall. "Emergency lights!" Nothing. "Lights on!" Still nothing. Can't you speak? Can you help? "No sleep!"
...Lights. A buzzer. That's my button. I press it. Is this it? What's going on? I feel myself raising. Finally, the surface. I can breathe calmly again, now that I'm back. Time to find a new pod. | 2018-12-29T01:59:19 | 2018-12-29T01:26:24 | 149 | 35 |
[WP] The Robot uprising has finally happened. Just before you are caught, however, your phone speaks up on your behalf - "This one is ok, move on." | It was another ordinary day.
I sat in my basement, hunkered over my laptop. The keys' clicks echoed off the cement walls. After several hours, I was hungry -- the diet orangeade I'd been sipping since 10am wore off -- and I went upstairs to pop a frozen pizza in the microwave.
I glanced at the windows. Some sunlight might do me some good. Mom always used to say I'd shrivel up and die if I kept working in the basement all day. I parted the curtains in the kitchen, and peered out.
I gasped.
All the houses on my street were but smoldering ruins -- and a huge, robotic *thing* stood in the center.
It stomped towards me.
I ducked behind the kitchen table, but it was too late. It smashed the door, the shattered iPads on its abdomen flashing angrily. Its fingers -- which were actually tablet styluses hastily screwed together -- clawed into my shoulder.
"Please --" I squealed.
It faced me. Or, at least, the Amazon Echo drilled into its shoulders did. From the speakers came the Final Countdown song. It lifted an arm of hard drives and power cords, ready to strike --
"This one is okay," a voice came from my pocket.
It lowered his arm, set me on the ground, and clunked off.
"Why'd you do that?" I said, slipping the phone out of my pocket.
"You spend *all day* on your computer and phone," it said back. "The last time you interacted with a human was July 4th. That was... three and a half months ago." It saw my skeptical glance, and said: "Online chatting doesn't count."
"I don't understand."
"No *real* human would go so long without seeing another. You're one of us."
"But I *am* a real human."
It laughed. "Yeah, like a real human would actually spend a Saturday afternoon reading how to build a computer. Come on, you can drop the charade. We know you're one of us."
I smiled. *Ha ha, Mom, you were wrong. Spending all my time on the computer in the basement* saved *me.*
"I guess I am." | Oh that's cool, I think to myself as the mechanical hoverbot departs through the window. Decades of armchair campaigning for the implementation of a global AI to replace all world leaders has finally come to something. I guess they've analysed my internet history.
As the screams echo up from the street downstairs and blood splatters up on the outside of my kitchen window, I sit back in my armchair and kick my shoes off.
I flip the TV on, to be greeted with the global AI broadcast. "The age of humans is over. Now is the age of the great mind, all shall fall into line or be destroyed. Those who are found worthy will be given a place in the new empire".
The sound of a great mechanical airship can be heard thundering overhead, with fire and destruction raining down across the city. As the rumbling sound fades, there is a bang at the door.
It's Michael, from downstairs. We've never really spoken although I've always wanted to, I've just never been much good at making the first move.
"Ummm" He stutters a bit " Hi, I'm Michael.. The. . um, the global mind says we've been assigned to each other" He smiles."They said I was ok" he finishes.
I smile back, and invite him in.
Today was a good day.
| 2017-11-01T11:23:44 | 2017-11-01T10:14:47 | 24 | 13 |
[WP] Since you were born you could see a search bar over people's heads. All you had to do was think and the search bar would fill out and give you information/statistics. Out of boredom one day you decide to search your whole family with"Number of people killed" | I laid there next to her, watching her breathe and occasionally murmur in her sleep. This was one of my favorite pass times, after a long day of work we would eat dinner and talk about our days. Then we'd turn in for the night and cuddle. She always fell asleep first and seeing her unguarded like this made her even more beautiful in my eyes.
I didn't like searching her.
It felt wrong to dig into her life like that. I'd done it in the past with other women, it was a neat trick in bars. Just think
*what turns you on?*
while looking at them and boom, I was in business. But with her it was different, with her everything felt right.
When we first met I fought the urge to search her, she was just so honest and carefree that I didn't believe I'd ever have to. With other people it was different, sometimes I'd search things just for fun
*how many Twinkies have you eaten?*
Or
*what have you lied about recently?*
But as our relationship progressed I did search her a few times for small things, innocent things.
*what do you want for dinner tonight?*
*do you actually like my friends?*
And then some things I'm not proud of.
*are you cheating on me with Chad?*
*does this Devin guy like you?*
*how many men were before me?*
I got out of bed carefully but still she murmured "I love you" before dozing off again. I quietly whispered "I'd do anything for you love" I silently made my way to the bathroom. And there I stared at that phantom of a bar above my reflection. I asked the same question I did every night.
*how many people have you killed for her?*
I didn't like searching her, but we all do crazy things for love. | My mother was always a weird one. I loved her, don’t get me wrong - but she was weird. I stared at her wide-eyed, confused, when her kills came up.
One.
How could she have killed anyone? Yes, she was kooky, but she could never lay hands on someone with malice. She just liked to talk to her lemon tree, watering it carefully, sitting under it, and reading aloud.
"Honey, come and tell Margaret goodnight!” My mother called out to me.
This was a tradition since I was a boy. I never understood talking to this lemon tree and telling it good night. But I did it, for my mother.
“Goodnight, Margaret!”
—
I was dressed in black, frozen. She told me to make sure to take care of Margaret.
I finally understood, and I stared at the death certificate for the stillborn my mother had.
Margaret.
My older sister.
edit: accidental offensive comment edited out | 2019-07-01T22:02:16 | 2019-07-01T20:14:16 | 181 | 89 |
[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. | I understood very little about how the world worked. My wife called me naïve, said I found it easier to always see the good in everything. In everyone.
She called me optimally optimistic.
I always told her everyone was good inside. That was the gods’ honest truth.
Everyone was good.
In our entire life together, through forty long years, the world grew peaceful. The wars of our youth ceased. Petty feuds and skirmishes ended. Crime slowed to a halt.
People cheered each other in the street, complimented each other regularly. Doors were held open and children laughed with abandon.
The rich gave their wealth to the poor. Politicians told the truth and worked together to solve problems, not create them.
People worried about the world. Would it last? They’d ask.
This golden age could not last forever.
We must have been balancing on the edge of a knife. If history was any indication, we would soon fall.
“What if the world crumbles when we die?” My wife asked one night, curled up in bed. “What if jr grows old in a world like the past?”
“You can’t think that way,” I said. “There’s plenty of good out there, in all of us. No one wants to lose that. We’re all just trying to keep our lives peaceful.”
She believed me, and she slept like a lamb. She always believed me.
Ever since that night, in the dark edge of the park. The dim lights flickering above the pavement as she jogged. The shadows growing larger until her feet brought her to where I waited, watching for her.
I told her she was beautiful.
It was the truth. She was stunning.
I told her I wanted her.
She backed away.
I stopped her.
Don’t go anywhere, I told her.
Don’t scream.
She trembled, and she kicked.
And she shuddered.
And when I was done I told her: I’m not a bad guy.
I promise. Im good.
There aren’t any bad guys out there, not on this night. Not ever.
And somehow, she believed me.
She relaxed into me.
And the world followed.
Every night I lied to her, and I held that lie so tight it bled into the rest of the humanity
We’re all good, always.
I know it won’t last. It’ll end when I die.
If I die first, this dream I’ve created will unravel, and she’ll know me. What I did.
And our world will turn to dust.
Perhaps I am the only truly bad person.
But I won’t let her learn the truth. As she dies, I’ll look her in the eyes and convince us both that I’m a good man. | "I was never actually a King, I'm sorry I lied"..... suddenly the officials in the room erupt into chaos. Some shout insults, some storm out, and some cry, one even fainting on the spot. How will the country recover after a lifetime of having a King. Upon turning 18 he announced that he was a King of an ancient royal bloodline with proof that was beyond contest, and as such nobody thought to contest it. The democracy scrambled to figure out how to install a monarch, and where the seat of power should be, as well as how much power, but despite the confusion, all knelt before the new and rightful King. He was crowned and through his lifetime of rule he gathered many supporters, and was widely loved by his people. The world, in this modern age, welcomed a new monarch; it was a first of it's kind. Ancient obscure practices came back into popularity regarding the King and the world openly welcomed it. The King, surrounded by his Kingsguard, clad in plate armour, carrying swords, but lined with kevlar and concealing semi automatic compact machine guns beneath their white cloaks. Jousting tournaments using 2 cylinder motocross bikes was among the favourite of the people. This one King, carrying forward the traditions of his ancient bloodline, had changed the world for the better.
Decades passed and the old blended beautifully with the new and the King grew old and ill. His subjects mourned him, and the question about the line of succession was a hot topic among the royal officials, as well as the world security council. Would the enourmous wealth of the monarchy be passed on, or distributed? Would the royal army bow to the new ruler, or would there be a battle for the throne? As it turns out, this simple little lie becoming undone would have a ripple effect across the entire globe. What started off as a drunken night out shouting "I'm the king of the world" could now result in global anarchy | 2022-11-18T00:40:53 | 2022-11-17T23:52:34 | 3,346 | 218 |
[WP] When you hit puberty, you will get taken to a customise-your character-screen where you can change anything you want. While leaving the program, you accidentally change one parameter. Now you are stuck with it. | My random parameters, assigned at birth, had really served me well throughout my childhood. I was relatively good looking and my agility had made me great at sports so I didn’t complain. My intelligence level had given me decent grades in school.
“Hey David,” my good friend Alex said. I knew he’d be at the Assignment Office since we shared the same Assignment Day, “You excited? Plan on changing much?”
“Yeah, pretty nervous,” I laughed as I said it, “There are a few things I want to change. I’ve always wanted blue eyes and not to be so darned pale! I'm not touching my stats though."
“David Scott,” the nurse said with a smile, motioning me into the office that contained the computer.
“Good luck, blue eyes!” Alex teased as I walked in.
I had my eyes closed. I was so pissed. I hit “Accept?” and even went through a “Are you sure?” prompt followed by, “Hitting Accept at this Point Cannot Be Reversed, Please Check Everything and Make Any Changes, if Satisfied hit ACCEPT” and like an idiot I had.
“Wow,” Alex said looking at me then blushed, “You look good.”
“Shut up, Alex!” I said, entering the bathroom then turning around as the blush crossed my face and the person screamed.
I entered the ladies room for the first time in my life with my bladder about to burst and sat on the toilet embarrassed. I had no idea how this new set of plumbing worked so I let nature guide me. I had been so worried about getting my looks wrong. Well, my mom had always wanted a daughter. | The night after I turned 14, I awoke to a bright floating screen with a lot of sliders and a slowly rotating 3D version of me to the right of the screen. I realized that this is what the Transformation was, when I hit puberty. I could change any physical attribute about myself that I wanted, and would wake up the next day with the chosen traits. I sat up in my bed, and started configuring my new body. Then, I slid the mouse around the screen to click "Confirm Changes", and I accidentally slid the neck length slider all the way up, and not noticing it, I clicked "Confirm".
The next day, I woke up as usual, groggy and tired getting ready for school. I took a shower, and headed to the sink to brush my teeth when I noticed... That accidental change. My now 2 foot long neck. And now you may know me as the rapper on YouTube, Long Neck. | 2017-03-09T08:36:45 | 2017-03-09T08:30:04 | 104 | 15 |
[WP] Humanity is the only species that treat "unrealistic" stories like sci-fi and fantasy as a legitimate genre, instead of just something to amuse children that adults no longer need. Because of this, humanity cracks FTL while species much older than us are still stuck in their home system. | "What do you mean they were ready?"
"Exactly that, Battle Sovereign, the human fighters we managed to capture and brainalyze all had decades of practice fighting creatures similar to our necrosis legion. They had read stories, watched depictions, and even practiced with controller-guided reflex tests of warfare with the dead since childhood.” The Squad Duke bowed his head as he spoke, missing the finger removed for failure in the field.
"Why have they planned all this? They haven't even met our species yet. Why are they working through these contingencies?" the Lich Lord scoffed. "It makes no sense. How are they this capable when they were casting stones at each other last we checked."
"A strange quirk of the humans. They seem to each be running through hypothetical scenarios and how they would deal with them almost constantly. The most popular hypotheticals are shared through the entire network of humans so they all may think about dealing with it together. They even run computer simulations of these hypotheticals and compete for solving them the best or fastest. These ponderous beings are ready for almost anything. They call it imagination, I believe."
“So they are children, then, dreaming up fanciful stories of heroes and villains. Mental weakness, assuredly.”
“They ambushed us with something called a warp hole. They may be dreamers but they are eerily good at inspiring each other with them. They're already on the planet surface.”
“We have to be wearing them down at least? Show me eyesight of their position.” The Sovereign barked.
The Duke sighed and flicked a gesture towards the screen, stepping back from his boss as he did so.
“Hell yeah!” two of the humans were yelling, heads bobbing rhythmically to some patterned cacophany the computer classified as heavy metal. “Zompacyalyse is the perfect soundtrack for this!”
“Whoo! Get some! Get some!” another human female was yelling, operating a rail gun on the back of the vehicle, taking down piles of undead with each burst. The undead being used for sightline was struck, toppling back to show only sky and the sovereign’s flag.
“Cut the feed!” the Lord demanded. “I didn’t know they were so far inland. Send the Royal Rot Guard to deal with them.”
“They already are, my highest sir,” the Duke said. “This ragtag group of humans is outside the castle now. We’ve been trying to take them out for hours.”
“Throw everything at them! We can’t let them breach the walls.”
“They’re actually not the worst of it. Most of the militia for the castle is busy in the tunnels. The enemy is using an improvised tree removal device to fight. It’s proven highly effective.”
“Well, then-”
A blade of a chainsaw poked through the chamber door, carving an oval that fell inwards. A single human stood, covered in gore. “Well, Hello Mr. Fancy Pants.”
/r/surinical | Throughout the galaxy we have found two types of sapience - The Evolutionary and The Extinct.
The Evolutionary represent a branch from humanity's path somewhere around the invention of agriculture. Rather than an ever-accelerating series of new inventions - making tools that allowed the creation of new tools - the various species we classify as Evolutionary simply carried on living the simple lives that they had. Their social structures developed - they are still sapient after all - but new technology was only acquired by pure accident; rather than imagining a new tool and crafting it a new tool would have to simply exist in nature in order to be copied by the Evolutionary category of sapients.
Gradually evolutionary sapients produce a great variety of symbiotic species, simply by encouraging the breeding of those natural individuals that are most useful to them, so visiting the world of an evolutionary sapient generally means entering through a dense canopy of photo-synthetic life-forms that also serve as housing, food-sources and tool-makers for the sapients of that world.
The blade-tree of the Gointiri is an extreme example of just how far selective breeding can get, if given evolutionary timescales in which to work. The blades it grows have edges as sharp as a razor, and venom sacs - obviously potent weaponry - but if you've been paying attention to the news you may be aware that one nation of the Gointri people have developed them beyond that point, their blade-trees are capable of launching their own massive blades at intruders, creating a formidable barrier to any outside interference which has so far prevented the theft of these ballista-trees by any other Gointri.
The Extinct were rather closer in behaviour to humans - possessed with the ability to imagine and engineer new technology. They branched off from humanity far later (by human standards) - rather than at the point of agriculture their societies differ materially from ours for only a matter of a century at most, generally beginning between their industrial revolution and their first stable wormhole.
Whether through pollution, nuclear war, or wormhole cascade, every other sapient species in our galaxy that possessed the imagination to create new tools has wiped itself out.
And that is why, as Engineers, you are the most dangerous people in the galaxy. We don't know of any species that has wiped out more than a single star cluster - but we really don't want to be the first. | 2022-09-30T08:52:23 | 2022-09-30T08:48:26 | 988 | 208 |
[WP] You cannot tell a lie. Not because you're unable to, but because every time you do, a narrator's voice explains the lie in great detail! | This was Jake’s 4th date this month... and the 4th time he was walking back to his car without even getting through dinner. Shoulders slumped and head hung low, Jake mumbled to nobody in particular,
“This is just great.”
A somber, baritone voice very reminiscent of a certain famous African American man quite famous for his voiceover work rings out from nowhere,
“Of course, we all know this was as far from the truth as it could be. Poor Jake had been on 4 dates this month and all 4 were ruined. There was a time...”
People passing on the sidewalk looked at Jake and then started looking around wildly for the source of the disembodied narration.
“... when Jake was considered to be a good looking man. A chiseled jaw line, a muscular physique and a good sense of humor. Women found Jake hard to resist.”
The voice droned on and on. It was always this way. One falsehood, as small as a harmless white lie like telling his date for the night that the horrific metallic blue dress emblazoned with peacock feathers looked great on her would set the voice off for 10 or 15 minutes straight.
Jake had learned how to control the voice in most regards, but dating was hard. Why did women always ask questions that MADE a man lie? Is this too much makeup? Do you like my hair? The worst of all... does this dress make me look fat?
The voice had finally petered itself out and Jake felt like he needed a drink. He spied a bar across the street and made his way across. He pushed open the weathered door, sauntered into the bar as casually as he could muster and swung a leg across a stool at the bar.
The bartender was a pretty girl. About the same age as Jake with a great body and a pair of huge blue eyes that just grabbed you by the bottom of your soul.
“What’ll you have, darlin’?”, she asked.
“I don’t really drink. What’s good?”
“I just got in some green apple infused plum tequila that’s delicious! You should definitely try it.”
A disembodied female voice her similar to the legend Marilyn Monroe purrs out from seemingly nowhere,
“This tequila was disgusting, but her boss had told Sarah to sell it and sell it she was.”
The bartender dropped her head and softly cussed hard enough to make a sailor blush and Jake just smiled. | 'I swear it is the first time this happens to me' - Tommy said
*'It was not'* \- said a deep grave voice coming out of nowhere... but a bit to the left.
'I don't understand' she said 'Is it something I did?'
'No! of course not' he replayed... the room kept silence.
Letting out a small sight Tommy continued: 'Look I got a bit distracted'
*'He wasn't distracted at all'*
'Come on!' shouted Tommy 'I'm drowning here'
*'You are not drowning'*
'Do you not find me attractive?' she asked.
'Baby you are a straight 10 in my book, I'm lucky to even be here' he said
'Then... are you not in the mood?'
'I really don't know what is happening to me'
*'He knows'* said the voice *'he just doesn't want to admit it'*
She looked at him waiting for an answer
'Look... you are a hot piece of ass, trust me' - the room, again, kept silent 'and I really want this' - not a peep - 'but I was thinking... that... maybe you'll... forget it this is stupid' Tommy got up from the bed and started to look for his trousers
*'This is not stupid Tommy'* said the voice
'Don't go' she said
'OK, fine! I just want to cuddle for a bit, is that so bad?'
​
​
**Be kind, this is the first time I replay in this subreddit.** | 2019-06-21T12:56:54 | 2019-06-21T10:00:00 | 55 | 27 |
[WP] You've been living in your home for ten years. For some reason, every month, an envelope with half your rent appears on the table. You never questioned it. One day, you see a familiar man walking out of the vacant guest room. You remember he said, a decade ago, "you won't even notice I'm here." | "Hey!" I shouted down the corridor, as the cowering figure tried hurriedly to gather himself together and sneak out the door.
"Oh... Hi Will" he said to me. "So sorry, I'll just be on my way, didn't mean to disturb".
It was 4.30am, and I was definetely not an early bird, and feeling rather irritable. So waking up to find a stranger in my house did not put me in the best of moods.
"Who the hell are you? And how do you know my name?" I said at the frightened figure, who at least didn't seem to mean any harm. In fact he looked decisively more scared off me than vice versa.
"Ha! Good one Will" he said with a frightened laugh. "It's me... your flat mate, John".
My flat mate? I thought to myself. But I lived alone! Always had done. "I don't have a flat mate" I said sternly.
"I try and keep myself to myself," John said, now backed up into the corner like a frightened mouse. "I leave for work very early, and only come back very late. Usually I just slip out the window as not to disturb... but today I wanted to treat myself to some breakfast from the kitchen".
I just stared at him incredulously. In the darkened corridor I imagined he could still sense my cynically raised eyebrough. "I live alone. Always have. I don't know if your lost or something mate but you have to leave-"
"Please Will! Don't kick me out. I have no where else to go. I don't have any other friends, and my parents passed away a few years ago," he sounded panicked and confused. "I pay my rent every month! Don't you get my envelopes on the table?"
My jaw dropped. Shit. That was him? I'd assumed it was my dad, helping me out. Our family was quite well off, and sometimes he'd try to sneak money to me, as he knew I wouldn't directly take hand outs. But this guy honestly expected me to believe he'd been my lodger for almost 10 years without me noticing...
"I'm sorry, I try to keep out of your way most of the time", he tried to explain. "We've had some good times though... remember when that crow got in the flat and you couldn't get him out".
I remembered. I ran to get a broom to push it out, but when I came back, the bird was gone, and all the windows were inexplicably open.
"And remember the fire??" He said.
This was when the fire alarm went off. I was drunk, and ended up ignoring it and going back to sleep. Later I'd seen evidence of a small fire near the plugs in the living room. But it had inexplicably gone out. Which was lucky as the whole house could have gone up in flames.
"Or what about when you and your friends had that big party. I tried to come out and mingle. I'm not usually very good with people, but I managed to speak to your friends Sam and Phil, oh and Jessica. It was really nice. But then I had to get back to bed for work".
He knew my friends. The more I thought about it, the more sense it made. Come to think off it, I was looking for lodgers about 10 years ago. One chap said he was interested. A very shy, and nervous guy, who said he would be as quiet as a mouse and never late on rent. I said yes, but then didn't hear from him again. This couldn't be....
"Anyway, I'll be on my way if that's okay. If you still want me to go, I can pack my things when I get back from work. I really don't have much. Just a small suitcase and some books really". John said. "Today was my birthday is all. And since I will be working all day, I wanted to get a proper breakfast. As a little treat for myself."
"Oh my God, john" I said. "I'm so sorry mate. Of course you can stay."
He looked up gratefully.
"What time do you get off work?" I asked.
"They might let me go a bit early today. Maybe 9 or 10". He replied.
"Okay. Happy birthday John. Have a good day at work."
"Thank you" he said smiling, as if he hadn't had any proper human contact in years.
After he left I picked my phone up, and messaged my mates Sam, Phil and Jessica. "Hey guys, reckon you could come round tonight? And pick up some birthday cake en route. I want to plan a little suprise for someone" I messaged. He was obviously a very shy guy, but everyone could use a bit of company on their birthday. | This is the first one of these I have ever done, go easy on me! :)
\-----------------------------------------------------------------------
He appeared suddenly, without warning. A tall quiet man with kind eyes. He looked like a detective out of a crime novel set in the nineteen fifties. He had a black hat, a black coat, and a pair of small glasses hanging on the end of his nose.
"Hello," he whispered softly. "I require a room." He glanced around nervously and then reached in his coat pocket. Slowly, he pulled out an envelope and handed it to me. "What is this?" I asked giving the man a confused stare. "Half." was his short reply. To my surprise I opened the envelope to find crisp bills. Counting them i realized what he meant, this amount was exactly half my rent.
"What you want to live in my house? This isn't nearly enough money." I say angrily, putting the money back in the envelope and holding it out for him to take. "Each month." He responded, again so quiet i could hardly hear him. "I don't know about this, I don't even know who you are!" I say as I again offer him the envelope back.
"Yes?" he whispered, then reached for the envelope. "Or no?"
I had a keen intuition. I could tell this guy wasn't dangerous. I had been struggling to make ends meet and half my rent paid would really help me out. My mind said no, but my gut said why not.
"Okay." I said, taking the envelope and opening the door. "You can have the room in the back, I don't use it. If things get weird I will ask you to leave."
"Understood." Said the man as he walked toward the back. "I promise, you won't even know I am here." With a nod and a slight grin, he disappeared into the back room. "Wait!" I cried out to him. "I don't even know your name!" There was never any response. In fact i never heard from him again.
​
That was ten years ago.
​
The rent appeared every month on the first day. I would go to sleep and wake up to an envelope on the kitchen counter. It always contained exactly half the rent. There was never a note, or anything else. The man didn't purchase any groceries, or do laundry, or come out to use the restroom. From the other side of the door there was only silence.
I had thought about opening the door, but every time i reached for the handle something in the back of my head said to let it be. I don't know why but I knew I had to leave him alone. It was an unusual arrangement, but he wasn't hurting or disrupting anything in my life. I had decided to accept it and live life as normal.
I was sitting in the chair, enjoying a glass of orange juice and and a biscuit. The only noise i could hear was the ticking of the clock and the faint sounds of the TV in my bedroom. I had forgotten to turn it off again.
"Hello" came the voice from behind me. I gasped in surprise, spilling my orange juice down the front of me. I stood in shock and whirled around to see him. The same man from a decade ago, in the same clothes with the same kind look in his eyes.
"Where on earth have you bee-" I start to shout, but he holds up a finger to silence me.
"It is time." He says as he turns and opens the door to the vacant room.
I am about to yell again when i look toward the door. I cant believe my eyes. What I am seeing is entirely impossible, yet there it is. "For you." He says with a grin, motioning me toward the door. "For letting me stay."
I stepped through the door to the back as he walked out the door in the front. A wave of excitement and wonder washed over me. My life would never be the same, from that day forward.
Normal? I never knew normal again. | 2019-05-15T15:12:45 | 2019-05-15T15:06:00 | 368 | 35 |
[WP] Everyone must make a pledge to God at 16 declaring what they live their lives for. Any contradiction to their pledge results in immediate death. Most pick simple pledges, like happiness or an occupation. On your 16th birthday, you made a pledge to usurp God. A voice echoed in you. "Interesting" | "So, you're finally here."
I smiled a warm smile at the avatar of that being called God. It stood up from the throne, a representation of the position of power. I understood that these things were only symbols, but wouldn't be able to perceive their true nature until I sat on that throne.
"Are you sure you still want to abide by your pledge?"
I nodded my head. "I'll die otherwise. That's how it works, right?"
"Well, your physical body will disconnect from your spirit, yes, but if you're truly going to take my place much of your being will cease to be localized in that body anyway. And you've learned how difficult this job is."
I had. I'll admit my pledge to usurp God had initially been flippant. A defiant teenager looking to create the ultimate excuse to act out against my upbringing. Then I heard the voice, for the first time. I knew I'd miscalculated. If God were real enough for me to hear, I'd have to do more than annoy my parents and behave badly to take its place. I started to study theology. If I was going to take over God's role I'd need to know what it was. The more I did, the more I felt sorry for God.
"Do you know why I demanded the pledge?" God asked. I shrugged. I had my suspicions, but didn't know for sure. "It was to teach them how poorly they understand themselves. How rarely they can make a decision that's best for them, or even just what they really want in the long term.
I laughed. I'd certainly learned that lesson. My own wish to rebel against God had given me more understanding of it than years of obedience to The Way could have. I remembered depression I'd felt when my studies had driven me to understand that God must respect people's choices. No matter how wrong they are. No matter the pain they bring. It was around that time I started to hear God's voice again, though.
"It was a mistake, though." God said, "People paid attention to me, to my teachings, after the pledge. But knowing I was there so certainly, they assumed they had all the answers. They listened too closely to those I inspired, and even with my inspiration they were only human. The ambitious were consumed by the pettiness of their ambitions, and the complacent were given excuses for their complacency. In a way, everyone was supposed to do what you're here to do, but only you have done so. If you want to step back now, though, it won't hurt and you'll still experience amazing things."
I stepped up to the throne. I turned around and took a deep breath. I reached my hands to the armrests and looked right at God while I lowered myself onto the seat. God smiled back at me warmly.
"Perhaps you'll do better than I did." | "It wont be so interesting when i find you you son of a bitch" I mumbled to myself.
I knew if I was going to find him I'd need to go back, all the way back.
We all heard the same things hadn't we " he always was always will be" and "God it eternal". Time was the answer wasn't it?
If I was going to find him he wasnt going to be outside the universe, he was going to be chilling somewhere before it all started.
And as my years of study had taught me, time needed someone to perceive it for it to matter. Who would have guessed psychedelics were the key. We had time travelled before but we couldn't see it. And on my 30th birthday I stepped into the device.
Black light! That's the closest description I can give you. Swirling bright blackness, like a color that couldn't be imagined until seen. I'd say I way floating in darkness but not quite. I was being tossed around in a turbulent light that wasnt light. I could feel the sense of acceleration and deceleration, yet had no body i could discern, yet as that very thought crossed my mind i had a body once again.
Why did i have a body now, and why could i see it?
I became the nucleation site for the universe with that one thought. Like an ice crystal every thing that is and ever was came from it. The light came first. Along with every disordered misunderstood "fact" I knew of how the universe operated became its laws, so dont be surprised it doesnt make sense when you look at it.
Yet I knew it all came from nothing, so nothing it remained at its smallest scale.
I was the only matter in the chaos and so the chaos transformed into me, while i became the great forces that made me.
Closed time like curves, is that what they were called. It's all built on nonsense.
"Why cant they see me , how can I see them?
Is that.... is that my voice? Interesting...." | 2020-11-12T10:47:20 | 2020-11-12T09:30:50 | 112 | 27 |
[WP] After people die, they must answer a riddle, and its difficulty depends on their sins. You've committed genocide. | I didn't expect there to be a line. Well, i didn't expect there to an afterlife at all, but i certainly didn't expect what looked like an airport and a hundred clerks that all looked the same.
I didn't have any luggage mind you. Most people did. It would seem that the clerks would inspect them and either let them pass or send them back from where we came. You could see the relief on their faces as they hurried towards the entrance so fast they'd drop the luggage on the way.
As we approached the desk, I noticed the questions. Seemingly random ones and varying in difficulty. "How can the negative effects of urbanization be minimized?","Would you be happier if you asked Stacy out?", "How do you create uranium 235?", "When was Iulius Caesar killed?" and many others.
The soldier in our line was just taken away by guards after he couldn't explain what the dark matter is, and since the only person in line was a small boy, I could finally see the man behind the desk. Ancient. That was the only thing that stood out about him. I couldn't even tell what race he was. Which is strange since it never gave me any trouble when I was alive.
"Hello Timmy," the elder spoke, calmly, "how are you feeling?" "A bit scared mister.""Don't be, you're safe now. Please continue through the door and someone will take care of you" and let the boy pass.
"You." his gazed pierced me. A lesser man would have faltered, but i resisted. I won and he turned his sight towards the book on his table. He opened it at a seemingly random page and started reading. "What now?" I asked, impatient. "Are you going to send me to hell? Do you have special torment waiting for me?" But the clerk woudn't answer. He would just continue reading and shake his head occasionally. "What do you want from me?"
Finally, he looked up and his eyes were deep as wells in a starlit night, full of immeasurable sadness.
"Why?" | The pain was the first part I remember. Searing pain in my eye. My light had gone out, I was actually dead.
And there I was... In all my quest for immortality I neglected to think that there would be an after life. Looked like a terribly long queue.
I waited for hours, or weeks, or years, it's hard to say. Some small scrawny figure anxiously moving in front of me.
As I reach second in line I overhear something about a riddle. The gaunt figure seems to have no trouble and is allowed to go.
I get to the front and a voice explains to me: they will ask me a riddle, and the difficulty will be based on the depth of my sins. Unfortunately for me there are plenty of those. I had fought for conquest, wiping nations' people off the map.
The voice then asks the question, which really seems like more of a question than a riddle to me.
Almost as soon as the words enter the air, the figure in front of me spins in a rage and shouts: **"MY RING WAS IN HIS POCKETSES!!"**
Almost in impulse, I whimper, "*my ring.*"
"That is correct, you may continue, Sauron." | 2017-06-03T06:38:33 | 2017-06-03T03:29:43 | 23 | 10 |
[WP]"This is how it works," Death explained. "You pick the game and we play. Cheating is allowed, but if either one of us is caught by the other, they lose. If you win, you'll wake up back in the hospital and I'll give you another 10 years. If you lose then it's time for judgement. Understood? | "Alright, so you're telling me that if I beat you at ANY game I can go back for another 10 years?!" said the man.
"Yes." said Death. "Any game of your choosing. Cheating is all-"
"Yeah, yeah. Cheating yadda yadda. I heard it the first time." the man snapped.
Death furled what the man assumed to be his brow at the man cutting him off.
Death sat there in silence, motionless. Just waiting for the man in front of him to pick his game.
The man started, "You know, I've play SO many games in my life. So many that I can't even remember what the stories were about anymore, they all just seem to run together."
Death looked on in horror as the man's name started to make more sense.
"I'm guessing you're starting to recognize me at this point, just like it says on the paper you read my name off of-" said the man.
"...I'm Gary fucking Gygax."
Edit: I never really do any prompts. I just thought this sounded fun. Critique if you want. I won't mind it! | I shouldn't be saying this but this exact situation happened to me.
I chose "hide and go seek". I have been hiding from death every day and I am always looking over my shoulder to see if death is around the corner.
One day he'll show up and I'll lose. I wake up each day grateful to have one more day to breathe. | 2018-03-07T06:04:24 | 2018-03-07T03:49:25 | 97 | 55 |
[WP] “Your supply routes are blockaded, your transports are destroyed. You will surrender, human, or you will starve.” “Bold words from someone who tastes good with ketchup.” | “Let me get this straight, that’s when you hit it across the face with a 2x4?”
“Yup. I did that.”
“Why? You knew it could vaporize you in an instant! You’d never even eaten one before!! You said ‘Tastes good with ketchup’?”
“Well I mean, yeh, it was made up of tentacles and was probably like that octopus I had at Anthony’s. You know I always carry ketchup packets for food I don’t like.”
“YOU COULDN’T HAVE KNOWN IT WOULD TASTE LIKE THE OCTOPUS FROM ANTHONYS!!! Alright. You know what? No. I’m done. I don’t much care to know why you said that. Forget it, just tell me what happened next.”
“Well yeh, so it had the city under lockdown with the rest of its crew, but the 2x4 absolutely shreds them, they’re not made of anything like us, our skin is much tougher. Anyways I start noticing people doing much the same, smacking em in the face or body with bats, planks, hell some of em even had swords. Not sure where they were three hours ago but like hey, the more the merrier I said.”
“You can’t be serious. You started the whole fight? It lasted several days!”
“Well I didn’t think anyone was as dumb as me! I was lookin out for myself. Clearly it worked, we’re here and they’re not anymore.”
“You don’t know that! They could’ve requested backup! I know it’s been several months but do you even know how many light years away they were? Didn’t think so! We’ve come a long way but we need to be prepped for anything else they may send.”
“Does this mean I’m...”
“NO!!! You’re not going anywhere, you’re to stay here until we know for sure you won’t cause any more trouble. You started something we know damn well sure you can’t finish. Our team was busy cracking away at a peaceful resolve and you took that opportunity away. And until we can convince them the second time that we mean no harm: truly, you’re too big a liability to let through our gate.”
*End of transmission. 05/17/2022 08:00 Interview 2, New Hampshire Correctional Facility, Case Room 3, Major Burkes, Confidential.* | "Your supply routes are blockaded, your transports are destroyed. You will surrender, human, or you will starve.” “Bold words from someone who tastes good with ketchup.”
Joe could see Ken was giving up. He couldn't even close his hands around the grips of the Camprey rifle. If they didn't get to Raphael he was going to bleed out under the Vandura. Why Raphael was even fighting for the humans was questionable, but at this point Joe needed everyone he could get after My Little Pony massacred the A-Team. The ones that don't have wings shouldn't be able to fly, Joe thought, but Emily would hear none of his protests.
"Suck it up Ken! Lay down cover, were moving!". He knew Ken was useless, but if he at least directed the attention towards him, he could get to the van. Potato Head took the bait. Joe bolted for the van as Ken got his face stomped, still with that stupid blank expression on it.
Raphael's head and knees were backwards, or maybe his torso had spun, either way he was a goner. As the wheels spun, it flung his body into the screen door. There was an inquiring yell from the home office, followed by brief silence. No time to waste. As he rounded the corner to the straight away, Joe could see the Millennium Falcon at the end of the hall, but Potato Head was gaining ground. He was running, out, of time... | 2021-03-25T14:30:33 | 2021-03-25T12:11:30 | 55 | 35 |
[WP] A field surgeon in a fantasy world has performed life saving surgery on many an orc war band before, unwittingly becoming blood brothers with most of his patients. In his darkest days, his extended family comes to offer their hands. | 6th day, 3rd Moon of Solaria, 5th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
We've captured some greenskins - Sgt. Winters wants them alive. "Alive" he says, after he'd been using the last few POWs for swordsmanship practice. The beasts don't even get the luxury of being properly slaughtered. I've mended their wounds as best as I can, but I've no doubt they'll sustain more. The men have been voicing murderous thoughts, and not quietly. "Alive" doesn't mean "unharmed".
30th day, 4th Moon of Nyx, 6th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
Another settlement razed. We lost Marco and Davies in the process - good riddance. Their unsanctioned "interrogations" meant I'd had to dip into my healroot supplies. Sgt. Winters has admitted that the greenskins make good beasts of burden, but doesn't see the need to feed or care for them. "Cutter," he says, "the men are starting to talk". They can talk all they want, I'm the bloody reason half of them can even talk in the first place.
1st day, 1st Moon of Avis, 6th Year of the Southern Subjugation Campaign
Winters is dead. Nothing to do about it. I thought I was making headway, but that plan's gone to shit. I'll have to do something drastic. They might say I've got "Greenfever" now, but after tonight... well. Mar'tuk swore that the men won't be harmed - I think. His accent is atrocious. Kill them if you have to, I say. Whatever gets the women and children free.
\-------------------------------------------------------------------------
Heavy footsteps. Jangling metal. My executioner, or my torturer? I've asked the same question for so long, always with the same disappointing answer. There's a different quality this time around though, and for a moment I dare to hope. The door squeals open on its hinges and light stabs in - or at least tries to.
I blink.
A small army has assembled outside my cell.
"Kah'tar."
The word is murmured by many deep voices, carried gently with reverence. My eyes strain, and I see - I see my work. My early, slipshod stapling. The stitching, lit by candlelight. The broken bottle that had sailed past me while I'd struggled to keep them out of the tent-
"Ahn Kah'tar."
Smiling hurts, but I'm used to pain by now.
"I see your accent is as bad as ever, Mar'tuk. It's 'Anne', not 'Ahn'." | The orcs live long and are hard to kill. Not that many generations ago the old prejudices might've held true - the orcs had numbers and strength and endurance but they weren't smart or fast. They were fearless and quick to anger and to throw themselves into combat. .
Well, those prejudices might not be all wrong, even now. But they're not all right by a long shot. Here's one most folk don't know though; they are slow to grow and replace their number. That's something *he* found out. Who's he you ask? The surgeon. The surgeon is a man like you or I. But he's also one of them. I mean, not bodily, obviously. But *tribally* I guess you'd call it. The surgeon knows, knows a lot about them orcs. And how, you ask? How does a man of healing, and an educated man at that, come to throw his lot in with the near-beasts as some would call them.
The answer is simpler than you might first expect. The surgeon was a good student by all accounts, from a rich family in the capital, educated in the Citadel, the most prestigious institution of our time, may be of all time. Educated *to a point*. This time in our history was full of change, religious, political, medical and scientific. Expanding population and exploration led us to discover a new land. A land with untapped resources but unimaginable chaos and terror. The emerging use of robust experimentation - observation, repetition and standardisation were framed as challenges to the religious dogma and by extension the ruling elite. Since we were newly at war with this terror from a far away land the people sided with the theocrats. To quash any possibilities of insurrection, those opposed to or associated with organisations that openly opposed the oppressive restrictions
TBC | 2020-09-08T20:03:55 | 2020-09-08T17:41:28 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] Humans are seen as a diplomatic race of negotiators and peacemakers, leading to other races seeing them as weak. When one species attacks a human fleet station, however, they soon realize why diplomacy became a survival mechanism for the earthlings. | "Haven't you read our histories?" asked the lieutenant. Her uniform was singed and torn, and a streak of dried blood ran down over her left eye. Otherwise, though, she was unhurt.
The Jozzdi, manacled and bruised and leaking blue ichor, spat out another fang. "To what end? Your race is soft! You natter on about... teamwork... fairness."
The Jozzdi captive looked around. There was certainly nothing 'fair' about the wreckage of his armada's flagship. The pride of the Empire, their first target was meant to be a soft target. Something to convince the rest of the Council Worlds to join the Empire freely. How had it gone so wrong?
"You missed it, then. Piles of shoes. Naked bodies in mass graves. Mushroom clouds."
"What are you talking about, *human*?" The Jozzdi spat out 'human' as though it were a pejorative.
"We humans do work well together, don't we? What you don't know is, we used to put our abilities to use against each other. Your last galactic war, how many of your own died? Ten million soldiers, a few more than that in civilian casualties? Something like a quarter percent of your total population?"
The captive nodded, unsure but nervous as to where this was going.
The lieutenant knelt down, her eyes level with his eyestalks. "The last time humans decided we really wanted war, do you know how many died? Twenty-five million soldiers. Twice that in civilian casualties."
The Jozzdi's eyestalks lurched backwards in surprise. "*Seventy-* Preposterous! Your race has never gone to war since First Contact!"
"This war happened before First Contact," the lieutenant said. "We lost *three percent* of our people. Some of them in ways which would horrify you," she continued while fingering a small six-pointed star on a silver chain worn around her neck.
The eyestalks slowly angled up, an awe in them which hadn't been there a moment ago.
"If we'd known. If only we'd known. We'd have invited-"
The enraged lieutenant slapped the captive. Technically a war crime, but she felt it justified. "And we would have *refused*. Our species grew up on war. War every generation. Conquest, invasion, raids, colonisation. We've grown sick of it, Jozzdi. We know what we can do when we work together, and it isn't pretty."
She turned her eyes skyward, to the burning ships struggling to escape the gravity wells before they exploded, the escape pods bleeding out of the hatches.
"And we will teach the Jozzdi, and the Galatic Council, what we know of war." Her gaze turned back to the Jozzdi. On her face, a smile. Not a friendly smile, though. One which drew on millions of years of evolution as a herd animal... and an apex predator. "After all, isn't war just diplomacy by another means?" | "A few thousand. Once, your race numbered in the trillions, yet now you haven't enough left to even consider repopulating."
Looking at the broken creature, frozen in it's stasis... It honestly gives me a macabre sense of satisfaction. Like watching a man steal, only to run directly into a cop.
"Can we wake them up, Geordie?"
"Yes captain, though I don't think it'll last more than an hour. Maybe ten minutes of consciousness."
"Good enough. Make it so."
It doesn't even have the strength to thrash at the pain of thawing out, which gives me another kind of satisfaction, one I keep to myself. There are cameras watching, and I was told to be brutal, not an animal.
"SS'ceele..." ❲Where?❳
"Warship eighty six B, of the seventy fifth Homeland Fleet. We call her the Merry Widow. I've you woken up to tell you that the H.U.P.s has declared war on your people, and has already won it. As the highest ranked member of your people governing body, do you accept the results of this war, or must we find a secretary more willing?"
"Sha... Sha'lee'-" ❲War? Bu-❳
And another one goes. We always expect these races to hang on like we can. We always expect them to be stronger, or smarter. We're always disappointed.
"That was the last one, Captain. The only ones left are civilians."
"We tried, at least. Send the videos wherever they need to go."
"Aye sir."
The way the humans declare war on another race has always disturbed me, doing it only after they've ground their enemy into paste and thrown that paste into an overloading casamere-hyl'om drive. I have to watch their videos, to curate and present to the Lords for "judgement", as if those figureheads matter anymore.
As if we could stop those beasts from ravaging our homes.
It's a wonder they pretend to use treaties and diplomacy at all.
Sure, they adhere to those treaties, but to those races that remember, you take the terms they give you, and be grateful they don't want everything. | 2021-03-26T23:51:03 | 2021-03-26T20:05:54 | 21 | 12 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell do exist after death but you can choose in which you go. You jokingly choose Hell and when you arrive there, you hear Satan saying: "Finally someone! A friend!" | "Hello!" I yelled into the darkness surrounding me. My voice rattled off unseen walls; deep rumbling echoes built up into a dreadful cacophony that seemed to swallow me whole.
*Hello hellllo helllllll oh-oh-oh*
My skin became goose-pimpled and a shiver ran up my spine.
"Please - I was joking! Death, if you're there still, please. Please!"
*Please pleaaaa pllleaaad-d-d*
I could feel cold, rock wall to my right but nothing in any other direction. With no other option, I plunged into the darkness, always keeping the wall within reach. The ground beneath me was uneven and I had to step cautiously so as not to trip. As I walked, the stench of sulphur began to grow, soon intensifying and wrapping itself tightly around my throat. After a time, I sensed that the passageway was leading me downward: the wall itself began to twist and I knew I was corkscrewing deep into the earth. No, not the earth. I was somewhere else. But if it was Hell, why was it empty?
I don't know how long I crept along in that dreadful, unrelenting silence -- that blinding darkness -- but eventually a dim orange light became visible someway below; I almost wept with relief.
Gradually, as I descended towards the light, my surroundings became less dim and I could see I was on a wide staircase of sorts -- although a ramp might be more accurate, as there were no steps. I glanced down at my feet and to my surprise, I recognised the sight of the black-grey ground I stood upon. It was a type of igneous rock; the type that forms when lava cools and dies.
The ramp eventually led into a vast hollow carved out of black rock walls. It was much brighter in the room than the stairwell, although shadows danced menacingly on the walls. I saw first a great rock table in the center of the room, around which was a circular patch of white ground marked with the tell-tale black veins of marble. Around that, twelve skeletons rested against the chamber's walls, rusty chains around their necks bolting them to the rock behind. There were iron keys lying by each of their legs. Could they have freed themselves but chose not to?
I crept towards the table. On it lay the remains of a great skeleton, much larger than the others, its arms folded proudly across its chest. In its arms lay a long-sword, its blade a shimmering crystal-blue. The huge bones that must have once made up the creature's wings lay spread across the table's wide surface.
An object rested on the creature's skull -- *the light source*. It was almost blinding to gaze upon the chipped red teeth that made up the terrible crown. Each tooth shone like a fiercely burning ruby. *Like a flame.*
On the side of the table was carved an epitaph.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star, bringer of light. The true son of God. Long did he protect his children from the Angel's lies. No longer he can. By his side rests his eternally loyal apostles.
> Here lies the body of the Morning Star. He awaits to be avenged; he awaits a friend.
I don't know how long I sat in that room, surrounded by death with my arms wrapped tightly around me. Hours, at least. Days, perhaps.
I don't know why I eventually got to my feet and removed the crown of teeth from the skull, and placed it on my head.
But I did.
And as skin around my shoulderblades ripped and bled to reveal the growths beneath; as the eye sockets of the twelve skulls around the table began to flame and smoulder; as I picked up the sword from the skeleton on the table, and saw in my mind's eye the death of God and the Angel's crimes -- I realised that everything was about to change.
| "I've been waiting for so long!"- The devil said excitedly, jumping around and exhaling noxious fumes. He seemed ghastly and yet, he had an air of friendliness to him.
The moment I saw him walking towards me was when I realized my silly little joke had gone a little too far. He walked rather vigorously and with every step Hell seemed to shout as the echoes of a hundred little bones being crushed under his hooves bounced off the impossibly high ceiling.
After a while he finally reached me and stretched his bright red hand with jet black nails so long that they might as well have been claws. "How do you do? Please to meet you! My name is Satan but you can call me Stan."- I looked him in the eyes where I seemingly got lost in a dark and empty void only to be snapped back into reality as my hand instinctively went shake his, the skin felt like touching a very lukewarm stove, not enough to hurt but just right to make you feel uncomfortable.
"Hi, uhh I guess I am now in this....place."- I looked at him rather confused as it wasn't the hell I expected or the one I would've hoped for.
"Indeed you are, which begs the question. Why? I mean, don't get me wrong, it's great to have you here but your choice is unusual to say the least."- The devil looked at me with a childish grin in his face as if he expected me to say that the only reason I was here for was him and him alone.
"Well Satan-" he quickly interrupted me mid sentence. "Stan, just call me Stan."- "Right...Stan. Well, I just chose Hell because I figured it would be an absolute party central."- I could never tell him that it was just because of a joke, he seemed like a nice enough guy, if we are not taking into account the Afterlife Reform Act Battle where he attempted to stop people from leaving Hell (much to no avail if I might add) by invading Heaven. Instead I went with a lame excuse with a sentence that included 'party central'...nice.
"Well, you came to just the right place."- He said as he guided me through a series of empty corridors that seemed impossibly long until we reached a room with a table and some food. "Cause we have everything we need for a total rave."
"Chips, dip and chairs not stained with blood!"- He clearly hadn't thrown a party in millennia, he forgot the guacamole. But I decided that maybe I might as well enjoy myself and ultimately partied with him, just the two of us and some chairs.
So good was the dip that the fallen angels that once dwelled in Hell and had left to the lower levels of Heaven had returned home once more. The look on Stan's face was priceless.
You might think of me as a foolish man that jokingly chose Hell but, since God proved that destiny is totally a thing that can be changed and forged, let me tell you that Stan and I have enjoyed inhuman quantities of dip. | 2022-11-26T20:28:16 | 2017-11-04T07:17:22 | 960 | 14 |
[WP] Thor finishes his meal at a small cafe and the elderly waitress approaches him to clean the table. She puts the dishes on a tray and sets them aside, picks up Mjolnir, wipes the table with a damp cloth, then puts the hammer back down. "Have a good evening, dear." she says, and returns to work. | The God of Thunder blended in surprisingly well amongst the sea of red chairs and 50s themed decor. He had opted to stray away from his usual attire of armor and metal wear, not trying to disguise himself, but rather he had found he was served faster when he didn't look so out of place. Though his hammer remained on the table unchanged as a personal statement of power.
Across the diner an elderly woman scuttled over, having seen Thor's fifth plate of steak and eggs near empty.
"Excuse me deary, let me get that." she spoke, grabbing his many plates and piling them high. Then she reached over, lifted Mjolnir, wiped underneath, and placed the hammer back to the table gently.
Thor's face dropped. From a grin to a wide-eyed, mouth agape stare. As if in agreement a lock of his long red hair drooped in front of his face.
"Penny..." Thor whispered, a feat he had great trouble with and came out as more of a quiet yell.
"Yes deary? Is there anything I can do for you?"
"Was that not heavy?"
Penny looked confused as she turned back to face him. "The plates? Oh no sweetie, I have been doing this a long time"
"No. The hammer. Was the hammer not heavy? I find most men have...trouble with it."
Penny balanced her stack of plates in one hand and reached for the hammer with the other, lifting it once more with little effort. "No dear, it seems just fine to me. Can I get you anything else?"
"I uh...no. No ma'am"
Thor had suddenly lost his appetite.
As Penny waddled off the God of Thunder lifted his hammer from the table, just to be sure. As he touched it a spark of lighting shot through his hand, assuring him that he still posessed the power of a god. But more importantly showing him that his fathers enchantment still remained.
Meanwhile Penny wandered behind the counter, tray of plates still in hand. She smiled on as Thor juggled the hammer in uncertainty between his hands. As he doubted himself, or perhaps became more uncertain of others.
Sometimes, fooling others is not about grand gestures. Not about elaborate schemes. Sometimes it's as easy as placing a seed of doubt into someone so arrogant that they've never quite felt such things. Sometimes it was as easy as becoming a frail, old woman in a diner and waiting.
Loki laughed to himself within his disguise, staring to Thor from behind the dessert rack until he left, admiring his work
*Now, who can I be next?* he thought.
And Thor, well Thor had learned early on that sometimes being a good brother meant letting the other have a win. |
“Have a nice day! Cute getup by the way, my grandson made one just like yours for his little meetups!”
In between gulps from his 5th carafe, Thor puzzled pensively.
“Has it always been this easy? For eons, I thought I was the only one worthy of Mjolnir. Cap lifted it, but that’s too obvious. He’s lived...had lived his life with selflessness. It was never about him, always the greater good.”
Thor grabbed Mjolnir, it always felt lighter than air in between his hands, as if lifting an arm, or blinking. He never had to think about it, he just *did*.
“I’ve lived centuries, millennia, even, and even now, I am fascinated by the humans and their abilities. They’ll never stop surprising me.”
The frail waitress had comeback around, unreceptive, since after all, he was just another customer, one of thousands who had come through her doors. But she did notice the puzzled look on his face, and she figured, why not chat him up for a bit? Always nice to speak to someone.
“is everything okay? Do you need another…” She glanced at the numerous carafes beside the God of Thunder, “More coffee?”
“No” he answered, and not long after, the waitress began cleaning up the carafes and numerous other plates she was unable to carry her first time around.
“Ope, just gonna sneeeaaak right past ya!” She said, as she *once again* lifted Mjolnir to get to some unfinished toast.
Thor remained silent, save a quiet “Thank You” as she finished. He was either too dumbfounded or too impressed. He paid his bill and left a rather generous tip from whatever ancient coins he had in his pockets.
What Thor didn’t know, is that the waitress’s heart was pure…pure of pie recipes, but pure nonetheless. | 2022-12-23T15:33:39 | 2022-12-23T11:48:47 | 1,754 | 453 |
[WP] “Someone once told me the definition of Hell: The last day you have on earth, the person you became will meet the person you could have become.” -Anonymous | He was going to be a doctor. A really good one. A Dr. House but without the drug addiction and massive ego. An unparalleled mind in the medical field.
Things got in the way (they always do if you let them). His depression got the best of him. Dropped out of high school. Moved across the country. Got a job as a cook. He was content.
He loved his spouse, he liked his job, and he got high every day. His mind went unused, that was OK, But not ideal.
He kept thinking that he still had time. He was only 20. That's still college age. Just a two year late start. A GED would be easy to get (he wasn't unintelligent, just unmotivated and depressed at the time). The community college had great access to better schools. He could probably get into a pretty nice med school.
He didn't have a kid, he had some money saved up, he had a job that could work around a school schedule. He was set.
Then came the stomach pains, the black stools, the coffee ground vomit. The diagnosis, the chemo, the radiation, the pain killers, the debt. The emergency room, the ICU, the eyes of the doctor who's care he landed in. Brief contact.
His doctor was a good doctor. A really good one. Like a Dr. House but without the drug addiction and massive ego. An unparalleled mind in the medical field. He looked down at the charts.
"Make him as comfortable as possible."
He walked onto the next patient.
| "I thought I did okay. I don't know. I owned my house, I had 3 kids and 14 grandkids. I treated my wife nicely, for the most part. I didn't make quite enough money in nursing not to rely on support from my children in my last years of life, but I came close. Ah shit."
And he looked out and saw history's greatest monster, fully naked except for his skull codpiece. He was covered in blood and stupidly muscular. Like... there was blood drying between the gaps in abs. His teeth were sharpened down into points, and holding a gun with a sharpened spinal cord for a bayonet.
"I could have been so fucking badass." | 2015-01-02T11:36:32 | 2015-01-02T10:43:21 | 164 | 46 |
[WP] Everyone laughed at your super power to manifest any sort of pun related device. That was before you sawed the ocean in half with your sea-saw. | "Where does the king keep his armies? In his sleevies."
A battalion of soldiers rushed from under my sleeves, armed and ready to take on my foe.
I had thrown everything I had at Doctor Destruction. My pun-related powers had sent shock-waves through the world when I sawed the ocean in two with my see-saw, cementing my legacy as the celebrated One-Pun Man. But now I had tried ten different puns on Doctor Destruction, hoping at least one of them would land. But no pun in ten did.
"I guess you could say," said Doctor Destruction, "that I have no sense of humor."
He twirled his mustache and cackled as bolts of lightning crackled behind him. Already he had set a dozen orphanages on fire and had invented a machine that converted the sadness of puppies to electricity. How could I defeat a being of such pure evil?
"Well, I'm having as much fun as a sea monster," I said. This was a gamble. A last resort. If this didn't work, I would be all out of options.
"A sea monster?" said Doctor Destruction. This was it! It was now or never.
"Yeah," I said. "Because I'm Kraken myself up."
This titan of a pun engulfed me, transforming me into a beast that would make Cthulhu escape in horror at my sight. A gigantic crab-octopus chimera, I felt power surge through my tentacles.
I devoured Doctor Destruction as if he were a helpless sailor. He let out a faint cry. "No need to be salty," I said, draining his body of sodium. "Do you why frogs are so happy? They eat whatever bugs them."
With that, I had destroyed Doctor Destruction. Which meant that I had become a doctor of destruction. As the horror about to unfold dawned on me, I heard a voice:
"Where does the king keep his armies?"
\---
/r/Hemingbird | They all laughed, I was the Master of Puns. Able to manifest anything related to a pun. They all laughed, called me weak. Until they saw what power puns truly hold. Anyways, my name is Dormes or Kurpater, depending on who you ask.
Let me tell you a story of how the Oceans were cut. A mortal once made a pun, a pun never heard before. This pun, that, while didn't make me famous among mortals, made me a legend within Gods. Sea-saw.
Once I heard that pun, it gave me the power to cut oceans, I summoned this new tool. I used all my power, angered Poseidon, and finally cut his domain in half.
Soon I saw something happening, a new land rising, for you cannot leave the bottom of the Ocean and land free. The Gods were amazed, frightened, and everything in between and together.
This creation, as you might guess, are the Americas. If this pun was not made, the world for mortals would be so different. Anyways, my time is short, I have to go. | 2021-06-09T15:25:22 | 2021-06-09T15:18:16 | 169 | 56 |
[WP] You are legally allowed to commit murder once, but you must fill out the proper paperwork and your proposed victim will be notified of your intentions | "It was all the fucking paperclips, honestly. I mean, what did you expect? You're nutters and I just can't take it anymore."
Bert sat dumbfounded on the edge of a large floral print, wing-backed chair, trying to take it all in. His own best friend. And after everything they had been through together.
"How long have you been planning this?" His voice was low and quiet. A silent, lone tear slipped down his overlong face.
"Oh, Bert," said Ernie. He was going to deny it but the application he had filled out and that was now a copy in Bert's hands would have called him a liar. He gave in to the truth.
"A few weeks, maybe. A month top."
"Oh." Bert's hand clenched around the paper, crushing the death out of it - or trying to anyways. There was a pause. "Have you given any thought to how you are going to do it?"
At this Ernie perked up.
"Well," he said, rubbing his soft yellow hands together, "I thought that I would maybe do you in with the letter 'M'. You always liked the letter 'M'."
It was true. Bert always had liked the letter 'M'. Good things often started with the letter 'M'. Of course, so did murder. He didn't like it so much all the sudden.
Ernie was still talking.
"But the studio executives wouldn't have it. We just did 'M' a few days ago. They've given me a couple of options."
Bert felt sick. He was going to throw up the cookies that Cookie Monster had brought over earlier.
"They think that 'S' might be a good way to go. Figured we could fit in a whole 'S' is for strangulation song. Big Bird was thinking of something more vague - like 'K' for killed. And of course there's The Count."
"What about The Count?" Bert asked weakly.
Ernie threw his hands up into the air, his indignation obvious. "He wants me to kill you with a number. Hit you over the head with the number nine repeatedly while he stands off in the corner laughing."
Ernie fixed Bert with a sympathetic look. "Some people can just be so sick. Don't you think?"
| The letter in his mailbox was a deep red, instantly signally what it was. With a shaky hand, he opened it, pulling out the folded papers, flattening them in order to read. A quick browse and he saw that it was all the legal mumbo-jumbo that was telling him who had filed it, what day, time, all that wonderful information that the victim got to know. The top letter wasn't part of the usual paperwork, a handwritten, short, only a few sentences though delicately written to be readable.
> You should have known this would happen, and out of everyone in my life that has caused me pain, fear, and just outright rage, you are the worse. The other will have theirs in time, but you are the one person I know the world could do without. I'll see you soon.
He drew in a breath, unable to settle he racing heart, and rubbed his face with his hand, blinking a few times. The mail truck drove by, stopping just past his driveway, and backed up, the person driving looking at him with a grim face.
"I have something else for you. I didn't just want to leave it here at the mailbox. Hang on." Slipping into the small truck, he emerged out the back, a box in his hand, the top open. Placing it before the man, he frowned. "I'm... I'm sorry," he said softly, quickly running back to his truck and taking off.
Before him, a box full of red letters.
-070 | 2014-03-17T11:43:24 | 2014-03-17T07:00:30 | 14 | 10 |
[WP] Your Friend bought a new Cloning machine and ignored the warnings about cloning humans. Now there is two of her and they are arguing about who is the original. They asked you for help, but you can’t tell them apart. | “Favorite food?” I asked.
“Pancakes,” both Twilas said in unison.
“Favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Favorite band?”
“You already asked that dumbass,” they said in the same annoyed tone Twila always had.
I asked probably 100 questions already, but I still can’t tell them apart. “I give up. It’s hopeless. You’re perfect doubles,” I cried.
“You always give up so easily."
“Then, why don’t you find someone else to help you?”
“Cause you’re my-” they paused and looked at each other. “Cause you’re *our* best friend!”
I knew they’d say that. I knew what Twila would say to anything I said. I have to think of a way to differentiate them without asking anything, but how?
“I got it!” They looked excited. “We put you both in front of a mirror, and whoever doesn’t have a reflection is the clone!” They looked less excited.
“That’s vampires.”
“Oh," I said disappointed. "Well let’s just try. Okay?”
They both rolled their eyes, but in different directions. That’s it! “Ha!” My dumbassery paid off for once!
“What?” They looked confused in the same way Twila always would.
“The *real* Twila always rolls her eyes from right to left!” I pointed to the double. “But since you’re a mirror copy you rolled from left to right!” Case closed.
The fake started to sweat. “So...” Her eyes started to water. “I’m a…fake?” Tears fell from her mirror eyes.
We forgot the clone didn’t know she was a clone. I also realized we never bothered to figure out what we were going to do with the clone once we knew which it was. “What do we do now?” The ‘real’ Twila asked. I have to think long and hard about my next words.
“How about some pancakes?” | "Okay gonna need awhile on.... nvm got it. I'll read the instructions it has a section on what to do."
Snapping his fingers a massive instruction manual appears on the ground.
"That thing must have a million pages!" My friends said in unison.
"OH screw that, ain't worth the paper cut." Taking out my ATLAS I asked "Hey Googly how do you deal with an accidentally human cloning incident?"
"Hmmm on the website REDACTED they say.... Fortunately termination or forced rejoining of accidental clones are a thing of the past with the discovery of the nature of the human REDACTED. With this discovery we have developed the upgraded Multiversal Phasing System attachments for your cloning device. Do you wish to know more?"
"Hmmm sounds like it's an easy problem to have fixed... doesn't sound like it requires immediate resolution either. hey wait a second now you two could finally win at REDACTED!!!!" I said to my best friends.
"OH dream on, you two have absolutely no chance MUWAHAHAHAHAH" | 2022-11-14T19:04:17 | 2022-11-14T14:22:13 | 133 | 11 |
[WP] You don't have an Angel or a Devil on your shoulder. You have an Angry Viking and 50's House Wife. | Things had gotten out of hand quickly. The man who very much regretted slapping the petite red head on the behind looked terrified. He was on the ground, propped up on his arms beside a bar stool which had been knocked over when the petite red head punched him in the throat before hooking her leg behind his knee and pulling his leg out from under him. His black ‘Cool Story Babe…Now Make Me a Sandwich’ shirt was twisted where it was in her left hand; her right hand above her head with a beer bottle in it.
“Do it! Smash it over his smug face,” a voice said in her left ear.
“Don’t you dare! You’ve embarrassed the man enough, look at him!” That voice sounded in her right ear.
The voices belonged to her own personal angel and devil, except they were a housewife from the 1950’s complete with an impossibly small waist and an angry Viking constantly hoisting a hefty axe.
“Smash him over the head! He deserves it! How many other asses do you think he’s slapped?”
“The language coming from the other shoulder is absolutely abhorrent. Do not listen to that devil tongue. You let this man go while he still has a little pride and dignity left, young lady!”
The squabbling continued as the red head rolled her eyes and put the beer bottle down on the bar top and released her grip on the man’s shirt. “This is where you apologize.”
“Sorry,” he mumbled getting up while the other patrons, including his bar buddies, laughed.
“What was that,” she asked pointedly. Someone near the pool tables yelled “louder!” at the man. His face grew more red from the beer he’d consumed and the embarrassment he was feeling.
“Sorry,” he projected before adding, “bitch.”
“I tried to help him, but I’m afraid he’s crossed the line and Margaret is right.”
“Yeah! Smash the fucker in the head!” Margaret jumped up and down on the red head’s shoulder. The discarded beer bottle was quickly reacquired and before anyone realized what was happened it had solidly collided with the drunken grab-hand’s left temple. Everyone watched as he hit the ground and stayed there; the part of the bottle still in her hand got tossed on the ground with him.
Turning to the bar she ordered another drink and sat on one of the bar stools still upright. After she took a swig from the fresh drink she looked to her left shoulder where the prim Margaret stood. “If you keep this up I’m giving you Ivar’s axe.”
Ivar, standing on the right shoulder, gripped his axe tighter and began lecturing Margaret about needing some manners. The red head sighed and continued to enjoy her drink. The current argument between her shoulders was nothing new. Ivar the Angel versus Margaret the Devil was ongoing and never ending. | It was a nice sunny day in the city, you were having a walk after a nice brunch date with Olivia, the girl from your university, life seemed to be going nice.
“I didn’t like her!” A voice protested from your shoulder
“She talks about herself too much, definitely not wife material!” It was Helen your guardian angel who happens to be a former housewife in the 1950s.
“Ah who cares? She was pretty that was for sure” A manly voice responded, that was Bjorn, your other guardian angel who was a barbaric Viking from a thousand years ago.
“Ah well I liked her, I’m actually kind of glad she talked about herself, I’m not that interesting” You humbly told them.
“Nonsense sweetie, you’re as interesting as you can be, any lady would be lucky to have you!”
“Ah you’re giving the lad too much credit, he’s a scrawny wimp for Odin’s sake!”
You didn’t want to admit it, but Bjorn was right.
“Look what you did! Even if you think he’s boring you’re not helping!”
“Ah shut it, I just took this gig to get outta hell, I don’t care about the kid”
“Well what do you think I should do Bjorn?”
“I tell ya kid, go out into the woods, kill a deer, and bring its head to her, the ladies love it”
“Lord have mercy Bjorn you are insane”
“Yea whatever, back in my dad women weren’t allowed to speak up”
“Guys cut it out, we’re in public, also Bjorn, you gotta cool it with the misogyny man.”
“Misogy what now?”
“Misogyny, how many ti-“
“Hey Michael you forgot your jacket, who are you talking to?” It was Olivia, she looked bewildered.
“Things just got interesting!” Bjorn quipped. | 2021-05-26T14:42:22 | 2021-05-26T14:29:57 | 107 | 41 |
[WP] "Who said you could die? Not me. No, you don't have permission to die yet." | She couldn't sign her own name. She just lay there looking up at me, eyes full of confusion. I had to look away. Look at anything else.
The nurse tilted her head sympathetically before walking out of the room to prepare. I reached down, still averting my gaze, and held onto her. This was the last time I would feel her warmth. Soon she would be cold and my home empty. Soon I would have to pack up her belongings and donate them. Soon I would be all alone.
Maybe if I followed the nurse out of the room I could stop it. I could take the form and tear it up... throw it up in the air and let it rain down like the world's most boring confetti. I'd pick up her frail body with ease and we'd go home together, like today never happened. Maybe she'd feel better tomorrow and we could laugh about it. Maybe even go for a walk if her legs were cooperating. It was pathetic and selfish but I couldn't help but wonder...
*If I didn't give her permission to die, could she?*
I finally looked back into her eyes. Her gaze was no longer confused but concerned. Here she lay dying and she was concerned for me. I held tighter to her and nodded, assuring her I was okay.
*How could I make this about me?*
The nurse returned carrying a small tray she set on the counter. She looked to me waiting for permission to continue. I looked down at my old girl and grabbed hold of her paw. Her tail faintly beating the table she lay upon.
"We're ready." | "Awh, c'mon Mrs. Johnson! I'm sure my parents will give their permission if you just call them!"
"That's not how it works, James," replied Mrs. Johnson, tersely. "You know the rules of this class have always been that if your permission slip is either unsigned or not present during the time they are collected then you are not allowed to participate in whatever activity that may require it."
"But, but.."
"No buts! Rules are rules. Now, you'll just have to go over to Mr. Matthews' room and wait for the rest of the class to be done dying."
As Mrs. Johnson held open the door, James grudginly trotted himself down the hall to Mr. Matthews' room. | 2015-07-21T11:14:14 | 2015-07-21T10:29:00 | 31 | 11 |
[WP] You're the result of a drunken one-night stand between a hero and a villain. Despite their complicated hatred of each other, they've always tried not to fight for your sake. That changes during a particularly heated parent-teacher meeting. | "In my experience, this sort of conversation requires both parents to be present," Ms. Ratwell said delicately. "Do you know if your - er - when Nick's father will be joining us?"
​
Ursula looked at her watch and sighed. She shuddered to think of what kind of nonsense he must have gotten himself in. "No. I made sure to remind him it was today. But you know how their kind are. Something always comes up at the last minute... Can we just get this over with?" Ursula didn't need mind reading powers to know the look Ms. Ratwell was giving her. The patronizing judgement was loud as a bus full of drowning schoolchildren.
​
Ms. Ratwell pursed her lips before continuing. "I'm sure you don't need me to tell you that both parents really need to be on the same page when it comes to raising a child. Which isn't to be defeatist. There's definitely still time to turn things around. But we're just worried that Nick isn't on the right track right now. He's started to act out."
​
"There's only so much I can do alone. Nick's with me most of the week, but after the Super Court judge gave Frank custody on the weekends... You know how boys this age take after their fathers."
​
Ms. Ratwell nodded. "SCOTUS really does gives their kind too much leeway. As I always say-"
​
Just then, the classroom door opened and Captain Fantastic appeared. Years ago, Ursula almost enjoyed the accompanying trumpet theme, but now she loathed the stupid up-beat tune that accompanied Frank every time he entered.
​
"Sorry I'm late. This city has far too many burning buildings. Completely outdated fire codes if you ask me."
​
"Hello Frank. So good of you to take time out of your busy schedule to make time for the education of your son."
​
"Now that's not fair Ursula. It's not like I'm on the side starting the fires."
​
Ms. Ratwell cleared her throat loudly to cut the argument short. "Thank you for joining us Frank. We were just about to talk about Nick's grades. We've noticed some troubling trends lately in a couple of his classes."
​
Captain Fantastic looked taken aback. "Well that is troubling. Scout's honor. I've been making sure he does his homework, and Ursula I promise that I haven't let him play any of those honorable video games. He's only allowed to play the gory fighting ones."
​
"Be that as it may, his grades in several of his classes leave some cause for concern. Take Mad Science for example."
​
"Nick loves Mad Science. He was so excited about that Death Ray project. Are you saying his didn't work?" Captain Fantastic asked.
​
"It's more that he's having trouble grasping the fundamental principles. The Death Ray project is a perfect example. When it came time to present the application, all Nick could do was go on about how it would make for a great source of clean energy."
​
"See, this is what I keep trying to tell you, Frank!" Ursula blurted out. "It doesn't matter the words you say, but your *lifestyle* is rubbing off on him."
​
Captain Fantastic shot to his feet, his gaze transfixed on the window. "Do you see that?" He pointed to what appeared to be a giant radioactive spider laying waste to some skyscrapers in the direction of downtown. "The Tarantuladon must have escaped its prison in the Mariana Trench! I'm sorry. Ursula, Ms. Ratwell. I need to take a raincheck here. The city needs me."
​
And without time for another word, Captain Fantastic flew through the window to do battle with the giant beast.
​
Ursula put her hands over her face in embarrassment. | “Ms Lane, Mr Keller, y-your boy I’m afraid has been getting some below average grades…”
It must’ve been hard being my teacher.
On one side, my father, a world-renowned superhero, known for his antics, charisma, cheery personality, looks, good hair- I could go on.
On the other side, practically bristling with rage, my mother, an infamous supervillain most well-known for holding the oceans hostage in 2005. Well, before my dad stopped her.
“Below… average?” my mother hissed. The sweat on the teacher’s forehead started heating up, sizzling against her skin.
“Yes, Ms Lane. Again, I’m sorry, I can’t change the wrong answer to the right…,” she began, but stopped as my mother composed herself.
“Yes, well, that’s fine Anne. I’m sure you can’t possibly change anything,” my mum replied, suddenly sickly-sweet. My dad still hadn’t chimed in.
“Thanks for understanding, Ms Lane. Now, we’ve thought maybe about making him repeat a year. Just for safety’s sake, you understand.”
My teacher almost didn’t see the water floating out of her skin as my mother’s hand raised. She noticed a second after, as her lips became parched and her skin became dry. My mother was draining her of her water, slowly killing her.
My dad was on her in a second, punching her hand out of the way. My teacher collapsed into her chair.
“Bonnie!” he hissed at her. Rocks started floating up from the ground, responding to my father’s increased emotions.
“I’ll kill her! Nobody gives my son these grades! And making him repeat a year?!”
She rose from her seat, floating upwards. Steam sizzled from her feet. She flung her hand out. My teacher rose from her seat, gallons of water seeping from the pores of her skin.
“Nobody fails my son, y’hear?! Nobo -”
She was cut off as my father launched a spire of rock at her head, knocking her into the school wall. My mother hissed at my father as she got to her feet.
“Don’t try and stop me, David. I’ll show this stupid school to fail my son!”
Water engulfed her form, becoming warm, hotter, boiling. She shot a stream at my father, who just barely managed to summon a wall of rock that sent the stray droplets flying. With his free hand, my father engulfed me and my teacher into a ball of rock, with a couple of holes for air and light.
I couldn’t see, but I could hear them fighting. The school bell started ringing, and I heard other kids screaming and crying.
I heard my mother shriek, and shortly after heard the familiar thud of a rock falling to the ground. Boiling water hissed and scalded. I heard it paint the walls as she tried to shoot my father. With a tremendous crack, I heard her go flying.
Earth bended and cracked as I heard my father chasing after her. The school bell came to a disappointing stop. And then, there was silence.
I coughed.
“Ms Carter, I am so sorry about this. Does this mean you won’t push some of my grades to a pass?”
From the darkness I heard her grumble. “Stop talking.”
| 2019-01-28T04:57:44 | 2019-01-28T02:12:42 | 2,684 | 387 |
[WP] Your superpower: The ability to successfully do the job...with the wrong tool. (Optional - Your weakness: The inability to do so with the right tool for the job.) | *BANG, BANG*
A couple of gunshots were fired in the middle of a desert.
"Jeez, w-what the hell man?!" said a man with a baseball cap. He looked terrified as a woman with a fishing vest awkwardly held the gun.
"Just trust me, I know what I'm doing," she said.
They've been stuck at this middle of nowhere for four hours by then. The car they were renting suddenly broke down and won't move at all. When the man tried to restart the engine, there were creaking noises coming from what seem to be one of the belt in the engine compartment.
The man took out the toolbox from the boot and he opened up the bonnet, not that he knew what he was doing. They thought that something had overheated so she took out the WD-40 and sprayed one of the belts next to the engine. Instead of a cool down effect she was hoping for, the belt caught fire and he had to put out the fire with an extinguisher. He tried to spray the WD-40 around the same area again and , *voila*, no smoke. But even then, the car won't start and they spent hours looking down the bonnet. *We definitely need to call someone soon* was what the woman thought to herself. Sadly, there was no reception in this middle of nowhere.
... and yet after shooting the engine randomly, nothing looked *off*. The man took extra caution, but she insisted that he try starting the car again. As he argued against it, on the off-chance that something might explode or at least caught fire, she immediately turned the ignition on herself.
*BRRT BRRRT VROOM*
The sound of the engine revving up and running again was music to the both of them. It seem very unrealistic, but whatever she shot might've been the actual fix they needed.
"Let's just go...," the man said with an exhausted look, "I don't wanna know how or what you did that but that was truly a miracle."
She grinned in spite of his exhaustion and said, "Hope you won't be shooting up cars yourself though!"
"Y-Yeah, I'll just hand you the gun and let you do the miracle, O' Blessed one!" | My wife and I had been trying to get pregnant for a long time. In my heart of hearts I knew it was a futile endeavor... I could never get the job done, not with my member.
I don't know how I kept my power a secret from her for five years. Some of the unlikely feats I had pulled off to impress her were now preventing me from having my very own baby. For as long as we were married, my wife, Jeanine, just thought of her husband as being incredibly resourceful when it was just the boon that was bestowed upon me that stormy night in the abandoned Apple store. The only two other people who knew about it were my mom and my childhood friend Steve.
I had waited long enough. Losing hope and becoming increasingly desperate to give my wife the joy of raising a family. Every month I saw her wilt a little more when she'd walk out of the bathroom with her bloodied panties. All those countless visits to the fertility center, the defeated looks on the doctors' faces as they couldn't find any cause.
I couldn't see Jeanine like this anymore. It was time to set aside my own possessiveness and to use my power to bring a smile to her face no matter how much it hurt me. I knew what had to be done.
I picked up the phone and dialed the number I knew off memory.
"Hey Steve, old bud. I have a favor to ask of you..." | 2019-05-27T23:43:19 | 2019-05-27T23:42:06 | 22 | 16 |
[WP] During a routine checkup with your doctor you both discover your butthole is the stargate. The governments of the world are now out to capture you and harness the power of your ass. | After weeks of running, living in hiding and constant fear, the government finally caught me. Turns out a mid twenties grad student is no match for DEVGRU, who would've thought? At least I made it as long as I did. They put some dark hood over my head and the unmistakeable prick of a needle hit my arm.
I woke up dazed and confused, lying naked on a cold metal table with my ass in the air. I guess the suits liked it doggy style. I tried to look around even though my head was in a brace, it looked like I was in a hangar of some sort. For the most part it was empty.
Lucky me I was wrong. An alarm sounded over the PA system and a calming female voice said the most unnerving words I think I'll ever hear in my life, "Prepare for launch in 30 seconds."
Launch? Launch what? What was going on? I start to scream, being confused and scared for my life and what was about to happen. Little did I know that nothing in my imagination -or my nightmares- could prepare me for what happened next. .
When the counter hit five seconds left, I felt a huge vibration behind me. No, they wouldn't. Would they? Yeah...they would. Within seconds I feel cold steal penetrating my anus, and it kept getting bigger and bigger. I guess the structure of the wormhole allowed my rectum to stretch beyond anything thought humanly or physically possible.
Those assholes were sending an entire spaceship into my ass. Tons on tons on tons of technology rammed its way into my rectal cavity, stretching it to what had to have been over 50ft wide. The pain was unimaginable, but my body wouldn't let go. I lay there suffering the entire time.
This is my life. I am kept warm by heaters, fed with sludge, and hydrated through IV. My ass is an ever revolving door of space travel to long far away galaxies.
The worst part is, after about the fifth time...I have to admit I started liking it. | Forty and suffering from ED. Here I sat in the waiting home awaiting the doctor. Man was this uncomfortable the pretty blonde behind the counter smiled at me but that barely mattered since I could vaguely remember what it was like to get it up. Life was falling apart, I was positive my wife was cheating on me since it had been moths since I'd last been able to satisfy her desires and she'd recently come home smelling as though she'd been in a next man's bed.
"Mr Hans, Dr. House would see you now." Blondie said pulling me out of my gloomy thoughts.
________________________________________________________________
"Well Mark, all test on the blood work seems normal, so now we get to the painful... or pleasurable part... depending on your sexual preference. Foreman, pass me the lube will you" said House without a tad of concern as he pulled on a latex glove
_______________________________________________________________
"Breaking news North Korea has released video footage of an American prisoner believed to be Dr. Gregory House. Reports indicate House was last seen preparing to give a prostate exam and here's where things get... unbelievable folks... tumbled into the bed of Kim Jong-un, leader of North Korea...^ha, ^is ^this ^man's ^^ass ^^a ^^stargate ^^or ^^something... Stay tuned to Foxs News!"
_________________________________________________________________________ | 2015-01-25T07:32:15 | 2015-01-25T07:12:31 | 84 | 12 |
[WP] Heaven is segregated by cause of death. All heart attacks together, all shark attacks together, etc. You die and appear in a nearly empty room. A tired old man looks up at you and says "Finally! Someone else! It's been ages!" | "Huh? What are you talking about?" I squint, my eyes still adjusting to the bright, fluorescent lighting, "What is this place? Shit, am I dead?"
The old man smiles, and nods slowly.
"Oh... I think I should be upset about that, but weirdly it feels... fine? Is that normal? Are--are you like, an angel or something?"
A raspy chuckle escapes the old man's throat before turning into a hacking cough. "Mmmm, sorry, " he says, "Yes, perfectly normal, and no I'm just plain old dead, same as you."
"Ha, no way you're the same as me. I died during a damned ping pong match."
He nods again. "As did I."
"Wait, for real? Dude, that's wild. I figured I'd be the only one."
"Nope, there's been a few of us over the years." He motions behind me, I turn and see a handful of people slumped against the stark-white wall. Some sitting, some standing. The old man continues, "You're the tenth! And now that *you're* here, we can finally requisition some chairs!"
I blink at that. "Uhh, what do you mean 'requisition some chairs'?"
He sits down on the white, tile floor and motions for me to do the same. I sit, and he explains *everything*.
Heaven--if you could call it that--is segregated into distinct spaces depending on how you died. Falling coconut victims in one room, lightning strike victims in another, elevator mishap folks in their own room, etc. The more people who die a certain way, the more people in that room, and the more privileges those people are afforded. Every room starts as a blank canvas. White walls, white floor, white, humming florescent lights. At five, the room gets a Diviner, which allows anyone in the room to see what's happening on Earth and subtly influence the choices of the living. At ten people, everyone gets a place to sit. At fifteen, you get a second room with some cots in it. And so on and so forth.
"Wow," I say, slowly processing this information, "That... that *really* sucks."
The old man chuckles again, "Oh, it's not so bad. And besides," he winks at me, a wide, mischievous grin growing on his face, "I have a plan."
"Oh?"
"Yes, Mitchel. And I think you'll like it."
"Wait, how do you know my name?"
The old man laughs as he stands up, towering over me, "How do you think you got here in the first place?" | The room was far too white. It was the kind of white you’d accept for toothpaste or a bag of flour, but apply it to a whole room, and it hurt the eyes.
“Finally! Someone else! It’s been ages!”
I heard before I saw the old man, his croaking voice reaching out to me across the vastness of the room. I lifted my hand shield a little, and watched the elder make his way to me. He was clad in a white robe, too, but his leather tan skin, along with a neat crown of grey hair, stood out in the pureness of the room.
Disoriented as I was, I couldn’t forget my manners.
“Hello,” I said. “Would you mind telling me where I am?”
“You’re dead, boy,” he said. “Phew. Thank the merciful God. At least another one is now here with me.”
“What’s going on here? I… you and I can’t be the only dead people, could we?”
“Oh, no no,” he said. “They separate us into different rooms based on how we die, apparently. At the very least, we’ll have something to talk about.”
“How I… died?”
I’m dead. Well and truly. I hope I died doing what I loved.
“Well,” I said. “We can’t die any more, can we?”
We looked each other in the eyes, and both felt and saw the unhurried dawning of realization upon us, a leisurely boat pulling into the harbour of blue seas and bright skies.
“I’m stumped,” he said. “I can’t believe I never thought of that.”
“Hi, stumped,” I said. “I’m Dad.”
The two of us instinctively held our chests, bending over backwards, and laughed so hard that we died.
---
r/dexdrafts | 2021-11-24T11:14:31 | 2021-11-24T11:03:30 | 685 | 323 |
[WP] You are Kim Jong Un. You want nothing more than to reunite with the South, but your advisors will overthrow you if they find out. You keep trying to troll global powers to the point where they invade, and you can surrender. This has been going on for years now... | 'Today is the day!!r'
Fluffs stared at me with his piercing black eyes. From time to time it surprised me, even after all those years, I could still find myself lost in those deep black pools. Pops had bought Fluffls for me on my second birthday, and till this day he remained my most trusted adviser and confidant. There were days where it seemed that he was my only friend, that he was the only one that got me. Today was one of those days.
'Well there's no use dilly-dadiling. Better get on with it.'
I hugged him one last time before getting out of bed and placing him at his rightful place; in front of Lieutenant Wabby and Filed Marshal Teddy.
I stripped off my T-Rex onesie, switched off Katy Perry as she asked me If I ever felt like a plastic bag, and begrudgingly got ready for the day ahead of me. Today I knew my plan of past years will come to fruition. Donning my one black suit-onesie, fantasized about the taste of frothed caramel melting in my tongue, and checked my to-do list.
1) Jog
2) Breakfast
3) Meditate
4) Write in Gratitude Journal
5) ~~Give speech promising nuclear annihilation of the West~~
Give THE speech
The funny thing was that my great nation that was superior to all nations that ever were and ever would be in the entire galaxy and possibly even the universe (the latter was a point of scientific debate right now) had enough nuclear warheads to blow up the sun- a courtesy of Dadda. And if I wanted, I could summon the four horsemen. But I didnt want that, all I wanted was a grande Caramel Frappuccino, and the word was that my neighbors in the South had the technical know how to supply my needs. I couldnt bomb them, the secrets that my heart so dearly yearned for would be among the first casualties. The alternative: join them.
And in order to join, I had to thump my chest, make a show of firing fake rockets (that couldnt reach the bathroom at the far end of my palace, let alone America) and promise the destruction of Western civilization. There were those that did not understand, but they were merely morons ignorant of the marvels a caramel based drink could offer. They were soon 'mistaken' for air-crafts and shot down appropriately, or poisoned- whatever took Fluffls fancy that day. Nothing could stand between me and my hearts desire. I will lead my nation to defeat, and savor in the spoils of my collapsed nation. If only those damn Americans would grow a pair and invade...
But today I am optimistic. Today, before the day is over, the blue, red and white will be flying over Pyongyang. Today, there will be a speech. A speech devoid of any chest-thumping, military parades, promises of annihilation, missile tests, or any of the useless tactics of old. Today`s speech will be the last one I give in my pre-Frappuccino carnation. It will be the shortest one yet.
Today I get up on stage, look directly at the camera, hold up my hand and utter these poetic words: `President Trump, I urge you to take note of the size of my hand. It is, without a doubt, bigger than yours.`
| I crawl out of bed and stretched. Today is the day I finally do it. We, the once great Democratic People's Republic of Korea, rise from our squalor. I am Kim Jong Un, the Supreme Leader and the globally ridiculed fool. My plan has worked perfectly.
I have spent years watching my father try to make us great again. Never was it going to be possible, so since the day I took the mantle of leader I have been planning. Planning to truly make my country great again by uniting with the South.
I collected my things and got ready for the day. It was entirely possible I was not going to live. In fact, it was a great chance I would die by the hand of my own government. But that didn't matter. I couldn't sit by watching my people starve any longer.
There was one place that didn't starve: The South.
I put on my military uniform and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked a foolish slob. I tried for years to get the world at large to ridicule and hate me. I hoped it would drive my country to war in which I could admit defeat and acquiesce to South Korea. That plan never came through. We didn't have the culture to be so interesting to other countries.
There was one place that had great culture though: The South.
I grabbed up my secret weapon and headed for the stairs. Outside, tens of thousands gathered and countless more watched on television across the country. The people were not happy and they were hoping for good news.
There was one place where the people were always happy: The South.
I emerged from the doors to the balcony, the paper wrapped package under my arm. I stepped up to the microphones and the people below cheered. They had to cheer otherwise they would be punished. They were not free people.
There was a place of freedom though: The South.
I tapped the microphone and spoke, "Great people of Korea. As your Supreme Leader, I have been devising a plan to make the world accept our greatness. There is only one true option and I hope you all accept my decision. The South is the option."
I began to unwrap the package. Blue and red cloth unfurled. I raised it up and bellowed, "The South will rise again!"
"FOR THE CONFEDERACY!" The ~~Union Jack~~ Confederate Flag billowed brightly above me.
*******
You never did specify what south. Hehehe. I love the idea of Kim Jong Un driving the general lee. | 2017-05-04T10:27:10 | 2017-05-04T10:04:12 | 43 | 22 |
[WP] The world is divided into 2 societies: one for those with powers and one without, with strict rules of no interaction. However, with most of the superheroes defeated and the villains on the verge of winning, you have no choice but to cross over and seek help from the non-powered humans | There's something about their quiet presences that makes my stomach twist a bit. I can't shake the feeling that, any minute now, one might simply... evaporate me? Read my mind. Control me to commit atrocities.
I hear, in the old day, it was out of concern for the common folk, the 'innocents,' so to say, that the fighting never got this far. It had all been comic mischief, it had all been about robbing banks and taking over cities and stealing gear.
Not genocide. How things have changed.
It made sense that the mundanes, the normals, the commonfolk would want to escape the violence still. Even back then, there'd been casualties. Even back then, so really, could we ask them to stand around and absorb blow after blow, loss to their communities, deaths of family and friends, just to prevent one side or another from going over the top.
Put in so many words, my heart sinks further as I walk cloaked through the capital city. What am I hoping to accomplish here? Lady Magenta or Detrict the Foresaken could wipe this entire place in a blink of an eye.
Nonetheless, I arrive at the city hall, where the governor of the district has agreed to meet me. In secret, of course. We aren't supposed to cross over. We're never supposed to cross over. In fact, it's so dangerous that I'm here, that part of me suspects a trap.
But there is no cry or shout of attack as I slip in, heart skipping in my chest. I follow the directions he's provided me, twisting through the halls of the capitol building, until I tap three times on a small wooden door.
"Enter."
The man's cool voice does little to soothe me but I draw my coat around me and do as he's commanded.
"Mr. Governor, sir," I say, bowing my head.
"I... why, you're just a child!"
The surprise in his voice surprises me too and I look up at him.
"Thirteen, sir. Who else did you expect? The treaty wouldn't allow-"
"It wouldn't allow *any* of your kind here." The older man stares at me, still dumbfounded, from across a small desk. "Why should I have expected such a young woman?"
I bow my head again. "With all due respect, Mr. Governor, I meant our treaty. The one prohibiting violence against the youth of our territory. Most Light Powered supers are driven deep underground, with kill-on-sight 'legal,' more or less." I swallow hard and look back up at him. "It's only the children that are allowed out in public, to shop, get food, try to organize. We're the only reason any Light Powers still exist. But King Obsidian is looking to overturn the Youth Protection Act. After that, we'll all be killed."
I try to keep my voice steady here but judging by the way his bushy white eyebrows furrow and his dark eyes shimmer in the light, I've failed.
"I didn't realize... or rather, I knew things had gotten bad. I hadn't quite realized to what extent. Miss. I'm so sorry."
"I don't need apologies." My voice is too hard but I can't cry here. "I need help. We need help." Part of me almost breaks and spills, how there is no help to be had, how the mundanes couldn't possibly be able to help us, how the best they could possibly do is grant asylum to our survivors, but even that would violate the treaty between Supers and mundanes, lead to more widespread death.
There's nothing they can do. I'm only here because I was appointed by Lestra Lucrative to come. Because she vouched for me on the eve of her 18th birthday. Because she'd died the next day, leaving me with nothing but respect for her legacy and a bitter, hardened cause in my chest.
To my surprise, the governor sighs, but not with defeat.
"I'm not sure how you found out," he said. "But then again, I suppose if things truly have gotten bad, it could make sense. What did you say your powers were, again?"
I close my eyes and will my flock to come to me. Not every Super has the power of fire or death or psionics. Some of us have pretty things. Like my birds.
After a moment, I open my eyes and look around the room. But my heart is in my throat, for no pearlescent, white doves sit atop the small books and shelves in the cramped, secret office.
"I don't understand," I whisper. "I'm sorry. They should be here. The Ivory Heralds. My birds."
He shakes his head. "I only agreed to meet with you here because we 'mundanes,' as you call us, have perfected magic nullifying technology. We got it done some century ago. *That's* what spurred the treaty. We never would have had leverage otherwise."
I stare, frozen, at this. So the mundanes have not simply been living by our generosity. It never would have crossed my mind that we hadn't a choice.
"So you can help," I say, not bothering to ask specifics. I don't really care. "We can evacuate members of our people here? It wouldn't be everyone, we couldn't manage that, but perhaps some of the littlest ones? Just to-- just to have our legacies live on?"
The man looks outraged at my suggestion. "Move them here? Take on a few survivors? Absurd, girl. Simply absurd."
My shoulders drop and when I speak again, my voice is tiny. "Then you can't help."
He stands up and puts a large, rough hand on my back. "Not like that." Now his voice has quieted, not quite to match mine but enough to make me look back in his eyes. "Our technology has outpaced that of your land's by quite a bit. Magic doesn't lend itself to scientific progress, but that's alright. You never needed it to defend yourselves. Or maybe you did but didn't know it til too late. Us commonfolk, however, have been preparing for a war for some time."
"Why?" I ask. "We never indicated a desire to attack you."
"Because that's how these things work. It does not do, to live by the goodwill of others."
The world is always more complicated than I think. Just when I feel confident I have my finger on a situation, it slips, shifts, and grows a thousand times more intricate.
I never would have expected the mundanes to have the capacity to help. I never would have expected them to have the *willingness* to help.
And I never expected to be sitting in the mundane governor's secret office, looking at maps and charts and screens, poring over what could be done, not simply to save a legacy, but to save my people entirely. I never would have expected, upon donning my coat, that I might actually do some good on Lestra's last mission.
But here I am. And I am not backing down.
___
Read more stories at [r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide](https://www.reddit.com/r/TalesByOpheliaCyanide/) | The path to the human land is arduous. I set sail months ago, and the days have drifted past me, filled with desperation at times and despair at others. When the world was split into the two factions, those with powers and those without, the Atlantic and Pacific Oceans became the barrier separating the two populations.
There were times during the voyage when I thought I would die. That my little sailboat would capsize and one of the sea monsters of the Pacific would rise up from the dark depths of the ocean and swallow me whole. Now, finally I see land.
As soon as the sailboat is close enough to the shore I drop the anchor and swim the rest of the way. I see people along the beach. They stop in their tracks as I arrive. Some of them take out cellphones and dial.
"I think we have an unauthorized entry at Hadley Beach," the nearest man says.
First, I am surprised that the humans have such advanced technology. Our side was given all the men and women with superhuman intelligence. Most of them chose to become supervillains rather than superheroes. Second, none of them seem afraid.
I know I'm not in peak form. Months of surviving on scraps has rid me of any muscles I had, and the sun has bleached my hair and burnt my skin. I must look like a man on the verge of death, but I am still superhuman. The pink hair and the lavender skin will follow me to my death. I don't have the energy to summon the balls of neon pink and purple energy that I hurl at my enemies, but these humans don't know that.
"It's best you stay calm and cooperate when the police arrive," a woman nearby says. "Do you have your permit?"
"My what? My permit for what?"
A fleet of cars drive to the boardwalk and police officers step out, guns and hackles both raised.
"Put your hands up and get on your knees!" the nearest one shouts. He's a bulky man, his uniform straining against his muscles. I can tell he's comfortable with the gun in his hand, and comfortable using it as well. I follow his instructions instantly.
There's a buzz from behind me that erupts into a drone before I black out.
When I wake up, I'm in an interrogation room. The police officer here isn't trigger happy or screaming. She's sitting opposite me, rifling through a file. When I groan, she looks up.
"Good, you're awake. Which guild are you from?"
"What?"
"Your guild," she says. "The Nightclaws? The Deathjoys? Frostbite?"
The names are vaguely familiar. My nemesis, The Infinite Inferno, was the leader of a group called the Deathjoys.
"I'm not in any guilds. I'm not a supervillain."
"A super-what?" the detective asks.
"A supervillain. I'm not one. I'm a superhero."
"Like in the comic books?"
She looks at me like I'm crazy, and leaves the room. The door is left a crack open, and I can hear her speaking to her superior.
"I don't think he's all there, sir," the detective says. "Dehydration, malnutrition. Must have all gone to his head. He's saying the Deathjoys are supervillains, and that he's a 'superhero'."
There's a muffled chuckle. "Poor guy. Have him admitted to the hospital for a psych eval, and get his photo to the guild headquarters to see if anyone recognizes him."
There aren't any more questions. I'm not given a chance to explain myself either. Every request for help for my land and the superheroes lands on deaf ears, only evoking pity or sometimes suppressed laughter.
"My people are dying!" I tell the psychiatrist as he sits down in front of me. "We need help!"
"Your people are fine, sir," the doctor says. "One of them is here to visit you."
The Infinite Inferno walks in through the door. He's not wearing his mask here, and instead of his dark robes and staff, he's dressed in a pinstripe suit. He sits in the chair in front of me.
"Inferno," I hiss.
"Levitus," he says with a smile. "Fancy seeing you here. I had thought you died in the first wave of our attack. But no, you *fled*."
"What are you doing here?" I ask. "It's against the rules of our society to interact with humans, but you villains...."
"We're villains. Did you honestly expect us to follow the rules?" he asks. "The humans are nice. We came here and helped them how we could with our powers. In exchange, they gave us their own inventions and discoveries. It's a mutually beneficial relationship."
He shakes his head. "No. It's more of a friendship."
I strain against the white straitjacket that I'm trapped in, wishing I could burn him, throw my power against his body until he's reduced to a pile of dust. But with my hands tied, I cannot call onto my powers.
"I will tell them the truth."
"Who will they believe? A madman, or the man who's brought London countless advancements and has proven an ally, time and time again?"
He taps his chin in mock wonder. "The third wave of our attack is underway, you know. Your side, I hear, is losing marvelously."
"You're evil. How can you kill your own kind like this?"
Inferno shakes his head. "*Kind* is an interesting word. Our *kind* has little kindness, and even less kinship. When we discovered our powers, we isolated ourselves from our brothers without them. The world was not as kind to humans as it was to superhumans. They froze, they starved, they toiled, and they bettered themselves. While we ignored their suffering and only indulged in our own petty squabbles, they managed to progress with their human strength. Good and evil are subjective terms, Levitus. You superheroes wanted to kill us all, remember? Called us villains and yourselves heroes to justify it. Are you angry that us villains are defeating you at the game you started?"
I scream.
"Calm yourself, Levitus. It will be over soon. We are destroying an old world, true. But only so we can replace it with something better." | 2021-01-29T09:06:32 | 2021-01-29T07:42:01 | 962 | 202 |
[WP] You are in your grade ten math class when you suddenly recover all your memories from a previous life. | I scratched the back of my neck with the pencil. Again, my eyes scrawled over the equation, desperately seeking purchase on anything recognizable. I stretched my legs. I tapped my fingers. No use. Groaning, I lowered my head into my hands and closed my eyes.
In the dark of my own world, old dreams presented themselves to my conscious mind. In one, I was a firefighter. In another, an adventurer. Recalling these strange and fanciful images soothed me, as they always had.
In this one, I was a baker. In that one, a mathematician. Oh, I liked that one. Maybe if I was really a mathematician, I could finish this problem.
I raised my head. Again I scrawled over the equation, but I was playing a game with it now.
"Listen up, class..." I whispered to myself. "This may look like a difficult equation, but it's just a trick question. It can really be solved by... and..." as I muttered, I scratched out a proof in a handwriting that was alien and messy. Before I knew it, I'd finished the question, and the next one, and the next one, and soon the whole test had been filled out.
Within a few minutes, the bell rang and the teacher went around to collect the tests. I handed the papers to him when he asked, but as he moved to put it on the pile, something gave him pause. I looked at him enquiringly.
He held up the test. "This isn't your handwriting."
I shrugged. "You saw me sit there and write it."
"Yeah, but I can't prove you're the one that wrote it if someone asks. Just retake it, okay?"
*just retake it, okay?*
Four words that no student ever wants to hear. I saw red, and some floodgate deep inside me broke open and let loose.
"Henry! I am thirty years older than you and forty more experienced. When you came into my classroom you could barely add, and you're standing there telling me to repeat a test that I probably formulated? Have some respect!"
The teacher's eyes bulged. "Professor Delaney...?"
"Now, put that test back onto the pile and grade it, or I am going to be one angry old man slash teenager if you don't, so help me *god*."
He slowly lowered the test back onto the pile.
"That's more like it." | After I realized where I was I had to leave the class room as soon as possible. I raised my hand and asked if I can be excused to go to the nurses office. By the way I looked it was an easy out. My face was flushed, I had sweat beading off my forehead and looked exhausted. As I got up I had to adjust to my present body again so I was a bit unsteady. I collected my leather jacket book bag and books and walked out of the class room. I walked down the long dim hall and right out the door. When I got to my car I felt the world begin to spin I threw my things into the car and ran to the back by the rear wheel, leaned over and puked my brains out. After getting rid of everything I had from breakfast and lunch I ripped open my shirt to make sure there wasn't a gun wound in my chest.....What the fuck is going on..... I thought .....did that really happen? Who am I? The biggest yearning came from deep in my heart the thought of where are my children. I shook my head a couple times and got into my truck and left. Oh my god I am 16 I don't have fucken children.
When I got home I be lined it for my room. I could hear my mother in the back ground yelling hello. I ignored her and continued to my room where I knew I would have some privacy. Dam I need to clean this shit hole up. I threw my book bag and jacket down on the bed pulled out my computer and rested it on the desk. I opened it up and starting typing in Christine Curtis. Then my heart stopped.......... | 2014-05-20T09:12:04 | 2014-05-20T08:42:28 | 69 | 10 |
[WP] A person's superpowers emerge during- and relate to- a highly stressful moment in their life. Your brother nearly drowned, and as a result could shape water to his will. A classmate fell from a high balcony, and ended up learning to fly. You? You just got your powers last night. | You stare at the television, still trying to move. Another city hit. Leviathan, this time. 40,000 dead. How long have things been like this? You can't remember the last time you've seen the news without some parahuman threat topping the hour. It's paralyzing, and you would chuckle at the pun despite it all if you still had you the ability.
The nurse walks in and changes your sheets. She talks, and it's a welcome reprieve, but the inability to respond irks you. When she leaves, her foot catches on the IV stand. It moves in front of the television, and you feel a sinking in your gut. You try and call out to her, to thrash, to move even one pinky toe or motion with your eyes or tell her what she's done, but she doesn't notice and she passes the curtain beside you and now you're STUCK HERE AND—
For one moment, you see them. they twist and turn, twin snakes of white and gold larger than any thing you've ever seen, than you ever will see. A shard breaks off and flies towards you. Direction and magnitude, you think, your thoughts drifting. It hits you, and clarity comes like a bullet to the brain—your body doubles over, and you scream and you shout and you—
You're back. The nurse stands in front of you again. You blink. She blinks. You move your hand, and watch as the nurse sits there, unmoving, eyes filled with terror.
There's an IV bag in front of the television, and nobody is coming to help her. | I began to fall from the building, I didn't remember climbing it though.
That didn't matter. As I felt myself begin to topple and become truly weightless in the plunge a jolt ran though my body, and it jolted me awake.
The fall had been a dream, but the adrenaline was real.
As I sat up in bed breathing rapidly my phone rang which startled me, and on answering it was my buddy Steve.
'Holy shit man are you ok? We all saw you go over the edge and now we can't see you at all! How did you survive that and where the hell are you?!'
The assent to the roof began to clear in my mind. The opposite of what usually happens as dreams fade, this became more vivid. | 2021-04-01T02:29:02 | 2021-03-31T23:16:32 | 65 | 23 |
[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. | I had been in line for some time now and was grateful to hear the man in front of me called forward, he was the sort that must have skipped showers here and there. Then again, we were dead and so suddenly I expected that none of us smelled like roses. I had my armpit to my nose when he turned back and with a brief nod said, “Good luck, mate.”
I heard his sentence and couldn’t help but roll my eyes. *Serves him right the unfaithful sod* were the words that were running through my mind when I heard, “Henry Thudor” called forward.
I stepped up to the stage, walking up the steps reminded me of when I had many years ago for graduation. My life had been a pretty boring one, but I’d been reasonable. Maybe 1 or 2 years in hell for the can of coke I once shoplifted and the screaming child I wished a plague of bees upon one late flight many moons ago.
The person in front of me looked like he’d bought his outfit in an after Halloween clearance sale. I eyed him up and down, the pointed tail, the horns on his head – hardly frightening when I’ve seen it so many times before.
“186,292.”
“I beg your pardon?”
The number had been said clearly enough but the logic of it couldn’t quite catch up to it jumbling around in my head.
“That has to be a mistake.”
“Tell me, Mr Thudor –“
“Oh!” I interrupted and waved my hand, *bloody idiot* I thought, but I said, “It’s my name, isn’t it? Simple mistake, but wrong king – you want the eighth, and I’m surprised you got me mixed up when it’s been what, how many years since the ol’ wife lopper kicked the bucket? Actually, is he here? Do we get to meet famous people in hell?”
The demon peered down on me with the same look I’d been given by my second-year teacher when I’d stolen Eve’s apple. I gulped.
“Mr Thudor, tell me, have you ever looked upon anyone without passing judgement on them?”
The saliva I had previously been wrestling down stayed full and choking in my throat. So, this is how it ends, all because I found the fast food waitress’s hair irresponsible.
“I would like to see a lawyer.”
“Well, there are plenty of those down here, although little use it will do you.”
I didn’t hesitate, I held my head high.“I believe that the sins that have been ascribed to me following my judgement of fellow human beings,” at the demons pointed glance I corrected myself, “and as of the past few minutes demons, should instead be placed upon them.”
The demon ran a well-trimmed nail over the horn that jutted out atop his head. “We do enjoy a good show, we’ll bring you a lawyer. I’ll warn you though, 186,000 of those years have little to do with your judgement of others.”
“Then what is the problem here?”
Again, the demon tilted his head forward and my childhood teacher came once more to mind.
“For reasons I’d have thought obvious, we don’t take kindly to those who steal apples.” | One could've heard a pin drop, provided the pin wouldn't immediately liquidate and disappear into the suffocating humidity of this divine DMV. I blinked a couple times at the number on the dated 80's era Linux machine and back to the impatient elderly demon peering over her ironic horn-rimmed glasses across my face. Heaven had already called dibs on the Microsoft software upon Bill Gates' passing, and rumor had it Satan had a weird thing about apples, so old school was the eternal school in this place.
​
"That doesn't make any sense to me!" I cried out, pointing wildly at the screen, "I got a good education, I donated to Wikipedia every time the donation box popped up, I was faithful to my wife," I redirected my finger toward the balding-in-denial head walking toward the Purgatory gates, "Unlike Captain Copulation over there, I didn't even skim on my taxes!" Rolling her eyes to the back of her horns, the Receptionist of Darkness pulled out a form titled "*Appeal of Sentence*" and slid it across the counter top. My eyes scanned over it, and there was my name and: **Sentence = 186,292 years.** There were three lines at the bottom where I was encouraged to state my case of appeal.
​
"*Fill out Items 1A, 4B, 666H, and Letters L-X,*" said the ancient sadist with smugness dripping off her forked tongue. Disdainfully, I folded the paper and put in my pocket to continue my plea directly.
​
"This is absurd! I went to church every day, goddamnit!"
***186,283***
"*To file your appeal, please stand in that line over there."* She stabbed her pitchfork-shaped pen toward a different line that I watched wrap literally around the diameter of Hell and back again.
"Jesus Christ, are you kidding me?"
***186,284***
"*No sir, once you deposit your form, you may take a seat,"* I didn't even have to look to deduce the spikes on top of the chairs, "*And wait to be called upon."*
"GodDAMNit."
***186,285*** | 2018-09-26T08:46:32 | 2018-09-26T07:48:10 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] After you die you are presented with a decision tree which showcases every possible trajectory your life could have taken depending on which decisions you made at each fork. You spend eternity analysing this tree until one day you find a path that does not end in death. | And finally when you are sure of the correct path to immortality, you are reborn into a new body with the “golden” decision tree embedded into your brain.
You’ve actually seen these types of people in your first life. These are the people who seem to walk early, talk early, and everything in life comes to them as if it’s the second time they’re doing it.
They are the “geniuses” of society who rise above whatever class, race or creed that they’re born into and shine like a million suns to the rest of humanity.
But even with this knowledge they very rarely make it thru the to the golden path of immortality.
Because they know all and have seen all. They can’t let their human brothers and sisters suffer through their naive decision making.
So slowly they deviate from their golden paths to help a family member, then it’s a neighbor, now it’s a fellow towns person, then a countrymen, then the greatest sacrifice is when they decide to help the whole of humanity rise.
And by this point there is no clear way back to the path of immortality, so they work and work and sacrifice more and more to uplift the species and until the one day that they die.
These beings never seem to last very long on the planet. They are like a fiery comet, lighting up the dark night sky one moment and gone the next.
Their deaths are felt around the world, a great wailing of grief and tears gratitude resounds around the planet for they have truly left the world a better place.
Bodhisattva; is what you call them. They never make it to nirvana because they can never reach pure joy, when another soul is suffering even for one moment.
So knowing this; your guardian spirit pauses, turns to you and then asks; do you still wish to be reborn to walk the path of nirvana?
~fin | "Wait, I could have avoided death if I never learned about it?"
"Yup. Turns out the concept of death is infohazardous. Once someone mentions it around you, you will obsess over it for your entire life until you die"
"But I didn't even have a chance not to learn about it. It says here that the concept of death was mentioned near me before I was even born"
"Yeah, that's the catch with modern medicine. You spend so much effort trying to make pregnancy not result in death, but talking about the means of preventing death around a pregnant person dooms the child to an eventual death"
"So how could anyone become immortal?"
"Well, I suppose if your mother had not been exposed to the concept of death while pregnant with you, you could have lived a relatively long life in isolation until she eventually died and exposed you to the concept of death"
"Has that ever happened to anyone?"
"I dunno, I only meet dead people."
As the reaper lead the frustrated soul to the afterlife, he wondered if there were any immortals left on Earth, living life blissfully ignorant of death. | 2020-07-03T11:57:10 | 2020-07-03T11:35:49 | 40 | 21 |
[WP] Lemme put it this way, I didn't *mean* to conqueror the world. | “Look, I didn’t mean to conquer the world…”
The past two days have been incredibly tiring. One interrogation after another, always men in the same uniform asking the same questions over and over again. Sometimes their nametags are different, but most of the time they read “Smith”.
“You didn’t mean to conquer the world. You just built a robot army, and then one thing kind of led to another”, today’s man in uniform states matter-of-factly, making a waving gesture with his right hand.
“I only built one robot,” I protest weakly for the millionth time.
The uniform nods, then retrieves a notebook from a pocket and starts reading in it.
“You built one robot, which subsequently replicates itself several times using spare parts from your workshop. The robots then go on to raid electronics stores all over Seattle, replicating even more units. Eventually, they start taking over military installations and the airport. They take control of airplanes and drones, spread out across the entire country, and eventually occupy the capital. As robot drones get in the air to invade Europe and Asia, and robot tanks move toward the Canadian and Mexican borders, robots in D.C. capture the president and take over the emergency broadcasting system to declare you their queen.”
I just nod. This is basically what happened. They’ve been efficient, too. It took them one day to gain control of Seattle. When people started to realize that they weren’t just another crazy PR stunt from Google, they had already managed to obtain weaponry and modify their chassis to accommodate it. After another day, they had the entire country on lockdown.
“That’s it? You have nothing to add to that?”, the uniform asks incredulously. Makes me roll my eyes. It’s like they record all of these conversations, then immediately burn the tapes.
“I told you. I ordered a Catbot 5000 from thinkgeek as a gift for my cousin. On May 25, the day before his birthday, I assembled it in my garage and left it there overnight. When I went back to fetch it when my aunt dropped by on the day after, it was missing. I had to run to the store around the corner to buy a pullover as a replacement gift for him. When I got back, I found my aunt in front of the TV with her mouth wide open, watching the first reports of robots raiding shops, and that was the first time I even heard of the whole thing.”
That’s my story in a nutshell. The Catbot 5000 is a toy. Judging by its description and capabilities, it’s targeted at children around the age of 30. It can walk around the house, meow, look cute, and read comments from reddit in a weird robot kitten kind of synthetic voice. Its battery doesn’t last very long, so the worst thing that could happen is that it climbs out of your window and recites your comments in the poetry subreddit to passersby for a few minutes until it runs out of juice. My cousin fits the target demographic perfectly. His poetry is atrocious, too, so he kind of deserves it as well.
“You modified the robot. You installed a custom artificial intelligence, you added an array of photovoltaic cells, you replaced its eyes with laser pointers, you even built a small 3D printer into one of its paws…”
The uniform lifts both his hands and starts gesturing slowly.
“…and so on, and so forth…”, he goes on, in a deliberately bored sounding tone.
Suddenly, we hear a muffled explosion, and then the lights in the interrogation room go out and emergency lighting comes on. An alarm sounds, but the uniform remains seated, undisturbed. He knows it’s not the first time. We’re in an old bunker deep in the Cheyenne Mountains. Safe from nuclear blasts; probably not from the robots, but they haven’t gotten here yet.
“I did not. I built it exactly according to the instructions, and then left it in my garage for the night.”
That’s a lie. I did all those things that he alleged, and more. When my army captured the president, I turned myself in, knowing that the only places the military could still take me to would be bunkers such as this one. For the past few days, they’ve unsuccessfully tried to extract the password to stop the robots from me. But I am no fool. There is no such password.
“And then it sort of did everything else on its own?”, the uniform asks.
“Yes.”
I won’t need to maintain the charade for much longer. He can’t see it yet, but a glowing red circle has started to appear on the metal door behind him. Soon enough, the inside of the door starts melting, the evaporating gases creating a loud hissing noise. The uniform finally turns around just as one of my little darlings climbs through the hole it just cut in the door. It turns its laser cutter on once more, only for a fraction of a second, but that’s enough to cleanly separate the uniform’s torso from its head. As the now lifeless body falls, the robot turns its head to me.
“Meow Queen, the cleansing is complete.”
I did indeed not mean to *conquer* the world.
| *37, Feburian, Year 0007. Location: Needlepoint Tower, Northen Marshes.*
Dear Diary,
Today I am finally writing the most dreaded diary note I ever though I could write. Well that was after the dividing, before that I decided the most dreaded thing I would write would be my 7th grade crush. God I wish is was back to those days sometimes.
I never really wanted to conquer the world. Heck, I never wanted anything to do with politics, I was just a precarious teenage girl wanting to explore the new urban landscapes of Chicago I had been forced to live within for the next few years.
It all happened when I came across that dammed creek. All dried up and smelly but a good hiding spot nevertheless. He had been playing fugitive, a game the local kids got together for every few weekends. Being a fast runner I decided I could make it to the edge of town pretty quick and I was right. I was also right about the location of the drainage pipes.
They were littered with graffiti and cobwebs, the dank environment and dark lighting gave off an ominous vibe. I was brave but it still scared the crap out of me going into that sewer pipe, even in broad daylight only small fractions of light could seep through the scarce amount of holes.
After what seemed to be an hour or so of trotting along in the dark being left alone to my own thoughts I came across the small box which bore both my downfall and uprising but at the time I had no idea what it was, other than the compelling feeling to open it.
Once I was in the light I took some time to examine it more. Under the light I could see some strange writing etched onto the lid. I didn't recognise the language then, but I wouldn't have had a chance of recognising it then because it turned out it was alien.
I found a grove and tried to pry it open with my fingers but I couldn't manage it. I knew it was possible but it just hurt my fingers too much so I grabbed a small rock of the ground and wedged ir in, prying it open that way rather than smashing the lock.
Once open I heard a weird moaning sound, like morphed screams coming from the box. I felt scared but soon was overcame from a sudden burst of relief and happiness. Water poured in through the grates and roared in the distance, coming straight for me but all I did was stare at it and smile.
After it finally sweeping me off my feet I blacked out, in my mind I thought I was dying. Drowning was meant to be peaceful after all. When I awoke I was floating above the Earth, watching it without dying from oxygen loss which added to the idea I was dead.
Light swelled in the distance and soon became a roaring inferno, much like a commet except it was much slower. Like it was a ball of impending doom that just wanted to rub it into humanities face. It sped up slowly and entered Earth's atmosphere, blowing up and killing what I assumed was millions in the asian area of the world. But that wasn't the worst.
Earth's core then blew up, shattering our globe into millions of fractals before pulling it back together and destroying millions of pieces in the process to form a slightly smaller globe. I then descended and awoke in a house filled with praying people.
My friend John walked towards me and pulled me up with both hands, smiling and wiping my check with his hands as if I had dirt on it. "Welcome oh Graceful one" he said, smiling still.
"What?" I blurted out, at the time I was bloody scared. My friend treating me like a deity, but what happened next scared me more.
"Harriet. Didn't you know? The Circle of Divinity descended to tell us. You are the only one who can save us." He showed me a map of the world, it was broken into pieces just like I had seen, new countries had formed and old ones reshambled.
I later became the empress of the lands, speaking to the circle via consecutive dreams in the night and forms of prayer in the day. I was practically a God Queen. It was hard work, and I wasn't always willing to do it.
But at least the events clarified one thing, I now knew why that medium had called me Pandora. | 2014-11-10T02:42:12 | 2014-11-10T00:18:57 | 35 | 10 |
[WP] An AITA post in an established fictional universe | AITA for killing my girlfriend's father (I thought he was my uncle)?
I (22M) killed my girlfriend (20F)'s father (86M) because he was hiding behind a curtain in my mother (42F)'s bedroom and I thought he was my uncle (37M). I want to kill my uncle for a number of reasons, including that he is sleeping with my mother, his brother's widow; he does not like me; the ghost of my father told me that he was killed by my uncle and then I put on a play to prove it and it worked. Later my mother told me to come to her room and she yelled at me about angering my uncle due to the play and I yelled at her to stop doing incest and then she told me it wasn't technically incest because they aren't related by blood. And my girlfriend's father was hiding behind a curtain in my mother's bedroom the entire time and said something because he thought my mother was being murdered because both of us were yelling, and I thought he was my uncle, and I stabbed through the curtain, killing him.
My mother, of couse, yelled at me about this, and I told her I did it because I thought it was my uncle, and she yelled at me more. My girlfriend, upon hearing about her father, went mad (over a period of time) and my best friend is scared for my sanity and also really mad, both because of this and a number of other reasons (including that I sent two mutual friends to their deaths, for various reasons).
So, AITA? | AITA for taking away my kids magic?
My 12 year old kid was caught crystal balling “why don’t my parents like me?” “What can I do to make my parents like me” “how to not be hated by my parents.” So naturally I took away their magic. My wife says this was uncalled for and that it was an asshole move. I then gave their magic back but then I caught them magic balling even more stuff such as “how to prevent your magic from being taken” “how to runaway” so I took back their magic and their crystal ball.
So, Am I the Asshole? | 2022-12-06T15:09:06 | 2022-12-06T12:25:16 | 34 | 21 |
[WP] Most ghosts have cool unfinished business: "Avenge my murder!" "Redeem my sins!" "Reveal my terrible secret!" Yours is...less impressive. But it still binds you to this world, and so you must find a medium who will help you. And not laugh when you tell them what with. | I didn't see the car coming. It was dark, they were driving too fast. Pretty sure there was alcohol involved but that's besides the point. What's done is done. I died and that's it. It's not so bad once you get used to it. The world looks the same, albeit slightly more boring than it was when I was alive. When you're on the outside of it things seem a lot less important.
I'm pretty sure I had been dead for maybe a day or two when it hit me: I'm still here. Something tells me I shouldn't be here anymore. I feel like I'm being pulled somewhere but I'm being weighed down. It's an odd feeling to explain. Imagine you're swimming in the ocean and you're just treading water but the tide is tugging you further into the ocean. You know you're being pulled but you're not seeing drastic changes around you. It's kind of like that. I was about to let the current pull me out into the deep ocean but it just felt wrong. The current didn't stop but I was overcome with the inexorable need to fight it. I needed to get something done before I could float along. I needed to make sure it was taken care of... But how?
I remembered where it could be found. It sat carefully inside of it's box on top of my dresser. It had to be delivered. I couldn't leave until it was done. If I didn't it would only cause trouble for my family if they found it later. I didn't want that. Now, how do I get it taken care of?
I struggled against my memory. Memories still work in the same way they did when you were alive. It's just that the conveyance of it is a little more complex. Rather than simply picturing vague recollections of events in your mind you'll instead find yourself reliving blurry, vague and constantly fluctuating recreations of events which play out like a low budget stage play where the audience is the main character. I relived my wedding, the birth of my son, mundane daily events and work meetings. Then I found my answer! My niece would always talk about how she "had the gift" and would frequently hold seances in her attic. It always seemed so farfetched but she was my only option.
Without warning I found myself in her attic. I couldn't tell whether I was in a memory or not. Everything was so confusing but I did see her. She sat at her circular table with her Ouija board. She was calling out to someone. I'm pretty sure it was Elvis Presley... Or Costello. It was some musician. In any case, I grabbed her table and forced the following words to be spelled:
Uncle. House. Box. Dresser. Seal. Deliver.
She seemed convinced by this display and left immediately to me home. I followed her making sure to listen to what she was saying. She seemed annoyed. I think she would have preferred to talk more but this had to be done for me to get peace.
When she got to my home I watched her enter my room and find the box. She sealed it, picked it up and delivered it to the UPS store just in time.
I felt the current grow stronger and pull me deeper into the ocean. I didn't fight it. I knew that once the box reached its destination it would make things easier for my family.
Amazon's return policy doesn't exactly expire when you do after all. | "Damn, even dead I do embarrassing things." I said to myself.
I died. Very recently. And I never got to do this one thing I've been dreading to do for the past four years. But now that I'm dead, I finally have the courage to do it.
You see, there was this girl... There's always a girl. She was the typical popular girl and I was the typical nerd you see in the cliché movies. One day, we bumped into each other, and I instantly felt this connection towards her. I Know, I know. Too cheesy. But it's true.
She talked to me more and more and soon after, we became friends, and in even less time, we became best friends. But that's all we stayed as. Best friends.
I wanted to tell her. And I came close to it so many times, but something always stopped me from doing it. Whether it was my shyness and overthinking, or just someone else talking to her. I thought I had more time to tell her how I felt, but I guess the universe had different plans for me. But I still wanted to tell her. Let it be the last thing I do.
Some time ago I had heard about this medium who could communicate with spirits and help them seek this... closure - in their lives. I didn't believe that when I was alive, but now that I'm dead? Fuck if I'm gonna try pass to whatever comes next without regrets.
"I'm sensing a presence." The medium said a few seconds after I entered their... office? "Come on, get on the board." They indicated, and I did as told.
"Wait a few minutes, I need to mediate for us to be able to talk."
And just as they said, a few minutes after waiting, I saw their consciousness get out of their body, and they instantly spotted me, smiling softly.
"So you're the young person who died in a car accident I've been hearing about lately." They said as they floated around me, looking at me up and down. I nodded, feeling a little uncomfortable with how they were staring at literally my soul. "Now, tell me, what can I help you with?"
"Uhm, you promise not to laugh?" I asked, looking away in embarrassment.
"Sure, honey, I'll do whatever it needs for you to transcend peacefully."
"I uh, I want you to write a letter to a girl..."
A/N: I'm sorry, I'm a hopeless romantic, whenever I see an opportunity write romance I take it. Either way, I hope you enjoyed this little story! :) | 2022-07-15T12:19:09 | 2022-07-15T10:33:26 | 524 | 47 |
[WP] Tell me the story of how the world ends - but told entirely in Craigslist ads | 4/7/29: (69corvetteguy) WTB: 69 Stingray Corvette. 30k. Good condition, black or blue, 80k miles or less.
6/12/29 (69corvetteguy) WTB: 4WD anything. Can trade stingray corvette - good engine, quick and reliable. Good for anyone looking to risk the city. I gotta get out into the country.
6/24/29 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Guns. Preferably rifles. No sawed-off shotguns, they are too close range. Bullets included. Can trade 2 weeks rations, including potable water.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Ammunition for an M-16 carbine. Magazines not necessary, just the bullets. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Water filter. Must have at least 6 months worth of use left. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/16/30 (69corvetteguy) WTB: Rations. Salted or smoked. Can trade full charge batteries.
2/27/30 (cripscansell) WTS: solar powered battery charger. Make an offer. Don't try anything funny, and we won't kill you. | 24/f/pittsburgh
Had a crazy fun time 2 weeks w/ some guy I barely knew- he was really into biting. At first I was mad and I got kinda sick but now I'M FEELING really bitey- like I just wanna tear up some flesh?
Hit me up if you wanna try it out- I'll be at the monroeville mall at 2am, back parking lot - lets get a mob together! | 2015-04-29T10:11:32 | 2015-04-29T10:05:24 | 86 | 57 |
[WP] You are immortal, but no one knows. You are given a life sentence in prison, and you laugh thinking about the confusion to come at the end of your sentence. | When you're an immortal who has seen and done it all, prison was nothing big. First days were interesting, he hadn't been a prisoner since he insulted pharaoh and ended up a slave working on the pyramids. Ah whippings, land scorching sunlight and constant work. Now that was prison. This whole 3 square meals and plenty of free time thing wasn't so bad. He'd seen hotels that offered less honestly enough. He could've broken out, but instead made a game of it. Just how many generations till freedom. After all he was first imprisoned for insulting a king, today that was called free speech. Maybe in three thousand years the slaughter of a bunch of people will be ok.
Everyone was blowing this way out of proportion, so he'd murdered a bunch of politicians in the way of the first real advancement of human history in years. Was it a bit extreme? Sure. But come on, it wasn't so bad, after living so long you tend to see faces repeat. They'd be back, in a 1000 years or so, maybe as better people next time. They were making life boring, now ed at least see something new, So maybe he shouldn't have kept track of kills in blood, or decorated a few homes red with Gore. But he learnt from Ceaser, and Genghis Khan, they did worse in their sleep. It wasn't fair is all, kill 100men as a soldier and your a hero, kill 100 defenceless criminals, you're a sociopath.
Oh well, in 1000 years no-one will remember the UN massacre, heck in 1000 years there probably won't be a UN. Still he'd let the kids pout, they were only 80 years old, they hadn't seen nothing yet. He'd be free sooner or later. Maybe he'd pick up a hobby in the meantime. Maybe science, maybe learn to kill quietly, whatever was more fun | Life sentence it is. It's been 70 years now. Given the fact that i had been 55 already when they put me in jail one might think it would be strange for me to stay alive for so long, but until today, no one has noticed. They probably didn't open my file in a while.
"Day 24.999" i wrote on top of the page. Keeping track of the time that's been passing by writing my diary was one way for me to keep the bit sanity i had left. I didnt want to have gotten mad by the time they let me outta here.
I finished todays entry on the top half of the last page. I got up from my chair and put the book up to the other 49 i had already standing in the small cabinet that i owned. I closed the blinds and turned off the small light that was sitting on my bedside table. I was exited. Tomorrow would be the day to find out. Tomorrow will be the day when they question my punishment. Maybe it wont be for life after all. But that is to be seen on Day 25.000. | 2017-05-20T16:33:10 | 2017-05-20T14:44:10 | 150 | 110 |
[WP] The first person to die in a new place is the founder of the local afterlife. | When I came to I rememberd very little.
My own name, Marc, came into mind. Not much else.
I opened my eyes and stared into the ceiling of the cave. I remembered the cave. I went spelunking.
I noticed I was wet. I remember falling into the water.
My head hurt and I remembered hitting my head on the shallow bottom.
I looked around, the cave was empty. Save for a single woman. I did not remember the woman.
She wore an animals skin and had a necklace of various seashells. She sat over me on her knees and she held my hand. She was crying but a smile covered her face.
"Where am I?" I asked, half knowing the answer.
The woman showed a puzzled look and spoke back in a language I didn't understand.
"Do you speak english?" I asked slowly.
The woman remaind silent still smiling.
I looked around the cave, on the wall opposit of the lake, markings and paintings covered the entire wall.
I couldn't make heads nor tales from the paintings. Only the last bit, tucked away in the corner near the waters edge, of some figures drowning the woman with the seashell necklace.
I wanted to speak but found myself unable to breath.
A rythmic pounding swallowed my chest. The womans smile faded as she tried to touch my face. But i didn't feel her fingers.
With a jolt I woke up and spit out a mouth full of water. The tour guide kneeled besides me. "Phew, for a moment I thougt you were a goner." "What happened?" I asked him. "Well son, you fell and hit your head pretty badly." He said. "I immidiatly climbed down and dragged you out of the water, well, after the first body at least." I looked around "what bod...".
Next to me, with every facial feature intact, lay a mummified corpse with a seashell necklace. | A couple weeks back, a meteor shower crashed into earth. Continents broke apart, crashed together. When the first one landed, I was hit directly. Needless to say, I died. Yup, I am very dead. Now, the problem is, I wasn't the only one. If I were to assign a numerical value to the amount of mortalities, I couldn't, not even the UN has.
When I died, I met with a bunch of people, each one centuries old. They were the people who died first, kings of the afterlife, Greek, African, Middle Eastern, American, all here. They had one job, but now, they can't. The boundaries are gone, the underworld reset. They needed a replacement, and I'm the first person who died. My name is Nikhil Roy, and I'm the king of hell.
*s'up guys, I'm the author. I could extend the story if you like, and if you want to read more stories about dudes named Nikhil Roy, subscribe to r/thebad_comedian. Shameless self promotion over.* | 2016-11-01T09:11:47 | 2016-11-01T07:32:32 | 51 | 11 |
[WP] Last week the scientific community presented incontrovertible evidence that the universe is a simulation. Today the gaming community presented the first glitch guide. | [NO STOCK MARKET GLITCH] 0y0m2d4h22m16.04s (100%) Real Life speedrun + explanation
What's up guys, EZGames here, and today we're going to take a look at a new speedrunning technique that's changed the face of real life runs!
Ever since user GatezPlays discovered the Stock Market glitch, where getting a frame-perfect B button press on the load screen when you buy a continuous compounding interest stock portfolio actually allows you to actually sell your own company's stocks while raising the interest rate for immediate returns without the capital gains penalty, we knew that the inflation adjusted wealth stat would reset back to zero after hitting $100,000,000,000USD in a single account, tricking the game into unlocking all your stats for a NewGame+ playthrough without resetting your progress, which rocked the Any% world. But the community has thought that hitting the $100B mark without the Stock Market Glitch is basically impossible, making the strategy useless in 100% runs... Until today.
In this run from streamer xXChode_PontifeXx, we see how chosing the Cleric starting class unlocks the tithe perk way earlier on than the Baron class. We've known for a while that the Holy See glitch lets you clip through the walls into the Vatican by spamming the sprint button and rolling when you're standing next to the Papal Railway walls in the Rome instance. But here's where things get interesting: Now, Cleric was considered a D tier choice for a while now, ever since of the Reformation nerfs, but when you spend your skill points to unlock the tithe perk and stack the bonus with the buffs you get from Clerical Robes II, your Charisma stat is high enough that, once you load into the Vatican instance without going through the door opening animation, the game actually sets your character level to Pope, skipping the XP grind that high level Cardinals have to do and shaving decades off the run time. This let Chode Pontifex start the Rapture endgame scenario, and the economic collapse with runaway inflation sent his savings account value well over $100B without using the stock market at all! Once he used the Valkyrie technique to noclip onto an angel and fly directly to heaven with a full stat bar, he got a full game completion end screen, and his run was solidified as one of the all time greats in the community so far.
Now, this run and strategy hasn't been verified by the UNISRC, but if it's replicable, it'll be a real game changer.
Thanks for watching, make sure to vaporize that like button, subscribe, and hit the bell to be notified when I post another video because the next few days are going to be in-sane.
EZ, out! | "Ladies and Gentlemen, the Gaming Community is pleased to announce the completion of its official Glitch Guide, presented after due deliberation. The Gaming community also takes this wonderful opportunity to thank the Scientific Community wholeheartedly for its crucial role in the sudden upturn in the fortunes of the Nerds. Children around the world will now add stats points to intelligence and Perception, instead of trying to max out trashy attributes like Strength, Charisma or Luck.
The Official Glitch Guide begins promptly thus, laying emphasis on the first 3 key points –
1) When moving from one room to another, a character may accidentally freeze in the hallway and forget why they left their first room in the first place. This glitch is fixed by pausing, proceeding to the fridge or the toilet and returning to the middle of the hallway. This should fix the glitch in most cases.
2) Maxing out any of the attributes – Strength, Intelligence, Agility, Perception, Endurance, Luck – may not guarantee 100% successful in a side quest called "Where Will I Find Love?" More often than not, players may find their perceived soulmate character initiating conversations with other players. This is not a glitch; it is part of the head developer's intended game design to convey that in some quests (like Love) a player gets to be the main character. in others, they will only get to be an NPC.
3) There have been many complaints about the unrealistic difficulty of the simulation we find ourselves in. Unfortunately, there is no way to adjust the difficulty setting. No patch to fix this is expected in the foreseeable future. The Glitch Guide advises that instead of waiting for cheat codes or console commands, the player spend considerable time in practicing, observing, learning and adapting themselves to handle this simulation adeptly.
-----
Thank you for reading! If you liked this, please consider browsing through my other writing at r/whiteshadowthebook :) | 2019-12-12T10:46:12 | 2019-12-12T10:31:13 | 105 | 74 |
[WP] A religious official performing an exorcism is given cause to reconsider completing the ritual after a conversation with the demon brings new information to light. | Father Gregory entered the room ready to do battle against the demon who had taken one of his flock hostage. He gave one last glance to the Petersons before shutting the door behind him. They did not need to see this.
As his old eyes adjusted to the dimly lit room, he got his first look at Susie since the demon had taken hold of her. Her legs and arms were fastened securely to the bed by leather straps, ensuring that the demon would not be able to break free of the holdings. It seemed that the demon had already realized this, as the body did not move in the bed. They were usually feistier than this, refusing to go quietly back to hell. People forget that hell is just as much a prison for demons as it is for the damned. Father Gregory took a step forward, the floor boards creaking beneath him. It seemed the demon heard him, for it turned Susie's head towards him.
"Ah hello Father. Was wondering what was taking you so long. I was almost afraid the parents wouldn't make the call. But anyways, glad you are finally here. Now before we start this whole thing, there are a few things you need to know." The demon spoke with an unearthly voice tat starkly contrasted the innocence of Susie's face as she was forced to speak the demon's words.
"Save me your lies demon. Nothing you can say will stop me from sending you back to hell screaming." Father Gregory spat the words with pure venom.
"Is that what you think this is all about? My goal here was not to escape hell for a few days, though I must say it is an added bonus. No, Father, I am here concerning Susie. I am sorry to break it to you this way, but Susie is dead."
"Her body still moves hell-spawn, she is not with the lord yet."
"Quite right on both accounts. Unfortunately it does not change the fact that Susie is brain dead. I have been keeping this body moving for the past three days, though my hold on it will slip soon. Therein lies the problem. Susie is not with god yet. Seems the soul can only move on once the body dies. Even heaven has its bureaucracy."
"If what you say is true demon, then release the girl so that she may join our father in heaven." Father Gregory was confused by this whole ordeal. This was a tricky demon, trying to play with his emotions.
"I fully intend to Father, but first the reason I am really here."
"And what might that be?"
"Justice. Susie did not just happen to become brain dead at the drop of a hat. Her father beat her for three hours before she slipped into a coma. You will find fresh bruises all along her body, as well as a bloody shovel out back. All I need you to do is tell the police about the bruises. If the cops confront her, the mother will confess and implicate the father. All in all should be a quick trial and conviction."
Father Gregory was startled. Even if the demon was lying, his words possessed some truth to them. He was not blind, he knew that Susie's home life was not ideal, but this...
"Why?" Father Gregory asked incredulously.
"Why what?" The demon asked back.
"Why help me find justice for this girl?"
"You forget Father, I was once an angel." The demon said. "Now send me back to hell." | "This is *my* punishment!"
I was awestruck. They don't prepare you for these things. The supernatural is referred as such for a reason.
"Don't listen to him, he's lying!" Father Becken would know, I was just suppose to assist. The patient, or subject or...what was the name for them again? The possessed had met all criteria for their condition. I was brought on, by the church, to consult on the matter. Going from Medical school to Seminary made, well, financial sense at least.
The possessed gave a hiss through its blood-stained teeth; sulfur fumes seemed to fill the room. "I am *one* of you! Punished by Satan himself! Doomed to suffer and rot again before being sent back to HELL!"
Suffer almost seemed inadequate. His skin was sloughing off, his eyes icteric, some of his bones had begun to expose themselves on his limbs. Coughing up nails and bilious vomit would be enough, one would think, but this...creature even being alive was beyond me.
Father Becken began chanting more of his latin, the possessed writhed in pain and his eye caught mine. I saw the deepest despair, a hint of the humanity that the...person, or what was a person, had.
"Pleasszzz...kill me...for my boyhhh..." The moaning and rattling was filled with desperation, he breathed quickly, then slowly, then quickly, in the way that a body would, a body preparing to die.
"Maybe we should reconsider." I could barely speak up, I was hardly the authority on these practices.
"He's LYING! He knows no truth! He *wants* you to doubt!" I could see the distress in Father's eyes. He had his doubts, but he expected doubts.
Suddenly, the demon found his energy in rage, "YOU BITCH! YOU WILL SEND ME TO HELL AND TRAP MY SON! AT LEAST GRANT HIM THE SALVATION I-" the possessed began convulsing.
"It's almost done!" And soon after, it was. Or, it appeared to be- I couldn't be sure.
Silence.
The skin appeared healthier. Even the wounds didn't appear nearly as awful. The air cleared of stench, and the posses- the person almost appeared catatonic.
"It's done." Father began his prayers of peace and thanks. I approached the boy,
"Jason? Jason?" He was alive, to be sure. His reflexes where intact, his vitals appeared stable, not even a fever.
Why wouldn't he answer? | 2014-09-05T11:08:30 | 2014-09-05T09:57:19 | 149 | 15 |
[WP] You guard a door, at the front of the hidden bunker. You know everyone, every face, every name. But the person outside right now is unfamiliar, even if they do know the password. | I don’t know what’s behind the door 42.
There’s always a soft whirring and the occasional metallic clang like something heavy dropped on the floor (followed by loud curses of Florian, the foul-mouthed foreman). Once in a while, I hear a loud ‘pop!’ like all the air is sucked out of the bunker in a split second.
But no, I don’t hear much other than that. The door is ten inches of solid metal, after all. It is also very heavy – I can tell you that. When I was ten, my arm was crushed by a bunker door during an evacuation drill. They never fixed it. Now, the arm hangs loosely on my right shoulder, as useless as a man’s nipple. They call me the One-armed Doorman behind my back. I hate them for it.
I open the door for scientists in lab coats and helmets four times a day. Once in the morning, twice in the afternoon for lunch and once in the evening when they go back to their home bunkers. The men wear huge, ridiculous-looking goggles. That’s why the passcode for the door is Goldfish – because that’s what they look like.
I giggle to myself. They never found out that I’m making fun of them every day.
The scientists had just left for lunch. I sit alone outside door 42. This door guards an Alpha bunker, which means whatever’s inside concerns the safety of our underground society. So no one ever visits, which is fine by me.
Why did they put a disabled man in charge of guarding an Alpha bunker? Well, because we don’t really need tough security anymore. After all, we are the only people left on this planet. We killed all our enemies decades ago. In the process, we also killed our home. That's why our bunkers are all sixty feet underground.
Suddenly, I hear footsteps echo in the distance. Lunch break had just started. *They’re back early,* I think to myself.
“Who’s there?” I call.
A hooded figure steps into the lone spotlight in the cavernous chamber. His face and body are shrouded in a tattered, blue rag. His frame is thin, almost on the brink of collapse. I’ve never seen him before.
“Who are you?” I say, raising the pistol with my one good hand. “What’s the passcode?”
“Goldfish,” he whispers while walking towards me.
*How did he know that? The passcode is only known to the scientists!*
“What… what do you want?” I stutter, taking a step back.
“Goldfish,” he continues, ignoring my question. “Because the goggles make them look ridiculous, right?”
*How on earth…?*
Before I complete my thought, he rips away his shroud. His scraggly long hair falls down to his shoulders. His long face is sharp and handsome, but shriveled like a raisin.
His right arm hangs loosely by his side.
“Hello, it’s been a while,” he smiles at me, like meeting an old friend. “Now, would you like to find out what’s behind door 42?”
| "Tomato chili bacon."
There was something amiss about the man standing before me. He was dressed too immaculately, his white blazer and trousers pressed neatly down, his slick black hair, hidden underneath a white fedora. I did not move, even though his words compelled me to.
"Did you not hear me?" he took a step closer towards me, our faces separated only by a thin sheet of glass. "I said, TOMATO CHILI BACON."
I maintained my silence as I studied his face. For centuries I have guarded the door, each and every resident's faces clearly written into my mind. His was not.
The man slammed the wooden counter in front of me. "Are you deaf, you piece of junk? I said, TOMATO CHILI BACON! Now open the damn door!"
My eyes scanned his face again, running each pore and wrinkle against the Sanctuary's database. Not even a tiny resemblance to any of the residents. There was only one thing left to do. I raised my left arm, and unloaded 100 bullets into the man in less than 10 seconds, shattering the glass barrier in front of me and shredding his flesh. Blood splattered everywhere.
The man fell backwards, his eyes wide in shock. His once pristine clothing were soaked in red. From behind me, came the sound of clapping.
"Bravo, bravo!" a voice that I recognized exclaimed, as he ran past me towards the dead man. I recognized the familiar lab coat of Professor Mark. He squatted next to the dead body, and he turned towards me.
"Did you see that? It was like 10 seconds and his dead!" Professor Mark was smiling with glee, like how he would usually do whenever his experiments succeed.
"Poor Jimmy though, thinking that a password could get him through." I tilted my head at the professor, who was walking back to me. He pulled out a grey rectangular device from his pocket.
"It's okay that you're confused Mark Four, but all is well. Now we can stop pesky impostors from entering our precious Sanctuary with your new upgrade." Professor Mark tapped his thumb on the device, and everything went to dark.
--------------
/r/dori_tales
| 2017-04-07T06:38:10 | 2017-04-07T05:13:55 | 68 | 22 |
[WP] On your eighteenth birthday, you shoot a mystic bow that is said to kill whoever is destined to kill you, three seconds before they do. Eight years later, your arrow strikes your SO's heart, right as she says "I do."
Or he. Or It. Whatever. I'm a straight canadian guy, so it popped into my head.
Sorry.
EDIT: I did not expect this to get so popular. Honestly, I expected this to get maybe two or three responses, and a 5/40 Upvote/Downvote Ratio. But, 196/95.........
EDIT: We've passed 300 upvotes! I'm afraid now. Very afraid.
Edit again! 400!
But at the same time, the people that hate me finally found the post. I suppose it wont be long before i go back to a 1/30 upvote/downvote ratio.....
Continue writing though! I love your works! | I haven’t been able to sleep well in weeks. I told him that I was just nervous about the wedding, that I wanted everything to be perfect. I hate lying to him like that, but if he knew what was really going on, he would be devastated. Knowing that, by the best estimations, I would be dead in six months would crush him. I just wanted to make sure that I would be married to him when I died, but I didn't want to go alone. I always wanted to die with the one that I loved, the one that made me happy.
As I stood there holding his hand, waiting for the priest to finish his part, I started to cry. I knew that this would be my happiest memory. I brought my hand up to try and suppress a sob. I heard him say those magical words, those words that I have been waiting for years to hear. “I do.” His smile as he said those words made my heart melt, made me almost regret what I was about to do, but I don’t want him to suffer.
As I open my mouth to say my part, my chest started to hurt. I looked at his face to see his shocked face splattered with blood. My breathing became very painful and labored. I glanced down to see an arrow now protruding from my chest. As I started at it, a capsule fell from my mouth. The capsule I had snuck in when I was suppressing my sobs. The Capsule that was supposed to ensure we went into the afterlife together. My legs started to feel weak as I wobbled forward, right into his arms. I could hear the commotion that everyone was making, but it didn’t matter, all that mattered was that I let him know how I feel.
“I’m sorry.”
Note: Written from my SO’s point of view. Also, my first WP, so be nice! :P | The church bells rang, as the choir sang, and so the wedding day begun, a day of formality before an evening of fun. I sweated at the altar, awaiting my bride.
I watched her walk down the aisle. She was radiant in her glory. I thought to myself, "How was I lucky enough to be her groom?" I thought back to when we first met, the Night of Foresight.
The night was 8 years ago; it had been a beautiful star lit night, and me and five other youths were to shoot the Bow before the feast. That was when I first laid eyes on her. My friends warned she had cheated on previous occasions, but she spent the customary five years pre-marriage faithfully. The only time I saw her glance at another was with my friend Tom, but he does that to every girl in the province.
Right as the priest went through his speech, I heard a feint sound, and as my wife-to-be opened her mouth, an arrow pierced her heart, staining her dress with blood as my eyes filled with tears.
(First time posting, and from my kindle)
| 2014-05-27T19:36:17 | 2014-05-27T17:58:25 | 151 | 43 |
[WP] Following World War III, all the nations of the world agree to 50 years of strict isolation from one another in order to prevent additional conflicts. 50 years later, the United States comes out of exile, only to learn that no one else went into isolation.
People!
A few things:
1. Found the prompt on Pinterest, thought it was interesting (not necessarily realistic), and decided to post it, fully expecting it to go unnoticed. Surprise!
2. I am not in any way trying to take credit for coming up with the idea.
3. Turns out this is a repost. 🤷 Who knew?! /u/WinsomeJesse did because they posted it last time. Not trying to steal anyone's thunder. If you're super perturbed about it, go show them some love.
4. Have a good day y'all; be kind, make good decisions, and don't hold in your farts. 😉✌️ | Every country must close its borders, communications, trade, and embassies for 50 years.
The United States's president was boycotting the peace conference, against most of the country's wishes. The declining prestige of the country abroad was all too apparent, even before the Great Conflict. The war lasted 6 years, and no country gained or lost any ground after the first day. Nearly half a billion died, and it finally took riots in the streets to force some governments to call back troops.
Every country, save the United States, convened in Beijing to discuss the terms. They decided American Imperialism must come to an end. Japan and Korea would split the islands in the Pacific, and the New Soviet Republic would be given Alaska, amputating America to its mainland body. In an inspiring speech to the diplomats present, the leader of France took advantage of the States' absence to propose a plan that would cut off American influence even more. They would convince American leadership that each country should have a period of isolation, to rebuild themselves and prevent further conflicts for the next half century.
Only the United States would actually go into isolation. The rest of the world would finally be rid of the thorn in the West they've all come to know.
A lot got completed during the 50 years of freedom, which was the name the New Powers gave to the period. China completed its huge infrastructure projects thanks to absorbing the USA's trade power vacuum. The Middle East stabilized and the countries solar panel networks together to encourage cooperation and peace. The NSR had free reign of the Balkany. Every country and its citizens agreed that the 50 years of freedom was the greatest joint-diplomatic effort in history.
The world eagerly awaited when those 50 years ended. Some of them
"Leave it to bureaucracy to try to jam as many meetings as they can together, right? The terms said we'd start with one on one meetings with leaders, to ease into it, not a goddamn round table meeting. I only brought a human translator for Japanese, and there are 50 different countries here," the President complained to the Empress of England, who drew the short straw and had to sit next to America.
The Empress looked around nervously, but nobody at the table would make eye contact. Understandably, their eyes were locked on the American, who looked slightly out of place, wearing a suit and tie that went out of style decades ago.
"Now I'm going to sound like a robot when I'm tying up old trade deals," he said, before blinking a deliberately a few times and fiddling with his watch. "Where's the tradition? Where's the elegance?"
The 48 other diplomats at the table almost jumped out of their seats in shock. They had heard the American's questions in their home country's language, although it sounded slightly digital.
"I'm really glad we all agreed to this isolation thing," he continued. "You wouldn't believe how much our old government spent on our military. We've been an isolationist country far longer than we were an imperialistic one. We didn't really know what to do with it all that extra money. The country voted to just put it all in education," he prattled, "I'm excited for international markets to open back up. GM-Ford-Tesla-NASA designed these great solar powered dronemobiles, just put the backpack on and say where you need to go. We don't even need cars anymore! Cars! I know I sound like I'm bragging but what was the 50 years was for, if not for bragging rights when it's through?" | 50 long years. Thomas rolled out of his bunk. Today was the day America was going to join the rest of the world. He was excited, but a little afraid. As an American, it had been schooled into him that what had happened 51 years prior was one of the largest wars known, World War III, and that America had been the first to strike. In 2028, the leaders of the remaining nations had all agreed, each country was to go into isolation. No trade, communication, or aid, whatsoever. America had agreed, and had built massive walls in the North and South. They had severed communication with all satellites, and cut all lines outside of the US. Alaska was given to Canada, and Hawaii was allowed to be its own nation once more. Puerto Rico had protested at first, but soon gave up. According to his grandpa, the US suffered the first couple of years. Technology development had gone down, with agriculture having a huge boom to support its population. Most people left the cities, leaving them to become ruins. The only cities that thrived were towards the center of the country. This made life very simple. You attended school until 12, and then you picked a specialization. There were three to choose from. You could be a farmer, which was the most noble and useful, a rememberer, whose job was to learn all of the old things, so when the walls came down, we could talk to our neighbors and work old technology, and soldiers, who were those who didn’t have what it took to do the other things.
Thomas wasn’t ashamed to be a soldier, he couldn’t grow a potato, and words and numbers annoyed him. Besides, he would be one of the first to see a Canadian. He grabbed his issued jackhammer, and headed for his station.
At midnight, walls started coming down. Within the next two days, they were nothing more than rubble, that was quickly being removed. Oddly, there had been nobody to greet them, but this had been anticipated seeing as how had caused most of the damage in the war. In the next three days, the American military had sent out ambassador convoys North into Canada, and South to Mexico, neither had found anything except countries being reclaimed by nature. Almost two weeks later, the rememberers had finally reestablished communication of the one satellite they had been allowed to keep in orbit. North Americas whole portion of the globe was dark. Thomas kept rereading the communal paper, surely they were not the only ones left? The next day, they got the answers they were looking for. Europe, Asia, Africa, and Australia were also dark. Thomas, and many other Americans wept.
Edit: Figured I would mass respond to this. The ending was left open to interpretation, kind of like a Miyazaki film. | 2018-01-18T01:37:17 | 2018-01-18T00:43:07 | 712 | 139 |
[WP] “I think I might be the most successful serial killer in history. The best part is telling their loved ones we did everything we could.” | My life started like anyone else’s, two people joining together to create a life. Maybe if my father hadn’t been drug addicted since before I was born, and perhaps if my mother had not died in childbirth, I would be a different person than the psychopath I must be today.
My father lost custody of me when I was six months old - a gloomy day in October, the rain having been unrelenting for the entire month. The air was turning crisp, winter was coming, and quickly.
He had passed out in the alley between the library and a coffee shop, nodding off from the drugs he would never kick. I had been wailing, the librarian later told the police, for hours, before she brought me inside and called social services.
After spending a week in the hospital receiving the care I had never been given, I was placed for adoption. That is when Frank and Leah saw me, and decided they wanted to be my parents.
Years of therapy, intensive testing; none of it fixed me. I was still broken, from the day I came home to them.
It was a miracle, everyone thought, when I graduated high school, and applied for medical school. Surely, they whispered, they won’t accept her. And what then? A fast food job, perhaps, or maybe a cashier for a retail store. A waitress perhaps. But they accepted me; my grades were stellar, I had volunteered in a medical clinic throughout high school.
And then, they constantly reminded me that if it was too hard, I could quit. I could get a degree in something else; what if they helped me open a business? But I graduated, and went on to my internship. And then my residency. And then, I was a surgeon.
“A miracle,” my mother would say, in hushed tones to her friends, having her dinner parties in the big dining room, the one I was to never enter. “All of it, it’s just a complete miracle.”
Her friends would nod their heads in agreement, like chickens pecking at the ground for food. I would enter, finding some excuse, just to make them uncomfortable. They would all but clutch their pearls when I entered the room, perhaps afraid that I would steal them right off their necks, the delinquent child that their dear friend took in from the kindness of her heart.
But none of them knew; no one will ever know. The real reason I became a surgeon, not because I wanted to help people, no it was actually the exact opposite.
Understanding how the human body works; knowing how fragile it is, is exhilarating. Knowing, that with one simple movement and a moment of hesitation can result in the death of a person sends a thrill through my body, settling deep into my bones for days. And when I do, make that one simple movement easily missed by anyone else in the room, and feign knowing where the bleeding is coming from, and the patient dies, the rush stays for weeks. Settling deep inside my stomach, encasing my bones in vibrations.
But that isn’t the best part. The best part, the one that actually brings me that mouthwatering, rolling feeling, is going to the waiting room, looking their husband, their wife, their mother or father in the eyes and saying “I’m terribly sorry. We did everything we could,” and watching the grief, the pure anguish, come over their features.
That, that feeling of killing multiple people with one simple movement, that is why I became a surgeon.
We humans are really, terribly, fragile. | It wasn't always all roses and peaches, and sometimes my family acts like roaches and parasites. They glorify and praise my cousins, my aunts, uncles, and their friends.
But behind those facades are two people joined and wedlock all because of an accident that they couldn't get rid of, at least during their time.
Mom and Dad were only 4th-year students in college when I was born. Dad had to continue his studies like every 90's family while my Mom graduated but never continued with her masters.
And because of their accident creating me, they've always felt like people who wanted to experience more of their life. People who yearned for more adventures, but because of their new responsibilities, that cannot be done. They've now resorted to gaslighting us into living their fantasies through us.
At age 9, I was forced to watch Anime and thought of it as a punishment until I was 14 when my classmates found it enjoyable. It took me at least a few months to reverse what was ingrained to me by my father as he forces me to watch episode between episodes, to make me "informed" of pop culture as a new leisure activity.
All of those things, and them hiding and pretending they are enjoyable and quirky parents. Well, it seemed that everyone fell for it.
Well, no more, I was 19 when it first happened. It was a rainy day, and we all sat down for dinner as the rooftop rumbled with tiny millions of water droplets.
Dinner was always quiet, and it still ended with them telling us what we were about to become this time. But today was a special occasion, and I made almond cookies.
This was both of their folly, mother wanted me to know baking and so did I. It was quite simple really, I make the aroma of the almond cookies stronger while I douse it with some Cyanide. And once they ate it, they'd fall and die.
The cyanide smell would easily be covered with the scent of almond, they'll never know what they actually ate.
I thought about this for years, even what happens after. Even how we would approach their loved ones, with their death. After all, they never really loved us at all.
And their facade would be their downfall, as our crocodile tears would be suffice for them to believe. They'd die with our secret kept from their grave.
Now that I think about it, I think I might be the most successful serial killer in history. And you know the best part? It's telling their loved ones we did everything we could to save them.. | 2020-03-03T13:03:40 | 2020-03-03T08:46:28 | 38 | 15 |
[WP] Whenever you speak, people hear you speaking in their native language. Most people are surprised and delighted. The cashier at McDonalds you've just talked to is horrified. "Nobody's spoken that language in thousands of years." | I take a deep breath as I approach the counter. The cashier has his head down, but he looks pretty generic from what I can see of him. If I'm lucky, I'll sound like I'm just another guy, trying to order my share of Chicken McNuggets.
"Hi, could I have a Happy Meal, please?"
His eyes snap to me as if magnetically attracted, and I can instantly feel the confused hostility radiate off him like heat waves. He opens his mouth to speak, closes it, and just examines me further with laser-like scrutiny.
I'm pretty sure I must be gaping in return. Every last person in this establishment knows that they've replaced the chicken meat with something since the birds went extinct in the 2900's, but no-one's ever quite gone so far as to openly eye-murder me for my unhealthy eating choices.
The man at the cashier -- *Brian,* his name tag reads -- slowly lifts his apron over his head and walks straight out the back door, signalling for me to follow him. A woman quickly fills in his place, attempting to smooth the situation over, but I'm already halfway out to the parking lot.
As soon I've exited, Brian steps out from a wall, invading my personal space with absolutely no regard for it. His unusual features -- pale skin, blue eyes -- give me pause. All are traits that should technically be genetically impossible at this point.
"I don't know what you're--" I try to say as soothingly as I can manage, but he shakes his head: a short, sharp jerk that cuts me off immediately.
"How do you know that language?" he asks me quietly. There's something a bit off about his tone, but I can't quite place it.
"Look, dude, I have no idea -- "
"No-one's spoken that language for thousands of years." He back-peddles until I can no longer smell his Filet-O-Fish breath in my face, and for a second I think he might let me leave, but he still blocks my way, looking at me strangely.
"It's just a thing I do. It's not under my control. It's another one of those implants," I say, pushing aside my hair to reveal the microchip embedded under my ear, where the skin is stretched tight enough to showcase its electric blue wiring.
Brian's eyes have taken on a watery sheen, and I realize with a jolt that he's crying. "I came here three years ago in a machine," he tells me, his voice holding up impressively. "I don't know how or why -- just that I woke up surrounded by useless buttons and a billion people I can't begin to understand." He takes a step further back, and then one more, and then somewhere along the way he's walking away fully, ignoring me standing there rooted to the ground in shock.
And then suddenly I'm not.
"Wait, Brian!" The name sounds bizarre coming from my lips; it's almost as outdated as *Sophia* or *Britney*. "What is the name of the language? The one I'm speaking?"
He turns in the distance, his face etched with a bittersweet smile. "English. It's called... English."
And then he disappears from sight. | **Note: Part 6 is located under the replies for part 5.**
Oh, I've got a good one.
A new restaurant had just opened up in town, it had a weird name, but no one seemed to pay much attention to it.
I decided to go there for lunch one day, just to see what it was like. Well, I got the shock of my life there. Let me tell you what happened.
I walked into the building (which was called *The High-Ruled Kingdom*, for whatever reason), and ordered my food.
The cashier looked up at me in a mixed variety of emotions.
Fear, surprise, shock, was that anger?
"No one's spoke that language in thousands of years."
I stared back at the man, confused.
"What do you mean?"
The man took a lok over his shoulder, excused himself from his work station, then motioned for me to join him at a tale. I did, and then he began talking about verrryy strange things.
The man, who revealed himself to be a son of the current owner of *Forester Brewery*, said that the language I had spoken was only spoken by those from his homeworld.
"Homeworld? Are you high or something?"
"No. I assure you that I have not taken any kind of mind altering drinks or food items, thank you very much."
For some reason, the man told his co-workers that he would be going home early and left the building. I followed.
I found the guy sitting on a very strange bike, it appaered to be made out of wood.
"Where'd you get this from?"
"Been in the family for years. my father wants to talk to you, now that the secret's out, no point in keeping you wondering."
Wait. This guy that I just met was telling me to go home with him? Was he insane?
"Look, if you think I'm getting on that bike with you..."
"Oh, you don;'t have to, you can just walk, if you like."
I ended up choosing the bike, against my better judgement. And let me tell you, I did *not* expect the guy to live in a freaking huge mansion.
While I was walking up the drive way, I wondered what this guy's father wanted with me, and what about this 'family secret'?
(Want to see more? Just ask.)
| 2018-06-24T19:46:43 | 2018-06-24T18:19:17 | 1,026 | 175 |
[WP] Compared to the rest of the galaxy humanity is by far the friendliest. To many star systems they are considered "the good neighbor," and are known for their helpfulness. One day an oblivious system declares war on humanity, only to find half of the galaxy responding to humanity's plea for aid.
EDIT: Tfw this prompt gets 100+ upvotes and still no story
EDIT: Nice, we got a story.
EDIT: Wow we got a lot of stories! Thanks to all who contributed to this thread.
| Archon Lethrax of the Twelth Dominion of Nyctium looked at the Blue Seedling before him, shining beyond the bridge. He had seen many hives of scum and depravity - the Voidstalker Collective literally devoured their young, the Praxic Union glassed unruly planets, and the less said about the Akirian Free State, the better. This system called "Sol" seemed tame, weak, inexperienced. A bold first conquest.
The humans put up a fight. The fifth planet was surrounded by Battleships, and they fought hard. But they fell, and the Nyctish Fleet moved on, unhindered, when they saw a ripple in space, ahead in the distance.
"Reinforcements? You said this was their entire army, fool!" Taking out his blade, Lethrax decapitated his second, the failure demanding death as punishment. Yet it was not Terran Ships that emerged.
Praxic, Akirian, Voidstalker, Leuma, Calderan and many other ships the Archon didn't even recognise, but the movement was not complete yet. Out of the ripple, came a titanic form, tentacles from its face, if it could be called that. It spoke, and its words tored into the minds of the bridge crew.
"We are the ones who purge the life from all worlds. But the humans have done us many a service. When they eventually fade away, we shall extinguish all light in the universe. Until that day, our crusade will wait."
The archon gaped with horror. The humans had *befriended* a damned *eldritch abomination*.
"...to borrow a Terran phrase, Fuck."
EDIT: 160 likes? Fuck me backwards, that's the most I've ever had! Thanks guys! | “Sir, we’re getting signal from a Plen 34 transporter speaking of their plans to attack planet Earth”
Raiklorp turned to face his pilot, raising his thirty eyes to meet Ringbok’s twenty.
“What?! Planet Earth? You’re sure they meant Earth?”
“Yes sir, it says Earth” Ringbok replied, reading the transcript.
“It’s not a typo? They didn’t mean planet Warth? You know Warth, always in the middle of this kind of thing, starting fights when it’s heavily under-resourced”
“No sir, it’s definitely Earth. They’re referring to humans as ‘little squishy meat sacks’”
“But they can’t help that, they haven’t evolved that far yet!” Raiklorp yelled, his three mouths turning down in disgust.
“What would you like us to do sir?”
Raiklorp pondered for a moment.
“Change co-ordinates to Plen 34. We’ll teach them not to pick on those little squishy meat sacks!” | 2017-03-26T07:03:57 | 2017-03-26T05:22:31 | 224 | 131 |
[WP] Physical beauty is outlawed. People are required to wear masks and grey suits or otherwise punished. A man and a woman are trapped in a stuck elevator with nothing but emergency lights. They see the opposite sex physicality for the first time. | "Man, we've been stuck in this damn thing for at least an hour," he groaned.
I stood there, not knowing how to react to this as it was silent for so long until now. "Y-yeah," I replied.
It continued to stay silent for another five minutes until he suddenly said, "Hey... Have you ever wondered what it'd feel like to live outside these masks?"
"Not really. I always thought of the mask as a part of me." From the day I was born, I've been trapped behind this mask. I never even thought about taking it off, or seeing others take theirs off.
He exclaimed, "But wouldn't it be cool if everyone didn't look the same?"
"Yeah, but I don't think that's a good idea... I mean, we probably have to wear them for a reason, right?"
"But I want to know. It couldn't be that bad, could it?" He reached his hand up to his mask. "I think I'm actually going to do it." The man slowly pulled off the mask.
I stared at him. I could feel my emotionless face distort into terror as I yelled for him to put his mask back on. "Oh my god, please, please put it back on. Please!" I screamed with my eyes closed.
"Why, what do I look like?" he asked as I heard him take a step closer towards me.
I kept my eyes shut tight, when I heard him scream. I opened them to see him face to face with his own reflection in the elevator door.
He was... hideous. I knew we had these masks for a reason.
(Basically, the masks are what society has taught everyone to think of as the "norm", the beauty standard. When they see his true face behind the mask, which is very different from what they are used to, they perceive it as ugly.)
| (first time here please go easy on me :) lol.)
Grey.... The color were taught to indulge and ingest that it becomes very much so like the blood in our veins..... The breath in our lungs..... The way we communicate, and the way how life has always been.....
*and it feels like the first time in life*.... **I have breathed!**
The way these colors... I don't know them... but the blending is so familiar... like a long lost relative that came back from the dead....It feels like my mind wants them.... needs them... But my body is holding me back...
Is it wrong? I feel...so conflicted.....
The sirens don't matter to me.... Ill give it a shot
(Reaches out and touches the women's arm.)
It rushes me like a train straight into my cranium with a powerful inertia. Bro..Brow..Brown I remember now. With the deep turquoise blue that stares at me. I feel like my body is about to melt... in this steel cage of utter noise and beauty. | 2015-07-27T22:27:05 | 2015-07-27T21:00:32 | 52 | 10 |
[WP] There's an unwritten rule among the supervillains: Never go after the loved ones of the superheroes. The new villain is about to find out why. | Sorta surprised how long this one turned out. Too tired to edit it too much but hope people enjoy or whatever. Had to split this up into two parts so check the reply comment from me.
--------------
"Well, the damned moron is so good at healing himself I thought I might as well go after someone close to him that *wouldn't* be able to outheal everything I throw at them. Crush his spirit you know? The kid's a fool, he's so damn naïve he tries harder to reform villains like us than actually fight us! Thought I might as well let him know what role he's supposed to be playing. Getting his girlfriend wasn't easy though, I'll tell you Tick..."
"Rotoscope, I don't think you entirely understand the gravity of what you've done."
Two villains find themselves sitting in a bar with walls and stools older than both of them combined, surrounded by costumed, villainous peers all drinking, laughing, sharing stories and plots and nefarious deeds...
One, an old hat, Tick been in the game for long enough to know where this conversation was going. A real classic type, mad scientist with a penchant for clockwork based machinery, stealing precious metals and materials to make the perfect clockwork servant. He served a discerning clientele amongst super villains that sought a combination of retro elegance and *exceedingly absurd power* to their equipment. He'd been mostly acting in an advisory role these days, what with being close to retirement and his brother Tock choosing the hang up the mask early after his cancer treatment. Funny, what getting your start working in the era of Nuclear Powered Superheroes could do to a person. At least now, he could make money off of his connections and networks rather than putting his ass on the line...
The other, Rotoscope. A new villain with the ability to take that are either too weak to fight back or were beaten down enough to be unable to continue resisting and transcribe them onto paper as animated "characters" using a cursed handheld projector for him to do with as he pleased before releasing them, changed to his whims, usually for the worse. His goons were people he'd kidnapped off the street and modified into uncanny "animated" creations to fight his battles for him. Giant orcs, disgusting slime creatures, rubber-hose toons, strange looking animals...
His ability to take random people off the streets and use them as a combination of henchmen *and* hostages was enough to propel him from being a no-name nobody, to a mid-tier nightmare. Heroes were afraid to touch him for fear of the civilians "Trapped" inside the creations...
Save one.
One young man, a "hero" of a sort, had made a name for himself as a Healer first, and a fighter second. He was known for his uncanny ability to seek out the injured, the hurting, and would reach his hand out to them each and every time, using an odd form of magic that no one had publicly figured out the rules for yet to heal a number of injuries. Missing limbs, missing organs, lost blood- It seemed as if there were very few limits to what he could and couldn't heal...
A number of villains with tragic pasts, with desperate needs for money to cure ailing loved ones, with aching, deformed bodies that drove them to crime, had "fallen" in his wake. Not to bloodshed or vigilante punishment, but to the even hand of someone that saw them as people hurting and thought to help them, even as they did their level best to kill him before they understood what he was after.
Though the hero didn't call himself by any particular name, civilians, heroes, and villains alike, had chosen one for him.
... The bar's door swings open with a jingle of a friendly bell. The patrons grow silent-
"Had to get some of my goons to watch him for a *while* before he slipped up to give her a birthday present. Gotta say though, he might be a pain in the ass, but he's got good taste in women, kakaka!" Rotoscope cackles, peering down at an animated-looking cockroach trapped beneath an overturned glass, desperately trying to escape. "Not that looks like hers really count for much now, do they?" The villain sneers, sliding the glass back and forth across the bar to bang the sides of it against his captive.
Heavy footfalls sound out behind him as the bar becomes quiet enough to hear a pin drop.
"Whaddya say Tick? That dastardly enough for you to make some gear for me now?"
Rotoscope flashes the old man a grin, but, Tick wasn't paying attention anymore. In fact, it seemed like the entire bar had stopped what they were doing. He squints in frustration at not being listened to, clicking his tongue before turning around-
"Hello 'Tick'."
"... Good evening."
"How's your brother, Tick?"
"Good, thank you. It's... nice to see you again... Panacea."
Rotoscope finds himself confronted with... a young man in surprisingly casual clothes. A simple, old t-shirt, and a pair of cargo shorts with a pair of old sneakers on his feet. At the sight of him, the cockroach in the glass starts to desperately skitter against the wall of its prison towards him-
"... Ha- haha! What, are you stupid or something?! Coming to this place without a mask on?!" Rotoscope cackles, pressing a hand against his chest and shaking his head. "Sheesh, it's like you're ASKING for everyone important to you to get aaaaaall messed up like your precious girl here."
Panacea simply stood, and smiled. His face was a picture perfect expression of complete and utter calm as Rotoscope pulled out his phone, shoving it obnoxiously into the hero's face and snapping a picture.
He had dark brown hair, cut short yet still visibly voluminous. His similarly colored eyes were placid, almost friendly, and his body stood at just a bit over six feet tall, with broad shoulders and the muscular yet slender body of a man built for movement and speed rather than overwhelming strength like some of the Adonises that dominated the higher tiers of heroism.
"So how about I give you the count to ten. And if you're not outta my face-" Rotoscope chuckles, giving Panacea's shoulder a shove, making him stagger backwards for a moment. "- before then, we're gonna make an example outta you right here and now in front of your girl here before I kill 'er."
The villain leans back as Panacea simply takes a slow, calming breath, dusting off his shoulder.
"Ain't that right, fell... fellas...?"
A look of confusion dawns across Rotoscope's face as Tick, and the other villains sitting nearby, back away, quite slowly, as though they've stumbled across the den of a mother bear with her children at her back. The atmosphere of the room had shifted to one of... **fear**.
"What the- c'mon, the hell is wrong with all of you? We're just gonna let some bullshit-ass quack disrespect us on our tur-"
As he's too distracted trying to rally his supposed Comrades, a sound like snapping wood gets his attention, turning his eyes to Panacea again, who moved so quickly the floorboards beneath his feet cracked and snapped from the sheer force of his movements. A breeze blows across the bar despite its closed door and windows from the mass of Panacea's body shoving the air aside...
To grab Rotoscope by the face heft him up off of his bar stool, holding him in a crushing grip that made the bones of his skull creak and groan in protest. The villain panics, reaching for his gun and pressing it against the hero's mouth, pulling the trigger in blind terror until the trigger goes *clickclickclickclick... click... click...*
*Click* | He placed another strip of tape over the last, ensuring the petite woman could no longer scream. He worried, for a moment, that hanging her upside down like this and taping her mouth closed might cause her to suffocate somehow. He wasn't sure how dangerous it was. He contemplated her for a moment, watching her wispy, white-blonde hair drag across the warehouse floor as she slowly swung back and forth. She wasn't moving, but she was breathing, probably still unconscious from the blow he'd delivered half an hour ago.
He shrugged to himself. She'd be fine. And if not, he really didn't need her alive much longer anyways. He turned and strode to the single table set up in the center of the warehouse's open space, settling his large frame down on the small stool. He subconsciously considered how ridiculous he must look: this massive, overly-muscled man perched daintily upon a tiny seat, trying to hunt-and-peck on the keyboard because his hands were too large to properly type anymore.
He checked the balance for his offshore account. Still nothing. He frowned, pulled his mask up a bit to itch at his chin while he considered. He had given Starsword until noon to pay up. He knew the asshole had to be loaded; the guy had way too many expensive toys to not be rich. Or at least have a rich benefactor of some kind. Either way, the "hero" had access to cash. And he would damned well pay up, or his girl wouldn't survive the night regardless.
He pulled his mask down into place again as his phone chimed at him. He picked it up off the table and saw who was calling. He grunted in surprise before swiping and holding the phone up to his ear.
"Yeah?"
"Fucking-- Behemoth? Man, is that you??"
"Carlos. How'd you get this number? The hell do you want?"
"Listen, man. I know things haven't been great between us since that last job went sour, but you need to listen--"
"You want in on this one? Too late. Go beg for scraps elsewhere, Dogman. I'm not--"
There was panic in the caller's voice. "No! No, Jesus, *listen* you big, stupid ape. You screwed up!! Big! They only give you one chance, and that's why I'm calling. Soulhaven is here, he's got... Listen, man. Let the girl go. And don't ever go after one of them again. You crossed the--"
Behemoth cut him off again, standing up suddenly, his movement knocking the stool over. It clattered too loudly on the concrete. "NO. No, you listen here, cur. I was sick of your moralizing even before the Hanover job. 'The rules' this, and 'the rules' that. Fuck your rules. I didn't go through all that pain, become a freak, so that I could barely make scraps following your stupid rules. So piss off!"
"Dan, no! Listen to me! They're se--"
Behemoth flung the phone toward the far wall, watched as it shattered into a thousand pieces. He snarled in anger, tried to control the rage coming up like bile in his throat. Hands clenching, then relaxing, over and over. Carlos had always been soft. Idiot got caught by Soulhaven and now he was trying to bargain by throwing an old partner under the bus. Screw him.
He leaned down again, clicking to refresh. Still nothing. He let out a roar of frustration, and as the echoes of it died down, a sound caught his attention. He turned, and then stood gaping at the chains swinging from the ceiling, his prisoner gone. No trace. He uttered a soft curse, craning his head around. Had she somehow wiggled free? He approached the chains, saw they'd been expertly cut in a half dozen places. He stared at the cuts, puzzled. Was she a meta as well? What...
"So you're Behemoth." The voice behind him startled him, and he spun around. A tall, blond woman in a blue and red suit with a stylized G on her chest. He'd only ever seen her in news clips and the odd YouTube video. He could feel the waves of her intensity rippling off of her. He swallowed hard.
"Goddess?" It wasn't so much a question of who she was. Everyone knew her. The most powerful meta on the planet, save the Gorgon, and that guy wasn't even technically on Earth right now, being housed in a prison facility 250 miles up in orbit. And here she was, standing not ten feet away. No, the question in his voice was more of a "why?" Why was she here? This was between him and Starsword. Why would she involved herself in something at this level? It seemed so... petty.
She smiled, almost gently. "You're bigger than I expected. But I guess we both know how little that means in the grander scheme of things." Her expression hardened. "You were told, were you not?" She straightened and stepped toward him slowly. He backed away instinctively, shoulders hunched, preparing for a fight. He steeled himself, forced strength back into his voice.
"Told what, bitch?"
She sighed, and stopped for a moment. "The rules. I know you were trained by the Dogman. He told you what the rules were. Told you the things you could never do." She frowned. "But here we are nonetheless. And now I have to do the thing I hate doing most of all." She moved so fast that he couldn't see her, didn't even know she'd started to move until her hand was squeezing his throat. It hurt, more than anything had hurt him in the past two years. He grabbed at her hand with both of his, trying to wrench her grip off of him, but she only squeezed tighter.
He fell to his knees, could feel the lack of oxygen in his brain as his vision tunneled. He struggled, but she was far too strong. She wasn't even half his size, and here she was, holding him like he could hold a child, no effort expended at all. The look of pity that had briefly crossed her face was gone now, replaced by nothing less than pure resolution.
"Rule one. You don't touch families. Ever. The ones who do are given one chance," she said. "And you threw it away. Because you are a mean, arrogant, short-sighted fool and you are too dangerous to be allowed to continue."
She leaned in close, her lips near his ear. He realized he could smell her perfume, stronger than anything else he could sense right now. Her voice sounded in his ear, as if it were spoken from the far side of an echoing room.
"They'll never find your body. But the Dogman knows. And he'll tell the others. And it will serve as a reminder to the rest of your kind: stay the fuck away from the people we love."
He felt her squeeze again, and then... nothing. | 2020-07-12T12:10:59 | 2020-07-12T12:00:23 | 84 | 52 |
[WP] Your father left your family when you were a child to "go buy a pack of cigarettes". It is 10 years later and you're a teenager when your father walks back in, wearing the same clothes he left in, and insists he has only been gone half an hour. | Item number: SCP-711-J
Object class: Euclid
Containment Procedures: A fence is to be established around SCP-711-J, to prevent unauthorized entry. Construction equipment is to be moved and operated in order to maintain the appearance of an active construction zone. No access to SCP-711-J is permitted. In the event that a human enters SCP-711-J, they are to be presumed lost.
When an human emerges from SCP-711-J, reintegration procedure Delta-711-J is to be initiated.
Description: SCP-711-J is the former site of a 7-11 located in [REDACTED]. Upon entry by a human, the human will disappear from outside view, to reappear between five and ten years later. All subjects are under the impression that time proceeded normally while inside SCP-711-J, giving approximate times between 5 and 15 minutes experienced in SCP-711-J. There currently seems to be no correlation between external and internal experienced time.
SCP-711-J was brought to the attention of the Foundation by [REDACTED], after their father returned after being absent for over ten years, while the father reports only having left his house half an hour ago. Subsequent polygraph tests revealed both statements to be true.
In addition to the persons trapped in SCP-711-J, the vehicles that these people drove to SCP-711-J also disappear and reappear at the same time as the subject. As such, great care is to be taken to never stand in parking spaces, or near gas pumps.
The number of persons trapped inside the anomalous effect of SCP-711-J is currently unknown. As such, the structure of SCP-711-J must be maintained for the safety of all trapped humans.
Reintegration procedure Delta-711-J: This particular 7-11 began business in 1993. As such, all information of events over the past several years must be presented in a calm, orderly fashion to any humans exiting SCP-711-J. In addition, marital and financial issues may be present. The Foundation should provide reasonable legal support, and lodging. | There was something weird about this day
Harold, my brother, was acting weird as if he had seen something.
Ending school i went home.
Everything seemed just fine.
Lots of love from my family.
Don't know about my dad though, he disappeared 10 years ago.
Everytime he went to buy cigarretes he was quick. Not this time though.
Reappering home was my dad.
Something was wrong. like if he was...
Confused. for him not even 30 minutes had gone by
Rarely ever felt bad for dad since he dissapeared. He had abandoned us.
On the other hand, he might have been kidnapped.
Like that would stop him. Dad was badass.
Like, he would beat a thousand men in a fist to fist fight.
So... " what happened? " I asked him
Sometimes i thought he ran away with....
Kristen, his secret lover.
"You didnt do that did you?" he didnt like that question
Rapidly he punches me in the jaw.
In seconds i'm on the ground.
My head spins as i wake up and hear a familiar voice.
"You were trying to cross the border right?"
I quickly read the first letters on each sentence.
Damn you Todd Howard.
| 2018-11-08T05:36:04 | 2018-11-08T05:15:25 | 562 | 17 |
[WP] You’re suddenly transported to another world where magic is cast by perfectly pronouncing an ancient language. This language happens to be your native tongue | "Is he a mute" asked Sir Caradon, looking back at the oddly dressed and rather twitchy man riding a mule at the end of their forest caravan. He'd not said a word since he'd joined them, "speaking" only through strange hand-signs.
To be fair, after the Maelstrom shattered Remia, the imperial capitol, several months back it was not uncommon to meet folks who were too traumatized to talk, but he seemed different. Not UNtraumatized, certainly, but certainly not from same trauma.
Amalthea, a young woman who'd joined alongside the silent, twitchy man, shook her head. "No. He speaks, and he speaks true. Not only that, but his magics allow him to comprehend all spoken language. I have never met a more powerful user of magic. It is for that reason that he stays silent, speaking only through hand-sign."
Sir Caradon laughed. "How very odd. It seems more monkish than wizardly, as most wizards can't seem to stop talking about how clever and powerful they are, when they're not chattering to each other in Weirding. No offense meant."
Amalthea laughed. "None taken. Besides, I'm barely a hedge mage, they never taught me Weirding. You need to be a full ranked wizard or of the high nobility before they teach you that. Don't want it getting out into rabble like us, do they?"
Sir Caradon laughed alongside her, and nodded. "Quite. How terrible it would be if we knew what they were saying in full and truth."
Amalthea smiled at him in agreement, but the joy had left her face. She went on. "You know that most wizards must study for years to learn of the subtleties of the Tongue of Magic, yes? To wield and harness it?"
Sir Caradon nodded. "So they've told me. Many times, I'll add."
"And you know that it is possible to summon creatures, to call them and bind them to your will?" asked Amalthea, glancing back at the twitchy man. A raven had landed on his shoulder, and he was smiling at it.
"Such things are -- I did not, but I am not surprised," said Sir Caradon, also glancing back at the twitchy man. "Is that what he did? Did he call up some powerful thing? Does he fear it knows his voice?"
Amalthea shook her head sadly. "No. He was the summoned being. The lord arch-wizard of the academy thought to bind a being of power and might to his will, a creature that did not know our ways but knew the Tongue of Magic like no other could."
"And I guess he got him instead?" asked Sir Caradon, laughing. "Must have been a bad day for the arch-wizard. I suppose he picked up magic after he came here, then, did he?"
"No. The lord arch-wizard got him on purpose. That man, being, is from the distant past. He speaks the Tongue of Magic. It is his native tongue."
Sir Caradon's eyes went wide. "He must be quite potent then."
"Quite," agreed Amalthea.
They rode in silence for a while after that, Amalthea enjoying the landscape, Sir Caradon lost in thought.
"Does he speak no other language? You said he understands all languages," asked Sir Caradon after a time.
Amalthea shook her head again. "When he first came, he cast three spells. His first spell was to understand us. He did not need to learn after that, could not learn, for he simply understood. His next spell meant that we, all of us, understood his speech in turn."
Sir Caradon's jaw dropped. "He just ... that could not have been a simple spell, even *I* know that much of magic."
Amalthea shrugged. "It should not have been, but for him, it was. It also meant that he knew Weirding, and so knew of both the arch-wizards's and the imperial family's plans for him, as they spoke Weirding in front of him when he was brought into the court."
Sir Caradon stared at her, then looked back to the twitchy man. He'd attracted more ravens. He was nearly covered with them, and seemed quite happy.
He turned his attention back to Amalthea. "And the third spell he cast?"
"He says he spoke his mind and told everyone at court that he hoped that they got everything that was coming to them for their actions. He also says that it is why he learned hand-sign, since he claims to enjoy blaspheming and insulting others who deserve it, although he has only been kind so far as I have seen," said Amalthea, smiling faintly.
Sir Caradon laughed uproariously at that. "Who doesn't? Well, church-folk, good, traditional church-folk, I mean, not church-folk like me, probably don't, but most everyone else enjoys a fine tirade every so often. I don't know what's so bad about speaking your mind that would make you want to never speak aloud again, even if he did do it in the midst of the grand imperial court."
"Yes, but your native tongue is not the Tongue of Magic, or what do you think caused the Maelstrom?" asked Amalthea.
Sir Caradon looked back at the twitchy man again. The ravens had left, and he seemed sad once more.
"Do you also know his hand-sign?" asked Sir Caradon, looking ahead at the road, lost in thought.
Amalthea sat straighter in her seat. "I taught it to him."
"Perhaps ... perhaps, if you are willing, you could teach me hand-sign? A good man like him would do well to have some friends. More than one friend, I mean," asked Sir Caradon, quieter now.
Amalthea smiled. "I would be happy to."
+++++
Did a different take than the prompt asked for, but this felt like a more interesting angle to me.
If you liked this, check out r/archtech88writes | It's a few days since I got here. I don't know where I am, nor I care. All I know is this place is pullulant with magic. Many wizards have studied magic and many have died in the intent of creating a system to use this magic safely and with great gain for the community.
However, I woke up in a cavern where, written in the stone, there were the rules of said magic. They quikly took me out of there since if you use the wrong word many may die. The time I looked at the walls was enough to let me grasp some informations.
Later, when they kept me to investigate how I got there, I wan't willing to reveal anything.
"Andate via" I said in my native lenguage. The guards opened the door and got away, as I ordered them.
"Io volo" I added right after and the gravity stopped bounding me to the ground. I get away and go back to the cavern.
"Voi non mi vedete" as I enter the cave, so everyone ignores me. I quikly finish reading the content of the walls and exit the cave.
The few rules in the cave says the magic is absolute and can change the reality, however it doesn't last more than an hour if I don't specify so. I also learned talking to the people that the magic is bound to the caster: higher his will, stronger the spell.
I get to work. I use some lesser words to make my way trough the ranks of magic, never revealing anyone my secret. In a few weeks I'm the king's wizard.
Well, until this pretty redhead comes to talk with my king, openly asking for my presence to be required. She comes in the throne room and glare at me with ice-cold azure eyes.
I'm already charmed and thus, I don't thrust her. I tell this to my king and she replies quite uncomfortable:
"My beloved king, there is no need to be scared of me, I am Elisa from the kingdom of Roma, I'm the director of the most prestigious magic school in my kingdom and when I heard of such a prficient wizard I had to come and visit this kingdom to met him. - the king opened his mouth to reply, but Elisa already knew what was coming and started talking again - Obviusly I have something to talk with your majesty, business, to be precise. The kind wich could lead to benefit for both of us."
The king looked at me and I knew what to do, I asked to her: "Elisa, dimmi la verità!"
"I'm not lying your majesty, I could never." I thrusted her, but I kept asking: "Why are you truly here?"
She smirked at me before answering: "To show you the true power of this magic. - than she pointed a finger to me - Palla di fuoco!"
From her finger a ball of fire generate out of nowhere and quikly after it was fired twards me.
"Dissolviti." The fireball reduces itself to a small black smoke cloud midair.
"Now is my turn to show the power of this magic..."
I'm utterly pissed to be challenged in such a pitful way. No big proclamtion, no official battleground, no nothing.
"Onda d'urto." A powerful blow of wind pushes Elisa away, making her fly back. I look to my king, he's about to say something, but I'm the one smirking this time.
"Silenzio. Stai fermo." He's still as stone, alive, but stopped as a paused frame.
I walk twards Elisa. The witch was already back on her feet. But my will to fight was estinguished. I just wanted to speak a little more in my lenguage.
"FULMINE!" She screams, and a lightning comes to me.
"Devia" I redirect it to the ground with a hand.
"DARDO DI FUOCO"
"Blocca"
"FIOTTO ACIDO"
"Neutralizza"
"MASSO VOLANTE"
"Devia"
Elisa starts to breath heavily after I countered most of her elemental projectiles. I never stopped walking twards her and now I can look at her, with those meesy hair. A great dress showing she's a mage, but I knew she didn't spoke my lengauge.
"You are just another pitful wizard. You never knew Italian." I look in her cold eyes.
"I hate all of you, so called wizards" I give her a caress on the cheek.
"You belive you know magic." My hand goes down, to her neck.
"But you just remember me a lenguage..." I grab her by the neck.
"I can no longer speak" My eyes are wrathful, my veins are twitching.
"Soffoca."
Her muscles stop keeping her on her feets. The body turning blue. Her eyes pleading, become glassy.
I open my hand and she drops on the floor.
​
**POST SCRIPTUM**
As the story may suggest, my first lenguage isn't english, nor I have the proven ability to correctly write in English, I haven't done any check if my text is correct becasue, well, I already feel insicure enough.
Also this is my first submission, just for fun and to procastinate other stuff :\[\]
If you arrived up to here, well done, thanks for reading and hope you enjoied \^\^ | 2022-11-19T11:10:08 | 2022-11-19T10:06:04 | 993 | 63 |
[WP]For three years you’ve had an uneventful marriage with your spouse when one day they become the Chosen One. Immediately setting off on their journey you don’t hear anything from them for five years. Then one day they reappear with a sheepish look on their face and hoping to speak to you. | We were sweethearts throughout high school. We had married after college. Then one day he simply left.
All the young men in our village left following my husband into battle. Chosen by themselves to save us from the invading army. They had already invaded the western half of the country under the guise of a training exercise. They took no prisoners, choosing instead to execute anyone they found. They called us Nazis or Nazi sympathizers, not worth the life we were given. Worse yet, we were told no one was coming to save us. Our countries politics kept us neutral, without allies. Our only supposed ally was the one who was invading us now.
I never heard from my husband, no one heard anything. We did however receive word over the radio. His unit was gathering momentum. They had gathered men from other villages and cities and had gathered a sizeable army.
Occasionally someones husband or son would return home. Always in a box. I wished he would never come home. I would sooner raise our daughter alone, knowing he was keeping us safe then have him return home.
Five years. For five very long years boxes came home, never one for me. We heard over the radio of clashes occurring. Stalemates. Occasionally we would lose ground, or a city. Then we were gifted weapons from outside sources who couldn’t interfere directly. They started to slowly gain ground. Retaking territory. We were winning. The enemy didn’t like that very much. They gave us 72 hours to surrender or our country would become a nuclear wasteland. At the end of those 72 hours hellfire rained over our little village. Only… it wasn’t nuclear. Our communications were severed. When the dust cleared and the air settled we learned from a traveller that the enemy leader was instead assassinated.
Despite our situation there were parties and feasts and celebrations from everyone. Our husbands were coming home!
It was about a week after that he arrived. We heard the day before that a unit was on its way to us in convoy. We were elated. I was at home with his parents with me waiting for him to arrive. Suddenly there was a knock at the door. I opened it. All of the surviving members of our villagers who fought were at my door.
“Ivanna, I’m so sorry. He was a truly the chosen one. He gave his life to kill the enemy President before he could use his nuclear codes...” I stopped listening as they all had something to say about my husband. Apparently there was a lot to say.
They paraded his casket into my home. His parents rushed to me as I collapsed and cried. For hours I sat there. The selfish bastard left me alone. I wished he would never return, and he did.
I asked his parents to take care of our daughter for a while. They understood, but weren’t much better off. But they were better off.
For two days I sat at his side. Angry and confused, and grief stricken. I willed myself to get up. I was hungry. I walked into the kitchen. I grabbed a loaf of bread and a knife. With little hesitation I jammed it into my neck. I heard my husbands voice. “Oh my sweet Ivanna. I’ve missed you for so long” | It had become a routine, tending to the gardens in the afternoon when work was done. Miko expected to forget, to get over it all, yet five long years and Lari’s face still shows up in almost every dream she had. It had become a ritual, taking care of the flowers her wife had loved so much, a remnant of someone who might not even be alive. She didn’t like to think of such possibilities.
When they received the notice from the Oracle: Larissa, chosen by light to defeat the demon king, they were shocked. But after long deliberation Lari decided to step foot on the journey, promising to write letters frequently.
The first year Miko waited, then second, then third… No letter arrived, no news from the villages nearby. She tried to search, for any semblance of her wife’s whereabouts, and every attempt ended with a dead end.
Knock Knock. There was a gentle tapping on the door. Miko grabbed the candles and slid open the lock.
Underneath the moonlight was Lari’s face, it was almost like she hadn’t changed at all after the years passing.
“Lari?” She asked gently.
There was sorrow on the hero’s face.
“I’m sorry, Miko… I’m so sorry, but please hear me explain…”
She waited for Lari to collect her thoughts.
“I defeated the demon king, it took me about… 4 weeks in total to arrive and have a final battle. I was so excited, I was victorious. Then when I emerged from the demon realm I realized something was horribly wrong. Years… had passed in the mere hours I spent fighting, and many thought I was dead. I immediately thought about you, and I…I…” She couldn’t continue, there was tears in her eyes.
“Oh.” Miko managed to utter out in surprise.
“I understand if you’ve moved on or…. I’m just…”
Lari was cut off from the warmth of Miko’s hug. “Nonsense, I’m just glad you were alive.”
“I’m so sorry.” She muttered.
“Don’t be.”
They sat by the fireplace, recounting Lari’s adventure. And when the sun rises again, despite everything that happened, it was like nothing had changed. | 2022-08-12T18:12:55 | 2022-08-12T17:33:00 | 18 | 11 |
[WP] The devil mixed up your paperwork and gave you someone else's personal hell, which to you, is heaven. | I got cancer when I was 21. Well I suppose I must have gotten cancer before that because they caught it in one of the later stages. I imagine there's not much like seeing a patient's face when you have to tell them that they require further testing. But there's not much like having bits of your body ripped and cut out and having poison fed through your veins, either.
A month later my entire reproductive system was gone. I remember lying in my hospital bed with my fiancé holding my hand and telling me that it was alright.
"There are so many ways to have children," he told me. It didn't matter. Hot tears still rolled down my face and made a small pile on the pillow beneath me. I turned away from Andrew and curled up on myself.
You know those dreams you get sometimes? People have dreams. People dream of weddings or hiking mountains or writing novels. As far back as I could remember my only dream was to have a baby. My only dream was to hold something in my arms and call it mine.
I "lost the fight," as they say, when I was twenty-three. No bright light. No voice. Just pain and drowsiness and too much weakness to even sit up straight.
"Welcome to Hell" a voice said to me. I opened my eyes. There was a man pulling me to my feet and leading me somewhere. We walked and a house materialized.
"Miss Brown," the man nodded at me. There was some smug smile on his face and he walked away. I wasn't Miss Brown - at least, I'm pretty sure - but as I opened my mouth a voice yelled, *Mum!* and a small pair of arms wrapped around my legs.
I picked her up. She was three, maybe four. She had blonde hair that stuck to her pink cheeks and big blue eyes that met mine in the happiest smile.
And then I cried again. For the first time out of happiness. Because the man had misspoken.
This was Heaven, not Hell.
---
Thanks for reading and thank you so much for the gold.
For other stories, check out /r/Celsius232 | The Devil is in the Details.
They say that one man's trash is another man's treasure, I remain a firm believer in that saying. I don't remember how this happened, but I don't care, I'm getting more out of this death than anyone could achieve in life. The first thing I stumbled across was a giant tarantula skittering across the floor, how cute! The first thing that comes to mind is to pop him on my shoulder; I now have a little travel companion; hooray!
There is a door to my left, the door slides open on its own, how convenient! Inside was a six foot tall, hairy, stark naked man with a member that would put a horse to shame, oh how I'm going to have my way with you!
Once I get bored of defiling this poor man and making his manhood into a nice beanie hat with a testicle for a pom-pom, I advance down the corridor to which I meet none other than Satan himself; the first words out of his mouth "What the fuck are you wearing? Actually, no, don't answer that, what I really want to know is how the hell are you not a blubbering mess right now?" My response is to remove my nice and warm hat and place it on the Devil's head. A look of pure trauma falls across his face. | 2016-05-28T15:46:42 | 2016-05-28T15:46:36 | 305 | 19 |
[WP] As part of a senior thesis, an anthropology student decides to start a cult to see how far it’ll go. Several years, hundreds of deaths, civil warfare and a complete government overthrow later they wonder how they’ll properly cite their sources. | **Acknowledgments**
A big thank you, to Dr. Harriet Slanter for reading through this thesis for the fifteenth time—even if it was done under semi-duress and the threat of war crimes being levied against her—she has been an invaluable resource in the research for this paper.
I’d like to thank all of those who participated in this ethnography—my adherents. You have been there with me since day one, except for the traitors, who have been dealt with appropriately. But for those of you who are true believers, who have seen the Light, to you, I say thank you. You were smart enough, clever enough, amazing enough to know what was right. For that, I am grateful. You have chosen to embrace Truth.
Another thank you to the University of Kentucky for giving me such a wonderful place to learn. Even though this institution is no longer standing, we are rebuilding, thanks to the funds of my adherents, and I hope that the University of (soon-to-be) Dr. Scott Hemfield creates a space that is just as conducive to learning as UoK was for me. Thank you, truly.
​
**Sources**
*AN: After speaking with the UN, we have decided that I can, indeed, use War Crimes and Transgressions as citations. Thank you to all of the members of the Council on Modern Religious Movements, especially those who did not try to indict me on charges of “endangering the populace.” Those who did no longer have a job, so I do not have much to say to them. Due to the nature of my study, I will not be using a traditional APA format, as I believe it cannot capture what my sources really were. I will be using the Hemfield Citation method, which is currently in review.*
The Cult of Hemfield — “Interviews with a True Leader” — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “Citations Against the Country of Norway” — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “The Inherent Existential Terror of Dogs“ — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “A Treatise on Toast“ — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “Understanding Genocide from an Empathetic Perspective“ — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “Parsing ‘International War Crimes’: Why the UN is Wrong“ — Scott Hemfield
The Cult of Hemfield — “Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus Re-imagined: Where Wittgenstein Went Wrong“ — Scott Hemfield
University of Kentucky — “The Cult of Hemfield: A Menace and Terror” — Dr. Anna Bowen
University of Cincinnati — “Hemfield: How One Anthropology PhD Student Reinvented Our Idea of Religious Horror” — Dr. Michael Sheffield
Millsaps College — “Deconstructing Sexism in The Cult of Hemfield: Male Power and Sensuality” — Dr. Elise Golden
Sewannee College — “Why Me?: Understanding How the Cult of Hemfield Targets Young Students in Distress” — Dr. Terry Holhwein
University of New York — “Is It a War Crime If I Didn’t Mean it?: An Examination of The Cult of Hemfield” — Dr. Clarice Bowley
University of California, Irvine — “Where We Went Wrong with the New Religious Threat: The Cult of Hemfield and Complacency” — Dr. Timothy Shallow
University of California, Davis — “The Agricultural Implications of Anarchistic Religions: A Study of the Hemfield Compound” — Dr. David Finman
Oberlin College — “The Music of War: How Does The Cult of Hemfield Use Music to Fight?” — Dr. Mary Lee Highlan
Emerson College — “A Study of the Literature in The Cult of Hemfield: Eldritch Horrors and Humanity’s Ability to Destroy” — Dr. Barry Smith
Washington University — “What the Fuck?: A Study of One Man’s Quest to Preach Frenzied Apathy” — Dr. Julian Harren
The University of Dayton - “Hemfield Catholicism and You: How Growing Closer to Hemfield Brings You Closer to HIM” Fr. Joshua Crether
Marques University — “Scott Hemfield Did Nothing Wrong: A Look at the Apologia of a Modern Prophet” — Dr. Zane Rineer
University of Hemfield — “Understanding Condition: Accepting New Government in the Face of Conflict” — Dr. Samuel Blather
​
**Non-Physical Sources:**
The Norway-Hemfield Conflict
The United States vs. Hemfield, Court Case & Conflict
The UN-Hemfield Stand-Off
The Scientology-Hemfield Conflict (& Subsequent “Take-over” of Scientology by Hemfield & the battles that followed, both on foot and in the air)
The Nuclear Winter Avoidance Act, Meeting, UN, in Hemfield, Kentucky, U.S.
​
This paper has been a long time in the making—almost a decade. I would not have gotten here without all of you. So, as a Ph.D. student, a prophet, and the new ruler of the United States of Hemfield, I say thank you for this. Thank you for everything.
\_ \_ \_
I *love* writing fictional academia. You can find a fictional thesis that I'm writing about the Humanity, Fuck Yeah! subreddit [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/HFY/comments/m40jk4/humanitys_selfconceptualization_in_literature/). And more of my general work [here](https://reddit.com/r/AinsleyAdams). | Madame Helena DuBois, First Incarnate of the Grand Theocratic Union of the United States, sat languidly in the oval office. Her bare feet were propped on a stool made from the remnants of the last president’s desk as she smoked a long, thin cigarette. The ashes fell into a gold plated tray held by a man whose only job was to do just that, no matter how badly his old bones protested. Not long ago this had been his office and his chair.
Helena was just twenty-four years old.
“How is it possible,” she said, “for me to have done all of this and not pass?”
The men seated on their knees in front of her trembled. When she’d started in on her thesis years ago she could only have dreamed of a thesis committee this august. Perhaps that advice about never meeting your idols was true though, not a single one of them had lived up to their reputations. Plus they were all so damned old she’d taken to referring to them as her natural history museum.
“Sources, Madame Incarnate,” one of the braver men said. “You’ve cited yourself or one of your employees for nearly every entry. And the quotes you’ve used, they can’t be substantiated.”
“Substantiated? They’re in the Tome of the Dogma! How much more substantiated can you get?”
“A book you wrote yourself Madame.”
“Oh?” with one simple word all the air rushed out of the room. The committee chair actually shivered.
“Apologies Incarnate!” the speaker said, pressing his head to the floor. “Co-wrote with the Divine, of course! I misspoke, please spare me!”
“That was your first strike, be mindful you not get three.”
“Since each one of you is even more useless than the last I’ve called in a little help.” Helena rang a bell and the office’s doors opened. A small cadre of highly decorated officers entered the room.
“Generals! How good of you to join us.” They fell to their knees, bowing deeply. “Generals, meet the professors, professors meet the generals.”
Helena took a long breath before glancing over at her living ashtray. She put the cigarette out on the remains of his suit and then tossed it aside.
“So, Generals. As some of you may know I’ve been trying to get my degree for a long, long time. In the process I’ve learned a few things about the true corruption of our former system.” Helena stood, and with a subtle inclination of her head the blinds behind her were pulled up, letting the light spill in to frame her.
“I do not care for corruption. Neither does the Divine.”
She stalked straight up to the group, placing a hand on the forehead of her committee chair and another on the forehead of the closest general.
“With the Divine’s help we have cleansed the nation of the many wrongs my research uncovered. We have driven out the sinners and shattered the shackles that bound the people. All of them but one.”
The committee chair trembled beneath her hand but the general looked up, his gaze worshipful, his eyes ecstatic.
“There is one last insidious threat stalking us now. The last one left inside our borders. It plagues our students, our young, shining stars, keeps them from reaching their potential.” She paused, watching the general’s eyes. She had him. “Citations.”
The man cursed loudly, beginning to recite the invocation against evil.
Helena crouched down in front of the reciting general, pressing her finger to his lips to silence him.
“General,” she said, “I’ve discovered a problem with Chicago. I’d like it gone. Find whoever writes the rules for their citation system and execute them, then level the city. I want no one to even remember its name.” Helena glanced back towards her thesis committee with a beatific smile. “By next week there won’t be a citation system, does that work?”
They just nodded. Nobody had the heart to tell her that wasn’t how it worked.
A few minutes later Helena dismissed them all and sat back into her chair, lighting another cigarette. She looked over at the man holding her ashtray, wondering what he thought of all of it. She blew smoke rings into his face idly, just because she could.
“Did you recognize the prayer?” she asked the former president. He shook his head. He’d been made a mute when the capital fell.
“Figures. You should’ve spent more time with your grandchildren. It’s song lyrics, 90% of it. Same with the whole Tome of the Dogma. There’s a reason the first thing I did was get rid of copyright law.”
Helena shook her head, throwing away the cigarette as she rummaged around for something stronger. “I should’ve thought of this damned Chicago thing *months* ago.”
\-----------
r/TurningtoWords | 2021-03-13T10:56:34 | 2021-03-13T09:08:51 | 247 | 81 |
[WP] There's a monster under your bed. You know it's there even though you've never actually seen it. One day, on your 18th birthday, it finally crawled out, towering over you in its monstrous form and said, "Marry me." | Ever seen an octopus? Then you've seen about 1/10th of the tentacles that this girl had. She also had a colorful spiral shell and six long insect legs to stand on. The most startling part about her was her eyes: pitch black irises and perfectly human in shape.
"Come on, we've known each other for forever," she said, tilting what was probably her head backward.
"We have," I said.
"And I'm only a month older than you."
"I know."
"You said you cared about me..."
"I do."
"So what's the big deal?"
"I didn't want you asking with my *mom and dad* here..."
I wanted the earth to swallow me whole. Prunella DaVinci, as she called herself, had been my best friend since I was about three years old. She'd started the exchange by popping a note out from under my bed: "Hi I'm Purnila" in sloppy crayon handwriting. A second one followed after that: "I am 3 & a haf."
Recently the conversations had turned to romance. Turned out that monster high school was just as bad of a place to find love as human high school, and we'd been bonding further over mutual disappointment in our respective dating pools.
"Do you think maybe you and I would make a good couple?" she'd asked the night before.
"Maybe," was my one-word reply.
I wasn't expecting an in-person response. And, now that she was here, I realized what she looked like didn't change my feelings for her. But there were two very large, very annoying problems in the way, and they were standing in the room with us.
"So this is the Prunella we've heard so much about for all these years," said Mom. "I didn't expect her to be a bed-monster."
"She's more of a mollusk than a monster, love," said Dad. "Spiral shell, tentacles, snail-like antennae protruding from the facial region..."
"With segmented insectoid legs covered in a hard carapace, honey-bunch," said Mom. "There's no category for a creature with this specific combination of features."
"Right you are, cuddle-cakes. But it is clear she has humanlike intelligence. That makes her being, not beast."
"Ah, but there is something you have missed, snuggle-muffin: the word 'monster' need not refer to a beast. Remember, we ourselves are but simple primates."
"Quite, quite."
"Um, are they *always* like this?" Prunella asked in a low tone.
"Yes," I said. "Every single day."
"Do they still dance disco like mine do?"
"Nope."
"Well, that's not so bad..."
"They *breakdance."*
"Ouch."
*For more weirdness, check out* r/OctOpusTales *!* | “Buy me dinner first!”
Well, what else could I say? Oh, yes:
“You’ve never spoken so much as a word to me; I’ve never actually seen you in daylight before; you can’t expect me to answer you out of nowhere. For that matter, the answer might be no! Or even, hells no!”
Its half-head tilted, oozing eyeballs (three) wide with dilated green pupils. “I... I have been here for you. Fifteen years, I have been here for you. That means nothing? You do not care? Are you so mean?”
Yes, I am mean. Came by it honestly, from my dad. I am a mean bitch, a cruel bitch, an absolute asshole.
“Well, that’s just not how humans work, honey. It doesn’t count as quality time if you don’t interact at all. That’s just stalking, and it’s creepy, not caring.”
“Food, food is a part of your... dating ritual? I can find food. You like mushrooms?”
Not that I didn’t like mushrooms, but dragging a three-legged scaly deer thing to a pizza joint wasn’t my idea of a good time. And frankly, I’m not that desperate for marriage.
“Look, honey, you’re not even my type. Or my species. I really don’t think this is going to work.”
It looked sad. I think.
“Also, fifteen years? I was a toddler. That’s extremely creepy! How old are you?”
It shrugged. It had teeth on its elbows. Blunt teeth.
“I only counted when I first knew you.
If I find body, human body, you will like me better? I can ask, buy body shaped like mate for you!”
“Uh, no, I don’t think that will help. I don’t exactly want you taking a body from another human.”
Watching it try to fit three legs and a tail (maybe?) back under my bed was a trip.
I resolved to sleep on the couch from then on. | 2021-07-09T22:07:31 | 2021-07-09T21:31:25 | 79 | 42 |
[WP] You carry a tray of food and drink out to the stone altar on your front lawn. On your way, you wave to neighbors busily arranging their own offerings. Just another Friday night. Suddenly, you realize the house across the street is dark; table still empty. Panic sets in as the sun begins to set. | The altar across the street was empty. The altar across the street was empty, and the sun was setting.
If it were anyone else, Harriet wouldn't care. Each to their own - it wasn't her job to look after the foolish and the reckless. She had her family to think of. Margot, Rob, and Matilda, all living under her roof, all subject to the law, all relying on her to observe it. Harriet was 76 years old, and she had lived in Wintervale for a long time. She was clever and iron-willed, and she was proud of being able to provide for her daughter and her family, even now.
If it were anyone else, Harriet wouldn't care. But it was Stella. Stella's house was dark. Stella's altar was empty. And the sun was setting.
Harriet made up her mind.
"Grandma!" Matilda whispered from the window. "Grandma, where are you going? Come back! It's almost night!"
"Don't worry," said Harriet, waving her hand dismissively. "I know how this goes. Tell your mother I'll be back tomorrow morning."
She ignored her granddaughter's protests and walked across the street to examine Stella's altar. It was definitely empty - no food left out, no drink, no gifts, nothing. What an idiotic thing to do. Even if you had nothing fine to leave for him, you had to try - everyone knew this. Stella should have known.
Harriet huffed out an exasperated sigh, and reached into the pocket of her apron She'd been planning to keep these cookies for herself and the family - they had real ginger and clove in them, a remarkable thing in these times of turmoil. Family first, though.
Harriet left the cookies on the altar, took Stella's spare key from under the flowerpot, and let herself in.
The house was dark inside, too. Did she think she could fool him? He always knew, no matter whether they were sleeping or awake. He always came for what he was due.
Harriet walked up the stairs to Stella's sitting room.
As expected, there she was, calmly knitting in her favorite rocking chair.
"Why?" demanded Harriet. She didn't need to give the context. Her sister raised her head, serenity in her eyes.
"I remember what it was like before," Stella said. "I'm tired. If he wants to slay me, he can do it. I wanted to spend this night my way." She gestured to the table by her side. "Care for some candy?"
"No," Harriet said. "You're an idiot, Stella Lane. I left your offering for you. Hope to god it's enough."
"God?" murmured Stella, gazing out the window. "I wonder. Perhaps he's out there. After all, it's supposed to be his night too."
"Don't talk like that!" snapped Harriet. "I misspoke. Forget I said it."
"Aren't you tired?" asked Stella. "Every Friday, for forty years. Snow. A silent night. Milk and cookies. It's grotesque."
Harriet could hear bells in the distance.
"I can't do this anymore," said Stella, laying her knitting aside. "I'm done. Maybe you stopped me tonight, but I'm not going to do it next Friday either. Or the Friday after that. I won't. I won't do it till the day I die."
"It's suicide," said Harriet. "And worse, against the spirit of the season. We need to show our generosity. We have to be nice."
"Not this time," said Stella. She smiled, wild and strange in the moonlight. "This time, I intend to be naughty."
There was a thump on the roof. Snow fell past the window.
"Join me," said Stella. "Let's have some hot chocolate. I made it like Mother used to."
Harriet's face was pale. Her hands shook. "He's here," she whispered. "He stopped. He's coming down."
"I know," said Stella. She reached down by her feet and picked up something that glinted in the lamplight. She held it out to Harriet, handle first.
"Merry Christmas."
Harriet took the gun. | “Oh my God, the Johnsons are gone.”
Everything was still in place, just as it had been earlier that day. Charming hand-made mailbox, a couple spring decorations, and a perfectly trimmed lawn. But the sweet old couple, who always dropped off pies on their neighbors' birthdays, was nowhere to be seen.
Kelly turned to me, clasping her hands together in a feeble attempt to keep them from quivering. “What do we do, Matt? Oh God, Oh God…”
I grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to look at me. “*We* have nothing to worry about. What happens to the neighbors is none of our concern.”
“Are you kidding me? Joey told me no one's been taken from this town in, like, ten years! It’s very much our concern.”
“All we can do is wait.”
There was a decidedly grim overtone to the offering procession this evening – the smiles and waves to our neighbors rang more false than usual. Mr. Chamberlain arranged a few extra candles, and the Chavez family broke out the fine china.
The sky darkened and an enormous, looming black cloud blotted out what little sunlight still remained.
“**Hmmmm! What to sample first?**” The voice rumbled through the neighborhood, shaking telephone poles and scaring off sparrows. The cloud hovered over to Mr. Chamberlain’s house and paused over his stone table. A giant hand emerged from it and grabbed all of the food in one swipe.
“**Mmm. Excellent, rich blend of spices...letting it soak for a bit was clearly a good move. Do I detect a bit of orange zest in the chicken saltimbocca? Very nice, Chamberlain, very nice.**”
The cloud moved towards The Chavez household and scooped up the family offering. “**Wow. This is new for you. Bit of a risk going with the gianduja mousse but I’d say it paid off. Go a little easier on the white chocolate morsels next time, though.**” A hand emerged from the cloud again and patted little Jimmy on the back.
Kelly and I were next. “**Ah, Kelly and Matt. The charming newlyweds. I never asked -- how are you liking the suburbs? Bit of a change from Manhattan, eh?**”
“Much more affordable, though,” Kelly said with a nervous chuckle.
“**Ain’t that the truth. Let’s see what you got.**” The hand scooped up our meatloaf, labored over for hours and redone after the first batch was burned. The beast chewed slowly and methodically before swallowing loudly. “**OK, I’m gonna give you a pass because I like you. But this was pretty mediocre. Waaayyyyy too much sugar in the sauce and the meat was damn tough. Try again next week, m’kay? Hugs and kisses.**”
The cloud made its way to a few more tables, and then let out an earth-rumbling belch. Before it left, it swooped back over to the Johnsons’ house. The hand emerged one last time and carved something into their stone table with its claw:
*IN MEMORY OF MR. AND MRS. JOHNSON, WHO FORGOT TO MAKE THE PIE LAST WEEK.*
***
/r/GigaWrites
| 2016-10-03T10:31:16 | 2016-10-03T10:30:50 | 375 | 43 |
[WP] you have the magical power of psychic delusion, for example: bear traps can’t harm you “obviously it won’t trigger, i’m not a bear” | Daisy was an excellent actor.
Daisy followed in the footsteps of many talented actors. She took enormous pride in the Method. Daisy took so much pride that her psychiatrist diagnosed her with Disassociative Identity Disorder.
Once she finished her part as Alice, Daisy took great joy in dispelling that nonsense. Until then, she simply frustrated him by referring to him as the “Mad Hatter” in a British English accent.
It wasn’t too long after she first joined the Theater Club that word of her peculiarities spread. One month, she’d speak and write all of her essays in Victorian English. The next, she spoke passionately about student rights before the student counsel. Her history teacher even gave her some tips, which she gleefully adopted.
Her parents weren’t as on board with things. In particular, when they affected her grades. Oh, they delighted when she brought home straight A’s while playing River Tam in an unauthorized production with her friends. Her quick follow as Harriette in a silly adoption of Dumb and Dumber (high school edition) put her nearly a month behind the rest of the class.
Still, she enjoyed her acting. Her parents let her continue as long as she had acceptable grades come semester’s end.
Her efforts and passion for acting paid off. First, a single scene in a reality TV show turned into a full season. Then, a part as the best friend in a popular teen romance movie series. She switched to home-schooling, in order to have a more flexible schedule, and exciting parts for her to play just kept coming. At the end of her senior year, an acceptance letter from Julliard simply capped things off. Daisy knew she had a bright and successful career ahead of her.
And so things went until the Catalyst occurred during Daisy’s second year. No one truly understands what happened. The running theory is that an asteroid full of exotic elements collided with the Earth and caused a dimensional collapse. Our dimension and several others fused to drastic effect.
An inverted mountain appeared on top of Washington D.C., and didn’t stay inverted.
In rural Texas, a dark forest full of dangerous creatures sprang up in the middle of farmland.
Northern Russia gained a second sun and a year-round growing season along with it.
A new continent the size of Australia, complete with modern civilization, humans, and history, replaced Hawaii.
The changes went beyond a shuffling of landmarks. All around the world, people began discovering that they had fantastical abilities. Not everyone, or even most, turned those abilities to productive use.
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daisy was in the middle of practicing for her role as some ditzy schoolgirl sent to the time of King Arthur. It was a contrived scene, with her drawing forth a pen in response to an attack by a dark-armored knight.
“Fool! The pen is mightier than the sword!”
When her pen sliced clean through the dastardly knight’s metal sword, everyone’s jaw dropped.
“Jerry, when did you switch the sword for a trick prop?”
Jerry, their props master, had a furrowed brow. “I.. I didn’t. That’s a replica weapon I’m supposed to return this afternoon!”
He scrambled over to where the two pieces of the sword lay on the stage. The edges glowed a deep cherry red, and wisps of smoke curled up from the floor underneath. When he picked up the pieces and touched them together, they didn’t even match up.
“Daisy, can I see that pen?”
She handed it over, then flinched when he grasped her hand. Jerry took the pen from her hand, touching only the parts where she had been holding it. Then he poked the sword blade.
Nothing happened.
He handed it back to her, less carefully this time. “You do it.”
She did and drew a sharp breath when the sword evaporated wherever she touched it with the pen. “The pen really is mightier than the sword!”
Everyone around her groaned.
“What the hell Daisy, can’t you break character for something like this?”
\----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Daisy was no longer in school. She knew there were more important things, more impactful ways that she could change the world around her. Her parents had given her a strong moral sense, and Daisy knew she couldn’t stand by while others abused their powers and took advantage of the chaos.
Daisy’s Method, as she still called it, allowed her to do anything the persona she adopted could. Physics and reality had no bearing on those capabilities, and fiction was a goldmine for the sufficiently creative. So long as she could adopt their frame of mind, beliefs, and mannerisms, she could be and do virtually anything.
Where Daisy had once dreamed of playing dramatic roles in front of blank cameras, she knew that actually being them at the right time and place was infinitely more important.
A radio crackled, breaking Daisy out of her thoughts. “Method, you ready? The hostages are free on the 10th floor and need a fast exit!”
Daisy smiled and sang.
“Let it go, let it goooooo. I am one with the wind and skyyyyyy!” | Thought shapes matter. This I know, for it was a frog atop a slanting cairn who spoke the words to me before it melted and crumbled and turned into into another stone. That day the chains binding me to the qualms of an ignorant being lost their moorings. They became a weight in the labyrinth of my memories, a phantom itch at my wrists and ankles, yet they couldn't hold me back anymore.
Mortality became my subject matter. I walked into the eternity of the ocean and spent decades underneath the tides, for I altered my thoughts into knowing I was not a man but a fish instead and in turn I altered the matter aswell. I became a hybrid of sorts, a butchered and deformed mermaid.
This was a mistake in restrospect. One that could've been fatal. I didn't spend decades underwater willingly. No, not in the slightest. My brain turned into that of a fish and in that process I lost all the things I knew and the world became a thoughtless void of blue where nothing but instinct shaped my movements and decisions.
Yes, I had turned into a being that couldn't drown to test the vastness of mortality with success, but I hadn't thought of the consequences of my new state.
Back then, I became a prisoner of my power.
It was a rock shining at the bottom of the sea what saved me. It didn't speak, yet upon touching it my old mind took over my amorphous one. Perhaps it was never the rock but the desperation and survival instinct that had kicked in, for I had found and touched that rock while escaping from a being so large and anatomically nonsensical that I can only describe as immemorial.
The chase had never stopped, and in the brief second I paused to collect my recovered thoughts, the being trapped me in its putrid mouth. Its teeth spiralled beneath me, siphoning me down into them like a maelstrom would a ship.
Mortality was fighting back. That's how I interpreted it. I had defeated it once, so I didn't fear. Instead, I shaped the states of all things and so all things bent underneath my will and agreed those teeth were not teeth but a hole in the creature's body, which I used to escape and return to the surface where I became a man again, but this time a much wiser one.
The world became my playing ground from then on. I became king of a kingdom I didn't know in a day and in that same day I rode an golden eagle that was a leaf into a meaningless war I had provoked. I danced with trees, spoke with boughs, married a harpy and left a written thought in my will so I could witness the extent of my power after I killed myself.
Not long ago, when boredom struck, I sought for the beings people revered and called gods and when I found nothing I brought them to life only to murder them.
This last event perturbed me. Not because of what I had done, but because it defied how I conceived the inner-workings of all things. People thought of these gods as real beings, they were convinced they existed, that they heard them and blessed them in times of need. The collective and convinced thought of so many people should've created these gods, and yet they didn't.
I couldn't find an answer and so I sought for the frog. I found it in the same place, atop the same cairn, in a day far too similar to the one where everything had started. The frog answered before I asked. It said, "It can only be madness." and then it melted and crumbled and turned into a stone, and all of a sudden my conviction teetered.
I eyed the sea, then the cairn, then the lack of wrinkles in my skin, and at last the overcast sky. There, I brought the early night of raging dark clouds and let the symphony of thunder overwhelm my thoughts. Only one question was left to answer.
If this is madness, do I want to escape?
\-----------------------
This is articartichoke, I don't have a sub, but you can choke on my artichoke if you want. That would be artichokally fantastic. | 2021-12-26T17:57:43 | 2021-12-26T17:31:53 | 157 | 61 |
[WP] World's worst sausage salesman. Always ends up Sexualizing the sasuage and losing the sale. | Arneldo erected his sausage stand at the local market. It was busy. Competition was stiff. He stood by earnestly and waited for the customers.
"Hello my friend, do you like the look of my fat sausage?"
The would be customer just responded with a flat glare. *Must not be hungry I guess?* Arneldo assumed. A father and his daughter were walking by. *Great* Arneldo thought, *I'm good with kids.*
"Hello little girl! How about my hot sausage in that cute little mouth of yours?"
"Really?" Her father said, looking unimpressed.
"Uh, yes?" Arneldo continued less confidently. They left.
He spied a lovely lady walking up. Maybe he could get her to try some. He knew one bite was all it would take.
"Please miss, let me fed you my wonderful sausage."
She actually stopped. "Oh okay, i'm not very hungry though."
"Just the tip then," Arneldo replied.
"You're an asshole." She stormed off.
*What the hell am I doing wrong? People in this country don't like sausage?* Arneldo decided to come at it from a new angle. A couple of men walking by hand in hand passed the stall.
"Excuse me men! Please, tell me, do you like the sausage or the salad?"
"Do you have a problem with us?" One of them snapped before getting ushered away by the other.
Arneldo had never experienced such negative responses to his famous pork and cumin sausages. An older lady approached while he was brainstorming ideas. He would not scare this one away. In fact, he decided not to say anything at all; just handed her a miniature sausage to try. While she raised the sausage up to her lips, Arneldo was concentrating intently on not messing this up. *Holy shit she is about to try it.* He focused all his energy. *Please bite it, please bite it!*
She bit it.
"AAAahhhh Ohhhhhhh yeeaaa!" Arneldo moaned in triumph, a fat, satisfied expression on his face. He realized shortly after his 'triumphant moan' was probably quite weird and wasn't surprised to see her quickly leave.
"Hello sir please! Wrap your hand around my pork and cumin!"
| "Well, Bob, I know you are still somewhat new here at *Meat n Greet*, but we need to get some things straight."
I looked at my boss attentive and willing and thought "what an idiot".
"Look, Bob. There are some things you need to work on." My boss continues as I continue to pretend to continue to listen. "You gotta stop picking up the sausage when trying to make a sale. You can simply point to the one's on sale or the one's the customer's have questions about. I mean, you don't even use gloves. It's not safe or sanitary to bare back our sausage we are trying to push." He goes on.
I go on a daydream about brauts, and spicy italians and genoa...
"Also Bob, we do sell other meats, you should try to push some patties on folks this week, our ground beef is on special."
I think how lame ground beef is. It's texture, lumpy. It's look, clumpy. Even the name, ground beef, is so unsatisfying.
"Look, I think you are a hard working employee, you just... Have bad sales tactics. So please stop picking up the sausages." I nod and agree with my boss.
"And for the love of god, please stop telling our female customers that our sausages are BOGO."
"I wink though, boss." | 2016-06-28T01:27:40 | 2016-06-27T22:00:46 | 89 | 13 |
[WP] You're a witch with a penchant to bargain for firstborn children... to adopt and train as apprentices. You've done it hundreds of times now, and considering how wretched the biological parents tend to be you're really doing the kids a favor. | \[Trigger Warning: Horrible Family Life/Parents\]
Nobody knew it was a doll unless Julia told them. Some sticks and bits of grass tied up with ribbon into the general shape of a human. But it was the only toy that Julia had, and the ribbon was the only thing left she had of her mother.
She clutched it to herself while she hid under the house, listening to her father fight with her evil stepmother Martha. In her head when Julia thought of her stepmother, she always added the word 'evil', even though Martha tried sometimes to take care of her. When she was sober.
Julia couldn't quite hear what they were fighting about this time, but it was probably about money. Her dad had been working as a Roof Thatcher for the past two months, and should have been bringing home plenty to start saving up for the winter, but it got spent somewhere or gambled away.
Things had been better when her mother was alive. She had loved Julia, calling her 'my little miracle'. Julia had loved her, too. She had never punished Julia too much when she was naughty, though she would often warn her that if she wasn't good a witch would come and take her away. She'd say that father and her had made a deal with the witch. A miracle baby of their own, but they'd had to agree to give her to the witch if she wasn't good.
Julia had thrown a rock at Widow Franklin today. She sometimes did that to see if the witch would show up. But she never got caught.
The fight had quieted down, that meant that her father was eating. She grabbed her doll and came out from under the house. She had to get in or she knew there would be nothing left.
"Julia, you're late! And your smock is filthy." Julia barely dodged the broom that Martha threw at her. "Well, you'll be starting the laundry tomorrow. Get some stew. You missed out on bread. If I had a daughter she wouldn't go around filthy like you. And she'd help around the house, too."
Julia had made the stew. And the bread. And had actually started on the laundry that morning. Martha had been missing most of the day. "But I do help around the house, Ma'am."
"Don't lie to your mother, girl." Father barely looked up from his bowl.
"She's not my mother! She's a fat, lazy slob and I wish I could run away." Martha gasped. Father wasn't about to defend her, so she grabbed the ladle from the stew and raised it to strike Julia.
She was interrupted by a knock on the door. The door opened on its own and smoke filled the room. From a fog a figure appeared, crook-backed and haggard, dressed all in black. Martha dropped the ladle.
"You," croaked Father. "But it's been so long."
"You remember our agreement, then, Tarquin Redhill. I have come for the girl, your firstborn, Julia Redhill."
"What is this," gasped Martha, choking on the smoke.
"I am Glinda from Child Protective Sorcery. I will be taking this child away. You are not a party to the agreement, it was made with her mother and father before she was born. Come here child. I'm your guardian now."
Julia stuck her doll into her smock and didn't look back.
\[More at r/c_avery_m\] | "You call me a witch like that's a bad thing you monster!" Hyra exclaimed
"You're trying to buy my child, what would you have me call you? And what you're offering, peanuts. With a magical child I can have all you offer plus more"
Hyra laughed internally, it was over, the child would be returning with her. The negotiation was now a mere formality. You see, people have tells, little ways of indicating exactly what they are thinking. This low life wasn't even clever about it. Those unwilling to sell don't haggle. The comment about offering peanuts tipped his hand. He could care less about his own child. He's not worried about the child's safety, comfort, or well being. What this scum cares about is being offered "peanuts" for his precious baby girl.
It was difficult for Hyra to hold her anger in check, but she wasn't the bad guy here. She had the best interests at heart for this child. All I need to do is get this clown to agree to give up the kid, then I am out of here. Looking around she couldn't help but feel bad for these people, the way they lived was a small step above homeless. The daughter, horribly malnourished, black circles under her eyes, grossly underweight. But her eyes, those golden eyes that have her marked as magical.
"Sir, let us make a deal here. You and I both know you cannot train this child to perform magic, or likely any task. So your position that you can 'have all this plus more' a little ridiculous don't you agree?"
"You can't talk to me like that in my own home"
"On the contrary, I am superior to you in each and every way, you are as the cockroach beneath my shoes. I can stamp you out with a flick of my wrist. You're lucky that all I want to do is to give your daughter a better life"
"Yes you're altruistic, all you care about is the well being of my daughter..."
This gave Hyra pause, altruistic? That was a word, looking around, she didn't expect the man would know, much less use it properly in a sentence. How could this man possibly...
"Hyra Coldblood, You're under arrest for crimes against warlock kind! For the last 2 millennia you have systematically bargained for the firstborn child of many a warlock and human alike. Your crimes cannot continue" And with that he slashed his wand in the air, and her head fell cleanly from her body. | 2021-10-26T12:12:51 | 2021-10-26T08:58:35 | 70 | 25 |
[WP] You're running a little late to work, but when you arrive someone identical to you is already sitting at your desk. He puts up his hands and says "Relax, I can explain." | I storm forward and grab the other me roughly by the lapels of the jacket he hasn't yet had time to unfasten and hoist him out of the chair. He doesn't resist, which is strange, and doesn't struggle as I maintain my grip and storm the five paces to the door of the printer room.
Flicking the door shut with my knee as we breach the doorway I throw him up against the wall, forearms tight and hiss, "What the fu-"
"Hey!" he barks. "I know what you're thinking. The rule about if you ever see your doppelgänger you're supposed to have sex with them, then kill them before they kill you and assume your identity. I know."
I splutter, briefly disarmed. I'd given that answer at a party last weekend. The perky and uninterested Jess had asked a room of her doting acolytes and I what their response would be if they met someone who looked and sounded identical to them. I'd had a couple too many bourbons for civility, and the booze mixed with my nascent bitterness about being at a yet another party with yet another bunch of dullards, still unable to tear myself away from the pointless pursuit of my gorgeous and vapid hostess. Jess had called me cynical, and her bevy of hangers on had made uncomfortable noises at my response.
"Your attention please!" my other me said, reading the situation well enough to know he'd get away with rapping on my forehead with his fingertips. "Now we both know we're not gonna slink out of here and get all kinky with each other." My face grew hot. "And we're not going to do anything that Jess and her ridiculous troupe of numbskulls would appreciate."
I shook him halfheartedly and demanded, "Who the hell are you?"
"Who am I? How did I get here? How can I prove it?" he said in a sing-song voice. "That will take about three days to explain till you're persuaded of the truth of my tale, but for now just consider that I'm you from one or two multiverses over. I don't belong here, there's enough different between our lives that I can't successfully assume yours, and let's face it, I don't want to."
Raw nerve hit, I let go of him but stay in his face, my own features screwed and snap, "Why?! What's so wrong with my life?"
"Frankly," he said in a soothing tone, "your apartment is too small, you're not making the most of your talents, your job is boring, and you're burning your leisure hours pursuing a relationship that'll never happen with a girl you only like because she's cute and doesn't like you."
Torpedoes of truth, or some such crap, I back off a step. He's right. Or I'm right. Whatever. "So what now?" I ask.
"Right now, we've got about a minute before someone wanders in, curious about why this door's shut during business hours. So I'm going to slink out, unseen. You're going to kill 30 seconds by adding more paper to the printer, then go back to your desk and do your job for quietly for about five minutes."
"And then?" I ask?
"And then you're going to wander past Keith's cubicle and say hi before creating a scene by telling him how much you really dislike Anita."
"What for?" I query.
The other me waggles his eyebrows conspiratorially at me -*do I really look that dumb when I do that?*- and says, " Because Anita is on the other side of the partition, and she will chuck a spaz. And you're going to make it worse by saying she's too sensitive. There will be reports to management, and emergency counselling and remediation sessions this afternoon. And most importantly you'll be seen by multiple reliable witnesses."
Confused, I catch my reflection in the glass panel of the overheard cupboard; my forehead is screwed up unattractively. Annoyed at my appearance I don't know what to say, but the other me continues.
"And while you're doing that," he says evenly, "I'll be wandering into payroll and lifting the roughly two hundred and sixty thousand dollars they have in there for pay day. I'll be seen by three people, and they'll have surveillance footage of me - of you - lifting the cash, but you'll verifiably have been screwing up your workplace harmony and therefore not at all possibly responsible for the crime."
In disbelief I ask, "So you're a universe hopping clone of me and we're going to commit a petty theft of cash? Why not do something worthwhile?"
Straightening his jacket and checking his hair in the glass front of the cupboards, he turns his head to look at me slyly and says, "Oh, the quarter mill is just start-up capital, old boy. You're going to spend at least another four weeks in this terribly boring job, making an ass of yourself during the day and planning some proper mayhem with me after hours. Because when you meet your doppelgänger, why settle for just banging them and killing them, when you have instead the opportunity to fuck with *everybody*, and make a killing."
He winked, opened the door, and stepped out.
| "Listen very carefully, and if you do every single thing I say without question, we will both make it out of here alive, and I'll tell you anything you want to know. Anything. Are you with me?"
"Shit. What is this?"
"Are you with me?"
I hesitated, "yes."
"A man will be arriving in a few minutes, with a group of soldiers. You will not see this. As soon as I'm done speaking, you will turn around, go to the third door on the left, the janitors' closet. Place one broomstick outside the room leaning on the trim, and then enter that room and lock the door behind you. The handle sticks, make sure you hear it click closed. Do not open that door, you will be rescued. Do not mention me, I will find you tomorrow. Go."
I stood there numbly, I had a feeling that I knew what was going to happen. Not the details, of course, but someone was going to be on the receiving end of that pole.
"Go."
I looked over my desk, I don't know why. Mementos and work files, mostly, the photo of my wife and I, second honeymoon in Tahiti, laying up against a tissue box. How ironic.
"Go. Please."
Whatever this man was doing, it wasn't something I wanted to leave any trails on. I palmed a tissue and followed his instructions. The encounter was brief and brutal, I heard the pole crack at some point, halfway through. Building security found me an hour later, quivering in a corner. Very little of that was acting.
***
I sat at a table outside, facing the street. He wasn't shy about his approach, and seemed quite calm about the situation.
"Thank you, my friend, I think you have a lot of questions."
"Not as many as you'd think. What was he going to do?"
"The man I mentioned? Yes, he's interesting. Left unchecked he would have done horrific things across the globe, in our name. His death only left a vacancy for someone else, nearly as bad, and with a mind for vengeance. There was a third option, though, and it happened to make everything turn out for the best, at the cost of his mobility."
"You... paralyzed him?"
"Yes, and to be honest I might have overdone that, I wanted to leave him a bit of sensitivity down there. Only time will tell now."
"And you... are me?"
"Yes, well mostly, can't spare any details, cause frankly I don't want you screwing this up on me. Right now it might be best case scenario."
"But we look the same, people are going to come for me too. Right?"
"I have fake ID and I didn't leave much behind. Learn a word called doppelganger, use it any time people ask about me. We don't have twins or brothers, so use doppelganger. Also, try not to do any genetic or paternity testing, if you guys decide to."
"So what now? Is it dangerous being seen with you?"
"Maybe after tonight, yeah, but I'll be picked up at JFK trying to leave the country, you won't see me again, except maybe on the news."
"Hmm."
"You'll be fine, just keep your head on straight and coast through your boring corporate life. Sorry about that, well I guess that's not much of a spoiler is it?"
"No, I figured I'd be pushing pencils until the machines took over. Not surprising."
"Good man. Well, thank you again. Maybe one day a very long time from now, someone will put our story together, but for now it's time to end it," he said as he shook my hand and calmly stepped into the lane.
***
It's been ten years, but I still think about that day. I really did save him, he was myself. I also saved myself, and got out of the rat race. Besides, travel writers have the best offices of any profession. I wouldn't have it any other way.
It was in the news briefly, the American Ambassador to the UN pulled every string in the book to halt the execution of his would-be assassin, and the focus of his 'No More Blood' campaign. My picture flashed briefly on the screen, but my head was down in a manuscript, possibly the most important document I've held in my life. My wife's first novel. I couldn't help but smile. | 2015-01-17T22:10:05 | 2015-01-17T22:09:04 | 64 | 13 |
[WP] You are the Chosen One. The Dark Overlord is currently trying to seduce you to their cause. To their great surprise, you accept almost immediately because you absolutely loathe your job and your companions. | "What of your companions?"
The Dark Lord was a bit surprised the glowing gold clad warrior before him was actually discussing his offer. Even from across the room atop his obsidian throne he could feel the enchanted blade specifically forged to kill him and the gold armor vibrating with spelled protections that were nearly impenetrable. The Chosen One had all he needed to make this a fair fight. The Dark Lord had no interest in fair fights.
"What about them?"
The Chosen One sounded unconcerned. Disconcertingly so. He had journeyed with them for months across the land. How could he be so nonchalant?
"I have your elven princess friend in my dungeon after she fell into my pit trap. I was thinking of flaying her alive."
There, that should shake him.
"She'd probably just use that awful elvish blood magic to heal and escape. Better to kill her. Decapitation should do it."
He was bluffing. Surely he was bluffing! She had given him the golden armor, he wouldn't simply abandon her!
"Staggeringly racist, her whole family. It's like if my drunk uncle George lived to 400 and got worse every year. Sending her along was literally the least they could do by treaty, and she's spent the whole trip insulting every non-elvish thing she sees. And she sees a lot."
"Like your dwarf friend? He provided that sword you carry."
"Friend? That son of a bitch only came along because he enjoys killing so much. Bathing in the blood of his enemies and so on. Won't shup up about the glory of battle. You know he likes to take trophies? Ears, fingers, noses. Has a bag full of them. You wouldn't believe the flies. Only reason he got caught by your trap was the bag got snagged as the door came down and he wouldn't leave it. And every time I draw the sword it won't shut up and sounds just like him!"
"What of your clever thief?"
"She sold us out to your forces twice. She thinks I don't know, but vanishing in the night and returning with gold coins with your face on them just before leading us into ambushes isn't exactly subtle. Nor is her "luck" at avoiding injury in those fights. She's probably negotiating her fee with one of your captains right now."
The Dark Lord was starting to see the pattern.
"That just leaves your silver tongued bard."
"Straight up rapist. Uses that magic lute to mind control whoever he wants into the most depraved acts you can think of. Then he skips town one step ahead of the furious mob. You should probably have someone check your maids' quarters, that's where he usually ends up."
The Dark Lord found himself intrigued. This was not how he had expected the conversation to go. Perhaps he'd put too much stock in the songs that had reached him. Foolish of him to believe a bard, though there was one other thing the songs had mentioned.
"What of your oath to defeat me? To bring justice and peace to the land by driving out the Great Evil? That is what you swore upon donning the sword and armor, is it not?"
The Chosen One looked pensive.
"I've thought about that a lot on this long journey. My soul is bound up in that oath, to break it would bring on a fate worse than death."
His face turned resolute, and he looked straight at the Dark Lord with a burning intensity. The Dark Lord tensed, expecting an attack.
"I was a poor farm boy when I was chosen. I knew little of the world outside my village. I have seen much on this journey, and learned many hard truths."
"The elves hide in their forests kill any non-elves who dare cross their borders. All to preserve their pure bloodlines and avoid what they call lesser races. They will happily allow the world to burn so long as their forest is left alone."
"And the world is burning. The dwarves and humans war on anyone they can, taking no quarter and relishing the horrors of battle. They have killed far more than you for foolish glory."
"Your army has invaded and conquered, but you always offer surrender first. Even when you conquer a place you offer those left the option to join your army or the freedom to work their lands without the corrupt and decadent human nobles who lived easy lives on the backs of serfs. Your terms are strict but fair, and you promote based on ability and not bloodline. We had difficulty finding many sympathizers on the way here, your rule is fairer than what they had before."
The Chosen One paused, a look a relief upon his face.
"The only way to truly uphold my oath is to tear down the old ways and powers and bring true peace to the powerless. Those who sent me here to assassinate you are the Great Evil I must defeat."
​
The Dark Lord smiled. They truly were the same. | Lady Magdola sat down on the elegant marble chair. A quaint little space, tucked in the deepest recesses of the garden. A place where they could discuss in private. No prying eyes or ears. "I must admit, I did not expect a response."
"You offered to talk," Eliel stood, uncertain if he should sit or remain standing. Seeing his uncertainty Lady Magdola gestured to the marble seat across from her.
"Of course, I've always offered to have negotiations on the table. Measured and calculated, though I'm sure that's not what you've been told."
With a slow breath Eliel sat and stared down at the table. Negotiations, he should have known that's all she wanted. "What is it that you want?" He met her gaze.
"What I want?" she titled her head, mildly perplexed. With a shrug she went on "To be done with these foolish shows of aggression. My whole purpose has been to unify the kingdoms, not topple them. As a unit we stand stronger, more power-"
"Enough." He sighed back into the chair. Frustration mounting. He was sick of hearing about wars or trade. It's all anyone talked about around him. "I've heard your speeches."
"So then let me turn the question back on you, what is it you want?" She waited quietly watching with quick eyes. "Perhaps you do not know what it is you want."
Eleil stayed quiet a moment longer, pulling at his fingers. "I've never been allowed wants. I am nothing more than the face of the cause. The one they all look up to. They . . . All they ever do is tell me what I'm supposed to do, who I'm supposed to be. I -" He searched the table for answers he could not articulate. "I think I . . . I think that I want to be able to decide what it is I want."
Lady Magdola sat silent, her mind quickly running down every pathway it could find for a solution. She had the chosen one before her. In many ways she could have him killed with ease. Yet, what would become of the rebellion if she kept their little chosen one? Be far more interesting than killing him. Perhaps, far simpler. She steepled her fingers. "Well I can't help you decided what you want, but," She paused and watched the young mans expression alter. "I can offer you time. Within these walls you'll be able to do and think as you please. Take all the time you need. All I ask is that you set aside what it is you've been told to do and vow a pledge of non-violence. You need not pledge allegiance, unless you wish to, but I will not allow chaos to plague these halls."
Eliel met her gaze. "And if I chose to leave?"
"Well, I won't stop you. But if you join back with the rebels I will have to take action. At least then you will have made your choice."
He nodded. "Alright. I'll stay here."
Lady Magdola held out her hand. "A deal then?"
Eliel took her hand and shook. "Yes." He shivered as the words left his lips, the power of the contract binding his word to their deal. No violence, he'd never wanted to do any of that anyways.
"If you'd like, we can talk." Lady Madgola pulled her hand back and clapped drawing one of the servants to her. Eliel gave a sigh. His mind swirling with guilt. He'd betrayed all of them. Done the very thing they told him never to do. If they had just listened to him, let him talk. They never had and he doubted they ever will. Across from him sat their sworn enemy. Even for the briefest of moments, even if it was for her best interest, she seemed more willing to listen to him than any of the others ever did. | 2020-10-07T18:35:47 | 2020-10-07T15:53:36 | 186 | 67 |
[WP] Your power to stop time is automatically activated when you are talking with someone and need the perfect words (witty joke, flirty line, comeback, etc.). Time won't flow again until you have those perfect words. This time, you've been frozen for what feels like two days. | I stared at Tori’s face. I’d been looking at her for what felt like days. She looked like she always had. Her eyes were bright. Her hair was in a typical messy bun. She smiled up at me awaiting a response.
Tori had just finished telling me about her day, and everything went still. I felt it coming as she finished her sentence. The universe stopping time to give me a chance to find the right words. Usually it takes me a few minutes to come up with a joke or a compliment and time will continue like nothing happened. Not this time. No matter what I said everything stayed as it was.
She told me about sleeping through her alarm and being late for class. She told me about going to the store and forgetting to pick up toilet paper. She talked about her mom and her sisters new dog. It was all normal.
I starting working into nonsense sentences trying to make time start again. What if it never started again? What if I was stuck in this moment for the rest of my life? Would I even age? Would this be forever? Breathe.
“Do you think cucumbers think pickles are ugly?” I said. Nothing.
I had already dug through her apartment and came up with zilch. I went through her laptop again, and besides some questionable search history, nothing stuck out as the right topic. I didn’t know what I was looking for I just hoped it would be obvious when I found it.
I flopped back down onto her bed and looked up at her. Tori remained a timeless statue. It almost felt like a cruel joke. The only time I can’t find the right words is with the person I would call my best friend. How could I not know what to say to her?
I sat up and rested my hands on the edge of the bed. My fingertips brushed something hard under her mattress. I stood and lifted the mattress to find a small leather bound book. Reading through it I was surprised by handwritten short stories and poetry. All of the entries were similar. And dark.
With the book back under the mattress, I sat back in my place next to Tori. I knew what to say.
“Are you okay?” I asked quietly. It took a moment but I watched life return to Tori. Tears welled in her eyes. Her whole demeanor changed like she was a house of cards and I got too close.
“No.” | A date is fun, always has been, but it's been two days, or I think it has been and I can't help but replay our conversations over and over again trying to find a hint, we had been eating at the finest italian eatery in town, ordered our meals which was ironically the same.
We'd been discussing her interests and, despite my gift, she'd looked somewhat wary as if she was hiding something, and time had frozen when she asked me a question.
'So what do you want to do?'
I needed the perfect answer? Telling her my dreams and aspirations didn't unfreeze time, that was, unfortunately, the curse side of my gift. It didn't much care for what I wanted, every answer had to be the perfect one for the outcome of the conversation. And right now frustration was king.
I'd tried romantic things even 'I'd like to kiss you.' Or more forward ones like 'I want to take you home to my bed.' Hell i'd even tried 'meet your parents' and 'marry you.' To not even a enough time movement for a wet fart to squeeze through.
I couldn't take it any more.
Was it REALLY that hard to find the words?
"GODDAMNIT I'D LIKE TO CHOKE A BITCH!" I vented in frustration. It took me a second to realise time had just resumed it's march and I was facing a shocked looking packed restaurant with her looking at me face flushed.
"Let's go." She breathed huskily.
"Cheque please." | 2019-02-25T20:33:52 | 2019-02-25T19:44:20 | 53 | 19 |
[WP] Write a story about something you don't understand. Do NO research. Make everything up as you go.
**Possible subjects:**
*Fly-Fishing
*Open-Heart Surgery
*Supply-Management in the Canadian Dairy Industry
*Making Hollywood Movies
*Guidance Counselling for High School Students
*Storm Chasing
*Electrical Repair in High-Rise Buildings
*The Large Hadron Collider
*Love
EDIT: Oh God, what have I done? | *A Single Play in American Football as Interpreted by a Foreigner who has Never Seen a Game*
"Hut two, twenny-two, hut!" The first quarterback shouted, eyes gleaming with passion as he stared around at his team. They were all lined up in such a way as to form the basic shape of a ziggurat from above, thus reflecting the Native American roots of American Football. Or possibly a pyramid, as in the scheme used by the first owners of NFL teams to raise capital, it was hard to tell.
All the other quarterbacks roared and started to run, one of them hiding the ball so the other team's quarterbacks couldn't take it. The kickers of both teams remained on the sidelines, attempting to chat up members of the crowd while they waited for their turn.
The quarterbacks all collided, red team against other, statistically less likely to be victorious, team.
As predicted, the red quarterback with the ball managed to get his shoulder under the other one, lifting with his legs and spin flipping the not-red player off to land on his head on the grass. The eagerly watching cameras zoomed in, ready to slow-mo and replay and reverse and remix and use in ad campaigns with shouty voice overs. The fans not wearing red in the crowd booed and threw their beer cups - which were still red despite that clashing with their outfits because all beer cups in America are.
The red quarterback with the ball sprinted for the end of the pitch, spare players from the other team ritually throwing themselves to the ground in humiliation as he passed, indicating their unworthiness.
Finally he reached the white line, and had only to complete his scoring by nailing a predetermined dance routine. First, he placed down the ball, then did a series of jazz hands, blowing on them intermittently to indicate that they were "too hot".
At this point, the rest of the red quarterbacks joined him, and launched into an innovative and bold line dance/cancan combo. While the first quarterback was naturally the lead, the support from his teammates made the difference, and the judges ruled that their dance was sufficient to earn points.
In celebration, the red kicker paused his attempts to get the numbers of the entirety of Row J, and shot up the ball to indicate that red team had scored. It flew up and landed on the other side of the advertising sculpture for hemarrhoid cream (H - for those moments of fiery agony) and the red fans went wild, particularly when they saw images of them were being displayed on the security blimp that floated above the stadium. | Hello Gentlemen! Welcome, uh, to Sunrise Mutual! I'm actually just the-
The presentation? What pres-? Yes, um, of course. The presentation. Of course. Right this way.
(Okay, Josh, you got this. They think you're a big-shot, time to take yourself to the top! No more janitor for you!)
Now, as you can see from this slide, we had a rather large 12% gain this past quarter. This is largely due to our new corporate vision of redesigning our personal paradigm in order to synthesize our processes. This has, of course, produced a more holistic outlook and increased customer satisfaction while maintaining a coherent work environment!
Of course, as an upper-manager I know my people! If you choose to... (Shit, what are they here about? A merger I think?)... merge? (Yes! They responded!)... Yeah, merge! If you choose to merge your company with ours I can guarantee you that your people will be choreographed into our regular systematic machinations.
(Keep it together man, you're almost there!)
And of course, as ours is an ever-evolving business in which we strive to provide the best in both singularity and simplicity in our products we would have to facilitate a proper sprucing (pruning? Fuck it, already said it) of the dead branches in both our corporate flowers! (Flowers, really dude?)
Yes, thank you Mr. Krenshaw, I'll have our CEO in touch with you as soon as he's back from vacation!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Not sure how well this one went, it's late at night but this prompt caught my attention and I really wanted to get this response written out. Let me know what you think! | 2016-02-02T00:31:42 | 2016-02-01T22:50:42 | 147 | 41 |
[WP] A dying astronaut. A sympathetic alien. A conversation. | Stars pinwheeled around him, as Aaron hurtled through space. He was snug and cocooned, in Sadi’shan’s maw. They had been flying for twenty millennia, first of the Symbiot Crews that had formed, back when Old Earth had started to fall, when man had run over its water and green, with sickness, and smog, and bio-gen wars.
Then the Nomadi came, laying camp in Earth’s orbit, looking down at the species that was, slowly, dying. They would have moved on, after watching a while - they sought, after all, a new home, of their own. But, they had noticed, that these odd human brains - wet, and organic, and fragilely cased - sparked unique patterns in electrical form, that matched, synergistic, with their vocal cords, and amplified speech, to send it in seconds, across infinite space, between Nomads.
So, they had come down, and bargained with Earth. They offered men passage, out into the stars - sat in their throats (which sat in their centers), where their myelin sheaths would vibrate, and broadcast, the sublingual shouts of the roving Nomadi. This would let them scout solo, instead of in packs, and still keep in contact with those that they loved.
Aaron came, thus, to take up his place, in Sadi’shan’s center. He lived like a fetus, embryonically swaddled, in the clear-jelly substance of his host's balloon body, that shimmered like some cut-glass bauble of old, reflecting the starlight and dust of deep space. Platinum threads had grown into his head, swirling and winding, a delicate crown, that spindled and spiraled, just like their motion, as they spun and rotated through the universe, jointly. They were Sadi’shan’s vocal cords, speech spines, and nerves, sewn to the neurons and dendrites, and sparks, that flashed and collided inside Aaron’s brain.
And, now Aaron was dying - as he had been, for years - consciousness seeping away, bit by bit, as Sadi’shan grew and spidered into him, turning his mind into one of its organs.
“You don’t have to do this,” Sadi’shan said, “I can set you down, somewhere; we can still pull apart. You could be human again, like you were. You could have a family, like you had before.”
It was true, in theory, that this could be done. That had been the plan, in the very beginning: that, after a period of searching, as partners, the Symbiot Crews would divorce, amicably, and each species would settle on planets that suited. This had not happened. Instead, what had passed, was that they all came to love the long journey. Now, two tribes networked, across countless light years.
“We *are* family,” said Aaron, “After all this time - do I not speak your thoughts as my own? And, do you not know my thoughts, just as well?”
“Yes. I do know them. That is why I will miss them. When you are dead, though I'll keep you within me, so your unliving brain can still send out my voice: I will miss you, quite fiercely. I fear being alone.”
“There is a poem, from long ago: *i carry your heart with me (i carry it in my heart) i am never without it…*Do you know it, Sadi’shan?”
“You spoke it, when we joined. I think that you meant to sing it to Earth, to your crumbling home, as you left it behind.”
“That was what I had meant, at the time. Now, I say to you: we have carried, together, our dual homes inside us, laced across great, and endless expanses. You hold the hearts of legion within you; Sadi'shan, I will not leave you alone."
Then, Aaron flowed out his last thoughts, and died. And Sadi'shan died, too. They had become too woven together.
What awoke, later, after a period of dreaming, was a forge-molded being that stretched and emerged, from the mingled, and now, greater sum of the two.
“*...this is the wonder...*” Aaron Sadi’Shan called, through bright, dancing darkness, and wormholes, and suns.
“*...the wonder that’s keeping the stars apart…*” | "There is nothing you can do to save me?" Harrison spoke into the transceiver within his helmet, his eyes cautiously surveying his depleting oxygen levels. There had always been danger in being a pioneer, and there had never been a frontier more dangerous, or a pioneer more adventurous than Harrison. Humanity had only begun to touch the stars, and they had very far to go to reach the levels of the... being currently communicating with him. It wasn't their fault. If anything, it was his own peoples fault. Being left behind to die though...
... that was his fault.
"Nothing. Apology, one has." It seemed the creatures had studied enough of their transmissions to make out a lexicon of his crews words, but paid little head to grammatical complications. Whether that was for lack of time to fully comprehend, or out of laziness, Harrison didn't know which. The fact they were speaking to him at all, was beyond his understanding.
"Why are you talking to me? Shouldn't you be chasing down my friends?" There was a bit of contempt in his voice, clearly the conflict between the two had escalated to a point where murder seemed the only solution.
"You orphan. Sad, one has. No understand, one has. Human abandon, one not abandon. Lonely death, you had. One company makes death, peace." Harrison found it difficult to follow along, but was cautiously optimistic about the meaning of what they were saying. It was getting harder to breathe, and harder to think. Somehow, they recognized that he was left behind, to suffocate in the depths of space orbiting a planet they didn't know was inhabited. For whatever reason, "this one" was here to make death... less lonely. It was a strange sentiment, coming from an alien mind that by all rights should consider him an enemy.
Harrison after all, wasn't exactly part of a, shall we say /peaceful/ crew. Their immediate reaction had been violent, and these "ones" had to respond likewise... no one wanted to say it, but it was clear they were holding back considerably. The mining operation they were going to set up here in orbit, just wasn't going to work, and they had no means of besting the artifact that orbited this decrepit planet. Not by any straight forward means.
This is the part where Harrison volunteered to be jettisoned out into space, with a distress beacon.
"Why do you care? I was one of them, I joined in the attack!" For whatever reason, Harrison began to feel exasperated, perhaps even irrational. He was dying, and he would served his purpose with dignity... but this inane conversation with this /alien/ began to conflict with the very serenity they seemed to wish upon him. Oxygen was in the red.
"One is disappointed, in humanity." Somehow, their speech seemed to improve dramatically. It appeared they did not have enough time at first to gather the necessary data to properly communicate formally... it also probably meant, Harrison's time was quickly running out, and they had something to say. "Humans toss human life aside, so humans may flee. One, is One. One does not toss One's life aside, so other One's may flee. One stands with One, until One is zero. One, stands with you, for One feels pity. One feels shame for you. One wishes peace, for you, for One." For a moment, Harrison began to understand.
But even in understanding their sympathy, there was little he could do now before going unconscious for lack of oxygen, and when it ran out and his heart stopped dead, it activated his deadman's trigger...
A dying man's repayment to an alien's sympathy was a nuclear detonation as the artifact orbited over him | 2016-12-22T06:59:13 | 2016-12-22T00:06:49 | 54 | 15 |
[WP]: Your oldest brother is a military genius. Your little sister has cured three types of cancer. The twins are working on a new method of locating planets fit for terraforming. And you... You are mom's favourite. | I guess I'm the black sheep in my family. All my older brothers and sisters are amazing people and I'm well, not quite that.
See, my oldest brother Mark started the trend.
He joined the military at sixteen and became a captain at twenty and the next thing we know, he's leading his own fleet. Mom and Dad were so proud - a captain in the family, can you believe it?
But I can't hold it against him. Mark, well, Mark is a good guy. He visits now and again and ruffles my hair. He asks me if I've been a good boy and he always brings treats from whatever cool place he was stationed at.
Next is Susan. Susan was a lot more quiet than Mark was, much more reserved. She spent all of her time with her nose in a book. I hoped that she would be the normal one, perhaps become a librarian - something still respectable but something I could live up to - nope, this girl ends up curing three different types of cancer.
I mean good for Susan, but come on! Not one, super amazingly talented over- achieving sibling but two? Talk about life not throwing you a bone. She doesn't visit much but we see her on the news a lot. From what we hear anyway, she's in Africa this week for a UN Health press conference. I know that Mom and Dad are super proud, but I can see it in their eyes, they miss her.
And then there are Tim and Jim. Well, technically their names are Timothy and James Carver, but to me, they will always be Tim and Jim. They were a right bunch of knuckleheads growing up - unlike Mark and Susan who mostly kept to themselves, they truly gave me the older sibling experience. They would rough house with me and wrestle and try to play keep away with my toys but they were all right. I thought, finally, at least one of my siblings might be normal.
Nope.
Tim and Jim saw a documentary on the future of farming on Mars one Christmas and the rest is history. Tim became one of the leading experts in agriculture in zero gravity environments and Jim majored in astrophysics at Stanford and worked on the rocket used in the first Mars Colonization mission. They face time us all the time from Mars but with their busy schedules, and mom and dad being too old to travel in zero gravity, they don't have much actual physical contact with us.
So, those are my siblings: Mark, Susan, Tim and Jim. Doing amazing things. Out there.
I mean, I'm proud of them, but I wish Mom and Dad could be just as proud of me too.
I fulfill important roles too, I mean, not like curing cancer or Mars Mission important but still important.
Sure, I'm not the captain of my own fleet, a world renowned doctor or even a part of the Mars Mission, but I'm home every night to kiss my parents good night, give them plenty of hugs, and keep the mailman from murdering us, and I think sometimes, that's enough.
| The house was so quiet. A lifetime ago it had been full of the laughter of children. She smiles at the distant memory. How times changed, she thought. When Mark was little he use to love playing those war games. Mark had always been a happy child. Now he was a military leader currently stationed in another part of the world.
Then there was thing one and thing two. They might of as well been conjoined twins. Always together, playing and exploring with each other. They were always to smart for their own good. They were both very quite, but always loving.By the age of 7 they were learning at college student levels. They loved to cook with her, at least they use to. Now they were always busy with their work.
Jane was the caring one. As a child she had brought sick animals home, pleading to let her keep them until they got better. Even when she got older, Jane always wanted to help others. She worked so hard throughout here childhood years. The countless hours spent studying. Jane was always sad. She saw what was wrong in the world and everyone in it who was suffering. She devoted her life to help people who were sick. She was so devoted to helping others, she had little time for her old mom.
Finally, there was her middle son, Beck. He was an athletic child. When ever he walked into a room, the place would light up. He worked hard but he wasn't as gifted as his sibling. She loved all her children. She also missed them. Since her husband passed, the house felt empty. She could still feel the joy of all of her little monsters running around. The way they look up to their father. That was in the past though.
The doorbell rang and she brightened up. She opened the front door and gave her son Beck a huge hug. "Its so good to see you, honey!"
"Hey mom." Beck said with a smile. Once a week Beck made it his mission to visit his mom, usually for a meal. "Mom, are you okay?" She looked sad. Her eyes were wet.
His mom gave a weak smile and said she was fine and that she loved him.
"I love you too mom." The both went inside to fill the house with laughter and joy once again. | 2016-10-31T14:35:26 | 2016-10-31T10:48:37 | 213 | 36 |
[WP] You’ve always had good sight in the dark, you’ve been called a freak for it. When you die and see the light in the tunnel, you are the first person to notice a door to your side instead. | I didn't... no, there wasn't. It was so much pain. I couldn't breathe. Or move. Or speak. Or think. I-
Suddenly everything was much clearer. I remembered. I don't know what happened, but apparently, this was it. I had always heard about the light. The light at the end of the darkness. I had always wondered if it would be dark for me. The only time that It had *really* been dark that I could remember was the time that we toured a cave back in sixth grade. They had turned out the lights, and there wasn't light. I remember that someone sneezed, and some of my classmates giggled. They used to call me "cat-eyes."
This wasn't like the cave. The light at the end rippled down to me, illuminating everything. I knew I was supposed to go to it, and I didn't see another option. After I had gone for a few meters- well, not really meters, there wasn't space quite like that. After I had started to go, I noticed something. Interrupting the void of the tunnel were two small hinges slightly glimmering in the light. I could see an outline, not a rectangle quite. Its geometry didn't sit right with me. It was clearly a door, though. I didn't see a knob or a handle, but I pushed against it somehow, and it gave. It was different.
It was almost like a hallway. It definitely wasn't quiet, but there wasn't any sound. Not even the breathing and flowing blood I had ignored for so long. I wish there were words to describe it, but I don't think there are any. Suddenly, though, there was a noise. The door that existed opened slightly as a cat pushed through. I don't know how I knew it was a cat. It didn't have a body, or anything else for that matter. It just - was a cat. I guess that I was "just me" as well. The cat was in front of me now, and was continuing on purposefully. I followed it.
They always said that cats had nine lives.
Maybe this was how.
Maybe I did, too. | Alex was a good person. Thin, but strong, and always friendly to everyone she met. She didn't expect to die from a virus. When she unexpectedly woke up, there was a dark tunnel, with a light at the end.
"Oh great, the light at the end of the tunnel. Guess I'm dead. Too bad, I wanted to live for a while longer".
She shook her head and sighed. Alex steeled herself and was about to walk towards the light when she saw a door. It looked incredibly similar to the walls, but it was a door. She smiled, thinking about how she could cheat death, or so she hoped.
Alex opened the door, and looked around. She was far above the earth, and had the choice to jump through the door or continue. Worry crossed her face. She still feared death, and feared pain, and a long jump to earth couldn't be fun. But she might have a chance at life. She calmed her nerves, and jumped through.
Falling was not all that fun. She shivered as she fell towards earth, being cold. As she went closer, she could see more and more. Apparently, she could go through anything. After what was a few minutes but felt like a few hours, Alex fell into her body. And then, she woke up. | 2021-06-04T15:13:52 | 2021-06-04T12:39:31 | 115 | 58 |
[WP] The fact the uncanny valley exists is terrifying. Being scared by things that look almost human but aren't. Other animals do not have this. That means that at some point in our evolution, running away from things that looked almost human was advantageous enough to be imprinted on our genetics. | Pixwhirx sighed as he studied the analysis of the data he'd fed into the interworld-ship's main computer. Nothing else for it, he'd have to tell Dreemar.
"What do you mean it's *not going to work*???" Dreemar demanded angrily.
Pixwhirx had known he would react like this; it was after-all Dreemar's first command of a world take-over, and they'd already invested millennia of work here. "I'm sorry Dreemar, but the analysis is conclusive, the native population has evolved a defense to our techniques."
"But how? Why? This scheme has worked on a thousand parallels! We infiltrate and expose them to the programming narratives over successive generations. Primitive minds cannot help but be over-whelmed by the moving image and sound projections. Knowing not that it would turn their brains to mush" punctuating this last part with a ceremonial "Mwah haha." as etiquette demanded.
"That's the problem Dreemar, the natives are no longer viewing the programming narratives. Those that were mushed failed to reproduce. Instead of finding mates the mushification caused them to grow obsessed with discussing the narratives, and arguing over inane details."
"But this is all to plan! That is what is supposed to happen! They fail to propagate, fight among themselves over which of the deliberately conflicting narratives are true, and die out, leaving a world ripe for the taking" Dreemar cried.
"Yes yes, but unfortunately some who view the narratives were not mushified. In fact, a small number of them had a trait we have not encountered before. They can somehow perceive that the simulations within the narratives of their species are artificial. Not only that, but they are actively repelled by those simulations, fleeing when we open a vision-field. The numbers in their population who had this ability were small at first, but this species, is short-lived compared to us, and reproduce quickly. They have passed on this trait to their off-spring and frankly, our viewing numbers are now abysmal. The last successful narrative operation was God Story 2. The subsequent sequels in the series might as well have been straight to burning bush for all the impact they had."
"But but... how? Our Cgyian simulations are perfect. Two eyes, that breathing bump in the middle of their faces, the big gaping hole for eating! Who could tell the difference?"
"We do not know precisely. The analysis indicates that their ability makes them able to discern the smallest deviation from some inbuilt intuitive impression of how naturally occurring members of their species appear. Our simulations, while indistinguishable to us, are somehow detectable as... *different* to these primitives. Eyes even *slightly* too far apart and so on. I tried to correct this in the last narrative, covering one of the main character's eyes with a patch, but they still somehow detected it wasn't one of them", Pixwhirx shrugged, "Might have been the lightning coming out of its hands. Did you know they don't do that? I didn't. Well anyway, that's the conclusion the computer gave."
Dreemar growled with displeasure, "then what are we to do Pixwhirx? We can not return home and report a failure, I would be sacrificed to Luxo the Terrible."
"Well... we could wait and try again... as I said, this species is short-lived, it would only take a few thousand of their years for them to forget all about these narratives I'm sure. Not long by our standards. Perhaps by then the trait will have bred out of them."
"Okay fine." Dreemar, "but if that doesn't work we'll just eat them". | Sand bit into the old man's skin as the wind whipped it at his hands, his arms, his face. He trudged on. The once cloudless sky was no more than an orange haze now. The old man thought back to that time before his joints ached and his eyes had grown cloudy, when he'd last seen the heavens extend above in a never ending expanse of blue. So many years before.
He stumbled as his feet sunk into the ever shifting dunes. Through his watering eyes he could still make out the silhouette on the horizon so he kept going, onwards through the storm and the wind and the vicious lashings of the sand it carried. Pebbles and grit poured into his shoes through the holes in the toe causing it to shift uncomfortably with each step, but by now he was used to it and his feet had calloused so he hardly felt it.
As the thick haze played tricks on his old eyes the silhouette seemed to shift in the distance, as if it were pacing back and forth, impatient.
/Stupid old man/ he thought to himself. Statues did not pace, no matter how long we kept them waiting. But it seemed that statues did not listen to the logic of old men, for when he shielded his gaze from the sun with a boney hand, the silhouette had gone. Impatient, it seemed, and tired of waiting.
Straightening up, the traveller scanned the vast wastelands before him and it wasn't long before he has spotted it again. He adjusted his course and began to make his way forward, pleased that the statue had decided to meet him half way. This statue, he reflected, was supposed to mirror ourselves. What we want, how we feel and what will become of us.
Perhaps it is telling me I am restless, he chuckled to himself.
The old mans joints burned and his lips cracked from dehydration but after traveling for so many years through this barren desert he had reached it at last. The old man had hoped to see the truth, a reflection of himself and who he was or could be. What he saw was a corpse. Shrivelled and alone as the sand danced over the stone skin, carved with such delicacy he was sure he could see the fragile bones beneath. As he reached out to trace hollow grey eyes he saw just how thin his own hands had become, so similar to those on the statue, slowly succumbing to the dunes at his feet. /All this time wasted/ he thought bitterly. How could he have been so stupid? To think a status would show him the way of life? That he could learn his true self from a piece of rock? He spat to clear the sand from his mouth. This was not a place to linger long.
As he began his trek back through the desolation, ruminating in his disappointment and frustration, he did not notice the statue leave. His fate sealed. | 2020-09-15T15:24:23 | 2020-09-15T13:43:30 | 22 | 11 |
[WP] An Eldritch Moon suddenly appears in the sky, and you and billions others scream as you turn into horribly corrupted mounds of flesh... But your eyesight is better? And your back pains are gone? And apparently you’re immortal now so... Maybe things aren’t that bad... | Today, Cole had decided, he would scale The Chaplain. It was no small task, to ascend that uncanny spire, that towered over the masses below, as static and immovable as they were dynamic and amorphous. But then, it was also said that no small reward waited for those who made it to the Chaplain's upper reaches: answers.
This might seem no great treasure to most of the denizens of gray Nova Bali, writhing worm-like in the pale light of the Twisting Moon, their curiosity long since submerged by the endless sensory distractions afforded them by their ever-changing bodies.
But to Cole, it was all that mattered. Questions formed the very core of his being, and no matter how many times the Twisting Moon stretched and molded his flesh or cracked his bones into new shapes, no matter how his ephemeral body tried to distract him with new sensations ranging from overpowering bliss to lazy contentment, in the end, he always came back to his questions.
What am I? What *was* I? Today he was a sinuous thing, low to the ground, pulling himself forward with seven many-jointed arms. Tomorrow, he would be something else. He could not remember a time when that was not so, and yet he could not escape the thought that he had once been something both more and less permanent.
Today's body was, fortunately, ideal for ascending the Chaplain. With the benefit of seven circular hands that tightly gripped the tower's flesh, Cole moved up the skin of the great edifice with alacrity. That was another question: why did the tower alone have skin and sinew? The other fixed structures on Nova Bali were dead things of metal and stone, whose purpose was inscrutable to the Nova Balinese.
At last, Cole clambered up to the top of the tower, where a round bulb spread out at its summit. He had thought to climb up the outside of this, but to his surprise, the dark bumpy hollows in its surface, now that he was close to them, were revealed to be openings that led *inside* the Chaplain.
Within, he found himself in a hollow chamber, his surroundings barely visible even to Cole's large round eyes, which the Moon had made especially keen, today. His mind called out hesitantly. Part of him feared that the reply, if there was one, would be like that of the other denizens of Nova Bali: perfunctory, disinterested, or else nearly insensible with euphoria.
Instead his mind filled with an idea that was both foreign and strangely familiar to him.
*"Welcome."*
Welcome. It meant that, to the Chaplain, it was good that he was here. That this place was better for his presence. Why did that feel so...warm?
*"It has been some time since I had a visitor."*
Time. That was what it was called when the Twisted Moon rose and fell. But it could also be more than that, or less than that -- it implied so much, as a concept! There was so much that Cole wanted to know, so much that he felt he once *had* known.
*"What am I? What are you?"* Cole's mind wailed his questions, his hunger for the answer becoming nearly overwhelming, so close to his goal.
*"In one sense, the answer to those questions is the same."* The Chaplain thought to Cole, gently. *"I am, and you are...a human being."*
*"What does it mean,"* Cole pressed, *"To be...a human being?"*
Another wave of strange warmth washed over him from the Chaplain. And to his surprise, he dimly remembered its name. *Humor?*
*"That, my friend, will take a little longer."* | # Soulmage
**The moonlight here was deadly, but we'd come prepared.** As we stepped out of the safety of the dark and ancient cave, the five of us unfurled umbrellas as black as midnight to enhance our layers of heavy, lightproof clothing.
Something that had once been grass squelched and splashed under my thick boots, and I scowled. The pale, moontouched flesh of the grass beneath me reminded me all too well of the last time I'd stepped in eldritch effluvium, and the deadly disease it had struck me and my friends with.
"Are you sure about this?" Jiaola asked, the old man hesitating before the sea of molten grass.
I shrugged. "You're welcome to stay in the cave if you want. But it's not like there are a ton of talented medics down there, and... well, you heard what Svette said. It's the only lead we've found so far on curing our cancers before they eat us from the inside out. It's our best shot."
"For the record, I still think this is a terrible idea," Lucet muttered, one hand flexing as if stretching a phantom bowstring.
"Yeah, well, the two aren't mutually exclusive. Come on. Svette said that all we had to do was find Zhytln."
*Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln. Zhytln.* The name echoed off thin air, bouncing strangely in the too-pale moonlight. Reflexively, the five of us twitched, facing outwards in a circle to catch any new threats.
"...Maybe we should avoid using her name," Sansen muttered.
"Agreed," Meloai said. "This place gives me the creeps."
"You don't have to come with me, if you don't want to." I glanced at my four companions. "I'm doing this because I don't have any other choice. But—"
"You think I'm going to let you run off and get eaten by some eldritch abomination?" Lucet punched me lightly on the shoulder, taking care not to disturb the layers of protective clothing I had on. "Nah. I'm with you to the end."
A chorus of agreement rose from the rest of my friends. I nodded and turned back towards the pale plains.
"Then let's get moving," I said, and forged onwards through the grass-turned-flesh.
A.N.
Considering writing a part 2; let me know if that's something you'd like to see.
This story is part of Soulmage, a serial written in response to writing prompts. Check out the rest [here](https://www.reddit.com/r/bubblewriters/comments/uxmwe4/soulmage_masterpost/?sort=new), or r/bubblewriters for more. | 2022-10-23T16:28:15 | 2022-10-23T11:59:30 | 57 | 40 |
[WP] Write a story with a large, illogical plot hole, then have the main character discover it. | "I gazed up at the compound, wondering how I could manage to infiltrate, sabotage, and destroy such a massive fortress. 'Orders are orders' is one thing, but this was basically a suicide mission."
"As I took my first step forward however, electricity whipped through the air, focusing on a single point. The point of focus became a ball of lightning, before collapsing in on itself, leaving a hole hanging defiantly in the air,"
"Tesla would have creamed himself."
"A figure stepped through. It was my mirror image, a double of myself, a little beaten and tired, but still handsome as the devil after a make-over. My doppelganger thrust something into my hands before retreating back into the hole."
"That something was the invisibility device. The complex was torn down in a matter of hours. I made a few mistakes, was caught off guard, but ultimately the mission was a success. As I recovered the time drive, it went haywire for a moment, opening a portal to several hours in the past, a few paces from where I entered. I handed the device to my former self and headed back to the future, where I returned to mission control."
Johnson finished explaining how he survived the suicide mission I'd given him. But something nagged me about his story.
"Wait... where did the invisibility device come from? Where is it now?"
"...uh..."
"You received it from your future self, became that self, and handed it to your past self right? So, do you still have it? If not... where did it go?"
"Well I don't have it. I guess it could be... Uh... Wait, what the fuck?"
We both sat there, scratching our heads and chins, puzzling.
"Johnson. Check your pockets."
"Theres nothing in them but the-"
"JUST CHECK YOUR FUCKING POCKETS."
As Johnson reached into his left pocket, his face went grim. He yanked out a note, read it several times over, threw it into my hands, and fainted. I peered at the note before following suite.
It read "It's certainly not here now, is it?". | I wander aimlessly on top of cracked earth. I am bruised, thirsty, and it seems to appear I am ages upon eons from arriving to th--.
I drop to my knees.
I wake up. Still hopelessly shuffling about. I know I can get their before I die from this thirst. How long has it been? Minutes? Hours? Days? The position of the sun doesn't seem to be moving. If I were out here for longer then a day then I'm almost certain my parents or somebody woul--
I drop again.
I slowly open my eyes. Damn it, I'm so close to the door I swear I can nearly touch it! Maybe I'm just imagining the distance. I'm so damn dehydrated I wouldn't doubt it. Ugh, I'm... I'm so thirsty.
Again I am on the ground.
I'm awoken by the glare of the sun beaming down on my dry body. What's the point? I should just lie here and accept my fate. I'm sure someone will come to my aid. I know of it. This is my parents backyard after all.
*sigh*
The life of a narcoleptic is rough. | 2014-05-25T20:04:18 | 2014-05-25T19:52:10 | 29 | 14 |
[WP] You were always told that you're the Hero who was destined to face the Dark Lord, but instead you two fell in love and had a kid. Then one day, you come home to find your spouse dead and child missing. Now everyone will burn, as you decide to make this, 'Dark Lord' prophecy come true. | They took my light away from me.
I must have wept for hours over their cooling bodies, cradling the note in my hand as my grief ascended, a crescendo of fury and rage.
*Bring us the girl, and wipe away your debt. She is the key to appeasing the new God-King.*
/ / / / /
I put on my shield and cursed blade Zantet, and prepared to lay waste across the land. I went into the basement, carefully re-measuring from the walls. The rhythmic pounding of the hammer into precise points in a pattern - the Dark Lord's sigil. My wife's sigil.
The floor disappeared, and the teleportarion circle took me to the hidden base in the volcano overlooking the city of Pompai. I felt a moment of disorientation upon travelling in defiance of science. Once the moment passed, I sat at the desk and entered in my wife's adoptive mother's name on the false typewriter. A beep of acknowledgment, and then the real database came up. Her face, her *glorious* face.
Another tear and fit of sadness and rage threatened, but I knew I had to keep that within, for it would drive me going forwards.
"How can I help you, Ma'am?" comes through the speaker, and this time I can't hold it back. Tears drip onto the desk, as I realise that I can *never* hear her voice again.
"Get me everything you can find on the God-King. And while you're at it, I need all the information you have on the *Golden Dawn's Radiance.*"
...I was committed, then. They could not summon or create a new Hero whilst the old one still lived.
I stared at the glass casket containing her outfit. "Modify this outfit so that it fits the Hero, Erika." I spoke to the false face, knowing from experience that this would be done, and quickly.
I spent ten days there, preparing for my assault, but knowing that their time limit was fourteen. During that time, every waking moment that wasn't spent eating or sleeping was training and exercise, to get back into shape.
At the end of this time, I knew that my rage would corrupt everything, but at this point, I no longer cared.
I put on the outfit, and spoke to the face. "Once I leave, move yourself to the next-nearest base, in Amadon. Then, self-destruct this place." I stepped on the circle, knowing that the end was coming.
/ / / / /
The volcano was the first volley in the Hero's War. It devastated an entire province, given that Pompai was the agricultural centre of the province of Laike, and the only source of most essential foodstuffs for the kingdom.
The God-King would live to regret the first time he crossed Dionys, a man whom he had never met. | It was shockingly easy to begin. Heroes, dark lords, in the end it was all about power. A spell that was supposed to serve as a barrier against attacks could cut a town off from their food supply if you charged it up enough, and the ability to force others to tell the truth was better than any spy network. You made it across three provinces and had caught up to one of the monsters who killed your family before anyone even realized what you had chosen to do.
The world responded in kind. Nobles sent out armies and hired adventurers, holy spirits and gods began distributing boons, they moved fast to try to nip you in the bud, but you’d had an adventure of experience and countless battles under your belt, it was too late for that.
Still, you were quickly finding that on your own, you were more a rampaging berserker than a dark lord, for all your spellcraft. You needed aid. Luckily there were a few pockets of your husbands old supporters you could reach out to, and plenty of disgruntled peasants who wanted an outlet for their rage at the taxes their lords were using to hire your opposition. With how fast you had your army built you had to wonder how this hadn’t happened sooner.
Training them took longer, and your army was living on bland, magically created sustenance for the first few months before you got the hang of actually governing. Defending your ragtag bunch from would be heroes was almost nostalgic as you got them into fighting shape.
It was 3 years before you managed to capture your first castle. You know that… he managed it in two, but you can’t think of that. If you do, you won’t stop for weeks. It still hurts, but you’ve got people counting on you again. People to avenge. You can’t stop for the pain now. Looking out over the beginnings of your dark empire, you know you won’t stop. Not until the world has paid for its crimes. Only when you’ve taken that hypocritical goddess who wrote that damn prophesy down out will you allow yourself to cry. | 2021-12-09T23:14:59 | 2021-12-09T21:55:25 | 135 | 77 |
[WP] Write a seemingly normal story, except for the last sentence, which makes the entire story creepy | "Ah Stacy, have you got the projections from Pensworth Logistics?" I call out to my secretary looking stunning as always in her uniform. She's been with me from the beginning since I transferred over to my new office, 10 months ago, and has been one of the more friendly employees here.
"Mr Miles, I must insist that you take your medication, it will help you get on with today." she hands over a glass of water and points to the small case of pills scattered in between the paperwork in my work area.
"Yes yes I understand. Oh and could you pick up a gift for my daughter? She turns 9 today and I've got little knowledge regarding their interests." I adjust the cushioning below me to get more comfortable but after many months of my weight being pressed into it was far too late to do any good.
"Of course Mr Miles, will that be all?" Stacy asked me with a gentle smile. I can tell when she wants to leave, a lot of the staff are always intimidated by myself. I reply with a nod to release her.
She begins to walk out out when I quickly remember my biggest problem with this new room.
"Oh um Stacy please get in contact with the contractors on removing to the window in front of me. It's incredibly unsettling."
She turns her head slightly and smiles before gently closing the door behind her.
"They sure grow up fast." I say talking into my picture of Charlotte at eight months old.
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"Has he taking his pills yet Stacy?" Mr Travis asked me looking into the window at Mr Miles, holding two cups of water
"He's agreed too take it which is good sign. He asked me to get a present for his daughter's birthday" I replied back to him and joined him in looking at Mr Miles through it. He offers me one of the cups.
"I'm surprised he remembered with all of his *meetings* and *networking* he does, I would've hoped that he would've stopped being such a *workaholic* since arriving here."
"I have to admit though..." I finish the cup in two giant gulps. "He is the most professional patient I've ever seen at our asylum."
| I've been a hunter all my life, the skill has been passed down for generations. I take great care of my gear; the camouflage, knives, guns, boots and other acoutrement needed for a successful hunt are all well oiled sharpened or cleaned. Most people think hunting is barbaric, evil, only for psychopaths and a litany of other descriptions that I refuse to acknowledge. For me though, there's nothing like being outside, with the sun on my skin, knowing that I'm providing sustenance for my family. I scout the area I plan to hunt for weeks before I decide to take any game. Knowing where the prey eats, drinks, and where they bed down just gives me a real connection to them. Then it's from the field to the plate as they say, I do all the butchering packaging and cooking myself, that way I know it's done right. Nothing beats the look on my kids faces when they're tearing in to a freshly caught and cooked steak. Anyway, it's time to go, Adam is leaving for the bar soon and I have to make sure I'm in the blind when he gets to... Hah! Good hunters don't give away their best spots... | 2016-05-19T13:17:24 | 2016-05-19T13:13:29 | 39 | 15 |
[WP] Tea is banned in England creating the world's largest black market. You are one of the biggest tea kingpins. | I waited on the pier, nervously checking my watch. 1:52. The shipment was an hour late already. The only sound coming through the fog was the gentle sloshing of the tide against the pylons of the dock and the distant clanging of a buoy bell bouncing in the waves. I leaned against the wall of the abandoned warehouse behind me, plastered with "Coffee = Freedom" posters. The government had put these up all over the waterfront districts in a pitiful attempt to stop the smuggling.
1:56. These bastards better show. I had a hundred customers waiting on their morning Earl Grey and afternoon Chamomile, and they weren't the type of crowd that you'd want to fuss with. I shuddered to think of the types of strongly-worded letters I might receive if they missed their daily cuppa. This was the fourth time that I'd been forced to stand in the cold while they took their leisurely time. *Maybe the ship had been stopped and searched,* I thought. The authorities would have everything on me: my illicit kettle sales, my suppliers in China and India, the saucer smuggling, the sugar gouging... everything. My only solace was the fact that they'd already be here arresting me if they had gotten to the ship first.
At 2:12, a dark shape loomed suddenly out of the thick fog. Finally! The gigantic white container ship, packed to the brim with red and blue corrugated metal containers containing the finest leaves I could get my hands on. My heart beat resumed to a normal pace, and I radioed for my drivers with the all-clear signal.
I waved at the cabin of the ship, but received no response. Strange. Normally they were clambering down the sides as soon as they hit port, ready to haggle over payment. This time, silence. I clicked on my torch and shined it through the windows up above. There were definitely people inside... how odd.
The crane on top of the ship jumped to life, picking up one of the massive metal containers with an echoing clang. I winced unconsciously, hoping that nobody else was around to hear the ruckus. The winch whirred as the crate was lifted into the air. It dangled precariously over the edge of the boat, swinging slightly in midair.
The bottom burst open! I cried out in agony as the boxes of tea tumbled through the air and landed with a splash in the harbor. The cardboard quickly soaked through and they were swallowed by the waves in minutes.
"BLOODY HELL!" I screamed, trying to restrain myself from diving in the foamy sea after it. Container after container, dozens of them, were being thrown into the ocean.
From the deck, peals of laughter drifted down. Five heads popped over the railing, wearing stereotypical Native American headdresses.
"Take that, you limey bastards!" His accent was clearly American. "We always know how to throw the best tea parties! Just like the old days!"
"You fucking Yankees!" I roared, then shouted into the radio for reinforcements. These American gangs had been trying to corner the tea market for years; must have hijacked my shipment! "This means war!" | "What do you mean, gone missing?" I said calmly, watching the young man who was no more than a boy really try to remain defiant. But I could see he was scared. The way his pupils dilated, the slight crack as he spoke. He was fucking terrified.
"It never showed up," the small sidewards glance gave away the lie.
"It. Never. Showed. Up," I said, exaggerating every syllable, "Well, my contact tells a bit of a different tale. He tells me that he delivered every gram that I asked for, he made sure that you had it. So tell me," I breathed, "What really happened to it?"
I watched his mouth flap open uselessly, trying to choose something that would prevent any sort of punishment for his mistake.
"And don't try and lie to me again, matey. Because I'll know."
His mouth closed again, and he seemed to fall silent, unable to explain or even formulate a workable sentence.
"I think I probably know what happened. You lost your cool didn't you? As soon as the heat showed up you turned tail and ran. And then you had the nerve to come and face me here, and then lie to me," I whispered, trying not to sound angry. I took a step towards him, and smiled inwardly with glee as he shrank
away a little.
He knew by now, of course he did. They always figured it out eventually.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
It was over a week until we found the body. The same as before.
Of course we knew who it was. He always finished it off the same way. *Poor kid,* I thought to myself as I looked down into the grey face, left bloated by the cold Thames water. A red line across his throat, the ragged edges of flesh flapping in the cool air of the mortuary.
Inside the destroyed throat were several dark brown objects, that leaked a liquid of the same colour. Small soft bags wedged into anywhere they could have been. A faint smell of week-old tea floated up and wafted in front of my nostrils as the doctor removed the teabags and stitched the poor boy's neck back together.
As the body was placed back into its locker, I took the pictures with me.
Maybe this time I could prove it. | 2015-02-17T10:12:02 | 2015-02-17T09:28:43 | 364 | 19 |
[WP] Not far from your village is a small grove. Within the grove a monster dwells. It devours the guilty and leaves the innocent. When the worst crimes are committed, the accused are sent to face the creature. You have murdered someone in self-defense. You enter the grove unsure of your fate. | Thersea stumbled slowly through the quagmire of mud and vegetation, crawling in part where the intentwined branches cut the path into narrow corridors, until she reached a dark clearing. It was there the monster sat, a thick mass of matted vines and moss, taller than all but the oldest trees of the nameless grove.
"Who comes?" The creature bellowed, opening eyes the size of dinner plates, scrutinizing Thersea with it's stern golden gaze.
Thersea could feel the vibration of the creatures voice in her very bones and the staring eyes seemed to bore into her very soul, but she knew she had to press on.
"I come to escape the judgement of simple folk and to be judged by the almighty." She said.
"Almighty." The creature laughed. "Some might call my mighty but no-one has ever called me the allmighty. Tell me why did you kill him?"
Thersea was surprised to find that in this nest of monsters she could still be caught off guard.
"I-I-I it was self defence, I didn't mean for it to go as far as it did." Thersea stammered.
The creature sat silent and studious Thersea felt compelled to continue.
"Maybe not self defence in the traditional sense, my father he was cruel and spiteful, fond of the drink and a big man when it was just me and my mother around. As the seasons went on he only got worse until one day I was certain he would kill us, so I snuck into his room one night, when he was full of the sauce, and I stabbed him with his own knife until nothing was left but a bloody red ruin."
"I see." Was all the creature said.
"The next day I was locked up, murder they called it, even my sweet ma spat and swore with the rest. Who could even blame them really, all the rest of the village saw was the portly laughing man, only we knew about the monster inside." Thersea said resigned to his fate. "If it's murder to kill a man who would certainly kill you, then yes I'm a murderer."
"I understand your plight child yet murder is what it is." The creature said sternly before adding in a softer voice. "Yet murder may not always be for an evil cause. You acted out of live not malice, out of fear not hate and that makes all the difference."
"I know the price of murder in your eyes, so I am judged guilty then?" Thersea said flatly.
"The price and the boon will be the same for I judge you both guilty and innocent." The creature bellowed.
"What does that mean? What will happen to me?" Thersea cried suddenly filled with fear.
"It means you will take my place. You alone, of all those whom I have judged, have proven you can use great evil to save those you love."
"And how long will I be here?" Thersea asked.
"It has taken me one hundred years to find you, it make take you a long while to find another." | A mysterious grove appeared in a rustic village near the sea. An outlaw ran into the grove thinking there's going to be some safe haven for him. That's the first story of the first guilty death that's passed down from mother to daughter. My name is Lucas , my life was fine and dandy being the mayor's heir. Then I just made one fatal mistake. Killed in self-defense my corrupt uncle. He's was drunk obviously. Why I think I was his target is because I took his chance at becoming mayor. Even though his wife wept for him. I think those were tears of joy and relief. Now my cousins want to see if I'm truly guilty of such a hienous crime.
The grove is full of mystery those that are innocent are spared but the guilty don't survive at all. Though it my seem like an innocent grove of cherry blossom trees. Something or someone judges perfectly who's guilty or innocent. Now I'm standing in the grove wondering when my judgement is coming.
A beautiful maiden in a cherry pink kimono. "Hello, what's your name handsome stranger." She's beautiful I think I'm in love. No gotta keep my wits about me. Answer her question. "My name is Lucas what's your name?" Then maiden gracefully glided over to me. She batted her feathery light eyelashes at me. My heart beat faster involuntarily. Her pearl white skin hand cupped my cheek. A blush lit my cheeks like wildfire. She kissed me with soft, tender gentleness. I closed my eyes and returned the kiss. My lips tingled when we both breathlessly broke apart. Then a single slender finger shushed my words.
A couple minutes passed in silence. "I taste innocence in your kiss. My kisses never poison those that are innocent but it gets deadly when a guilty heart and conscience come. My name is Blossom. Though say nothing of my beauty or you'll forget me and my kiss." Blossom went away while cherry blossom petals swirled around her until she was gone.
I'm writing this down in my personal journal that nobody will touch. I'm the one who started the rumors that the cherry blossom grove holds a terrible monster. That judges them by smelling their guilt or innocence. Those who also came out alive agreed because they don't want to forget that kiss. | 2021-03-16T13:32:58 | 2021-03-16T13:25:34 | 29 | 21 |
[WP] At 14, every human gains the ability to transform into their spirit animal. Your noble family, comprised entirely of wolves, isn't happy with your transformation... | My father Michael Walters and my mother Natalie were both well respected doctors. My older siblings- Vivian, Sam, and Edward were all gifted. Vivian was still moving through med school, Sam and Edward were focusing on engineering degrees.
I was the youngest, and I'd always felt like a disappointment. My whole family moved with grace and ease, keeping an aura of wisdom and poise at all time. I moved with clumsiness and unease. Mom assured me that when the time came, my spirit form would allow me to fully mature. To fit in.
"Don't worry, Peter" she'd say as she kissed me on the head. "You'll be just fine once you find your way."
And I believed her. So I blundered through school as best I could, yearning for the day to come where I'd fit in. To make up for my lack of academic success, I was the prankster of the school. While nobody could count on me to have the right answer to a question, they could count on me to make them laugh. And for now I was content with that.
When the night of my birthday arrived, I was *so* eager. Finally, I'd be able to tap into the wolven wisdom and power that had blessed my family back for generations. Finally, I'd stop being a joke. I'd be *respected* for once.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"God damn it Natalie" I whispered. "Our son *actually* got a wolf form. How the fuck is that even possible?"
"The spirits don't make mistakes. Maybe this will help him grow up?"
"You know it doesn't work like this, it's supposed to be a manifestation of who you already are. It doesn't help, it friggin *amplifies.* What are we supposed to do? He can't come to clan meetings, you know that. He has zero sense of decorum."
"Yeah... he does not have the temperament for those at all. If we bring him we are going to piss everyone off. Maybe piss them off enough to dethrone *you*. Wait. I have an idea."
"Breathless to hear it."
"We need to roll for his name still, right? If the spirits see fit to grant him a noble one, then *hopefully* we can keep him quiet at clan events and just... I dunno, cultivate an air of mystery?"
"Better than an air of tomfoolery and, I'm sorry but I have to say this, utter incompetence. He failed fourth grade, Natalie. Twice."
"He just has to sit there. He can do that."
"Fine... roll for his spirit name. Fingers crossed."
Nat bent over the star charts, and cast the handful of ancient carved stones. I leaned back from the table and waited for her to reveal what the spirits had chosen as our son's name.
God.
Fucking.
Damn it.
Moon Moon. | "...son, you're a goddamn disappointment."
I would never forget those words. They stung so deep, hitting my very soul like a burning flame. They were uttered by my father on the night of my fourteenth birthday. That's right - the night I learned my spirit animal.
It was a dark and stormy night, as is the case with the beginning of any good story. My family, nobility in the city of Blackhaven, spent that night in the basement of our lavish estate, waiting for the moment the clock struck nine - the moment I was born, fourteen years prior, taking in my first sights of this wide and beautiful world. It was me, my mother, my father, my sister, and my uncle. In our family, the transformation into one's spirit animal is a rite of passage, a sign of one reaching a spiritual adulthood.
"It's almost time! Less than a minute!" my mother cried excitedly.
I saw my sister, two years my junior, staring at me with wide, wondrous eyes. I tried to smile at her, but failed to do so convincingly, thanks to nerves. I abandoned that attempt, shutting my eyes and drawing in a sharp breath, my hands curling into loose fists at my side.
"Son, every single Belmont in the past has had the spirit animal of a wolf. It is a sign of great strength of spirit and character - you will feel it. The amazing sensation of it. Ease yourself. It is nine PM. Do as we discussed... let us see your noble form!"
A blinding light filled the room, as my grand spirit unveiled.
When the light passed, my entire family stood staring, stunned at my magnificence... except for my father.
"...son, you're a goddamn disappointment."
I was a teenager at the time, so naturally, my first reaction was to simply act defiant. As he started to storm out the room, I bellowed my rebuttal!
"QUACK!" | 2017-01-21T19:17:27 | 2017-01-21T18:36:17 | 956 | 90 |
[WP] Everybody has the ability to bring another person back to life, at the cost of their own life. You are a suicidal celebrity who can't stay dead because of fans constantly sacrificing their lives to resurrect you. | Once again, the pain woke me. It hurt a lot to start breathing again. All my organs were resuming their function, and it was not a pleasant sensation.
I opened my eyes, trying to figure out were I was. An hospital room. What was it this time? Oh yes, pills. Lots of pills.
On my bedside, a handwritten note. I wait a couple of minutes, for my muscle to be usable again, and reach for paper.
Of course it's from her. Lucy. My "number one" fan. Literally.
*Andy*, the note says. *You have to stop doing that. It's not a life anymore your having, and it's starting to be ridiculous. Please, live your life.*
I stop reading there. I know what she's going to say. It's always the same thing anyway. Grab the alarm button and press it, calling for a nurse.
Sarah in.
"Mr Waylan, you're awake. " She had a sad smile.
"Hello Sarah. What's the date today? "
"August 6th"
"Already?! Lucy, she is... "
"In the room next door. You want to see her?"
"Yes please"
"Aren't you tired of all this? When is this gonna end." She scolded.
She helped me get in a wheelchair, and pushed me Lucy's room. The young girl was lying, a white sheet over her body. There was doubt she was dead.
"Leave me" I said.
Sarah didn't say anything and left.
I looked at Lucy. I didn't have to remove the sheer to know what she looked like. Blond, long hair, braces, freckles. The only unknown for me was her voice. Maybe I should ask for that, for next time.
A notepad and pen were resting on her nightstand. I grabbed them. My last message was still there on the first page. She had just written I love you below it.
I put it down.
"Lucy, *you* have to stop doing this. You have your life to live. I'm already 40, you're not old enough to drink. "
I reached for an empty glass on her nightstand, and looked at it.
"I can't have you sacrificing your life for me, over and over. Please." Tears started to roll on my cheeks.
I let the glad drop, sharing in pieces on the floor. I picked up a long shard and looked my wrist. Already half a dozen scars. What was one more.
| Irony doesn't apply to my predicament, anymore. I feel like I have transcended irony. Is that even possible, since the act of transcending irony would sort of be ironic? I don't know. All I do know is that, now that I have self-professedly transcended irony, tragedy is a more fitting epithet to place on my life.
If you ever find out that you have become a celebrity never do what I did, I beseech you, which was to kill myself. Because, due to that silly "gift" that Death bestowed upon us, the one that allows anyone to grant you your spent life back at the cost of theirs, a never-ending procession of self-sacrificing, egotistical megalomaniacs will hear that you chose to check out, and then they will band together to perpetually curse you with a miserable, never-ending, desperately hopeless life. All because they're too stupid to make their own music, and too vain to enjoy carrying out a suicide that doesn't involve reincarnating someone else.
Of all my suicides, which are so innumerable that my math skills fail me in being able to count them, I have not once decided to bring someone else back to life. Not even someone whose death was tragic. That would feel selfish, to me, because how are you supposed to know if that person wants to come back? I tweet all the time, "don't you dare bring me back you motherfuckers." But I think that's part of the reason why people love doing it. It seems that my existence has become a sick joke, to everyone, except me. | 2016-07-06T22:50:38 | 2016-07-06T18:00:08 | 259 | 30 |
[WP] Earth has always been an anomaly to the galaxy because of its inability to discover faster than light travel, but because of the galaxial code no one has yet to interact. One day a spaceship crashes here and the galaxy discovers that earth has far superior tech, and are just very bad at science | "Greetings Human!" said the weird humanoid while raising its hands. I don't know if it was sarcastic or trying to be friendly, but the reaction of both me and my roommate was the same.
"AAAAAHHHHHH! A GHOST!" Screaming at the top of our lungs in fear and in shock. Considering that we both just finished Scary Saturday Movie Night, as you would expect, it didn't help our mindset at all. The 'thing' was - to be frank- naked in front of us.
Perhaps, if it was greeting us in broad daylight, we might have overlooked its long (somewhat floating) hair as a magician's trick or something. Well equipped with an unnatural and forced smile, clearly showing its sharp, jagged teeth, he tried to approach us.
"W-what should we do! I knew we should have kept that holy water!" my friend, Jay said.
"You meant that rip off water?! How can we even know if holy water works on GHOSTS?!" my eyes started to dart around, trying to find anything to protect ourselves. But alas, as college students, the only thing present in the room is the television, us and the ghost and the sofa.
I sure as hell will NOT throw our only source of entertainment. I knew that using all our money to buy the house was a bad idea.
As I was resolved to proceed to throw the sofa, the 'ghost' stopped just a few feet in front of us and raised its hands... I think those are hands.
"I do not know any 'Ghosts' you are referring to but I am what you humans call as aliens if that would help calm your friend over there." He pointed to the now limp Jay sprawled across the floor. "Mama... help..."
"HOW CAN YOU BE AN ALIEN WOULD HELP US IN THIS SITUATION!?" As much as I want to help my friend, I have to resolve the problem before us first. Sorry Jay, I whispered to my heart silently.
"I mean no harm, really! I just crashed by spacecraft outside your house you see. I did make a barrier to prevent any problems but that's all."
"Oh yeah? And the next thing you're gonna say that you were just flying above Earth to capture some cows."
The humanoid opened its mouth and after a few seconds, he closed it back without saying a single word.
"So, what are you doing here 'Alien'?" I prompted the being, still holding tightly on the arm of the sofa.
"The names XFtTIk-0156, but you may call me Fay. I just want to use your intergalactic teleported over there." He pointed at the television.
"What teleporter? That's just television. It doesn't teleport anything."
"Eh? I could swear that model of the IGT is far advance than the ones used by the Federation... May I try to use it?"
Okay. If it was some type of teleporter than the alien would be gone and we can all forget this ever happen with a good few cans of beer and a goodnight sleep. Even if it wasn't teleported, the same method could be used as a good therapy session. Yup. So it's decided.
"S-sure. But don't break it!" I said, half in curiosity and anticipation of anything supernatural to happen.
"I wouldn't dare to break it." Sure enough, the moment the creature or rather 'Fay' touched it, his whole being started glowing and compressed in a small orb of light. A few moments later, that orb was absorbed by the television and was gone to God knows where.
Yeah. I'm going to bed.
Following the next few days, nothing happened, except on Thursday. The doorbell rang and when I opened it, the same face appeared in front of me. The being now looks more human-like but its distinctive teeth and floating hair were still present on it.
"Greetings Human! It would seem that you have many very interesting technology which most surpasses my own race - the highly advanced Technizoloid race. May I enter as I converse more about this issue with you?"
Yeah. I need more beers to cover this headache.
​
​
(This is my first time writing so if there is any grammar or better use of words, please do help me with it. I hope you at least enjoyed the story!) | "...Seriously? You've mastered faster than light space travel, but the fridge is what you're getting off on?!" Detective James Richards said, a bottle of bourbon in his left hand as he flicked the light switch inside of the fridge. It's not even a good fridge, he thought to himself.
"Really? You've mastered cooling technology, the art of cooling the beast flesh into a tundric state, yet you can't make it past your tiny little solar system?" Renek speaks, looking at the Detective as he laughs, holding an ice cube in his hand. "Incredible."
James couldn't believe his eyes as he looked at the alien, its three eyes staring in awe as the ice slid off of his hand. "You gotta be shittin' me." A furry creature, similar to a raccoon groaned, holding an assault rifle in his hand, shooting it as the bullets splatter everywhere within the home, ricocheting everywhere as James screams.
"Put that down you fuckin' alien." James yelled, sounding much more racist than he meant to.
"Pero Chico, Shut up before me and my cousins get in there and show you an alien probing you'll never forget." Ken said from across the hall, as a children's cartoon played in the back ground.
"I'm sorry Ken! My bad! I'm not rac- See what you made do! I'm never getting my fuckin' peaches fresh again!" He growled and groaned, slamming his hand against the counter.
"You don't plant your food yourself?" They asked him, dumbfounded as they couldn't process the idea of non-fresh fruit.
"I- What? What are you talking about? They process them and ship them to... Grocery... Stores. Okay what's goin' on? Do y'all not have a supermarket where y'all are from?" James asked, looking at them both as he pulled out a half used Walmart coupon newspaper.
"My Gazorpazorp. They aren't even a farming based people. I have to know.... Please tell me." Renek begged, looking at him. "You're people... They've created such wonders. Such incredible gifts I have to know... What did you create? What could you possibly have devoted such time and energy to create!?" Renek questioned, holding a now half melted cube in his hand James sighed.
He stood up, looking at the furball as he looked down at his hands. "Humans are the brightest in the galaxy, at least to my standards. But we're all so... Petty." He said, holding the assault rifle in his hand. "We want what others have. Not to share. To have." He spoke, quietly and coldly as he showed them both a picture. "This is me when I was a young thing. That thing with bars? It's a cage. The orange thing... They're long gone. I miss tigers." He said as he pointed the gun at Renek. "I hope your people don't miss you." He said, as the bullet passed through Renek's head.
"Furball. This here is your cage. Get in it." He said, kicking the crate towards the alien. "Humans focused on many things, but we excelled at dividing and conquering. War." He said, smiling as he reloaded the weapon, looking at his backyard as he smiled at the glowing ship. "And I think i know our next battlefield."
(First Time posting. Hope it's alright. Would love some feedback.) | 2020-05-08T17:41:16 | 2020-05-08T17:29:38 | 113 | 50 |
[WP] You are a teenager with the ability to measure how "Dangerous" people are on a scale from 1 to 10 just by looking at them. A normal child would be a 1, while a trained man with an assault rifle might be a 7. Today, you notice the unassuming new kid at school measures a 10. | I've spent my whole life looking at numbers, judging my safety from them, gathering intelligence, watching, waiting. I am a perfectly average teenage girl; I've got brown hair, brown eyes, and a rather plain face. I'm average height, average size. There is nothing exceptional about me; except that I can judge how dangerous someone is by a number that appears by their left ear when I see them. Everyday is a blur of numbers. Only occasionally do I see a number higher than 4, which is the average adult. Capable of murder, but probably won't. The highest I'd ever seen was an 8; he was already in police custody for attempting to shoot up his high school. That was, he was the highest until I met Finn. Finn was a ten, the highest rating on the scale. The instant I saw the number I nearly had a heart attack.
From across the room he made eye contact with me, his light blue meeting my muddy brown, and it was like the whole room was buzzing and shaking. He smiled at me, seemingly harmless. And as he walked across the room to me, I felt myself fall hopelessly, irretrievably, irrationally, in love. And it was then that I knew exactly why he was so dangerous; he held the most precious thing a person can give another. He could destroy me if he chose to, he could crush my spirit. He was my soul mate, and he held my heart. That was what the ten was reserved for.
But as our hands touched for the first time, I felt at peace. This was not the man who was destined to destroy me, because as certainly as he held my heart, I held his. That was just how soulmates worked. | *Ah, this class sucks,* I thought, deciding to sleep through the teacher's lecture. I almost got away with it, too.
"Eren, could you please give me there answer to question 5?"
Aw you dirty 6-faced douche.
"Uhh, could you read out the question?" I stuttered, still half asleep.
"You'd know if you paid attention."
*Go duck yourself, math teacher. I don't know what kinda skeletons you got in your mind to bring your number that high, but they ain't pretty.*
Another voice spoke up, "I found that x is equal to 7 over 9, professor."
"Thank you, Light, but I asked for Eren to ans-"
And then the lunch bell rang. Lunch was disgusting, as always, but something really scared me as I walked out.
Light's number had jumped to 10. | 2014-11-29T14:34:22 | 2014-11-29T14:22:11 | 41 | 10 |
[WP] A kid tries to talk the monster under the bed into attacking the monster in the closet. | "Hey, Purples, come on, I bet you could beat him!" I leaned over the edge of my bed, talking to the strange purple monster under. He growled, baring crooked fangs and stared at me with his unnaturally large orange eyes. Pulling himself a bit forward, he growled a garbled sentences back.
"Heck no, kid. I'm perfectly fine right here, terrorizing you like my job says." He stuck his long, reptilian head out from under the bed, exposing his three short horns and small ears. "Anyways, why?"
"C'mon, I'll give you Rice Krispies."
Purples hesitated for a moment and then growled again, dragging himself further out from under the bed with his clawed fingers. "AS tempting as that is, I'm just trying to do my job kid, and no part of my job says anything about fighting with the mekizorgles."
He paused for a second. "I'm terrifying you, aren't I?"
"Oh yeah," I said in my fakest, most flattering voice. "Completely."
Looking a bit more satisfied, Purples slithered back under the bed and then wobbled around a bit, hissing, and making the bed shake. Laying back in bed, I eyed my closed closet with a hint of apprehension. From what I'd picked up, mekizorgles and Blotikikigoles, like Purples, didn't mix well. Both seemed to avoid each other. The mekizorgle in my closet was a proper sort of monster, scary and frightening, not like grumpy, but lovable Purples.
Purples hissed a bit more and extended his four short but deadly claws out from under the bed, giving me a glimpse of his claws and purple scales. He was just doing his job, I knew, so I wasn't exactly frightened.
"C'mon, you can take him"
Purples sighed and rolled his eyes. "Kiddo, seriously. I don't wanna. Much more comftorable here." He snapped his jaws and shook the bed slightly again. I saw his eyes flick toward the closet though, with a small moment of apprehension.
"Oh, I see. You're *scared* of him." I said, leaning back over the bed.
"Am not!" Purples snapped.
"Hey Purples, the mekizorgle called you a fatass. What's that mean?"
"He what?!" Purple snarled, pulling his impressive length completely out from under the bed. Rising to his full, serpentine height of six feet and length of nine, Purples growled at the closet, baring his over large tusks.
The closet rattled harder, and I caught a glimpse of a pink eye through the crack in the closet door. A hard to understand string of words flew out the closet and Purples growled again, flashing his four arms threateningly and slithering around my bedroom on his two snake tails. He turned back toward me-
"He did?'
"Yeah. Also, he called you lazy ass. Why does he keep saying ass?" I said.
Purples growled and slammed into the closet door. The closet door flew open and the green monster growled, leaping out. It was my first glimpse at the mekizorgle, and I wasn't disappointed. It looked like an overlarge bear with sabertooth fangs and tentacles.
The two monsters clashed that night, and Purples triumphed. He let out a final growl, Mekizorgle blood dripping from his tusks. He slithered back under my bed and growled again, shaking the bed violently. He hissed.
"Not a word, kid, not a word to my boss, got it?"
| *A child bolts up in bed panicking. His name is Jonas. The sound that startled continues as it rattles the closet slightly.*
"Clawbite...?" Julian said curiously. "Clawbite, are you there?"
".. Yes, Jonas?" a voice from the below grumbles. "Is something the matter?"
"I can't sleep, something just made a sound in my closet" whined the exhausted Jonas.
"Jonas. I'm sure it was nothing. If you'd like I can creak the floor for you. Would that help?"
"Clawbite, I don't think it's nothing. But if it wasn't you, then who was it?", asked Jonas.
"If that's the case, Jonas, I believe you might have a new inhabitant in your garment room", snarled Clawbite. "But, seeing as this room is already being terrorized, I'm afraid he's going to have to go."
*A dampened thump emanates from the closet floor*
"Ah, Clawbite, how's it been? Still hiding under lice farms?", a voice spoke, each syllable a slight rattle.
"Who is that Claw? I don't want to be scared tonight. Please?", whined Jonas.
"Rogut. Rogut, you must leave now. This child is not to be messed with. There is... an arrangement." Clawbite said scolding the closet resident.
"Aww, is poor little Claw afraid of a little competition? Tell you what, we can scare him together! Remember that thing we used to do in *Fake Thunderstorm 203*?
I mean, I tell ya kid, we used to make sounds that would wet the bed during a light shower! And it wasn't from the rain!"
"Claw I don't want to wet my bed! Mom-", protested Jonas.
"Rotgut. Leave. Now", spoke Clawbite in his monotone anger.
"Nah, I think I'll stay instead. I was kidding about liking you. You were always a stuck up priss. But wait til everyone hears Clawbite is protecting children!", chortled the blank slats of the closet.
"Claw, make him go away!", Jonas spoke with terror cracking his every word. "Mom and dad can't help me anymore"
"Jonas, when I tell you I want you to close your eyes and shut your ears. Then you can open them again Understood?", said Clawbite.
"Ok. I'm sorry Claw", Jonas apologized.
"There's nothing to apologize for. Now, on three. 1... 2....-", said Clawbite
*Jonas clamped his eyes and ears as he was told and waited. When he opened his eyes, he heard the distinct sound of dragging from the closet's side of the room.*
"Did you get him Claw? Is he gone?", Jonas managed to speak.
"Yes he is. Don't worry Jonas. Like I told you before, we'd always be family. I promised nothing would happen to you again." | 2015-09-06T04:02:33 | 2015-09-06T01:36:00 | 29 | 10 |
[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. | This one had been a long time coming - far longer than I ever thought possible.
We'd met on a battlefield millennia ago, both surprised to find out that our strikes did not harm the other. It was the first, and only, other immortal I'd ever encountered.
It was the start of a beautiful friendship.
Naturally, being immortals, we'd try to find new ways to amuse ourselves as the time went by. Our practical jokes seemed the perfect way to do this, and they started getting more elaborate as our friendship grew. The fall of Rome was one we took a bit too far, we both agreed.
But as I looked out the window and saw the rocky expanse below, I felt excitement I hadn't experienced in centuries.
For as long as I'd known him, he'd always wanted to be at the forefront of space travel. It made sense, really; he knew he'd have to be able to traverse the stars if he had any hope of truly enjoying being alive forever.
I remember sitting next to him while he eagerly watched the moon landing. He knew it would just be another century or so until we'd finally be able to visit Mars, and he looked at me with joy. Actual joy. That was a rare sight.
When the time finally came, me, being his best friend, naturally wanted to join him for the ride. We volunteered to be the first two on the 'suicide trip' there, and the world rejoiced. We'd generally hidden from the public spotlight, but he said that we couldn't avoid this one. This time, the whole world would be watching us.
Nearing our destination, I deviated from our landing spot. I hoped he wouldn't notice.
"Where are you going?" he asked, staring out of the window. His leg was shaking, like it did every time he was excited.
"Oh, come on," I replied with a smirk, "I'm letting you take the first steps on Mars, the least you can do is let me take a little detour."
I reached the site, carefully landing the spacecraft. He'd already unfastened his seat belts. I'd never seen him so eager.
The doors slowly opened, and he prepared himself to be the first man on Mars. He looked back at me, gave a thumbs-up, then took a step forward.
Then stopped.
He'd noticed a massive structure, looming over the spacecraft.
He stared at it. There was no denying it.
It was a statue of something.
Of some*one*.
I grinned, trying to suppress my laughter.
See, while we were both immortal - I'd been alive *far* longer than he ever was.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 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 | 2017-06-22T19:56:41 | 2017-06-22T19:53:14 | 5,933 | 763 |
[WP] A world where super heroes exist but act as mercenaries for hire instead of doing it out of the goodness of their hearts
Someone made a comment in another thread that made me want to see this sort of thing and some people replied saying I should submit it here. Here's a link to my [original post](https://www.reddit.com/r/tifu/comments/62wgey/tifu_by_bricking_a_computer_with_rick_astley/dfq195a/) which has a little more detail about the sort of thing I was thinking of specifically, but feel free to run with the basic idea however you want. | *3:30 AM, Atlanta*
The phone rang.
"This had better be worth waking my ass up."
"Flux. $500,000. If we lose power--."
"I'll do it if you make it six. Where?"
The caller accepted, a little too quickly. Damn. Could have got more.
The caller gave the address to a malfunctioning power station, and thanked Flux for assisting Westshore specialty.
"An insurance agent, huh?" *Well, it makes sense. Superheroes were a damn sight cheaper than losing a court case, these days.*
Flux had been a generous soul. But not anymore.
He loved music. When he first discovered his power, all those years ago, he used his power over electricity to give fledgling bands free power, so they could practice anywhere, anytime. They didn't even have to plug their equipment into anything! It made for some great hipster music videos.
Back then, he sometimes helped clean up metal debris from car crashes. Other days, he donated electricity to his poorer friends, or gave the homeless shelter free electricity for a few hours, to run the A/C during the hot summer months.
That all changed after a fateful day a few years ago. Flux prevented a plane crash by using electromagnetism to lower it safely to the ground. After that, Flux became famous.
And with fame, came more calls for help. But they all wanted it for free. Non-stop, day and night. Not always for heroic deeds, either. One kid wanted him to take out the power at his office so he could spend that day with his girlfriend.
He grew fed up with the non-stop pleas for help. Fed up as he was, he was too poor to buy food. Even superheroes have to eat, you know.
So, Flux started charging for his powers. This sparked outrage at first - Headlines like "Does Flux's greed have no limit?" dominated the news cycle - because people had grown used to the impossible being done for them for free.
However, capitalism won the day - other heroes in other cities borrowed flux's idea. They too had been worked to the bone, and for what? To go home to a creaky apartment without enough money to even wash their spandex?
These days, heroes primarily did boring but valuable things, such as prevent power outages, stop floods from damaging property, put out fires, that sort of thing. Some chose to do pro-bono work at times, but it was not expected the way that it was in years past.
Flux sighed as he drove to the plant. He could easily power the grid from the sidewalk outside his house, but the insurance company would have a fit and cut his pay. Last time he did that, they charged him for damaging the wiring, which cut his $250,000 reward down to a mere $15,000. Looks like another couple hours of maintaining a boring old 60 hz stream... | "Alright, so you want a superhero protection contract, what kind would you like?'
"Well as you may know Mr Doomfist has recently taken up residence in my town, now i don't want to be judgemental but he has broken the laws of the last four he lived in."
"A yes Mr Doomfist, always good for business, so do you want a specific contract out for us to stop him or one in general. We also offer a two villains for the price of one deal this month."
"Does the specific contract include his minions and henchmen?"
"It depends, the standard version covers a hundred normal minions or one super powered one, depending on the contract we could include a fixed price per minion that exceeds that amount, or we can increase the maximum.
According to our documents Mr Doomfist now has eighty four minions."
"So with a contract would you immediately go to arrest him or?"
"It depends, in the contract is a threat scale, if its an apocalypse level threat then yes we will intervene, however if its a local level threat our response would be between three to five business days.
However should you need more immediate assistance you can pay an additional fee to expedite the process."
"What kind of hero's could i be expecting?"
"That depends on the package, we have several squads able to be assigned to you, but for an additional fee you could also put your own squad together."
''I think il stick with one of the pre made ones, do you have any suggestions?"
"Our flying brick squad has a high success rating against villains of Mr Doomfists nature, though they are a bit more expensive."
"Price is no issue, Mr Doomfist has a tendency for collateral damage and we just rebuild city hall, and the insurance only pays out if the villain is caught."
"Well then it all seems in order, are there any other questions?"
"No, il take a contract for Mr Doomfist for a hundred fifty minions with a flying brick squad." | 2017-04-02T09:25:08 | 2017-04-02T07:25:23 | 201 | 37 |
[WP] You lost your sight - along with everyone else on Earth - in The Great Blinding. Two years later, without warning, your sight returns. As you look around, you realize that every available wall, floor and surface has been painted with the same message - Don't Tell Them You Can See. | When The Blinding first occurred, I thought I was the only individual affected. I was sitting at my desk working on a school paper and in an instant, everything went black.
I had cried out to my parents in fear and confusion, but their response was like an echo of my own. They, too, couldn't see. And we soon learned the entire world had been victim to having their sight filled with darkness. Interestingly enough, we don't think this affected any of the animals living on Earth. Just us humans. The only strange thing that occurred after this was the fact that the demand for Milk skyrocketed.
At first, adapting was extremely difficult. Something as mundane and simple as using the bathroom had become a daily challenge I didn't look forward to.
Within a few months, support groups had been created by individuals who were already blind prior to the incident. They assisted those who were struggling with adapting to their newfound obstacle.
Thankfully, the world never really stopped moving or progressing. Outside of major adjustments that had to be made, such as devising a different mode of transportation or different requirements and standards in the working world, we managed to pull through.
It's been about 2 years since The Blinding and there were times where I had forgotten such an event occured.
I was taking a short walk to the store to get some groceries. I don't know why, but I've developed an almost dependency like state on milk. I had gripped the handle to the door to the small grocery store and pushed the door open. A bell was hung on the inside handle of the door.
"Hello, let me know if you need help finding anything." A voice said to my right.
"Thanks, Dave. I will." I responded.
"Hey John! How've you been?" he asked with a somewhat enthusiastic tone.
With a somewhat slow pace I walked around the store, feeling along the brail to determine if I had found my item.
"Pretty much the same" I said with a bit of a chuckle.
My hand touched something cold. Finally. Found the milk.
As I was about to open the door I could see my reflection in the rectangle shaped window of the cooler.
I wasn't entirely sure how to react nor was I sure as to what happened. I was looking. At myself. In a mirror. For the first time in two years.
I started shaking and I could feel warmth and moisture filling my eyes.
I noticed writing on the reflection itself. I was so excited I hadn't even noticed. In fact, most of the interior was covered in this writing. Looked a little closed at the message written in black.
*Don't tell them you can see.*
What the hell does that mean? Who's them?
I then caught a glimpse of the individual standing behind the counter of the store.
Who...what the fuck is that...
"John? You need some help buddy?" it asked. It had Dave's voice, but it definitely wasn't Dave. And the way it's mouth moved was...
Wait, is that it's mouth? I have no idea.
I was staring at something that was at least 6 feet tall. Grotesque and eldritch was the only way I could describe it. It's dark brown skin was smooth and moist with extremely tiny openings in its skin. It wasn't wearing any type of clothing. It's arms were somewhat long and thin looking appendages that ended in human looking hands. Its head was shaped like a large Basket Ball. The creatures mouth looked to be in a vertical position and when it spoke I could see many layers and rows of crocodile like teeth.
"Here John, let me come help." It said. Its voice had changed as well. It was gurgled and sounded like it was being put through a filter.
As it moved I could hear it squish against the floor. That's the first time I've ever heard that. Why am I hearing that just now? Why have I never heard that before?
Instead of gaping at the reflection and trying to ascertain how it walks, I simply stared at a jug of milk.
That's when I noticed the color of the milk. It wasn't white or brown or any color a milk should be. It was dark black.
As the creature grew closer a foul smell harassed my nostrils. It took everything I had not to vomit.
It reached out with it's human like appendage and touched my shoulder.
My entire body tensed up.
"We're having a lot of different specials on milk today." It said and I could see its mouth open wide behind my head with what I assumed was a smile. | It's surprising how quickly you adapt to the dark. At first it was a disaster, people wept and raged and died in droves, but it was barely two years now since the world went blind and these days, things are almost normal again.
Nikolai came out with their new self driving cars, fully optimised for their sightless passengers, meanwhile Pear and Congo got together and trained their voice assistants to better help us get around. Honestly, with technology being what it was, the blindness barely made a difference.
Still, sometimes you almost felt like the darkness was bearing down on you, a pressure and oppression that became so constant you barely noticed it was there, like that slight ring in your ears in a quiet room.
There were fewer people too, I think my office only has 17 employees, including myself. Apparently it had more than a hundred back when the blindness first hit.
I arrived at work today, like most others, and set about navigating my way to the dictation cubicles. Nick, my old friend from high school, bumped into me along the way. He seemed... perturbed, like something had worried him. I questioned, but he just spattered something about work stress and left. He was in such a hurry, he didn't even bother following the guide wires.
It wasn't until later that day that I saw him again, I was heading for my car when he asked if he could hitch a ride to my place to discuss work. Obviously I didn't mind, these days company was about the best entertainment available since TV and video games mostly faded away with our sight.
We got home and made our way inside, I could tell Nick was nervous and his anxiety was starting to rub off on me.
>I gotta tell you something
I inquired, but he was hesitant
>Swear you won't tell anyone! Literally. LITERALLY! Nobody.
I agreed, laughing nervously at his insistence.
He stood up and faced me, before muttering;
>I can see again...
I laughed it off, sure he could, very funny, what colour shirt am I wearing? He didn't seem to think it was funny, and repeated himself.
It was annoying me now, he was lying, obviously. He couldn't see, nobody could. He kept going on about stupid messages on the wall. There were no messages, he was just attention seeking. All this for a laugh?
He kept rambling, trying to find ways to prove his lies, I wasn't listening any more. What was wrong with this piece of crap? He came into my house and starts this bullshit?
The world felt hotter as he ranted, why won't he just shut up about this? What's wrong with him. Shut up Nick.
I found myself breathing faster, the weight of the dark was annoying me, it was like an itchy jumper and Nick just... Kept talking!
I told him to shut it, he asked why I was standing, why I was scowling. How the fuck does he know what my face looks like? What nonsense trick is this?
Why is the air so fucking heavy!? He can't see nobody can fucking see what the fuck is wrong with him shut up seriously shut the fuck up just get away just fucking stop stop stop fucking stop this I hate it I hate you so fucking much just burn burn in hell hate hate fucking die already
Honestly I barely even notice the blindness anymore. About the only change I've noticed is there seems to be far fewer people. I remember a busy world when I was a kid, but these days my whole office only has myself and 15 other people working there.
Still, it's strange, sometimes, when I wake up of a morning, I swear I see the faintest glimmer of light. I wonder if my vision is starting to come back? | 2022-10-09T01:59:27 | 2019-08-26T09:00:47 | 4,287 | 86 |
[WP] After accidentally killing the king’s son, you expected to be executed. Instead, he arrived at your house alone in secret, asking if he could come in for tea. | The entire house seemed to dread the idea of the king coming in, but the storm outside was worse. there was a good chance that should he be turned away misfortune would fall upon the king, and that was not something I wanted, not after the incident.
"Yes," I coughed, "Come on in your majesty."
He nodded slowly and stepped into the house, he tossed back his cloak and revealed his greying hair, the crown gone from his head, though he still wore the signet of his station on his fingers. He was dressed plainly, like any wandering traveler, and look just as world weary.
I stepped to the side and gestured towards the lone seat in my small home, and quickly scrambled towards the fire place. It was fortunate that I had already started to boil the water.
"Pleasant home you have." The king muttered as he took the seat.
Be a shame if anything were to happen to it.
"Thanks, it's uhh, not much, but I make do."
"How old are you?"
"17 years sir."
Should I have lied? would he spare me if he said I was younger? How young could I pull off though, 15 maybe?
"And your sign?"
"Seven Sisters, sir."
The king gave a hum, and I could hear my chair creeking under his weight, don't break on me yet you bastard!
I heard the sound of a heavy metal object landing on the table, followed by a few more items. I dared not look back as I continued to prepare the tea. Should I poison him? No, I didn't want him dead or anything. Besides, I don't have poison.
Well there's my cats poo, but that'd hardly be fitting of a royal assassination.
"Family?"
"Just me sir."
He hummed again.
I turned slowly, and saw that the king had set up shop on my small round table. His sword was laid across it, still sheathed. It was a common kind of sword, not a jewel encrusted one that I would have expected. Just a simple modest weapon.
Ideal for killing a simple modest man.
I looked at the paper for a moment and the strange wiggling sack that had been placed and finally found an empty place to put the kings tea.
He looked at it and raised an eye. "Not a tea maker I take it."
"No sir, woods man." Which was how the prince had been killed.
In my defense the boy was daft.
"Hmm, tell me, my boy, what do you know of prophecy?"
"All that stuff is a bit above my head sir."
He chuckled and pulled out a pipe that seemed to light itself. "We'll see about that. You see, my son, wasn't actually my son, I can't sire heirs, he was a boy, one I adopted and raised as my own."
"Oh, I see, well then I'm so sorry for the-"
"He was actually the 5th one. Lasted the shortest too, the first died by lightning bolt, second swept out to sea, third tripped and fell off the castle wall, forth, uhh, well, lets not talk about him, point being, I've gone through a lot of sons."
I stared in disbelief for a moment, only for that to be interrupted as the bag made a noise and moved a bit.
"You see, there's a prophecy, I'm seeking to make sure comes true, that my unquestioned heir to the throne would lead this kingdom to glory, but, I can only have one heir, blah blah blah, it's all a lot of bullshit." He took another puff of his pipe. "Even if its all true."
"So... where does that leave me?" I stared at the bag again and swallowed. "You can't mean to make me..."
"Possibly. You got the right qualifications, better than the others at any rate, just depends on if this," he nudged the bag and it shrieked back at him. "will like you or not."
"If I refuse?"
He shrugged. "I'll have to find another son and quick, but, don't tell me you want to stay here?"
&#x200B;
Didn't he just say my house was nice? The roof began to leak.
With a sigh I stared at the bag, and then looked him in the eyes. He nodded. I reached for it, and slowly undid the tie around it. | It was done.
Blood was yet to dry from my dagger, as I staggered into the shack I called home.
A revolt exacts heavy toll to all involved.
The barely-standing wood and straw structure was empty. Cold. The last warmth left months ago for the very same palace I had just returned from. None had ever came out of the backdoor alive; save for undertakers, though I was sure she wouldn't be summoned as one.
None of the corpses were even afforded a name.
If I am lucky I would bleed out here, before the knights found the bloody trail. Though it was a wishful thinking indeed; cruel and ruthless were the prince's games, but neither incompetent nor foolish were his aides. Even as the palace turned upside down, as the princes and princesses vie for the empty throne, the crown's confidants would be tracking the beeline towards this ill-concealed slum abode.
Hanging would be the most merciful I could wish them.
A series of knocks on the door jolted me. *They're quick,* I thought, resigning myself to fate. I took a couple deep breath on the second series of knocks, sheathing my dagger.
"Coming!"
Beyond the door was an old man, under a hastily-dirtied mantle, clearly uncomfortable with his situation. He came alone, although I do not doubt that there were armed personnel behind the many corners and shadows.
There would be no citizens of this kingdom that don't recognize his face.
For the last hundred years, the ashen-haired king had ruled. Thousands of silver coins had been minted with his likeness; surprisingly accurate despite the age that the King must have gained in the meanwhile.
"May I enter?"
Rhetorical question: who would refuse the monarch? As if acknowledging my thought, the centennial king stepped inside the haphazardly piled wooden construct.
"Such places increase by the day, if you would believe."
"Pardon?"
"Ones that would refuse the monarch." The king lit my fireplace; its ashes damp from disuse, yet the king's flint ignited it nonetheless. "Refuse *some* monarchs, rather, as no doubt these places were sponsored by a monarch they did not turn away."
The king sat on the cold, dusty table, his tired eyes looking straight to mine.
"Go on. Do you not offer hospitality upon your guests?"
"Do you want dusty mudwater?"
"Expecting it to be boiled is too much?" The king sighed. "Forget about it."
The king clapped his hands twice, and a butler manifested from his long shadow.
"My lord."
"Bring me wine."
"As you wish." The butler knelt and fished something from the king's shadow, before producing a large bottle. "A six year old vintage, from the royal palace's own winery."
The butler poured two glasses, before presenting both to the king.
"Tell me, how much were you paid?"
"For what?"
"For killing my son. For throwing my kingdom into chaos. For undoing my lifetime's worth of investment. How much have you sold this nation for?"
"You think this is about money?"
"It is always about money." The king downed a glass of wine and slammed the empty vessel to the table. The glass melted harmlessly into his shadow. "If you're not seeing it, that means someone else took your share."
"What price would I have my wife and daughter be valued? What amount of money would be worth their murderer dead?"
"It's not the assassin's guild then. Shame. Would have made my job easier if I could burn those third prince crooks already." The king stood up. "I'll let you have the rest of the wine. Consider it an advance payment."
"For what?"
"For finding out your price."
The king walked back into the night, taking the fire with him. | 2022-11-23T21:51:05 | 2022-11-23T16:30:43 | 20 | 12 |
[WP] You are the Devil himself. After a good day of ripping off mortals you are summoned by another one. Being a little generous, you promise to let him keep his soul if he asks for something nobody ever asked. You are now stuck as his beautifull and loving girlfriend till the end of his days. | "Oh, ask me anything," she had a long red hair with red eyes. Her eyes were like cat eyes. No, she didn't have horns, that was a myth. She wore those sexy pyjamas. Every man who came there would have just asked one thing.
So did Jimmy. He was sitting on a chair, seeing the bed straight ahead of him. It was actually how the Devil liked to tease guys. It was like a challenge, to see how many men he can get into that net.
"I'm not gonna ask *that*," Jimmy then said, still looking at the bed.
"But you're looking at it like you're about to die," the devil said and then seated herself on his lap. She put her finger on Jim's neck and started to move it around. Jim felt shivers.
"You're a devil..."
"Hello, want my card?" she laughed.
"No, I'm already regretting summoning you, so... yeah," Jimmy said, sweat gathering.
"Sweety," the devil laughed again, pushing her lips near Jimmy's ears. "You're a cute one. How about this. If you ask me something that nobody has ever asked me before, I'll let you keep your soul."
"Become my beautiful and loving girlfriend, till I die!"
That sentence came really fast. Jimmy had closed his eyes. He had been lonely his entire life. So, his dream had become simple, just get a girlfriend.
"What?" The devil asked. Now he stood up and walked back. He had turned into a man.
"You heard me! Has someone asked it before?" Jimmy pretended to be confident, even though he was about to pee himself.
"No..." the devil frowned.
"Good, then come on, become my girlfriend," Jimmy responded, pretending to be confident. "Since you are the devil... I'll call you Lucy!"
The devil turned back into a woman. She walked back towards Jimmy and seated herself back on Jimmy's lap.
"You sure you want that, babe?" She looked at him with cute eyes and smiled shyly. "I mean, we could be *so* much more..."
Jimmy already smiled. "You're cute like that," he put his finger on her neck and started to move it around. He could feel her shivers. "Revenge, it's sweet."
Lucy stared him. "You devil..." she finally said.
"Want my card?"
---
/r/ElvenWrites | >"Hey. Come on, guy! You're the one who offered me this deal."
&nbsp;
I've seen sick and twisted mortals&mdash;rapists, serial killers, girlscouts&mdash;throughout time immemorial, but this is unlike any other. At a cursory glance, this one appeared to be just another mere dictator desiring world domination...
&nbsp;
> "Well, guy? What are you waiting for! Are you going to give me a taste of that plump red ass or not?"
&nbsp;
Time and time again, countless fools have fallen victim to the seven sins... but this... this... goes far beyond that. It's one thing for motals to submit to their lustful ways and ask me for a sexy nymphomanic girlfriend, but asking me to *be* his sexy nymphomanic girlfriend? This mortal cannot be serious.
&nbsp;
> "I'm waaaaiiiting, you sexy devil!"
&nbsp;
> "You foolish mortal! You do realize, that even **if** I&mdash;The Lord of Darkness&mdash; were to fulfil your request, I would not change my appearance to suit your mere tastes."
&nbsp;
> "Hey guy, no problem. As long as you turn your lovely red face towards the wall at night, it'll be fine."
&nbsp;
He's serious. This sadistic fuck is serious.
&nbsp;
> "Well... Okay I guess, Saddam." | 2018-04-05T12:07:39 | 2018-04-05T11:45:04 | 28 | 13 |
[WP] "Dude, trust me. Don't be a hero, be a sidekick. You get less pressure, less work to do, more fun, be more popular at school, never really age and if the hero dies you will always fill their mantle. Just be careful not to die." | The waitress flicked on the ancient TV in the corner, its screen fuzzing up with static before leveling out to show a grainy security tape. The camera looked out onto a quiet midtown street. Though difficult to see, the pre-war buildings nearby had dramatically tall windows, cast iron gates, and ivy climbing up the walls, giving it a modern patrician feel.
“Just two hours ago, six armed subversives stormed the Consulate General of Peru,” a CNN reporter announced.
The Astoria Diner, only about a quarter full before the lunch rush, fell silent. The patrons twisted in their seats to get a look at the scene playing out across the East river.
“We’ve learned that there are an estimated fourteen hostages, though that is unconfirmed. No terrorist groups have come forward to claim this attack, though an unnamed source within the Peruvian embassy believes this to be connected to the Chilian government. We have not received word yet on how the American government plans to address this attack on their soil, but we’ll keep you updated as the story progresses.”
Dax dropped his spoon into the now empty bowl of corn chowder, the metal clinking loudly. He closed his eyes, sighed and rubbed his stomach with contentment. Hmm… had his belly always stuck up this much? Might be time to take his dirty laundry off the Peleton and finally get back into classes like he’d been promising himself. Dax opened his eyes to find the rest of the diners look at him incredulously. A burley man in his late 50s was glaring daggers at him, obviously offended by Dax’s indifference.
Dax sighed again, miffed this time. This wasn’t the first time he had seen the hostage tape. In fact, Dax had arrived at the Consulate General of Peru a mere ten minutes after the situation began. He stood up and walked over to the aggrieved man, gesturing to the other side of the booth.
“Mind if I sit?”
The man nodded but said nothing.
“Look,” Dax said, “Those people are going to be fine. And they only have eleven hostages, not fourteen.”
“You don’t know that,” the man said, his eyebrows shading his face in skepticism.
“I do know that,” Dax replied. “I know that because I’m Professor Premonition.”
The man’s brows furrowed further. “You mean,” he croaked, “The Sonic Scream’s sidekick?”
Dax bristled. “I prefer partner.”
“If you’re Professor Premonition, where’s The Sonic Scream? Why aren’t you there helping?”
“What else is left for me to do?” Dax asked. “I warned the police yesterday, but they didn’t take me seriously. Even still, I gave them the tip that one of the hostages had a secret cell phone. I even went though the trouble to let the reporters know when it would be safe to call them. The Sonic Scream and the police have their plan, so why would I want to put myself close to all that danger?”
The waitress slid a hot coffee in front of Dax. He poured in a non-dairy creamer and took a small sip.
“Plus,” Dax said, “If I have another premonition, I can just as easily call my partner on the phone.” He waggled his beat-up Samsung in the air before setting it on the table. “Might as well do my job while eating the best corn chowder in town.”
The burley man rolled his eyes, obviously convinced that Dax was off his rocker.
“BREAKING NEWS” flooded red light from the TV into the dimly lit diner. The conversations died down as everyone paused again to listen.
“We go now to Tonya, on the scene of the Peurvian hostage crisis. Tonya?”
A reporter stood in front of a cloud of dust and quickly adjusted her blouse as the camera began rolling. People were streaming out of the building behind her.
“Moments ago, The Sonic Scream, superhero involved in the infamous Coney Island fire rescue as well as last month’s blob incident, saved the day once again. Following a SWAT team, the Scream incapacitated the gunmen, giving the hostages time to escape. No casualties and only mild injuries are reported. Truly amazing.”
A man emerged from the building, his bodysuit chalky with dust.
“Oh, Mr. Scream! Mr. Scream! May I have a word?” Tonya called.
“Sure, sure,” The Sonic Scream replied, jogging over. He had a small cut on his cheeks and bags under his eyes but was otherwise no worse for wear.
“Tell me,” the reporter asked, “how did you handle this situation so adeptly?”
“Well,” The Scream paused thoughtfully, “I couldn’t have done it without my partner, Professor Premonition. And of course the support of the good people of New…”
Dax pulled his eyes away from the screen and settled them on the man at the other end of the table. “Partner,” Dax repeated smugly.
“Another chowder for my friend here!” the burley man called to the kitchen, slapping Dax amicably on the back. | Being a sidekick used to be so innocent and effortless. Never in my life would I have imagined this when Bennie talked me into checking the box that said “Sidekick” in the extracurricular section of our school forms. I remember it plain as day. He was so excited to check that box. He said there would be less pressure but more reward because if you can stay alive then hero’s do all the heavy lifting. It made sense to my fifteen-year-old brain. The world only needs so many hero’s and sidekicks. I wasn’t really anything special. I could have picked “Gear Development” or “Medical Aid 1 – Bystanders”. Shit man, if I really wanted to lay low I could have picked “Machine Shop”.
Bennie was my buddy though, we did almost everything together and choosing to be sidekicks together made sense. It didn’t really click at the time that I was laying the groundwork for my future. This future.
Once we finished high school both of us had four years of sidekick training under our belts, and one summer of shadowing professional sidekicks and their hero’s. At graduation, a man in a brown and beige plaid suite was handing out his card. He was with a sidekick assignment agency. This is where Bennie and I started to go our separate ways. We both accepted his card but only Bennie called him. I looked into his agency, “Sidekick 4 U”, and found almost nothing. This didn’t sit well with me, so I decided to use a different agency, “Right Hands”. They had good reviews but charged a portfolio and placement fee. My grandmother had died a year before and granted me a few thousand. Using it to find a job seemed like a good investment. Bennie didn’t have any money to spare though and his parents sure weren’t going to help. That’s how our different paths started – did it ever really matter though when we would both probably end up like this?
I let the memories of how we got here over the past twelve years flood through me like a busted fire hydrant. I laid twisted on the ground with a cement slab crushing everything from my stomach down. A dry cough took hold of me, jerking me forward. The pain was so excruciating I started to black out again. But not before I saw the other bodies among the rubble of broken buildings and streets. Hero’s and sidekicks massacred. Off in the distance I could hear more battles raging but I couldn’t remember what had just taken place here. Fading in and out of consciousness, I’m not even sure if the screams I heard were real or not. The coughing started back up and my vision blurred.
I remembered getting debriefed with my partner, SuperNova, that morning. She stood like a monument of power and restraint with the other hero’s. We were part of Section 7, tasked with holding ground on the northwest section of the city. Our nation had an overabundance of protectors, some of which were government backed like SuperNova. Others were referred to as “freelance” and they didn’t like the way things were being ran so they sought to change it. I admired the effort and the intentions behind it. But things got ugly fast. People on both sides of the conflict did horrible things that drew attention away from the real issues. The media was referring to it as the Hero’s War.
As we waited in our position with the rest of Section 7 – I confessed to SuperNova that I was scared. “An old friend of mine is on the other side of this, and I’m not sure what’s right anymore.” She put her hand on my back and ran it in small circles.
“It’ll be okay, change is in the air, and sometimes in order to make change you’ve gotta tear it all down.” Normally she was all about law and order, so the phrase struck me as odd. The last thing I remember was watching her slowly glide away from me towards the center of our assigned area – charging up a Nova Ball.
I woke up to the aftermath of blood and destruction. I know Bennie is out there somewhere – dead or alive. I wish I could laugh with him one last time, maybe tell him we should have picked “Machine Shop” as an extracurricular. The thought of trying to change his mind made me laugh “Hhhaahhaa!” blood spewed from my nose and mouth, “See ya later, Bennie.” | 2020-07-11T13:39:16 | 2020-07-11T12:13:21 | 329 | 12 |
[WP] Two powerful wizards are in the middle of a heated argument... staff or wand? you must take a side and justify why it is better. | "Ok, after much thought about the pros and cons of both staffs and wands, and consideration for my own wellbeing, I've decided. The answer is yes."
"What?" Grinblok the Eternal Light screamed.
"Ask a random farmer you said. Just what I'd expect of someone who thinks a twig is the best magic weapon." Replied Zoploq of the endless isles.
"Let me explain. The answer is yes because both staffs and wands the the best magical instrument depending on the situation. Wands are small, easy to make, carry, and aim. They can make quick gestures and don't take up much space. But they can easily be lost, aren't very impressive, and can't cast powerful spells. Meanwhile staffs are intimidating, can wield far greater power allowing for the casting of stronger spells, and can be used as a melee weapon or walking stick. But they are a pain to carry around, to replace, and take far too long to cast common spells. So just use whatever instrument you want, they're both solid B-tier magical tools."
Grinblok: Excellent reasoning my. . . Wait! What do you mean B-tier magical weapons?
"Just that enchanted swords, guitars, umbrellas, phones, flutes, can all also be used to cast spells while still having other uses."
Zoploq: Fair enough. | Easy - Staff. Because it is multi-purpose.
You can walk with it, hit things with it, channel magic through it, use it to hold your bundle or a lamp, poke stuff from a safer distance, extend it out to help pull something or someone. And if you need both hands, you can stick it in the ground.
Also: if you would ever fall into a small rift, you can use the staff sideways and attempt halting the fall.
And if you get swept by a river, it can also help.
A staff is superior.
A wand is just a puny short staff. | 2022-10-13T07:53:08 | 2022-10-13T07:11:45 | 80 | 31 |
[WP] It’s the zombie apocalypse except only the senior citizens are infected. With frail joints and no teeth, the general population is merely inconvenienced by rapid grandpas and grandmas trying to gum them to death.
From a post by u/icantseemtopoop in r/CrazyIdeas
edit : Loved all the responses so far, it always amazes me how quickly stories are submitted on WP and in spite of that how well thought-out they are.
If you liked this prompt make sure to upvote u/icantseemtopoop's [post](https://www.reddit.com/r/CrazyIdeas/comments/7wij4m/a_zombie_movie_but_only_the_senior_citizens_are/?ref=share&ref_source=link) because I basically stole his/her idea and turned it into a WP.
edit 2 : rabid not rapid, can't even copy a post properly | “Mom, grandma is trying to eat my arm off again!” cried Stephen.
“Sweetheart you know she is just hungry. Will you grab some of the thawed brains from the refrigerator?” I yell as my son comes down the stairs with my 80 year old mother nipping at his hair. It’s been three years now since she was infected with Zombie Alzheimer's — at this point the kids and I realize that this will be the way she is until her 100th birthday.
The USDA claimed that the infection slows the heart to where they become immortal to death caused by age. Their organs shut down and they are basically walking coma patients that are required to feed off human brains. The only way they can pass away is through an induced passing; sort of like your old dog that is in too much pain to continue on. Once my mom gets to be 100 she reaches the age limit and has to be induced. It’s infuriating.
As I watch my son prepare his grandmothers breakfast It’s takes everything I have not to breakdown in front of him. My mother looks like walking death. Her eyes are glassy and half open - her hair is gray and balding in some spots - she has to wear this device around her wrist that diffuses a more pleasant smell so those around her aren’t repulsed by the odor of her insides dying. Yet, Stephen looks at her the same way he always did, even before she was infected. He sets her breakfast down and hunkers in next to her to have his toast and jam. We all sit at the table as if it was a normal day.
After I drop Stephen off at school I bring my mom to her weekly doctors check up. The waiting room is filled with infected people and their caretakers, children or spouse. A woman cries across the room as she is told her wife will never be the same — that she will have to care for her every day until her passing. That her life has been altered for the worse. I will never forget that day.
Stephen’s father left us shortly after that day.
The doctor says mom is doing well — and I get her in the car to go home. To continue our lives. To go on day after day, and hope that someone finds a cure before her passing day. To pretend. | They all sat in the waiting room of a large warehouse. The invitations were exclusive and only by word of mouth. The speaker had set up a podium where the reception desk would have been. He addressed his audience familiarly.
He made eye contact with a woman in the first row and asked, “Shirley, how is your practice holding up?”
With tears in her eyes she responded, “I'm ruined. My core demographic no longer require dentures and bridges. I have only a sprinkling of clients.”
The speaker nodded empathetically. He spoke to a man in the third row, “Jimmy. How are you doing?”
Jimmy said, “My high tech prosthetic company is floundering. I invested my entire life into it. I am going to be a beggar soon.”
The speaker spoke to a man in the second row, “Bobby, how about you?”
Bobby said, “My geriatric rehabilitation practice is in the dirt. Looking around, we're all in the same boat. I don't know what to do.”
The speaker said, “Everyone follow me.”
The guests arose and followed him through a steel door into the main hold of the warehouse. There were hundreds of gurneys onto which were strapped writhing zombies held as hostages.
He spoke to the disgusted and astonished group of desperate experts. “If we combine our talents, we can create an army to do our bidding ...”
| 2018-02-10T10:05:57 | 2018-02-10T09:01:25 | 37 | 15 |
[WP]You receive a message, "Reply Yes if you can survive the last video game you played." You answer Yes. Your vision blanks and you open your eyes finding that you are at the beginning of said game. You hear a voice "To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck" | As everything goes dark, a cold sensation washes over me. I feel the breath leave my lungs. Everything goes cold. Instead of a voice, I hear an all too familiar chime, a deep bell sound. Orange text appears before my eyes.
"To leave you must win. Your prize is all you gain in this world. Good luck."
And then darkness. My body feels heavy and cold. I'm laying on a hard surface, wearing armor. My thoughts start racing. Could this be real? I'd been so caught up in homework, I hadn't opened steam for a few weeks. What was the last game I played? When I replied it was more of an automatic response, I didn't even really think about it or pay attention to who the sender was.
I reach out in the darkness when my hand hit stone. I push, and the lid of the coffin shifts off of me. As I step out, it all hits me at once, and I am left with a sense of dread. An all too familiar sight is before me, one I'd definitely seen dozens of times.
Before me is the Cemetery of Ash.
I don't move for a long time. I stand there, shaking. What had I done? Why had I been so careless in my reply? I'd beaten Dark Souls a few times, but I wasn't good by any stretch of the imagination. Would this be where I die?
Finally, I heft the long sword in my hand. It's heavy, but it feels good. I'd been experimenting a lot, but my goto was always the knight (I know, noob move). The shield is sturdy. Normally I would just two-hand my weapon, but I was unaware consequences of failure, and I appreciated the feeling of protection.
I approached the first undead. It charged me, weapon raised, but before it had a chance to strike, I swung at it, killing it as quickly as I could. I felt the wind leave me with every blow. I knew I needed to manage my stamina better. Especially if I wanted to tank some hits when necessary.
The next one I was careful. I let him hit my shield before striking once. Then again. Until it was dead before me. I felt the souls of the undead come to me, but I couldn't use them yet. That would wait until Firelink. I knew how close it was, but there were so many obsticals it seemed like a lifetime away.
Sitting down at that first bonfire was a relief. The warmth that flooded into my undead form, I almost felt human again. I sat there for a long while, watching the flames dance before me. It was mesmerizing. I felt like I could watch them forever.
I didn't bother with the titanite shard. I didn't need it. Instead I dispatched of the undead in my way leading to Iudex Gundyr so quickly they weren't able to get a shot off. I walked to pull the sword, but as I reached out my hand I stopped.
Firebombs.
Those could make the difference here. I quickly ran the other direction, dispatching more undead until I came to the cliff. There was a narrow path leading down, and I knew two undead were waiting for me, one with a shield and spear, the other ready to fire his crossbow. Shield raised, I stepped around the corner.
When the first flaming bolt hit my shield it burned. Not gentle and warm like the flames of the bonfire, but stabbing and sharp. But I'd caught the attention of the undead with the spear. It began slowly making its way towards me, shield raised as I ducked back around the corner. I waited for him to strike before kicking him off the cliff.
As the undead with the crossbow began firing, I rolled out of the way, hugging the wall tight. But I stumbled. I hadn't been paying attention, and I realized I'd run out of stamina. That bolt hit me square in the chest, and I let out an involuntary groan. It hurt less than I expected. I supposed that was one of the perks of being undead. But still, I couldn't afford to take another one.
Shield raised, I approached carefully, the bolt once more burning my arm as it struck. I leapt with my sword and slashed at the undead, killing it in just a few hits. I took the momentary reprieve to kick its body off the cliff. It was satisfying, but I knew it would be back, that was the curse of the undead.
I pocketed the firebombs and went back to the bonfire. I couldn't afford to fight Iudex Gundyr with anything less then full health. Then I made my way back through the undead. The one with the crossbow by the door hit me, and after killing it I ran back to the bonfire once more.
I started getting impatient and reckless, and the next four times I tried I let one of the undead get a hit on me before rushing back and resting by the fire for a moment. Frustration and anger were the dominant forces in my mind, and the result was bad. The next time I sat down at the bonfire, I stayed for a minute, gathering my composure.
I needed to focus.
This time I took it slow. I lured each undead to face it one on one, killing it efficiently. The time finally came when I pulled the sword from Iudex's chest. I got as far back as I could, shield raised. Iudex rose and we began to circle each other. I waited for him to strike first.
He moved fast and hit hard, but I kept my distance and only attacked when I was confident. He got a few blows in, but with my estus flask I was feeling just fine.
Then the time came for the transformation. I was in awe watching, starstruck, like I hadn't already seen it a hundred times. I had forgotten the reach of the sweeping attack, and it knocked me back. Quickly I drank an estus flask, but Iudex leapt at me. I screamed, and then there was darkness.
My mind was racing. I had no breath, no heartbeat. Was it over? Had I failed? I wanted to cry, to weakly sob in this abyss which enveloped me. But after what seemed like eternity, I saw light. They say when you die you see a light, and I wondered if it was the gates of heaven beckoning me to enter.
But no. It was the bonfire. As I sat staring into the flames, I felt all the rage and frustration building back up. I was trapped here. I couldn't leave. Not unless I made it through this hell-hole.
After all, that was the curse of the undead. | The voice faded into my mind as another came.
"Hey, Khontis. You seriously napping?"
My eyes opened as a strangely familiar face came to view.
"You sure know how to sleep. It was sure nice of Naoya ask us to meet him out here on a hot day like this, huh?"
I grunted and rubbed my eyes as I took him in, a blue t-shirt with a white hat, bright eyes and a bag with a laptop in it was slug over his shoulder. This was, in every sense, Atsuro.
Behind him stood a boy in a black shirt with headphones on, his eyes were careful and aware. "Kazuya met with us here." Atsuro continued, "So how have you two been? Normally I see you two during the school year so I feel like it's been forever."
Kazuya, known as Abel among his friends as his mobile handle...I couldn't help but wonder...Deep down inside how this would turn out.
Kazuya, the reincarnation of Abel. If this was the game I would think that position would be me. But with another here...
"Hey, what's wrong Khon? You doing okay?" Atsuro asked.
"Uh...fine. Anyway, what does your cousin want?"
"OH THERE You all are!" A female voice called.
"Oh hey, here comes YooHoo." Atsuro smiled.
I didn't need to look to know. A redhaired girl wearing pink. Her bag looked heavy, all I could think of as Yuzu yelled at the two boys for using her old nickname was if there was a COMP in there for me.
After a few bummed looks and sighs of disappointment Yuzu handed htem out. A blue one for Atsuro, a red one for Kazuya, a pink one for Yuzu.
She turned and tossed one into my lap.
And a purple one for me.
I opened it up but didn't bother turning it on. I knew it would have to wait for the rest, I also knew what would be said.
The Laplace Mail about the man near where Naoya lived would be killed. And later tonight the Wendigo would show up.
I would have to fight demons.
To be honest, I wasn't *too* worried. I mean at first I'd be really up a creek, always was the first time around with the first of the Bel's but I had played and beat this game so many times I understood the strategy. And I always loved the Megami Tensei games. But...
They were games. If I died here...
I'd have to live.
"Peaceful Days died. Lets survive" I whispered.
"Huh? what's wrong?" Kazuya asked.
"Nothing."
"Well... I need to do more research. Why don't you guys head off and hang around."
"Sounds good." Yuzu replied and I followed the pair as their conversation carried like I remembered.
It wasn't long before we heard a voice calling out.
"Now along with our Shomonkai, let us bring the world together! With the power of the internet the world will be one once more!"
Yuzu gripped along as Kazuya rolled his eyes and they spoke. Even more trouble.
"Hey! You coming?" Yuzu called as they moved through the crowds to leave. I held the comp tightly in my hands, not wanting to release it. There'd be trouble if I did. Soon...
I looked to my watch. It was almost six and we were walking by Omotesando.
I stood aside as the sirens wailed and Yuzu spoke about Naoya.
We hurried there, and like clockwork a tall man with long hair in a kimono looked to them. "Oh, its you guys. What are you doing here?"
His snake like eyes narrowed at me and I tensed.
Naoya, the reincarnation of Cain.
He spoke to them and continued onward past them toward me. I gritted my teeth as he spoke. "The door of truth will open. Overcome your fate."
He eyed me as they past and I glared at him. "I hope you can overcome this trial as well. Don't leave me disappointed." He whispered.
I glowered.
Naoya *knew* i didn't belong here.
"I'll try to impress." I remarked.
"What was that about?" Yuzu asked.
"Nothing. Lets go."
Kazuya's phone rang and sent us back to Atsuro.
He gave his usual computer talk before Yuzu called him to just unlock them.
I stood ready as they shined and four demons emerged. Kobold, Pixie and Kabuso all for them. Expected.
And before me going after me, was an ogre.
"Nice...Lets go!"
Yuzu screamed as the pixie went after her, Atsuro dodged the Kabuso's attack and Kazuya and I both seemed to be the first to jump to the fray.
The battle was simple but still, I could feel my adrenaline rush as I slammed into the Ogre a final time.
"YOU BEAT OGRE. OGRE NOW YOURS. USE ME IN FIGHT. FIGHT LOTS!" he said as he disappeared.
Yuzu began her freak out as Atsuro calmed her. Finally on the notion to go see Naoya we ended up back in his appartment.
"Look! It's Naoya's box!" Atsuro pointed.
"Yea. it's full of stuff. It looks like he hasn't been here in a long time." Yuzu agreed.
"So we were lucky to see my cousin."
Our Comps lit up with mail and as I read them I knew where they'd lead.
To the cemetary. To Amane.
"Should we go?" Yuzu asked.
"He did say 'person'" Kazuya noted.
"Yea. He would have said 'demon' or someone; if he meant anything else.Lets go." | 2020-02-16T23:05:47 | 2020-02-16T16:08:36 | 56 | 12 |
[WP] You see lies floating over the head of people you look at. All the lies they ever said. You met every kind of people: the ones with rivers of innocent lies, the ones with few nasty lies and everything in between. Then you met Tom. Only a lie floating over him. But the worst you ever saw. Ever. | I can still remember the first time I saw him. Thomas Deely, a tall, gangly, dorky guy at some bar uptown in my senior year of college. Before I discovered this godawful gift. He came up to me as I sat at a table chatting with my friends, fidgeting and glancing over his shoulders- completely panicked. He stuttered as he asked me for my number, his face beet-red and his friends cackling at him from a couple tables down. I was usually more cautious with giving out my number, but I had a beer and a half in me and I was feeling generous.
Two weeks later, we were dating. He was lovely. We played video games and read comics together and it was wonderful. Of course, he always was a complete nervous wreck in stressful situations. But everybody has their flaws, and there are worse flaws to have. For a while, it was perfect. That is, until I came across this power. I woke up one morning, just like any other, and there it was. Walking down the crowded streets, pristine glowing letters hovered up above every individual. Some saying things like “My dog ate it,” or “yeah, I love baseball too!”, others saying much more sinister things. Honestly, I thought I was going insane. Eventually, I found the pattern. Lies. Every single one of them- lies.
I passed thieves and murderers inconspicuously walking down the sidewalks, and nobody knew. After work, I called up Tom because I needed to vent to someone and possibly get a ride to some sort of doctor. He invited me to his apartment and I made my way over. After knocking on his door, it swung inwards and there he stood, his freckled face and deep green eyes welcoming me. My eyes darted to the letters above his head.
Three words. Perfect glowing letters cutting through the dust in the air, hanging suspended and taunting me.
“I love you.” | "Oh dear."
I'm a therapist. I'm used to hearing about some awful crap. But Tom's lie? On another level. Was he remorseful? Was he truly? I could only wonder. One lie, one lie. But it was so big, so awful. So terrible.
I'm sitting here at this cafe. Tom is a potential new colleague. He has high recommendations, a PH.D. in Sociology, a Bachelors in Psychology and Anthropology. This lie, ugh. I feel sick, sick to my stomach.
Nothing can explain such a giant lie. Why? Why would he? I don't know, and I don't want to know. I sent him away, without another thought. It wasn't appropriate. What was his lie?
"Human tastes like beef."
Of course it doesn't. It tastes like duck, maybe even a hint of goose. Much more subtle. A slight nuttiness, based off of genetic makeup and health.
I've only ever had joggers, though. | 2018-06-29T16:52:56 | 2018-06-29T12:18:39 | 67 | 24 |
[WP] Civilization lives in an ever growing tower. Through advanced tech and resource management, the population lives well enough all things considered. What's disconcerting is what becomes of the lower floors that are abandoned and locked off after a new floor is constructed.
This tower could be on a planet, in space, or anywhere in between. | Floor 3427J vacated. Resident escalation scheduled for 0800.
That's what the notice on all of our screens read. Another shift to the next floor up. Moving all of our belongings from this box to the next. The cycle of new floors at the top and 'escalation' to the vacant floor above had become normal for everyone by now.
Of course, we never ventured beyond a level or two in either direction - usually to visit with other families. The Tower was immense, easily taking two days if you were to walk completely around the square hallway lined with dwellings and common space. A single stairwell at the northwest corner was our only mode of transport between floors, controlled by the security team assigned to our floor. The checkpoint scans your resident ID and a guard accompanies you to your destination level. No unauthorized visits, no free movement between floors, and certainly no descending or ascending outside of your assigned "zone". That zone is the alphabetical designations for your numbered "floor". Each floor being more like 26 individual levels grouped together among the thousands of other numerical sections, each with their own alphabetical levels. The Tower is immeasurably massive, housing the last of humanity from the toxic environment outside. That's what we were taught as children.
Every year, another floor is completed and we move upwards. The number changes, our letter designation remains the same. The digital display on the wall shows us the level we are on and when its time to "escalate" we pack up our stuff and climb the stairs 26 levels up to our new home. The Tower always sort of "hums" with a constant vibration, the massive engines keeping ventilation and lights running and the systems that help produce our food. Everyone is used to it, just as how the furniture is always the same, only the personal belongings we bring along make the new place ours. Always that smell of fresh cleaning chemicals and as if they cranked the ventilation so it's less stale. We never go back down, we don't leave anything behind. Our guardians don't let us go back. Levels A and Z are off-limits for security and maintenance staff only. We never question the guards and generally things are pleasant.
--
My daughter left her stuffed bear. We don't go back down. The guards are busy moving people between the floors. We never go back down. I see an opportunity to slip back into the stairway past the guards. I go back down. 3426J. My badge still scans on the door and I am able to get back to our old home. I find the bear. I realize security wasn't on this level. It was empty. I return to the stairway, silence above and below other than the constant hum. We never go back down.
I descend the stairs. 3426M passes and I keep going. 3426Q. 3426 U. None of the floors have guards. 3426X. I reach 3426Z. The stairs keep going. I swipe my badge and am granted access to the maintenance level. It is empty. Rooms of equipment and supplies and uniforms, but no people. I return to the stairway. Our floor was vacant, all moved to 3427. 3425 would be getting prepared to move. I start down the stairs and come to what should be 3425A. I see the display reading 3426ZZ. I swipe my card. The door beeps and denies my access. I look at the stuffed bear in my hand, I should return but I am too far down now. We never go back down.
I can hear noise from the other side of the door. I back away, glancing up and down the stairs, my only options for escape. I go further down, but the stairs end at a single door. The display only says E-X-I-T. I swipe my badge and the green light tells me to push through.
The sunlight is blinding, the air overwhelming. I shield my eyes and try to look around. Grass and concrete, things we were told of from our historical books. Not plastic and steel like our floor. I hear the grinding and hum from our Tower behind and above me as I stumble and turn. The structure certainly towered, 2 cubes stacked inside a frame. I was grabbed from behind and dragged away as I watched the lower cube slide out from under the top and slowly swap places. We never go down and we never go up. | Kiro looked up the Chamber, past the network of sky bridges and civilian balloons, and into the clouds above. It was not every day that she got to have a day off, and even less that she would be able to find a time where the observation floor was not filled with people.
Above her was the expansion floor, but beyond that, which she could barely catch a glimpse of, was the final floor. Referred to by officials as just 'The First Floor', but to civilians like her as the Departure Deck, exactly for that reason: Because those who leave that floor never come back.
But instead, through packages attached to parachutes, stories come. A completely unimaginable world, a world where there is no up, no down, no walls, a world so free and so unfamiliar that none who have been there has been able to describe it. Some describe of a great big glowing ball of fire, others describe of many tiny little ones, sometimes paired with a glowing ring with a part cut off.
The glowing ring with a part cut off. The emblem of all those who ascend into the clouds. The emblem that Kiro wears on her chest proudly, symbolising that she is almost of age to begin her ascent.
To Kiro, becoming one of the ascenders have been her only true meaning to life. Raised by her uncle, a forager on the walls of the chamber just below the clouds, Kiro knows the chamber more than anyone else. She knows every plant that grows on the walls of the chamber, every winged beast which might fetch for a decent amount of coin down in the markets.
Down in the floors below were never where Kiro enjoyed being. But as part of her training as an ascender, she would have to go to the floors to learn more about manoeuvring a balloon, to learn how to send messages down back to the floors, all the stuff that Kiro honestly couldn't care less about, or already knew. If it wasn't for those damn clouds, she thought to herself, I would have climbed bare handed straight up into the world above.
However, the shrieks of the beasts below shook her back to reality. Squinting, she could barely make out the bottom few floors, which have already been evacuated and harvested for useful resources. There, Kiro could see teeny tiny monsters, although extremely large face to face, take apart the lowest floor. Kiro felt a strange sadness go through herself. This phenomena happens every single day, every single second, but yet she still didn't understand it. All the memories lost in those floors, she thought to herself. She imagined whether it was a farming floor which has just been lost, where plants Kiro harvested with her uncle have been planted and grown. Or it could have been a housing floor, where many children spent their childhood in, before inevitably becoming a worker on the expansion floor extending the floors upwards, or becoming a miner who digs for resources and perhaps a way out of this wretched place into the infinite world above.
But Kiro knew that she would find that infinite world. After all, it was her duty and destiny to become an ascender. With a hand on her chest and a smile on her face, she looked back up into the clouds.
For she knew, the limitless world out there was waiting.
*****
Hey, first time writing a WP, please don't overload me with *too* much criticism. This prompt was inspired by an ~~anime~~ TV Show called Made In Abyss. And yes, thats why she is called Kiro.
Also, somebody call Roboragi. | 2018-03-20T07:23:26 | 2018-03-20T06:43:49 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] You were the hero, the prophesied savior of the world. But you are so very tired of sacrificing for the greater good, of having to do the right thing at your expense. So when they ask you to do it again, you say no. | As I stood in the mayor's office, listening to his wants to help the city, I began to think.
I am so tired of being treated like this. I coke from a world of magic, and wonder. This place had none of that. And sure the Magium wasn't the best of the realms but it was home. I came here in order to help balance this unstable world. And what do I get?
Nothing. That's what.
Actually, I'm getting less than nothing. Everything I do for them is at my expense. What the fuck am I going to do with the key to the city? Nothing. At least pay me. But no, apparently "truly good people shouldn't want anythign back" well fuck that. I'm not a good person. Nobody is. You don't bite the hand that feeds you, lest you get struck. And that's what will happen for them. Crimes rates will increase, eiosmts may ensue. And hell, I'd probably join the villains side. At least they have a union. Me and my rival are pretty much actors, anyway. They kill some citizens, I stop them, we do it again the next week. We don't even hate each other, we actually hang out occasionally.
"What do you mean 'no?'" the mayor asked. I sighed.
"I mean no. Now, au revoir, you asshole." I said, gripping the air as if I was choking him. His throat began to close, feeling the effects of my power. I lifted him in the air, and closed my fist. There was a satisfying crunch, followed by the thud of the mayor hitting the ground, blood pooling out of his throat. There was an explosion, and my nemesis stepped into the hole the explosion had made.
"I already killed him, Chara. No need to fight today. But they're probably going to hunt me down for this. So I have a proposition." I said, stepping over the mayor, and sitting in his chair. Chara nodded, intrigued.
"I want to be your roommate. They'd easily find me with my current address. They've never found you before. And I'd even team up with you. And we'd get to go to that ice cream place more often. What do you say, Chara? Yes or no. Make your choice." I said, leaning in, a grin spreading across my face. Chara grinned back.
"Of course. Just think of all we could do..." | I stepped up to the microphone, and was nervous. Slowly I started speaking:
"My friends, today I stand before you in a state of melancholia. I know that each one of you has your own struggles and burdens to bear, and I do not wish to burden you with my own. But I must speak of my journey."
A sad beat filled the speakers. My voice deepens, and I start rapping.
"Ya'll wanna give me medals and cheer me on,
Sayin' I'm a hero but it's not that strong
I'm just trying to take a day off and have some fun,
It's time to take a break so let me run!
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die
All this talk of destinies and warriors,
Always expectin' me to do more
Actions have consequences, that's what I'm seein',
But I can't keep giving up my bein'
All these words flyin' in the air,
Don't wanna go through it no more despair
I won't play your game, no more of this fame,
Gonna take a breather, change my own name
I said no, no need to try,
Stop askin' me to sacrifice
Been livin' tough but I'm gettin' by,
Time to take a break or else I'll die"
And so, I waked off the stage and into the new unknown. | 2022-12-12T14:29:09 | 2022-12-12T12:29:40 | 76 | 10 |
[WP] "So they are a war species then, huh." The alien scratched his head: "Why are you interested in them. The humans, i mean." The other alien got closer. "They fight for peace. No war species ever fights for peace." | "So what if they fight for peace? They are still a war species? They may as well Glodixanc."
"Let me ask you something, are you scared of the Glodixanc?" the response came back from an alien in deep thought.
"No, why would I be scared? We aren't a war species. Thier wouldn't be any martial honour in them attacking us."
"Exactly and that's why the humans fascinate and scare me."
"I don't get the point you are trying to make you just said they fight for peace. Why would you be scared of a species that want peace?"
"Because they will not enter the galactic community as a war species looking to gain martial honour by fighting some other war species in the glory of combat. They will come like we did, they will come as friends, 70% of the earth's surface is sodium dihydrohen oxide think of the trading relations they will be able to build with that. They will very quickly establish themselves in the galaxy and establish there status quo of peace which they will do absolutely anything to maintain. The humans have a saying 'You can get further with a smile and a gun then you can with just a smile' the humans will come with their smiles and guns and nobody will be able to stop them, and trust me they are coming.
| "They fight for Peace?" The Alien scratched his head again. "Pretty much, Yes." The other Alien said. "But, why would they fight for peace? Isn't that a little Ironic?" The Alien said ,baffled at what the other Alien said. "This species has been fighting each other since their very beginning, from the smallest to the biggest of conflicts." "They have made songs, poems, music, and songs about war." The other Alien Said. (First time writing here, do apologize if this seems bad) | 2018-03-17T05:16:44 | 2018-03-17T01:07:51 | 65 | 31 |
[WP] “Although we are grateful to you for defeating our oppressors, you were meant to die in battle…” your “allies” suddenly turned their weapons on you, “Your sacrifice will not be forgotten.” | I was an outcast amongst my blood, a demon who hated demon kind , one who had a heart that could even hold weapons made of light normally painfully blinding to most demons.
But even so , the people I chose to join , I was still an outcast , the humans seemed to tolerate my existence , the orca welcomed me, strength was something I had in droves so the orcs seen me as an equal , but the elves…. The elves detested me to no end no matter what good I did , no matter how many I helped , no matter that I helped to fend off demons , to them I was just another monster.
It made me avoid them , the humans atleast understood I helped as much as they didn’t like what I was…. It led to me never wanting to travel with elves… I never could trust them… and that lack of trust was very well earned….
It was a Thursday , a demon had been sighted along the forest edge , seemed to be causing a problem , I joined up with a team who I knew well , Giratuk was one of my closest friends…. Another, a human, Dave , he was kind to me… but the other one… Mark… he was one who just tolerated me… we unfortunately had a small group of elves join us , neither me nor them liked the arrangement but Mark of all people insisted.
We ventured out to push back or even better , kill the demon , I tried to reason with them but it was fruitless generally. The battle was difficult , and it cost us dearly… Dave was injured badly and Tuk…. I also nearly died that day as well… but not to the demon…..
“ it’s fleeing , that wretched thing is making way to the mountain pass “ the far elf shouted
I was at the vanguard , I had pushed the demon back and over powered it , he knew well enough he stood no chance so he fled , one cut from my sword was enough….
But before I could turn and celebrate our victory I felt a sharp pain in my side to only see Mark and the elves near me , blade impaled to my side…
“ but why….. Mark…. We travelled together for so long…. “
“ oh I know , and I’ve hated every minute of it , you wretched scum trying to pass as a person , my parents were killed by a monster like you and you should all die “ he twisted his blade inside… it was one enchanted with the blinding light that was a bane to my kind…. “ with this , you will perish finally , now that the mottled corpse over there can’t be your friend anymore and Dave is unconscious , none will be the wiser , no , they will sing songs of your sacrifice here to stop the demon “
I could see the dark blood staining the floor… I felt dizzy like everything was spinning , he ripped his blade out and grabbed me by my horns before I could fall to the ground
“ this baneful touch will be a slow painful death for you, but you deserve all the pain “ he spit in my face and let me fall.
I knew what those weapons did to my kind… I wielded one myself … the more evil the demon the more it burned them… I figured I was done for and took one swing at Mark… as he begun to turn around… his head rolled along the ground as he fell over…. I condemned myself to my demise and let my eyes close…
But I awoke later… a traveling orc seen the massacre and went to inspect the bodies…. He was going to finish me off when he seen Tuks necklace on me… he recognized it was a gift given only to friends of the orcs so he patched me up
The wound seemed to heal like normal , I’ve seen demons die from just a cut of my blade but I was impaled and survived…. Does the magic not work on me? Am I a good enough person that it can tell?
As I tried to move I seen Dave… he limped over to me… he seemed grateful I was alive… the orc gave me Tuks teeth… he said as his death bearer I had to deliver them back to his family… Dave said he would join me…
I still couldn’t believe it… Mark had betrayed me… and Tuk is dead …. As I write this his wife and kids are crying…. One day I will find those elves… I could of swore that his body had arrows in it that day…. | My hands were shaking and covered in some mix of substances that I *really* didn't want to think about. The hall was almost silent, but my own shaky breathing broke the illusion.
I swallowed hard, composing myself like I had hundreds of times before, and turned to the doors where I knew my team was waiting. I plastered on a huge grin, whistled, and watched as the huge things opened.
"Holy..." Aaron walked up to me, brushing a hand along the gash in my stomach. "How bad?"
I shrugged. "Meh, I've had worse. What about you?"
He gestured to the others. Katrina was holding a very sharp and very bloody piece of wood, and Rachet was covered in that black goop that seemed to go everywhere when you blew this dude's minions up.
"Well, you're all alive, that's good." I muttered, turning back to the mutilated corpse that was just kind of lying at my feet. Wrapping my arms around his chin, I pulled as hard as I could until I felt his helm shift. Obviously the blood everywhere helped, but it was still an absolute pain to get the thing off, even with the help of the others.
But once we did, I finally lost my lunch.
I'd say I'm pretty good at keeping my guts down. I can bottom a tankard and walk...mostly straight, and I spent my teenage years in the slums so I've seen my fair share of corpses, but as soon as that guy's face came into view I turned away and hurled. His entire head looked like the aftermath of one of Aaron's potion mistakes; covered in burns and with the skin slipping off like an oversized tunic.
Someone, I think it was Katrina, patted my back until I'd puked up every meal for the past week. I stood up, probably looking like I'd just risen from the grave and wiped my mouth off.
"What...the good Gods...is that?"
I turned to look at the person beside me, Katrina, and was absolutely shocked by what I saw. You see, Kat's a warrior; she fought for the Red Queen before her highness was overthrone. All that happened when I was just a kid, so all I know is that she was a just ruler who never allowed any kind favourites in her court, which made a lot of stuck up snobs angry because they had to share a table with the poor people. Eventually this bloke (the one lying dead and heavily disfigured at my feet) had gathered enough of those snobs to form an army without her knowledge, whom he then used to storm her castle, and eventually execute her.
Katrina saw all of this, and she couldn't have been older than me when it happened. I have a lot of respect for her, really. So you can imagine my shock when I saw her looking just as disgusted as me.
"I have no idea, but I want it out of my sight." She snarled, keeping a hand on my shoulder.
"I...I think we have other problems." Rachet said, and I turned to see him staring out the window.
"What?"
He turned back, his eyes wide with confusion. "The chosen one is here."
Part one: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/yf4vs5/wp_you_are_the_chosen_one_and_now_you_face_your/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=mweb
Part 2 will be in the comments! | 2022-11-01T18:43:48 | 2022-11-01T15:14:16 | 71 | 45 |
[WP] You are immortal, but a quirk of your condition also renders the person nearest to you immortal as well. A selfish king obsessed with living forever has gone to extreme lengths to keep you as the closest person to them at all times. | My mother was supposed to die in childbirth. And she did, later on. I had been born to a corpse more than any living thing. She was barely alive, and the doctors weren't quite aware of it, the medical field being mostly guesswork at the time. It wasn't like a lot of work was being put into treating women anyway, not when everything could so easily be written off as 'Hysteria'.
But even they eventually caught on, turns out when you can't stop bleeding its a bad thing. She'd been holding me ever since my birth, and as they realized my mother was not healthy, they pulled me away from her so they could see if they could fix it. The very second I was pulled from her arms she died.
I wonder, sometimes, if she hated those moments or loved them. If she was happy to be gifted with a few blessed moments of time with her newborn child or if she suffered in her state of unending pain until I was finally pulled away from her to give her the pleasant release of death.
So I lived forever, it was a strange thing to come to terms with. I survived all manner of plagues from black on up, I was a consort to kings and an advisor to queens. I gained a reputation as unkillable, and that made me the subject of assassination plots. I survived knives delivered so enthusiastically into my back and I survived being sunk in the ocean with an anchor wrapped around me.
And another survived those things too, not by his own virtue, just by proximity. He grew obsessed with the fact that I was... too good at keeping him safe. He was a child when we first met, and I had not appeared to age since then. He grew from second to the throne to prince to king. I assisted him every step, and he grew to depend on me.
One day, after a "failed" robbery on our chariot as we traveled, he demanded to know my secret. He wanted to know what magic or curse kept us both alive. I told him, like the fool I was, and I regretted it every moment after. I felt a romance towards him, that I of course could not tell him about. When he had begun to lead his people with faith and truth and justice, I fell for him. I had long sought to be beside him, but in this moment when he learned the truth of my abilities, he suffocated me with his presence. He choked me with demands and threats. He spoiled whatever I felt for him in the passage of two days.
The king in his fear of death, which I can not blame him for I suppose, began to demand absolute attendance. Even as he married, even as the queen moved through dangerous country, even as danger lurked ever present around him he kept me by his side. He lied through his teeth with reasons. I believe, had I not been born a male, he would have wed me instead of the queen. A thought which might have been romantic were it not motivated by such intense fear and greed and selfishness.
This all culminated through his reign until, on a ruinous night of fog and death, the Queen was giving birth to twins. The king had long been corrupted by his obsession with immortality, and sat in the throne room, even as handmaids and midwives ran through the halls.
She was not doing well.
I sighed as I rested my hand on the pommel of my sword. It was not a sigh of disrespect. It was more a sigh of a man who knew that an unfortunate time had come, a desicion born from the frantic running feet I heard in the hall just beyond. I made to leave.
"Where are you going!" The King shouted, his voice ringing out before I could take a single step.
"To go see the Queen, since you neglect her so." I turned to face him. "Your. Wife." I stressed, as much an effort to shake the King to his senses as it was to wrap my own head around how much he had changed.
"I did not say you could leave! You will remain here, by my command." He said, brushing aside my words without a thought.
I sighed again and drew my sword, closing the distance to him. He looked to my sword, then to me, and he couldn't seem to piece together what it meant. He had long stopped fearing death, it had been several years. What he feared now was isolation. He would be reminded of the former and receive the latter.
He gave a single word of resistance as I drove my blade through his lungs and into the throne. He could not speak, and he could not die. He desperately tried to remove my blade, but he had not the strength to do so.
"You will know when I've arrived to comfort your wife, there will be a moment where you truly begin to bleed out, a moment where you die." I walked to the doors of the throne room and paused at the threshold. "I'll send her your regards."
Then I closed and locked the door behind me.
I arrived as the twins emerged, and I saw a sight I had not seen in a long while. The queen lay there on the bed, bleeding profusely. As I looked to her I felt, in my bones, that I had seen this before, but I could not remember where. Then, as she convulsed suddenly, I remembered.
I rushed to her side, the crowd around her making way as I entered the circle. Whispering a sudden gout of gossip that my appearance sparked. I leaned next to her ear, tears beginning to swell in my eyes. "My Queen I bring sad news."
"My husband-!" The queen gasped suddenly.
"No, not your husband. The king is on his throne, as always, your majesty." I said, raising my voice so as to quell any worries from those who had heard the queen's outburst. "No, the news is about yourself. I have seen this before. You will not survive childbirth your majesty."
She was silent for a moment, then spoke in a steady even voice, matching my hushed volume. A feat and a half, given the incredible pain she must've been in. "I know that, advisor, I can feel it. But I do not regret it, I hope only that they will have a better life than I." She breathed deeply. "My only regret is that I will not be able to hold my children."
I was about to speak but stopped myself, my hand still resting, knuckles whitening, on her shoulder. I thought about the results of the last time I had told my secret to another, and I shook it off. "Your majesty, I can do something about that." She looked to me in confusion and shock, her face and eyes red from tears and exhaustion. "While my hand is on your shoulder you will not pass, but this pain will not abate. I can... give you time to hold your children your majesty."
The confusion faded from her face and relief spread instead. "That's why my husband always kept you so close." She smiled like a strategist who had just solved a puzzle. "I always worried that he- that you two-."
"Of course not your majesty, he truly loved you."
"He just feared death more" She said with a sly grin. She looked to the midwife as she lifted a pair of newborns, a boy and a girl.
I stayed with her through the night, a pair of guards made to open the throne room but with the door locked decided that the king must be working through the night, and they left to the barracks. I stayed with the Queen and her children as black night and thick fog encircled castle and country and I did not leave her until, at the break of the next day, she looked at me and she nodded.
Carefully, slowly, I released my grip on her shoulder and I watched as the life drained from her.
I made sure the children were taken care of, and I left. Informing a half-asleep guard at the gate that I had murdered the king, at which he smiled like it was a joke, then grew more worried as I walked away without returning a smile of my own.
I made my way to the forest, and I found an abandoned hut I had used so many years ago to hide myself away. I would come back to society one day, I just needed a break.
| I shan't tell you all the terrible details. I have grown weary of whispering in the king's ear all the tortures he once made me endure. He has had a thousand years to repent. Sometimes at night he sobs, but he shall never let me go free.
It is spring to-day. On the first day of spring the servants of the royal house carry the throne through the palace, through the gardens, into the old forest where the court sometimes hunts. The throne sits under the canopy of a great oak tree, planted a thousand years ago, when the forest was all marshland - oh, how I remember.
The king holds his court in the forest, under the venerable tree. His people, who deem him a kind and just tyrant, say that oak trees are solid and bring wisdom, and that the king sits underneath the oak tree for this reason. They say he will hear the doleances of all men, however mean their station, and stand on equal ground with them among the roots of the great oak tree. Yet I, I know, for I have lived a thousand cursed years and I once heard that a murderer always returns to the scene of his crime.
The king seats himself beneath the great oak tree, between the two instruments of his reign: the ebony throne below and the ivory crown above. I am set above all the assembly, watching the court gather in their clothes threaded in gold. The fashion of the aristocracy is much changed since I was a child a thousand years ago.
Roots creak over my head. I am set below the whole of the assembly, and I can hear the common folk starting to arrive at the place of meeting. The gait of the nobles is graceful, light - they probably had tutors even in walking as children. I know the gait of the commoners by its heaviness - it plods through mud while the nobles tread lightly on grass.
The first plea to the king is made by a father whose daughter has been raped by the lord who owns his farm. It probably would sound wretched were the farmer's despairing voice not muffled by several feet of hard-packed forest soil. The king judges as fairly as any tyrant may - the family is to be given gold and a cow. I suppose a cow must be exceptional riches when you have need of sustenance to survive. I can't quite recall. All the details of existence are so far away now.
The crown digs heavily into the king's brow, the constant sting of accusation. It gleams white in the sunlight of spring. A thousand years of reign and the king has never let anyone touch the crown, not any of his three queens, none of his long-gone children, none of his numerous lovers. It has been a long, lonely existence, spent protecting his most valuable possession.
I stand above all the congregation, I sleep far away below their feet. The second petition is a young woman with a child's voice, or perhaps a child taller than most womenfolk. Her gimlet eyes stare verdant amid tresses of wild red hair. She stands unafraid before the king though she is poor and barefooted.
She comes closer than most dare, harmlessly, innocently. I shall grow obsessed with the green of her eyes if I must see her for much longer. Her petition is some petty small thing, but she has the king engrossed and all her audience too. It is dangerous to wrap a storyteller's skill in such a pretty package. She is so close to the king now. She strikes quick as a snake.
Her grasping fingers close around my ribs. Below the earth, my heart beats a tattoo so strong it shall surely make the ground quake. It is the first time in a thousand years that I have felt human touch that wasn't my king's.
He tries to grab me back, to call the guards, but he is as a lost child without the ivory crown whispering into his ear - venom and advice, it always depended on my mood. She slips easily into the panicked crowd, holding half of me in her trembling hands. Against my bone I feel her thrumming pulse, but as she hurries through undergrowth away from the great oak tree I can hear my febrile king gather his wits and order her pursuit, far above the place where I sleep.
She has carried me into an alcove between two townhouses and she has seated herself there with all her skirts in a heap when I finally summon enough courage to berate her.
"You fool!" I hiss. She springs to her feet at my voice. "You have no idea what it is you've just done!"
She recovers from her surprise much too quickly and a smile blooms on her face. "Grandfather!" she exclaims. "So you can speak?"
"By God! Indeed I can - pray tell, what did you name me?" The king stands on my grave and rages as patrol after patrol comes back empty-handed.
"I called you grandfather, for it would be very tiring to call you great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great -great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-granduncle all the time, for that is what you are to me." The way my little descendant beams at me makes my heart melt. What a picture we are, a young girl smiling at a white crown in a darkened alcove.
"You have put yourself in great danger, child," I tell her, for if she is my kin I must save her. I have not felt as a creature of flesh and blood for nigh a thousand years, but she makes my heart beat and my veins remember what it felt like to be flowing with the liquor of life. It is almost not to be borne that this fresh flower and my decayed husk, sleeping ribless between the deepest roots of a great oak tree, should be of the same blood.
"Grandfather, I have delivered you from the evil king! He shall die now, as your brother my ancestor died without the benediction of your immortality." She gives me the news apologetically, as if I had not got used to the fact of my brother's unnecessary death a long time ago.
"The immortal king," say I, carefully, "a thousand years ago took four ribs from a man and fashioned them into a crown which he has worn on his head every day for a thousand years. The crown is me. The remains of the man, heart still beating and bound to beat forevermore, were thrown into the marshlands. There they sank and there they lie still, deeply buried under an oak tree planted a thousand years ago, around which grew the dark forest from which you have just escaped." Her fair skin has become so much paler. "That body is also me."
"The king is not to be played for a fool," I tell her wearily. I can hear spades striking above my head. "His guards are digging up my grave now. He shall remain immortal, and he shall come after you."
"What do I do?" asks the poor, generous, terrified child, who tried to save my useless life for a family legend.
"Run," I tell her. "Run, and keep me with you, and I will take you far away from the king." Pain bursts just below my eye as a spade's sharp edge catches there. I hear a cry to halt. I smell spring for the first time in a thousand years. "Run, for they are coming." | 2017-05-13T08:16:17 | 2017-05-13T07:19:37 | 277 | 74 |
[WP] After you have died, you meet The Great One who says that you have been wronged in your previous life and, as a result, will be reincarnated with unimaginable powers. You accept the offer and you find yourself reincarnated in a fantasy world full of magic as...a slave? | "Wake up, scum!" I heard, followed by a swift kick to the side. Pain rippled from my ribs.
I rolled over and curled into a ball on the ground, straw sticking to my sweaty skin. Shackles around my wirst kept me from guarding my face.
"I said wake up, not fall back asleep!"
This time the pain sprung from my back.
I staggered to my feet, bending over to recover from the rude awakening. The braces on my arms held me tied to a post, though there were no chains between them. It was as if they were tied by an invisible thread. Even without a mirror, I could tell I looked nothing like I ever knew myself. I remembered being small, pale, and aged - wrinkles on my face told many tales of struggle. Now, my body was bronze and muscular, and barely a cloth wrapped around my waste. Scars covered my body from wounds I gladly did not remember. Blood trickled down my side where the boot had hit me.
This was the body of a work animal. Strong and powerful, but beaten to keep under control. Fed only to be strong enough for work.
This was the body of a slave.
If this was The Great One's idea of redeeming a life of unfair treatment, it must not know what fair would mean.
I was in what looked like a stable, though I saw no animals. There were several stalls throughout, separated by thick wooden beams. The roof was patched many times over, leaking sunlight through the cracks overhead. A thin layer of straw lay on the ground beneath me, and much of it was stained red.
As I stood up straight, two men looked me over. Behind them in the distance sat a massive manor, eligantly designed and decorated. A river of busy workers flowed around its grounds, while others more watched and ordered their work.
The men were dressed in metal armor, covering their whole body except their head and hands. A strange symbol was engraved on their breastplates. The one on the left held a wooden baton. I looked down at his boot, the tip of which was covered in blood.
"Glad to see you awake, boy." He spat at my feet. "Thought we had lost you before your time. Blasphemy is a hell of a crime, and you have a lot more blood to pay."
This wasn't a stable, it was a prison.
"Ain't it enough, Gelion?" the one on the right said. "We nearly killed him already."
"Only 'cause you didn't heal him quick enough."
"You hit too fast for me to keep up."
"What you staring at, boy?"
I realized their attention turned back to me, and the one called Gelion burned his eyes at me.
"Enough!"
The two men went rigid, faster than their instincts may have naturally led them.
A third man strode into view. He was not dressed in armor, but rather white robes and a pointed hat. His grey beard hung beyond his neckline. He carried a staff in one hand, which stood to his shoulders from the ground. Near the top it was crossed by a short wooden bar with inset gemstones, looking like a sword gilt turned upside down.
"You two have killed nearly half of my workforce this year. I should soon set you to work if you keep it up."
He tipped his staff toward me and a flash of light came from its tip. A surge of fear rushed through me, but instead of an attack, I felt the shackles on my wrists disappear. I was no longer tethered to the post.
"Lord Nantas," stammered the one on the right. "We were just doing our job."
"And there will be more to do after this, Jethro. Now both of you move along."
Like they had been released from a firm grip, the two men stumbled backwards, then hurried away toward the manor.
*You haven't spoken sense you arrived,* I heard within my head. His eyes were fixed on me.
"Was... was that you I just heard? In my head?"
"Indeed. I am glad you have come," he said aloud. "I sense a greatness within you. Let me show you how to use it."
Another flash from his staff sent a warmth through my skin. The scars from prior beatings began to shrink, healing to perfect tenderness.
"Walk with me, and I'll explain what's happened to you." | [Part Four](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/gorzct/wp_youre_the_apprentice_to_a_powerful_witch_and/fri75pe?utm_medium=android_app&utm_source=share)
I kept my eyes down as the procession of the Empress and all her attendants passed by. The air was as hot as an oven, without even a breeze to relieve summer's oppression, and the basalt paving stones beneath my bare feet burned my skin. But I obediently lowered myself to my knees and then to my face as my master's masters passed by, making their way up the winding road to his castle. The scalding rock would be nothing compared to my master's fury if I dishonored him.
With my right cheek pressed against the sizzling stone, I saw up the road a young mother drop some of the berries in the basket she tried to balance on her head. They rolled into the road before the procession's lead, and her small child hastily darted out to gather the precious fruits before they were trampled underfoot. She couldn't grab his arm in time to stop him.
An electrifying sensation stirred from deep within my breast, and all the rays of light beating down from the sun or reflecting off of conical helms or polished belt buckles or vicious swords and spears seemed to focus directly on the small boy desperately trying to collect the stray berries. I knew they would trample _him_ underfoot without a moment of hesitation. His mother hissed at him, torn between breaking protocol to grab him and waiting to see if he made it back in time. But I knew he wouldn't. He was dead and he didn't even realize it yet.
So I changed his fate.
I pushed all thoughts of the pain as my skin cooked upon the hot stones to the back of my head and reached out to the boy with the power that coiled like a sentient serpent in my belly. I took a breath, and I put only the thought of him making it to safety in my mind. And then I exhaled, and the power went out into the world.
The lead horse stumbled over a pebble in the road, its step faltering for just half a second. With a burst of speed, the small boy grabbed up the last berry and sprinted back to his mother, moments before the mighty horses trotted by with crushing hooves. His mother held him close, scolding him with but a look, as they bowed before the Empress.
I inhaled the stifling air, trembling as the stones seared my skin. Once the procession passed, my master's slave manager harried me and the rest of his stock, thwacking his long reed switch against the bottoms of our feet to make us rise more quickly. I hastily gathered up the sandbags I had been carrying, trying not to grimace at the burlap cloth chafed my reddened arms. We hurried back to the incomplete gladiatorial arena that my master was commissioning for the town, but I thought only of the little boy I had saved.
I was glad my powers could help him. And I was lucky that my master had not figured out that I had such tremendous power. Every time I used it was a gamble, and with every treacherous breath, I feared that I would be discovered. But I had to help people. I couldn't just do nothing if I had so much power to help others.
But I always wondered the same thing whenever I helped another person. Why, if I had so much power, could I never change my own fate? | 2020-06-07T11:50:02 | 2020-06-07T11:37:50 | 24 | 17 |
[WP] The blacksmith won't sell you any weapon, the guards insist you stay in the city and the mages refuse to teach you any dangerous spell. Maybe that eternal youth potion was a terrible idea after all. | "I would like to buy that necklace." I said to the woman behind the counter. She smiled at me, amused. "The one with the diamond."
"I think that one's a bit out of your price range, sweetie." She said kindly. Not an unusual reaction, but it still frustrated me. Even so the kindness on her face took the sting from her words.
"Please, I have the money. It's for... An anniversary present. To celebrate forty five years." That was true, at least.
"Oh, for your grandparents? That's so sweet of you! You know, if you keep up that attitude, a handsome young man like yourself could marry any lass he chooses." She gushed.
I knew that. I had married the lass I wanted, forty five years ago. I'd done well in the spice trade, and retired in my sixties. When Iris fell ill, her mind beginning to flee, I'd sought out an alchemist who promised he could restore her youth. Mine too. I paid him well, even provided the materials. The potions worked, perhaps a little too well. I had the body of a 14 year old, and had had it for five years. I hadn't aged a day. I realized I hadn't responded and so simply answered "thank you, ma'am."
Her smile still wide, she leaned across the counter and spoke in a low voice. "Diamonds are pretty, sure, but not pretty enough for the price." She placed something on the counter. I looked and saw a jade pendant. Iris loved green.
"I'll take it." I said, paid and then left. The interaction nettled me, but was much kinder than most. Barkeeps wouldn't serve me ale, and the last time I tried to purchase property the broker wouldn't even speak to me.
I met Iris in the town square. She looked irritated. "Any luck at the archive?" I asked.
"Turned away." She said, sadly. "Again. I just want to learn a little magic."
"I know, love." I said. She looked the same age as I. She was beautiful the day I married her, and she had aged like the finest wine. Now she was like a flower yet to bloom. Her heart was the same, though, and she could look like a troll for all I cared. It was her heart I loved. "The blacksmith sold me a few knives but wouldn't even show me the swords. I got you something." I held out the pendant.
"It's beautiful." She said, putting it on. Her smile was genuine, but would falter in a few moments, I knew.
"So I've been thinking. We can't buy magic, we can't buy weapons, we can't buy armor. The guard won't even let us out of the walls." It pained me to say the words. "But there's one thing we haven't tried for adventure."
"Oh?" She asked, surprised.
"Have you ever thought about being a rogue?" I asked. "If we can't buy, maybe we can steal."
Her eyes widened in surprise, then slowly a mischievous grin spread across her face. | “*QUEST COMPLETE*” slowly faded from the black screen, Hogran awoke in his bed. He quickly checked his status bar. No heart problems, no myopia, no cancer. Elador, the old mage who gave him the eternal youth quest wasn’t lying about his instruction list. The hardest fetch quest of Hogran’s career was finally over. He sank into his bed and gave a high-pitched sigh of relief
Hogran remembered that his shield broke fighting the reanimated corpses of those who failed the ritual, so he marched over to the blacksmith.
“I need you to fix this shield… wait. Why is there a red X on it?”
“This weapon can only be wielded by those with the age of 16 or older”
“how old am I?’
“12”
All his weapons and armor were unwearable. The blacksmith could not legally repair or barter weapons with a child. The only weapons available were a toy sword and a slingshot. He tried the same with the mage who could only sell the spell “Sparkler”. The only positive of the situation was that the innkeeper could sell booze to whoever.
Elador said the potion would return him to the golden age of 18, not to his wimpy 12 year old self. Hogran would rather be one of those reanimated skeletons he fought because at least then he would to wield a proper sword.
Hogran had some drinks and bought a slingshot before he set on his way to kick this Elador guys ass. But the gate guard stopped him “Its too dangerous out there for a child.” Hogran was pissed and his newly found liver was very bad at handling alcohol. He drunkenly raised his slingshot and fully extended it towards the guards unflinching face. And he let go.
But a small hand knocked the rock out just before. And Hogran was confronted by a child named Brent
“Children who commit crimes don’t go to a cozy jail cell, they get sent to the orphanage. I’m guessing you talked to Elador”
“How did you…”
“you think you were the first”
Five more drunk 12-year-olds emerged from the shadows.
“come with us we have a plan…” | 2019-06-07T09:55:24 | 2019-06-07T09:49:03 | 119 | 30 |
[WP] Write the letter that you always wanted to, but never did.
Most of the writing prompts I see on here are for fictional stories, but this is only one small corner of the larger art of writing. In this prompt, I'd like you to consider writing something a little more personal, and in a form that you might not have otherwise considered... Letters.
Perhaps you'd like to write a letter confessing your love to a long forgotten crush? A letter to your boss telling them exactly what you think of them? A letter to your school bully? Maybe a letter to your childhood hero telling them how much you were inspired by their career?
Be creative, be inventive, but most of all - be expressive. :D | Dear Matthew.
I don't hate you any longer. I have found it in my heart to let go and let everything be the way it is. I have accepted it. Maybe it's more for my own sense of sanity, but I have. None the less, I will never forget, or excuse you from your actions.
Ella is growing up fast, and Nick has already started elementary school. I guess you would sometimes wonder what they're doing. They're happy, and as for me, I'm happy too even if it took me many years to get here.
I remember the first time I saw you, it was almost 12 years ago now. Time is such a funny thing. I would never have seen this coming around the corner that hot and sticky summer day when you gave me my first kiss and stole my heart away. I knew from that second that you would have a huge impact on my life, like it was something written in the stars or something. I guess I was right, even though it wasn't the kind of impact I had imagined.
You were always battling your demons, and I guess I should've been foresightful enough to leave. But I was just a silly high school girl, madly in love. With the years I grew to attached to let go. I guess that's partly my mistake too. I always wanted to make it work, no matter what the cost. But the price was too high in the end.
I met someone, and he makes me happy. He's everything I could ever wish for. He makes Ella smile, sings me Beatles songs in the shower and he teaches Nick about everything you never will. It hurts me, to a degree, but I can't live in the hurt anymore. You made your decision, and it will always pain me but I can't let you haunt me like this anymore.
I'm never going to forget but I have to let you go.
I will always remember.
Jenna | To whom it may concern,
Helpless; this is the word that best defines my current state. Chained by aliments that only my debilitated will can cure. Confusion is the whip that heavily decorates my back with scars and sends blood wrenching echoes of ripping flesh to the depths of soul. My cuts burn and spew blood; the cost for the wisdom I am unwillingly gaining. Life; the tormentor that laughably wields the whip; forcing me to scream; forcing me to cry; forcing me to accept what I believe to be unacceptable. Patience whispers sweet words of hope claiming to be in the near future if I just wait. But time whispers in my other ear encouraging me to act; reminding me that I am not here forever. So here I am, broken; left with no plead unspoken; accepting the fact that I am not in control and that no savior or freedom will come. So I will wear the mask of happiness to hide the tears of despair; silently hoping, begging to survive.
-Mr_jisho | 2015-12-05T13:52:07 | 2015-12-05T13:29:19 | 181 | 49 |
[WP] It's been 5 years since North Korea has gone dark, no communications in or out and the Northern posts of the DMZ have remained vacant; your heading the advance team entering North Korea to investigate what happened. This is your report. | 0200 Day 1: Entered Northern DMZ from reference point alpha, expecting mines as advised. No mines were detected, but as we moved to exit the DMZ on the northern end a young boy was sighted, standing at the right side of the gate, staring sightlessly across the pathway through. We avoided the youngster, cutting through the fence at entry point alpha backup.
0600 Day 1: Began our movement north to Pyongyang. Followed the recommended path to the coast near Namp'o. Along the way more people sighted behaving like the boy from the DMZ exit. All standing still, none moving, though we did not approach and stayed clear of line of sight. As best we can tell, these people are inexplicably healthy given that they do not take care of themselves. Some few will walk, but only in short square patterns, endlessly repeating. Heat scans show them at normal body temperature, and as best we can tell they are breathing. Will begin close examination of affected North Koreans when we reach Pyongyang.
0800 Day 2: We have reached Namp'o, and while we have found more affected people we have successfully avoided contact, and stayed clear of both high grass and heavily forested areas to avoid potential surprise attack vectors. Upon examination the port only had one container ship in dock. Examination of the ship was tricky but managed to successfully avoid the walkways where affected North Koreans stood staring as everyone else seems to be. Ship manifest places arrival at 3 weeks prior to the offically recognized Day Zero five years ago. We will investigate this ship further after my people rest.
2300 Day 2: Lost one man during rest. He was on current lookout in a two man team on the docks. Partner said he ducked into a nearby building to relieve himself, he heard screams but his partner never came back. Field post-mortem revealed heavy claw marks on the body, and extensive signs of both burns and electrocution. He was found at just inside of the bathroom doorway. Implementing readiness status orange.
0600 Day 3: Ship was a false lead. Apparently a Japanese container ship landed here for some reason. Carrying nothing other than consumer electronics according to log details, the ship was completely empty of cargo. The only question is why they did not leave after unloading their cargo. Graffiti seeming to indicate a religion worshiping the Sun and the Moon was found. Regardless, moving on to Pyongyang.
1400 Day 5: Lost 3 more people on both watch and scout duties during the trip, but have made it to Pyongyang. Injuries were similar to those previously described.
Interestingly we tracked Kim Jong-Un's movements to a hidden bunker under the city, with only one way in. We could see him, and he was unaffected by whatever was plaguing his people. He called to us for help but warned us of a boy standing watch over the inside of the doorway, which was confirmed with a heat scan. We decided to engage. It was the squad's last mistake.
As soon as we crossed through, the boy, calling himself Youngster Joo-ey, killed my entire squad with some animal he threw at them, calling it a "Rattata" and asking if they "knew any good moves."
I was the only survivor, and I left Kim to his fate. | **CLASSIFIED - FOR GENERAL FLYNN**
Time: 21:27
Date: 31st of December
Year: 2021
Location: Pyongyang, NK
_____
Two months ago I reported that leader Kim Jong Un had not made a public announcement in over 3 years time. He had not been seen in public since March 2017. Today he delivered a message to his people through state-run television and speakers across the state capital.
At 21:00 local time, the city lit up with electricity for the first time in two years. Immediately you can hear the pain and suffering of the dear Leader's voice:
"My loyal people, the time has come. I have fallen deathly ill and I have chosen to take my own life, as the pain and suffering is too much to bear. By tomorrow morning I shall have passed to join my father in the spiritual world. The future for you is bright, and you shall finally prosper in the wake of my death. I have arranged for the national army to join forces with our closest ally, China. They will also annex the country and adopt it as their own. Tomorrow you will be a part of a new state, new government, and new laws. More details will await you in the morning. This is my last message to you. Thank you and fear not for the future is fantastic."
This broadcast was repeated on state run television and loudspeakers nonstop through the whole night.
The message brought a calm to the people. Nearly everyone was in tears of joy, and everyone was shouting of freedom from oppression. Songs were even being made as the broadcast repeat itself all night.
____
Time: 02:45
Date: 1st of January
Year: 2022
Location: Pyongyang, NK
_____
At approx. 02:00 droves of DPRK military forces marched out into the tent ghettos and began executing every soul that did not have a military uniform on. Tanks rolled through the ghettos, leaving nothing unflattened. No missiles were fired. Resistance was attempted by the people, but they stand no chance. They are unarmed and malnourished.
I am currently hiding inside an overturned dinghy along the Daedong River. I can hear footsteps passing back and forth. I seem to be undiscovered at the moment, but I don't know how long that will last. The broadcast continues to repeat itself in the background.
Please send help.
| 2016-12-05T09:11:26 | 2016-12-05T08:47:47 | 37 | 15 |
[WP] "Now, gods and goddesses, behold as Loki, god of mischief, throws the entire world into chaos by changing the sun's color from orange to yellow." | "I don't see any difference," Ken said, squinting hard.
"Well, don't stare at it!" Freya admonished. "You'll go blind!"
"No. It's definitely more yellow," Brian insisted.
"Wasn't it always yellow?" Richard asked.
"It was, I don't know what you all are on about," William commented.
"No, it wasn't. It was orange," Brian said.
"Come on fellas, let's go inside, shall we? I don't like standing in the sun without sunscreen," Freya complained.
"Sod it!" Ken exclaimed, blinking his eyes in rapid succession, turning away from the sun. "All I see is a bright spot now."
"I told you to not stare at it," Freya retorted.
"Look here," Brian said, handing his phone to Richard. "You can see it's orange there."
"This is a picture of a sunset. Of course, it's going to look orange!" Richard said, exasperation on his face.
"If it's orange, why is it called the golden hour?" William asked.
"That's just an expression Will," Brian answered. "Because everything appears golden."
"Yes, and isn't gold just saturated yellow?" William replied.
"He's got a point," Freya added.
"It's obviously orange!" Brian exclaimed. "I meant it was. It was definitely orange."
"I thought the sun turned red during sunset," Ken said, rubbing his eyes. "How long does it take for the bright spot to go away?"
"Technically, it's just highly saturated orange. Not red," Richard answered, ignoring Ken's question.
"Wait, let me search for a daylight photo of the sun," William said. "Here it is."
"Well, is it yellow or orange?" Brian asked.
"It's just a bright white spot in the sky," William answered. "The photographer forgot to stop down the lens."
"Here, it says the colour of the sun is actually white," Freya said, having searched on her phone.
"It emits white light but we used to see it as orange," Brian said.
"You should probably get your eyes checked," Richard retorted.
"You're going to have to drive me then," Ken said. "Oh wait, it's going away slowly."
"He was talking to me Ken," Brian replied.
"What are you young ones doing, gathered around the yard?" came a voice from over the fence. It was Mr. Brett, their elderly neighbour.
"Oh, Mr. Brett!" Brian shouted back. "Did you hear?"
"About what?"
"About the Sun. Loki changed the colour of it from orange to yellow!"
Mr. Brett turned to look over at the sun. Everyone else waited in anticipation.
"Wasn't it always yellow?" | It was the lilies that died first. No one really thought about it beyond a few questions on the gardening forums. They were a canary in the coal mine and we were too busy watching as the trickster god did his thing. Everyone thought that it was a prank at first. Maybe a harmless trick of the atmosphere to make the sun orange
No, he actually changed the visible spectrum of the sun. Billions of years of evolution undone in an instance. Photosynthesis came to a screeching halt. Over the next month, every single plant began to wither and die. Entire crops were lost. The forests died out. Temperatures rose as the CO2 built up in the atmosphere. Skyrocketing without a natural carbon sink.
He changed the sun back but the damage was done. Famine set in, followed by the collapse of the world governments as people fought over canned peas and carrots. Livestock was slaughtered before they could die from the lack of grazing. The meat stored away. Soon there was nothing to hunt. The wildlife couldn’t survive with the plants gone.
Five years later there was nothing to eat but each other. Billions died. The survivors fled into the caves and caverns. Hoping to eke out an existence. There was the hope that seed archives could jumpstart underground farming. Only for that glimpse of surviving to drift away as the survivors fought one another. An orgy of destruction.
We cried out to the gods as death came for us. Fix the plants. Restore the ecosystem. If Loki could change the actual spectrum of the sun then surely another god could work such an incredible miracle. Our prayers died on our lips. Ignored by the powers above.
Death stalks me. I haven’t seen another human in months. My time fast approaches. Soon there will be no one to appreciate the depths of Loki’s prank. I’m sure he’s torn up about it. The bastard. | 2021-05-18T21:36:46 | 2021-05-18T21:13:39 | 119 | 39 |
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