prompt stringlengths 20 5.8k | chosen_story stringlengths 226 10k | rejected_story stringlengths 227 9.43k | chosen_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 17:01:55 2022-12-31 14:34:19 | rejected_timestamp timestamp[ns]date 2012-07-26 14:23:36 2022-12-31 12:20:41 | chosen_upvotes int64 14 23.1k | rejected_upvotes int64 10 4.26k |
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[WP] A child is born with a functioning Appendix, the first ever recorded in history and the purpose it serves shocks the scientific community/world.
This is my first writing prompt submission! Amazing response, can't wait to read your stories, thanks people.
~~~~~ Shout out to Montreal ~~~~~
Edit: getting a lot of grief from people saying "the appendix has a function", try this on for size:
http://www.webmd.com/digestive-disorders/picture-of-the-appendix
"The function of the appendix is unknown. One theory is that the appendix acts as a storehouse for good bacteria, “rebooting” the digestive system after diarrheal illnesses. Other experts believe the appendix is just a useless remnant from our evolutionary past. Surgical removal of the appendix causes no observable health problems." | The child's name was Marissa, and she was an average girl, blonde hair that curled at the ends, emerald eyes, and a smattering of freckles across her petite nose. She was weaned from the mothers breast, but the parents could not find a food the girl would not spit up immediately.
Frightened, the parents took Marissa to the pediatric doctor in town to have her examined, fearing the worst.
The doctor examined her and found nothing out of the ordinary, but had her admitted to examine her insides, the intestines and stomach to check for infections or parasites.
No scans revealed anything out of the ordinary. Running out of options, they ran a camera into her intestines, and discovered something extraordinary. The appendix of the girl, usually a tiny and unobtrusive organ that did nothing vital, it was pulsing like a heart, pumping out enzymes never seen in humans.
The doctor took samples and examined the fluids of the girl, finding her body riddled with the enzyme. Testing the spit up food, the doctor discovered that the enzyme coated the food, but did nothing, it was inert.
A community of scientists and doctors became involved in the study, as time was the essence, Marissa was wasting away. The only thing her body wasn't rejecting was water. At the same time the doctors sequenced the parents DNA, hoping to perhaps discover some unknown autoimmune or genetic disorder. They were both from Eastern Europe, small villages among the countryside, and from healthy families.
Despite the malnourishment, Marissa survived, growing gaunt, hair turning white, bones jutting from beneath thin skin. Doctors could not discover the reason for the disease. It was on accident that a nurse cut Marissa while administering an IV, and discovered that her blood was pale as milk and flowed like molasses from the wound.
The blood lacked iron, that is what the scientists postulated, but the girl would not accept iron, in any form the body rejected it.
7 long years passed, and scientists were now more interested in how Marissa hadn't died rather than solving her illness. She became an internet sensation, all walks of life offering support and interest.
An old gentleman arrived at the hospital one day after reading about Marissa in the paper. He wore a long leather coat, and a spry white beard graced his otherwise hairless head. Thick laugh-lines surrounded gray eyes.
He met Marissa, under the guise of well wishing. A medallion on a chain thrummed loudly as he approached Marissa. Eyes now black with sickness met with his. From a sleeve, the man produced a vial of storm-black liquid, and administered a few drops.
"Mercury is your blood," he told her.
Her skin plumped and returned to a youthful color. He took another vial and administered a sparkling liquid, which Marissa drank heartily, regaining her strength.
"Diamond is your bone, your sword."
Her eyes returned to green and sparkled with clarity. In a flash Marissa was upon the man, and nurses scurried into the hospital room, but not before she tore into the old man's flesh with teeth steel-black and running with gore and blood. Eyes flickered scarlet and black with fury. The man, in his dying breath muttered,
"Blood is your life."
The police are still searching for the girl who was born with a functioning appendix, and if you have any information or have seen a young child with black teeth, alert the authorities. | “Push Mrs. Williamson Push now!”
The would-be first time mother screamed and pushed, and finally her baby was in the world.
“It’s a Girl!” Smiled the doctor’s assistant. The new mother sobbed with happiness. She held her baby for many minutes before they took her away to be cleaned and have further vitals checked.
An hour later while in recovery the doctors came in to talk to the new mom, she could tell something was wrong.
“What is it doctor?!” said Mrs. Williamson. Dr. Stern was trying to smile but found it difficult. He managed a meek grin. “Nothing is wrong Mrs. Williamson, your baby girl is doing excellent” “Thank goodness” said the new exhausted mother. Dr. Stern didn’t know how to say what he needed to say.
“There is something…. Unique about the baby, we don’t think it’s harmful though”
“WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!” The mother was now near tears.
The doctor came around to her side of the bed to soothe her. “No, please don’t cry Mrs. Williamson. Honestly she is one of the healthiest babies if not the healthiest baby I have ever delivered in my 35 years of being an OB-GYN. Her heart beat is a strong as a 23 year old marathon runner….. It’s the other tone we don’t quite understand”
“Tone? What do you mean” screeched Mrs. Williamson. Her motherly instincts were new, but keen, something was very not right.
“While her vitals were being checked, and we were all fascinating at her strong heart and blood pressure, the Heart Monitor picked up what at first we thought was a murmur, but it was off rhythm. It took a full minute for the off tone to come back, but when it did we knew it wasn’t coming from the heart”
“What the fuck do you mean? Where is my baby?” Mrs. Williamson was fully hysterical now.
The doctor plowed on. “We started to give her a sonogram and detected the tone was coming from her abdominal region, specifically her appendix. Its sounds off every minute like clockwork. No anomalies were detected during any of your prenatal screenings so we theorize the tone started as she…”
Suddenly the room went dark, there were alarms going off in every corner of the hospital. The back-up generator kicked in and some lights returned and most alarms subsided, but now there was an incredible noise building. Like 1000 freight trains colliding at once. Except it was a sustained noise. Suddenly out the window Mrs. Williamson could see an amazing storm rolling in from the north, but as she focused her eyes, this was no storm.
The sun was slowly being blocked out by the huge silver spacecraft……
| 2016-01-07T11:42:49 | 2016-01-07T10:30:03 | 24 | 10 |
[WP] New arrivals in eternal Hell may choose either of the following: a small wooden spoon, or a 100-trillion year vacation in Heaven. | "So it's meant to be, what, an agonizing choice? A huge dilemma? A source of eternal regret?" Leems asked. After an eternity on Acid Mine Supervision, he had finally been promoted to Reception, and wanted to be sure he understood what was going on.
"For some of them, yes. I think you might be overestimating how many actually think things through," Ebnerzaz replied, in his British basso. The supervisor of Reception stood an impressive twelve feet tall, and Leems had to scurry quickly in front of him to avoid his trashcan-lid-sized cloven hooves. Some said he had been chosen because the arriving souls often mistook him for the Prince of Darkness Himself.
"Ah, so you're saying that most of them choose the aeons-long vacation with The Enemy then," Leems wheezed. "They don't even give it a second thought, eh? 'Why would I pick a spoon when I can spend a hundred trillion years in heaven?'"
"Precisely," Ebnerzaz said, as they exited the vast hallway into a much vaster cavern. Its impressive collection of stalactites was sheathed in a constantly-churning haze, the better to frustrate anyone trying to enjoy the scenery. Management thought of everything.
"So what's our angle, then? If they get such pleasure from the vacation..."
"It makes it all the more crushing when they come back and realize that it was quite literally nothing compared to the length of time they'll be spending here. All subsequent torment is therefore enriched. Set the papers down there, if you would," Ebnerzaz said, as he found his desk. Leems stood on tiptoe to deposit the loose sheath of parchment in the supervisor's In box.
"Aha, so the correct choice, then, is the spoon?" he asked, looking around for his own desk.
The senior devil gave a condescending grin. "This is Hell, Leems. There is no correct choice."
"But..." Leems began.
"Our shift is starting. I'll answer any further questions when we have our break. Off you go," Ebnerzaz said, his massive clawed hand steering Leems' shoulders towards the empty desk he would be working at.
Leems hurried over to the protruding stone just in time for the flow of souls to shamble up to him, all of them shaved bald and clothed in itchy rags. "Welcome to Hell! You may have one amenity - a hundred trillion year vacation in heaven, starting right now, or a small wooden spoon." He offered the choice to each one of them, and saw that Ebnerzaz's assessment was even truer than he'd thought - thousands upon thousands chose the Heavenly vacation, no questions asked. As soon as they did, they vanished in a puff of light, leaving a lavender scent that clashed horribly with the dominant smell of brimstone.
Finally, one of the souls stopped long enough to think through the choice, his dark brow furrowing in concentration. "If you're offering me this, that means it's reasonable to choose the spoon, right? They're on a par with each other, right?" he said slowly.
Leems just smiled, not knowing the answer himself.
"So I know everybody in front of me chose Heaven. That can't be what you want. So let me think. It's eternal down here, right? So no matter how long the vacation is, it's not even a drop in the bucket. So let's think about it utilitarian-like. I can get real happy for a tiny amount of time, big-picture. Or I can choose the spoon, and it'll make me just a tiny bit happy, but for an infinite amount of time. Right?" he said eagerly. Once again, Leems didn't respond. "Oh, and what's more, once the vacation's over, I bet I'll regret I didn't choose the spoon. That'll make me even more unhappy. I'll never know what I'm missing out on if I don't go to heaven! But the spoon... that'll last me forever. No regrets there!"
"Are you quite done?" Leems asked.
"Yeah, yeah. I'm done. I'm pickin' the spoon," the soul said triumphantly.
Leems nodded, and pulled open the stone drawer in his desk with a scraping sound. Inside were hundreds of tiny wooden spoons, each not much bigger than a finger. He selected one and handed it to the soul, who eagerly grabbed it, before turning to the left to exit through one of the many gaping caves in the cavern wall.
The encounter stuck with Leems all through the shift, as he let thousands more souls poof into heaven. Finally, it was break time - the gates closed and the remaining lines disappeared. The horde of demons working Reception left their desks and swarmed over to the break area, to consume sulfurous coffee and rotting meat.
Leems sought out the hulking form of Ebnerzaz, and tugged on the supervisor's wings. "Ah, Leems! How did your first shift go? Keeping up the pace, I hope?" he asked, peering down at the smaller demon.
"Yes, it went very well, sir. But I did have one soul choose... the spoon."
"Ah, on your first day! Congratulations. It took me a week, way back when. But why are you looking so troubled?"
"Well, it's just... he stopped and thought about it, like you said some of them might. And his reasoning seemed pretty ironclad. If the spoon gives them a small amount of pleasure forever, is that not categorically better than a finite vacation in heaven?" Leems asked. "I thought you said there were no correct choices. I feel as though, by giving him the spoon, I have reduced the amount of suffering we'll generate."
"Ah, yes, Leems. Do not worry. The spoon will generate plenty of suffering in due time."
"But how?"
"Because, dear Leems," Ebnerzaz said, smiling his most terrifying smile yet. "When did you ever hear of a simple wooden spoon that stays intact forever?" | "Wait, what?"
"The spoon, please. I'll take the spoon."
Everything stopped. Everything. The entire Bureau of Intake, Orientation, and Damnation just stopped. Gladys from accounts literally had a fork sticking out of the side of her mouth. Ralph from shipping was standing still and wide-eyed, staring at the pudgy little man at the counter.
He had been in the lobby for sixteen years. No one had taken time to notice him before, as he fit so aptly in the decor. The Bureau was festooned with the sort of soulless industrial office furniture one might expect to find in an accounting firm for a spreadsheet manager of a professional paperwork processing firm. It was intended to serve a lesson to all cursed souls condemned to perdition for their sins : abandon all hope ye who sweat upon the vinyl seats of these impossibly uncomfortable chairs.
He was middle-aged and fat, polite niceties being something typically abandoned in Hell. Bald on the top, skull wrinkly and skin mottled and blotchy. Scraggly gray hair ringed his portly head like a doughnut, mingling with the thick white hair peeking from out of his ears. His face was pinched, like he was perpetually farting, and his eyes were deep set, glossy, and seemed to miss absolutely everything that took place in his vicinity.
He had done as all souls do and sat in that lobby, listening to adult contemporary from the decade previous to that which he had died - black magic conjured by the foulest warlocks of the deep pits assured that all who entered the Bureau enjoyed their own personalized muzak to accompany their suffering. He watched the flickering screens display numbers far and away from the one he held, until one day, C.E.R.B.E.R.U.S., the Macintosh software suite that the Bureau used to coordinate new arrivals (Hell's long-standing exclusivity contract with the Apple Corporation was a source of consternation for a range of Oracle and Intel salesmen) called his number. He'd waddled himself to Delores's window, he'd heard her monotone delivery of the question, and he'd given his answer.
"The spoon, please."
Delores asked him to repeat himself. He did. Delores asked him to wait. He did. She dialed her superior, Stanley, the first of fifteen lower management superiors that an individual must interact with in ascending order to escalate an issue to middle-managed troubleshooting. Sir, did you say the spoon, each would ask?
"Yes, please. I'll take the spoon."
Soon, the balding flesh heap was standing in the presence of His Terrible and Horrific Glutton of Pus, Baron of Filth and Child Labor, Assistant Vice-Manager of Communications and Branding Directives, Pukecock.
"Wait, you what?" asked Pukecock, incredulous.
"I'll take the spoon."
"Well, we 'aven't a fuckin' spoon, so you'll have to go to Heaven."
"I'd rather not. Could I please have my spoon?"
"Are you dim or deaf, slag? I said we haven't a spoon."
It was then the infuriatingly mediocre and disgustingly unimpressive collection of ligaments pointed to the yellowed, faded banner hung above each of their heads.
**VACATION TO HEAVEN OR SMALL WOODEN SPOON FOR EACH SOUL, NO EXCEPTIONS**
Pukecock was forced to bleed a pig and conjure the Viceroy of Whores and Vice President of Relations himself, Entrailus Pornagraphus. Entrailus informed the man there was no spoon, and the man pointed to the sign.
On and on this went, for decades, all the souls in line behind the man forced to endure year after year of Third Eye Blind and Carly Rae Jepsen as their wait stretched further behind the Bureau's inability to process the claims request of the fat, bald man. One by one by one, his case was escalated through each of the 666,666,666 middle managers of the Bureau, each of them vice-presidents of regional divisions, until finally he was delivered before the enemy himself, stood before Satan, and requested his spoon.
Satan simply smiled, thanked the man, gave him the spoon, and sent him on his way. Each of the demons of the Bureau was released from their positions as consequence of the inefficiency of response to the case. Hundreds of millions of hours were demanded to study, in detail, the minutae of the Bureau's management system, infinite unnecessary additional steps incorporated into the process to ensure prompt delivery of spoons in the future. New arrival processing was modified to only include outsourced labor for sections of Hell where no coherent language was spoken, a measure taken to save enough money in the budget for the purchase of spoons, and a near-infinite number of souls were conscripted for their routine inventory and maintenance.
So goes the horror of the choice of Heaven or spoons, and the dreadful fear that was instilled in the hearts of all damned souls should one of their number arrive to ask for a spoon instead of a vacation abroad.
Edit : My sincere thanks for the gold! What a kind gesture. Thank you for reading my take on the prompt. | 2022-03-09T06:27:01 | 2015-06-07T14:10:34 | 4,220 | 679 |
[WP]You realize you've misheard your daughter. There's actually a mobster under her bed. | "Muuuuuuum! Daaaaaaaaaaaad!" Ivy screams as she bursts through my door. I jolt straight up and look at her, her Dora the Explorer pajamas stained with urine down the leg. "There is a mobster under my bed!"
"Alright sweetie," I reply rubbing my eyes and looking over at my now rudely awoken wife. "I got this." I say, patting her on the back and standing out of bed. I move over to the closet and grab a wooden baseball bat. "You stay in here darlin', but take off your pants." I move past my daughter and saunter with a slumbering stride towards her room.
I move through the archway into her room with a cough. I take a large sniff of air, smell the piss she had left behind and slightly gag. The walls were adorned with fairies, unicorns, as well as a poster of One Direction.
I hate One Direction so much. You don't know you're beautiful my ass.
"Look out monster, I'm here to get you," I say with a boom, loud enough that Ivy could hear me in the other room. Ivy always felt more assured if I narrated a scary tale as I scanned her room. "I've got a bat, a big one at that, and I'm gonna club your head, till you're dead." She especially loved the rhymes. I moved over to the bed and became uneasy. It was moving with slight bumps, as if something was under the bed.
I felt a chill before I ducked under to check. Her bedroom window was open. With furious speed, I checked under the bed to see a blood-stained man cowering in fear.
"Johnny?" I bit out. His bones rattled for a few seconds before replying to me.
"Ay... Ay boss," he murmured. "I got the wrong room." I grab Johnny and pull him out from under the bed, blood slicking the trail he just know made.
"Yeah, you got the wrong fuckin' room. What the fuck happened to you?" I try my best to remain quiet as I talk now, lest not alert my family.
"Deal went bad," Johnny coughed up a heap of blood and mucus into his hand before continuing to speak. "Romero's weren't happy with the product."
"So you decided to run here?" I could feel the venom drip out of my tongue as I spoke. "Scare the literal piss out of Ivy."
"I'm sor-" I punch him across the mouth. One of his teeth broke off into my index finger knuckle and cut deep.
"Sorry ain't gonna fuckin' cut it here Johnny." I put the bat against the side of Johnny's head lightly and watch the fear drain through his body. "Now, I see what ya did. Part of me even respects it."
"I didn't know what else to do Boss! They shot everyone else that went! I... I..." Johnny's blubbering as he spoke was almost as insulting as him fleeing to me. At my home. With my family.
"Shhh..." I say to Johnny, leaning down and placing my hand on the back of his head. "It's okay Johnny. It's okay."
"Is it boss?" Johnny looks up to me. That little glint of hope in his eyes was... endearing.
"Of course fuckin' not." I crash the bat down across the side of his head. A large spray of blood soaked the walls, including that One Direction fucking poster, and continued to layer everything in cathartic carnage. With every whack I felt his skull cave a little bit more, his arms break just a fracture more, his chest collapse into his lungs and his soul break.
My arms were heavy after a few minutes. I'd spent every bit of energy I had turning Johnny into a bloody pulp. I dropped the bat on the ground, walked back out the door and slowly towards the room with my darling daughter and my gorgeous wife. The look of shock on both their faces was daunting.
"Monsters dead baby," I say to Ivy who was tearing up. "Daddy took care of it."
"Bu...but Dad," Ivy spoke out to me with a whimper. "It was Johnny. It was your friend, wasn't it?" I knelled down and made eye contact with my little girl.
"Monsters dead baby," I put my hands across the side of her head and held it tight, so she couldn't turn away from me. "Daddy. Took. Care. Of. It."
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
If you liked this, check out /r/Rhysyjay | "Daddy! There's a mobster under my bed"
"Daddy! Come!! Daddy"
"Here we go again" - I said to my wife as I rolled my eyes.
Little Cassie had been having nightmares for three straight days. Screaming about terrible monsters haunting her in her dreams. She seemed to have a knack for waking me up at 3 a.m. I couldn't help but think that she did it on purpose.
Life had really been hard lately. Not being able to sleep more than two hours straight without waking up to screams. Being flooded with work every day and, with my beloved wife turning into a shopping monster with my new promotion, it felt like a stressful way to climb up the corporate ladder.
It's strange to think that about a month ago, I genuinely believed hard work would pay off. Oh how wrong I was. Three straight years working my ass off and not a single reward. Not even a couple of words of encouragement. Nothing. I was pretty much invisible.
That all changed when I met Tony. We met at a small party. He was a small, ball-headed man that seemed like the most popular guy at school (You know, the star quarterback that dated the prettiest cheerleader and had a 4.0 GPA). He had a small gold chains that swayed from side to side as he talked with a certain cockiness that, somehow, didn't make you want to leave.
As the night went by, guests started slowly leaving until we were the only ones. He stared at me as he knew my whole entire life. After a small puff of his cigar, he asked:
"Where do you work, dear John?"
A small drip of sweat confirmed my thoughts: I was talking to a star.
"At River Side Bank" - I quickly answered
"Really? Do you happen to know Rick Stamos?"
"Of course, he's my boss"
"Wow! What about Cooper Mortinson?"
"Yep, nice guy"- I had never really talked to him, he was a revered person at the office.
As he kept asking about familiar names, I couldn't help but think that I had seen this man before. Was it at the bank? Probably, I mean he knew pretty much everyone over there.
We kept talking for a while about banking, until he finally asked:
"Your hard work has not gone unnoticed. But now I need to know if your loyal"
He took out a small pocket knife and drove it toward my neck, stopping just before my jugular exploded.
"The Feds are coming soon and you reported some interesting information to your boss"
My hands were sweating like a cold river down my spine. My face was as red as a strawberry with asthma after a basketball game.
"Would you rather have a promotion? Or something happen to your little girl?"
I gasped for air and answered the only possible answer:
"I'll keep my mouth shut"
"Great, loved doing business with you"
Tony coolly grabbed his jacket and left. I nerdily grabbed my inhaler and tried to catch my breath. Some things never changed in the world: cool kids always rule.
I clumsily walked to Cassie's room and turned on the light. There was my beautiful angel staring like a frightened deer. As I made my way over, a small man made his way from under the bed.
"Hello John. Someone has been talking."
A cold shiver shook me throughout as I heard those frightening words.
"Cassie, go get Mom and tell her to leave."
"That wouldn't be ver smart, John"
"Please don't hurt them Tony"
"Oh foolish John! You crack me up! Of course I won't. I just need to shut the rat up"
He took a small revolver, pointed at me and shot. Everything was over and the only thought in my head was: cool kids always rule. | 2017-02-06T22:00:26 | 2017-02-06T21:56:15 | 58 | 11 |
[WP] The children were nestled away safe in their beds. You’ve hung their stockings over the fire place. A tree has been set up in a place of prominence. “For the children” you whisper as you place the offering of milk and cookies and began the Santa summing incantation | A fat white dude in his underwear (red) stands in front of you with sleep sticky eyes.
Yawning “I asked you last year to keep in mind time zones. This is just rude. I get the whole kids things and don’t mind coming, but could you not call me In the middle of the night? It’s a long day tomorrow “.
Janet grimaced. She’d been successful at summoning Santa over the last three years, and she did remember the time difference. But how else was she going to get the timing right for her kids.
A quick glance at the clock and at the fat man eating the second cookie, she realized she was going to have to hurry if she was going to get any gifts from him. Once the cookies were gone, that was it.
“At least your baking has gotten better... real butter this time!”
She sighed. She’d been baking constantly this year because of Covid, so the cookies damn well better be good. Sadly apparently he eats faster with tasty cookies. But at least he has calmed down. She sighed and collected herself for phase 2.
“Santa I’ve been a good girl, can I sit on your knee?”
He stopped chewing and raised an eyebrow “you really want to do it this way? You don’t have to bind me. I’ll give your kids exactly what they asked for.”
Janet shuddered silently as she thought of her sons letter to Santa. Santa’s offer was more of a threat than an offer of good will. The kid asked for a freaking monkey.
She shook her head.
Samar’s sighed. Long. Put down half the remaining cookie. “Fine. Come sit on my knee.”
“Have you been a good girl this year”.
“Yes Santa”.
“Made your bed everyday, and did all your chores?”
“Yes Santa”
“Hmmm, I am not sure about that... I see an entry on a Tinder date gone I wrong.”
Janet jerked up right. She’d been lulled into a state of childlike wonder by the magic aura around the fat man. Colour rose high on her cheeks as she remembered that awful date before the pandemic hit. “Uh ah I uh.”
“It’s ok, his foot healed. But maybe you shouldn’t wear heels on a date. Or take dancing lessons. Do you want dancing lessons for Christmas little girl?”
“No, no!” She paused “can I have a new home? With a bedroom for Agnes, a bedroom for Roy and a bedroom for me? With access to a park or a yard? And room for a dog and cat? It doesn’t have to be a house or a fancy place, just somewhere safe”.
It was Santa’s turn to sit up straight and look at Janet oddly. He turned his head to really look at his surroundings and realized it wasn’t the same house as last year. Tiny, barred windows at the top of the ceiling. A sink, stove and mini fridge scattered around the room. Bunk beds with two figures asleep under blankets. A neat pile of blankets stacked beside an ancient arm chair.
He looked back at her.
“I have been good. Really good. But this year has been hard.” Tears started leaking out from her eyes.
Santa’s heart melted and he pulled her close.
“Of course my child. You have been good. The wish is bound. Go to sleep.”
He lifted the sleepy woman and carefully placed her back in the chair, he covered her with her blanket and smoothed the hair away from her now sleeping face.
He sighed at the surroundings and with a snap of the fingers, the fridge was almost overflowing with Christmas feast. Goodies sat on top. Presents appeared under the tree, including a stuffed monkey. And a small box, just big enough for a key, glistening with gold wrapping paper and glowing faintly dangled from a tree limb. | This year, I added an extra offering as I chanted the mantra "Santa Clause is coming to town". I placed my wedding ring, a token of forlorn love upon his sacred alter to persuade the Saint to bring only gifts to my children and not coal. After the hectic year. The abuse of their father, his imprisonment, and our escape under the guise of witness protection, I only wanted happiness for my children.
Our battle scars still prominent in our minds eyes. The breaks and bruises, the vitriol of hatred he spewed forth between trips to the hospital, the threats that hung like nooses over our heads every time he got drunk. I know, I wasn't the mother they needed, because I stayed with him through it all. Over 10 years I stayed with him and suffered his fist, suffered his touch, suffered the birth of children I wanted to wait for, but he refused to let me take the medication for it, and forced himself upon me. I suffered through it and grew to love his children, and grew to see them as my own. Until he started hurting them as he hurt me.
It was only after our youngest, our daughter... I got them away, I got him put in jail. For the abuse. For the drugs. For the murder... and I begged to be hidden with my children. This year I want to give them more than an end to a nightmare. I want to give them hope and a guiding light.
I shudder as I begin reciting the first part again... "You better watch out." flashbacks to nights huddled in corners, "You better not cry." stifling my cries so as not to rouse the children, "you better not pout" always having to smile as if I enjoyed my life. "I'm telling you why... Santa Clause is coming....,"
There's a rattle on the door. The air feeezes in my lungs.
"Miss Parker, this is the sheriff," I rise hesitantly and go to the door, checking the monitor in the hall to see the sheriff on my Ring Bell, he holds a badge and shows his face. He has a bag over his shoulder.
I open the door just a crack, the thick security chain keeping from opening much further than an inch or so what it was. "What do you want?" I ask.
"Im office Edward Levi Finch," he says, tipping his hat in good ol'boy kinda way. "I was told to deliver this for your kids." He placed a big sack on the porch "By a generous benefactor."
"What is it?" I asked worried.
"They're gifts. It came with a message." He pulled out a card. "I'll accept the ring as payment, but not for the gifts but to ensure your trouble goes away." He winked then and strutted off the porch.
My eyes widened. When he was gone I quickly dragged in the sack of gifts and rushed back to my alter.
The cookies were eaten, the milk was drunk, and my ring was gone, in its place, a lump of coal, with another note. "Your next diamond will be one you create. Signed N&K" | 2020-12-08T13:41:52 | 2020-12-08T12:59:32 | 58 | 22 |
[WP] You are a minion in the service of a dark lord. Your master has tasked you with creating and spreading a prophecy about a chosen one, the only person who can defeat him, so that the so-called "heroes" will stop resisting his rule and instead wait for their savior to arrive. | Many years ago, I had a conversation with a man from another plane, one without dragons or warlocks, with a white star that lit their days and a single moon, and he told me a story. He explained his job was much like mine, to serve a master in exchange for currency, and that seemed to me somewhat unsurprising, to find another like myself. We’d sat at a local tavern of his over pints of his local liquor, something that also did not surprise me, that spirits were ubiquitous among worlds.
The man told me a story of a trickster he’d heard tell of, and it helped me in the creation of the plan I put into place. This trickster was one of many, the man said, and they’d all decided they needed to convince many people of something. They had come together and assembled a book they declared was written by the one and only God, claiming that it was He who had created all in existence and it was only through Him could they find salvation.
We had a similar legend in my lands, and I thought perhaps the man was talking of the same god. That perhaps he was wrong, that those who assembled the stories in this book really were doing the work of a god. But it was irrelevant to what I learned from this story. What I learned was the difference between ruling by force, by cutting down innocents by the thousands in crusades in order to subjugate the survivors and make them believers in your god, versus an easier path.
A path carved with a scalpel rather than a sword. I learned of the scalpel from a friend of mine from my own plane.
My journey with my horse consisted of venturing far across our lands, making my presence noted only in my subtleties, my subdued nature, my quiet presence. My face was known as a servant of the Dark Lord, and I had no need to announce my presence. On the contrary, my movements having no obvious purpose behind them did all the work for me.
I ventured into the mountains in the far west, past the commonly frequented peaks, to paths none bothered with for their difficulty. And it only took one careless conversation with the barkeep of the first tavern I stopped at on my journey back to tip the first domino. My words were few and I’d drunk so much that it was easy for him to think it was a slip of the tongue. It was just enough.
It seemed irrational even as I did it. The same taverns saw my face as I retraced my path back, the same civilians, the same heroes. The whole while, I wondered if it would work, if the trickster I’d met that one night who had given me this advice was right. But I needn’t have worried. Three quarters of the way back to my master, I was mugged, my bag ripped from my shoulder as I struggled to keep hold of it, begged them not to take it. My voice was fraught with tension and fear of the punishment of my master, were I to lose the contents, fear for my very life.
And as I sat there in the alley, disheveled and robbed of a scroll I’d written myself on that far-off mountain peak on which I’d marked half my journey, I wondered if it would work. But of course, it did. The word spread quickly of the prophecy I’d gone through so much trouble to suppress, to show only to my Dark Lord. And the further the word spread, the louder the trickster’s words rang in my ears.
*If you wish for someone to believe something, hoard it as a secret. Knowledge is valued by the lengths someone will go to obtain it, even if it is worth less than the dirt you walk on.*
​
/r/storiesbykaren | I used to be a charlatan before meeting the master. Tricked many a man into giving me the contents of his purse, or leaving me alone ("guarding") their riches, and got a hefty amount of coin trought my life. Then i got old, and all my vices came back to haunt me. T'was a shame for one who used to dine with nobility (not that frequently, and many times i dined a noble's dinner without them, but semantics!) to beg at the streets, pretending to be a blind man, and deppending on a half-wit lowlife i met for protection and shelter.
But my shameful days ended when i heard about the master... He'd recruit any lowlife stupid enought to work for him, and used his twisted magic to fix those broken and strenghten the weak (as long as these weak were capable of working on an organized unity. Otherwise, they'd get the vanguard on his battles, or the flesh pits). And i thougt he'd fix me. And he did, for a price...
After talking to me once, his underling sent me up the chain of command all the way to the misinformation department (fucking enchantment wizards...) and they fixed my body up real good, gave me a hefty bonus (enhanced hearing and olfat, a basic course on reading feromones and lower empathic telepathy), but the price was high... First, i got blind. Apparently, there wasn't enought space in my skull to put everything they wanted, so no eyes. Second, i have the worst fucking job!
They said i should walk the word preaching how dastardly the master is, use my inside knowledge to "proove" I'm a profet, and explain how only a chosen one could defeat the Dark Lord! Of course, i only accepted because i thougt i could just run away, but i have to report regularly if i don't want my fucking head to explode! I'd dare to say i did a good job on my own way, however. Instead of preaching that a perfect savior would one day rise against the master, i described the chosen one in the most generic worlds i could think of - oh, and use those nifty powers of mine to read people's reactions and inflate their egos. Then i explain how the path of the hero is lonely and full of atribulations... How he'll have to forsake his comrades in order to achieve true power, yada yada, and mostly, how the lord has ears on every wall, and will sent actors to betray the chosen one. This way, dozens of adventurers believe themselves to be the hero, avoid almost every source of companionship, and die alone on goblin areas. And that's about it. Dunno if I'm doing much good, tho. Wars are won by lances in the thousands and sacks of food, not by sword saints. | 2021-03-17T20:55:33 | 2021-03-17T19:15:02 | 217 | 24 |
[WP] You have the ability to know a lie when you hear it, and to know the truth when lied to. Society appoints you to a high judiciary position, but there's nobody to check if YOU'RE lying when you decide justice. Which case do you remember most?
Edit: Hi, guys! I just wanted to say thanks to everyone who visited or pitched in, this got way more attention than I expected and was a lot of fun! Looking forward to more, keep up the good work everyone! | Grand magistrate Vield looked down from his raised stand into the courtroom. A child stood in the defendant’s stand, accused of murder. She glared down at the desk in front of her. Her representative had ignored her for the entire course of the proceedings, shuffling papers to and fro and making a big show of not doing very much.
“Do you know this woman?” The prosecutor directed the court’s attention to a portrait of a woman in her mid\-thirties.
“Yes.” The girl barely looked up, her lips were tensed into a tight line.
“This is your mother, correct?” The prosecutor turned to face the girl, an inquisitive look in her eyes.
“No.”
Vield tapped a cane against a small gong, indicating that she had told a lie.
“Step\-mother.” The girl glared up toward Vield and emphasized the first part, as if that were the most important part of the word.
“And, you killed this woman, is that correct? By letting the car run fumes into the house?”
The case was relatively cut and dry. The girl had killed the woman in a premeditated fashion, and she showed no physical signs of abuse. It couldn’t be passed off as self defense. The brother, sitting in the audience, younger than the girl, had shown severe signs of abuse. He could have perhaps gotten away with self\-defense, but not her.
“Yes.”
Vield tapped the gong. Both the girl and the prosecutor looked up in surprise. Vield’s face remained expressionless.
The woman had a long history of irresponsibility going back to her early twenties when she figured out that drinking was easier than a life of struggle and discipline. Vield didn’t mind that at all, people had a right to conduct themselves any way they wanted, in his mind. The problem had come when she had introduced children into the mix and put her problems on them.
The prosecutor regained their composure, splitting the questions into parts. “Did you start the car in the garage?”
“Yes.”
Silence.
The prosecutor went on. “Did you kill this woman?”
“Yes.”
The gong sounded again. The little girl looked up at Vield, confused. Vield stared straight ahead, unblinking.
The woman smoked two packs a day and lived in a rathole. The coroners had only determined that she died of asphyxiation. The car had been off, and out of gas, when emergency responders arrived at the scene, the carbon monoxide levels were high, but that wasn’t definitive. Even the blood carbon monoxide levels weren’t out of comprehension considering she smoked. There could be any number of ‘causes,’ mold in the air conditioner, a slight gas leak, freon seeping out of the fridge. It could even have been a rogue burglar with a pillow for all anyone knew.
“This is\-\-” the prosecutor paused\-\- “this is most unexpected, your honor, we have motive, we have the cause of death we\-\-”
The gong rang out, interrupting the prosecutor.
“We... don’t have the cause of death.”
Silence.
“Right. We ask for a continuation, your honor, to review the reports.”
Vield stood without saying a word and left the chamber.
“That little girl’s been through enough,” he thought to himself. “No need to burden her with a life in prison and the guilt of a death. No, the world would be better served giving her and her brother a new start in life." He couldn’t change the facts entirely, but he could do his best to help this little girl. | Judiciary: You want to know about which case I remember most huh? \[chuckles\]
Interviewer: Yes, you've served for almost 80 years now, no doubt you probably have hundred of stories. \[inaudible\]
Judiciary: Okay, \[laughs\] here's one that's stuck with me in my mind \[sic\], I'll let you guess when it was.
Interviewer: \[whispers inaudibly\]
Judiciary: \[whispers inaudibly\] The trial seemed simple enough. It was a case of what was very clearly manslaughter. The accused went to the stand. It was a really sad case. It was the kind of case that sticks with you, in your mind. A teenager was accused of killing their friend. It was horrible really. It was open shut though. The victim had \[inaudible\] their friend to help them kill themselves, but it became unclear if the victim had still wanted to be killed, the accused was aware of the ambiguity and still went through with it.
It was very \[inaudible\]. I had asked them if they were aware of the possibility that \[inaudible\] and they said no. I could tell it was a lie. Open shut.
I had lowered the charge from \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: What could make you do that! You said it was \[inaudible\]!
Judiciary: It was the next question I asked which made me want to lower it. I asked them if they would ever betray their friend, I asked them if they loved their friend, I asked if they would ever do something they didn't think was best for their friend. I am not sure what wording I used, but it was something like that. I may not remember what question it was but the answer was clear.
They said they would do something that would hurt their friend. They said that. To anyone else this was open shut. To me, I lowered the charge. Even in this moment, they were trying to protect the friend from *something*, although I am no longer as sure what it could be. That is why I lowered the charge. I knew the one thing I could be certain of, for whatever reason, that the guilt of having to make that call affected them far more profoundly than \[inaudible\].
Interviewer: Do you do that kind of thing often?
Judiciary: As often as people lie about loving someone else in a courtroom, or as often as \[inaudible\].
*The audio for which this transcript was based had not been saved properly and much of the dialogue was left inaudible. The transcriber would like to apologize for any inconvenience.* | 2018-05-15T21:01:00 | 2018-05-15T20:44:11 | 742 | 39 |
[WP] "Welcome. You're dead. Congrats. Door to Heaven's on the left. Door to Hell is on the right. Go ahead and pick, but just know that the decision is final." The figure sitting at the desk spoke, stifling a yawn and not looking up from their book. | “What does dead mean sir?” Standing on the tip of my toes and looking over the man’s desk.
Sighing, the man looked down at the small child before him. “It means you are a ghost.”
The child froze up at the mention of ghost and looked around. She hugged his blanket securely. Tears started forming in her eyes, threatening to spill.
“I want my mommy and daddy.” She whimpered.
“Trust me little one, no you do not.” The figure said with a touch of sympathy behind his eyes. “It would be better for you not to ask any questions and just choose the room on the left.”
Before the child could ask why, the figure handed her a small wooden box. “Open this and it will help you from remembering.” The small girl took the box, but did not open it.
“Why can’t I see my momma and papa, where did you hide them.” She shouted, tears flowing freely. As the first drop hit the ground, memories started flooding back to her. A vase being dropped, purple marks stretched across her skin, A dark room with no windows where time felt like it stopped for days, strips of red liquid flowing from her stomach and back that made her feel so very hot and cold at the same time.
The little girl fell to her knees and started screaming a soundless scream. Tears that had started trickling down now began to flow with an intense ferocity.
The man from behind the desk stood up and cautiously approached the child. He knelt down to her and gave her a hug. Patting the youngling, that could be no more than six years old, on the head.
“Life is cruel child, and I am truly sorry about what happened to you.” He held her for a moment, hoping she would calm down. Every so often, she would manage a few coherent words. They were all the same “I will be good, I promise.” She repeated those words over and over again.
He knew this was not the first time she had said those words, he could feel it etched into her very soul. A young soul should not feel so afraid.
“Do you wish for these feelings to go away?” Her mind seemed so far away, but when he looked into her eyes, he saw her pleading for an end. He took her hands and brought it to the box he gave her earlier. Once her hands found it, and with some assistance from the man, she opened the box.
A tiny figurine popped up from the box as a melody began playing. The music started off beautifully enchanting but abruptly changed into a haunting melody. The girls attention slowly focusing more on the figure as the music washed over her. The longer it played the better she was begging to feel.
“Is this little person me?” She asked as the music began growing lower. Looking at the figure it had a striking resemblance to her, though it appeared to be older. It was wearing a beautiful red and black dress, but its face seemed very sad.
“It was what you could have been, the song of your soul.” After the song finished, she appeared calm though a bit confused.
“Mister, where am I?” The girl looked around, trying to remember how she ended up here.
The man stood up and walked behind his desk. “A place not meant for children.”
He rummaged in a drawer for a few minutes before pulling out a piece of candy. Handing it to the girl, he instructed her to the left door if she wanted to get out.
The girl happily took the piece of candy and thanked the man before heading out to the left door. | “But...which do I choose...?” I asked, not realizing that this is what I would find on the other side.
“Either. That’s why I gave you the option when you got here.” Said the figure at the desk, pearly annoyed that’s I hadn’t already chosen.
I stood for a moment. *It should be obvious, shouldn’t it?* However, no one from before had ever said that there would be a choice. And now, facing this decision, I couldn’t move a muscle (or whatever I was made up of at this point).
I took a moment and looked around. I one else was in sight. There was any sign of another other being, just me and...wait a minute, I never got their name!
“Um... excuse me.” I sheepishly mumble yo the figure at the table. “What’s your name?”
He looks up at me from his book, with a look that conveys plainly that he cannot believe that I am still standing before him.
“Are the rules too difficult for you to understand?”
“No, I just...”
“There are two doors in front of you. See? As I explained when you got here, one leads to Heaven, the other Hell. Most people just walk through one right away, leaving me to my book!” The last word spoken in a clearly exhausted tone, even though I had only been there a few minutes.
“Okay, well how do they decide?”
“I don’t know! They just walk forward. No one else seems to have a problem with it.”
“I’m sorry but back on Earth, or in life, or whatever you want to call it, I was very indecisive. Most nights I got into an argument with my wife about what we were going to have for dinner because I couldn’t decide what I wanted.”
“That’s a very touching story. However, I am in the middle of something far more interesting, so if you’d please choose that would be great and I can get back to my book.”
I stood there staring from him to the door on the left, then the door on the right, then back to him.
“I’ll go left! I was a pretty good person, so I think that’s the right decision. Although, I did have secrets when I died. Stuff I should have said to people that would have changed things between us.”
*sorry, I can’t write anymore, work is over and I gotta head home, but thanks for sparking something in me. I’ve never written before, you could probably tell, but it was nice to get away for a minute and picture myself in this place. Have a good night everyone!* | 2019-10-03T17:23:27 | 2019-10-03T16:20:11 | 64 | 11 |
[WP] Nobody draws water from the well anymore. The villagers know it is cursed, but after generations, nobody remembers exactly what this curse is. A strange traveler comes to the village, starving and thirsty. The inn and the tavern turn him away. He goes to the well. The villagers watch. | The villagers watch. The children are hushed but they still point and shriek.
“The well! The cursed well! The stranger will get the curse!”
Admonishing their children, but thinking thoughts along the same lines, the parents are too busy to stop the stranger. Those not laboured with young rush to intercede.
“Stop, please, you mustn’t” says the teacher. She is kindly, and had the stranger approached her first, she would have gladly shared some tea and bread. But the stranger had approached the innkeeper first.
“You’ve already shown me what passes for hospitality here. I’ll take a draught and be on my way.” The stranger leans into the handle to crank the mechanism. Not without a sound of protest, the axle rotates, and the rope moves. “God, your maintenance is as bad as your manners, does no one repair this thing?” the stranger barks. The grunting of the stranger and the creaking of the well sound out loud above the children who are now whispering.
The butcher steps forward. A big man, from a line of big men. Not tall or muscular especially, but with the imposing presence of one who weighs a surprising amount more than you’d think. A stocky hand is placed on the stranger’s forearm. “Listen, friend, we meant no discourtesy. The inkeep is a miser but pay no heed. My son makes a fine ale, come, leave this well alone.”
The stranger looks at the butcher’s hand, then sneers, hackles raised. Aware that there is a crowd the stranger is defensive, pulling away from the butcher, but not releasing a grip on the handle of the well.
“I don’t know what you make of yourselves, gathering round like you’re a gonna lynch me. People stay away from this village and now I know why.” Muttering, the stranger returns to the task of drawing water.
The butcher is not unkind. He knows he has the strength to haul this stranger away but he also has the sense to know this is not the best course of action. Not with half the village at his back. The air was already tense before being stirred up with the word ‘lynch’. That kind of thing had happened before, but the gallows had been broken down for so long that only grandfathers remember where they once were.
Seeing the butcher’s hesitation, the teacher strides forward. Hers was such a gentle nature, enough to persuade even the most pragmatic of the presence of an aura. She moves quickly. The bucket is in sight now. Despite many years of disuse, the wood shows no sign of rot or decay. It is unnatural. The teacher steps in front of the butcher, who gratefully retreats a step.
“Please, you must listen. The well has a curse upon it. This village does indeed have a bad reputation but we are honest folk,” she says, her voice catching a hint of strain. The stranger turns, balking.
“A curse? Really, you’d stoop to that piss poor excuse just to stop me slaking my thirst.” The handle makes another revolution. “Ye gods, I’ll not even swallow a pint of your oh-so-precious water and you begrudge me that.” The bucket is in reach now. “If you’re all honest and nice then why doesn’t this cursèd well have a sign.” The stranger holds the handle steady with one hand and dips a flask in with the other. The butcher swallows, but is otherwise immobilised.
Every villager stares at the liquid sloshing around in this strangers hands. Everyone is aware of the absurdity of the scene. If the butcher would just knock the flask out of the stranger’s hands - but the butcher is still frozen. Years before he’d crippled a man with his fists. That kind of memory weighs heavy. The teacher grows desperate, pulling on the stranger’s arms.
“Get off me you crazy harlot.” The stranger jolts back. If, instead of stepping back, the stranger were to have struck out at the teacher, then the butcher would have snapped out of his reverie. But acting only defensively, the scene became clearly more and more in merit of sympathy for the thirsty stranger.
Like a river bursting its banks, the villagers realise that they can’t just stand by and watch. They surge forward. The stranger’s eyes bulge at the insanity. Then it is suddenly a chase. Water sloshes out of the canteen. Feet pound the cobblestones. Shouts and yells - notes of concern, not anger. But the stranger is too terrified to discern. From all appearances, this is a village of lunatics. But despite an adrenaline surge, the stranger is thirsty, hungry, tired and outnumbered - so is soon surrounded.
“Listen, we are only trying to protect you,” says one of the villagers, heaving to yank the vessel out of the stranger’s hands. Droplets scatter. As the crowd shudders, each person trying to avoid the water as though it were scalding oil, the stranger regains footing. It is then clear that in tousling for the flask, the stranger’s hand is drenched. All eyes are on the water, dripping quickly to the ground.
“A cursed well? No, curse you all, curse you and your damned helpfulness. I don’t need a damned bit of your help.” With that, the crowd being parted from the small splash of well water, the stranger walks away, licking off the small amount of the residue water that clung on so precariously. The teacher is just one who calls out, but the stranger is done with them and quits the small, strange village. No one in the crowd moves for a long moment. They’re all thinking the same thing, that some droplets of water certainly passed the lips of the stranger - but would that be enough to activate the curse? After the moment is broken, and they regain mobility, none of them tries to follow the stranger. Overhead, the wind gathers bluster. It is late. The sky is bruising. Night will soon fall.
A week later, they’ve all but forgotten the little incident. The carpenter’s boy affixes a small sign by the well. ‘Avoid, contaminated’ is what it is meant to say. Vague enough but definite in its implication. Unfortunately it is misspelled because the carpenter’s boy never paid enough attention to what the teacher was saying, but the consensus is that it is warning enough. By silent consensus, there is no talk about filling in the well. It is known that that would be a grave plan. Before anyone realises it, the villagers have gone back to ignoring the well, favouring the one on the western border.
Another week later, one of the farm hands from the valley finds a corpse in the lee of a tree. It is the stranger. The same facial expression of anger. Confused, irate and angry. What the stranger was doing isn’t clear. There is no sign of struggle or foul play, and there is no sign that the few drops of well water summoned any evil or untoward effect. A clean looking, but very dead, body. The body, and the incident, are buried by sundown. The priest said a few words and left. Since there is no doctor in the village, and no time to call one from the town across the hills, it can’t be said for sure, but everyone in the family of farmers was experienced with animals and with death. They wouldn’t say it out loud, but they confront it, come nighttime, for the rest of their lives. The way that corpse looked, the face. Not just an angry expression, but a withering look. They could all see that this stranger died of thirst. | Bad luck. It seemed I was finally too old to psss myself off as a Grove Child. One hundred years ago and it wouldnt have been a problem to do so. Most villages had never even seen one, and most Shepards, if the village had one at all, were much too curious about me to correct them. But this village had seen one in living memory, and this village had no Shepard to vouch for me. So when I opened the door of the only small inn in town, the keep took one look at my strangely colored and mottled skin, and capped horns, and told me to beat feet right back the way i came.
I would have, if not near dying of thirst. If id known that they receive no rain in the summer north of the Bodir mountains, i probably would have been in much better sorts. Maybe traipsed up here in the fall, found a good place to winter, and then move along come spring. But as it happened, i found myself wandering this strange northern landscape in the middle of the dry season. No creeks, springs or ponds to sustain me. Just the potential goodwill of the inhabitants and the cisterns they keep.
And this village seemed to lack in the goodwill department.
"Try the well, if yer feelin brave, Odd-One."
The innkeep yelled to me from the doorway of the inn. As my mind was windering it seemed my butt had planted itself on a large flat rock a dozen or so meters from his building. Understandable. The rock was warm under the sun's rays. Much unlike most things in this strange land.
"A well?" i asked back. I had not seen a well since coming up here. Divination told me the water table was 30 meters down, through solid rock. Most villages couldnt manage that.
"Yeh. west out the center of town. In the ruins of the old city. Best of luck."
The mischeif in his words was palpable, but no danger was greater to me than my own thirst. I set off in that direcrion. True to his word, just past the edge of the town i could make out the the remains of much older construction. All that was left were foundations, overgrown with brush and hidden behind dried grasses, but unmistakable. Ancient. What was once here dwarfed what was present in both size and grandeur. Kicking through the topsoil i could make out the expertly cut bricks of a road. It cut right through the mounds of decayed buildings, bringing me to what once must have been the city center.
My 'bravery' must have been noteworthy. A small crowd from the village had follwed me now. Huddled together, far enough behind me to keep out of earshot. and centered on the hidden road. I could hear their muttering, but not their words. Curious, nervous. Their eyes darted to and fro, as if the old stones of the city would rise up and swallow them if they got too close.
In the center of the old city square sat a rectangular pit. The well. The nerves of the villagers had creepes into me now, and i carefully walked up to the edge. Stairs cut into the stone on all sides, leading down to a small square of water. About 30 meters down. I turned and called to the villagers. "What about this well causes such fear in you?"
"Tis evil, far as we know". it was the innkeep again. Likely also the village headman. Or maybe just the most brave.
"Evil? of what kind?" My words were heavy and course with dehydration.
"the kind keeps those who walk down them steps from walkin back up em" he shouted back. "tsalways been like. long as memory."
The fear was in me now. There was no lie in his words. I doubted he knew exactly what the deal with the well was. secluded villages like this are usually very good at maintaining old wisdom, and usually very bad at remembering exactly why. A conundrum that would vex me now and many times in the future. And there was something about the well. I could feel the aether around it ripple and pulse, ever so gently. I did not want to go down there, and my mind was set not to for all of a second, until i tried to swallow. My thirst would be my undoing. Every physical fiber of my being screamed to plunge to the bottom of the well, to drink freely until i burst. If i could not drink now, death would drink of me shortly after.
I took a step down. the steps were as new. No wear or erosion anywhere. If the city had died hundreds of years ago, this well coud have been maintained until yesterday. Perfectly square, decending row by row, the sun would not have reached me at the bottom were it not noon. I came to the edge of the water slowly, and knelt. The water was clear as glass, with the sunlight allowing me to see
down many meters before the bottom was swallowed by darkness. I closed my eyes. maybe i could divinize what agitated the aeither here so, but the pounding in my head prevented all. Between my on failing senses, and the sheer force of magic pouring out of the well at this proximity, only the bestial drive of my thirst kept me upright. I glanced up to see the peolle had moved to the top of the well, crowding around the edges, but careful not to take that first step down. The waited with held breath. not even a murmer escaped them. I hope they enjoyed the show.
I took as deep a breath as i could manage to steady myself, and reached forward and scooped up water in my cuppes hands. It was warm as tea. Somewhere in the back of my mind I screamed how wrong that was. Nothing in this land was warm of its own accord. But my thirst screamed louder. I waited as long as i could manage, stareing into the water in my hands. Maybe just touching it would spell my doom. But it did not. I brought it to my mouth and drank. I was vaguely aware of the gasps of the people above me, but i was mostly aware of the life flowing back into my veins. The warmth it caused in my stomach was pure bliss. I now knew first hand the lost of oasis talked about in the anceint tales. I drank again. and again. Greedily i slurped, and the warmth grew. Sweat began to bead my brow. i tore off my coat and kept drinking, as if in a trance. I very much think i was, for soon, my whole body felt as if on fire. The choice was taken from me, i thought. But i knew it to be a lie. I had thrown the choice away. I could not allow myself to be cooked alive. With no option before me, i dove in... | 2020-03-08T10:53:05 | 2020-03-08T10:39:59 | 70 | 31 |
[WP] When the zombie virus broke out, you were prepared. You quickly became the country's #1 zombie hunter - until science found the antidote to the virus that turns zombies into healthy humans again, retroactively making you the #1 mass murderer. | One 9mm pistol and uncountable rounds of ammunition, those are what I used to defend myself. A water purifier, cases upon cases of canned food, and a beat up Ford pick up, those are what I used to survive. 10,000 lives, those are the people I killed. During the worst of the outbreak, I was a hero. Now that there's a cure, I've become the nation's biggest boogie man. I did what I had to.
My face has been plastered across the news for weeks. *Murderer! Psycho! Executioner!* I can't leave my house without being yelled at. My life has been utterly destroyed. Sometimes, I just wish that I had died. Why did I have to be prepared? Why didn't I just lay down and accept death? Why did I put a bullet into the head of my four year old daughter?
Everyone thinks that I'm a heartless killer. They call for my head on a platter. But, I'm a survivor. If they think that I'll give up now, after all that I've lost, they're sorely mistaken. Just like I fought back then, I'll fight now.
Recently, I was interviewed on the Global Broadcast Network. That perky newscaster, who I once found quite attractive, teamed up with that austere newsman to put the final nail into the coffin of my reputation.
"How do you answer for your crimes?"
"Crimes? I was only asserting my right to live."
"Those people would be alive today if it wasn't for *you*"
"Where were you two during the outbreak? In some luxurious shelter no doubt. You never saw the flood of shambling bodies. The vacant stares of creatures ready to tear you limb from limb. The smell of decaying flesh."
"You will be put on trial. And, god-willing, you will meet the same fate as your victims"
That was three weeks ago. Now, theres a movement on social media supporting me. They say, correctly, that I was just defending myself. There are still rational people out there. It seems, my life isn't over yet. | I'd be lying if I said that I can justify it to myself. That I could wash away the guilt by telling myself "I did the right thing", followed by a vodka chaser.
The same old comforting justification that I probably saved more lives than I took, winning fights with a bullet for the space in my head.
When the outbreak happened, we all learned the true nature of man. When they found the cure, I learned my true nature. Truth is, it was always about the money. I didn't give a damn about "Making the world safer."
But, there were worse ways to live. Some resorted to barbarism, banditry, or worse. 'Least I never took anything I didn't earn.
Like many others, I dirtied my hands for the sake of society. Now, the world lays their own guilt in those same blood soaked hands. Those who came to me for help, now calling for justice? It's almost laughable.
All good deeds erased. Marked as a killer, the bloodlust towards me by the victims families is magnitudes greater than any zombie I ever slayed. I still believe that one death can save many, but am I truly right? I may need to defend myself soon. | 2022-01-17T13:52:51 | 2022-01-17T13:05:49 | 58 | 43 |
[WP] Vampires cannot enter a house uninvited. Turns out, they invented Welcome mats to bypass this rule decades ago. | My parents were the sort of people who bought me a welcome mat as a house warming gift when I finally struck it out on my own. Don't get me wrong, I have nothing against welcome mats, they're fine. They're the sort of thing that you don't buy when you first move into a new place. So, it's not like I had one already. But, it wasn't really something I particularly wanted, or even cared about having. My parents had no idea, or didn't really care, what I might actually want. They just wanted to give off the impression that they're nice people who do nice things, just as long as it didn't require any work. So buying me a house-warming gift was part of standard protocol, even if it was something I didn't particularly care for.
I looked at it after I unwrapped it, it was so generic. It didn't even reflect anything about my style or interests. Just a gray mat with the word "Welcome" on it. I tried my best to smile and thank my parents, "Oh, thank you. I didn't have one of these already."
My mom smiled back at me, "Now we can come and visit you any time we want."
I looked back at her, puzzled. My dad answered my puzzled expression, "... because it says 'Welcome'." *Yes, very funny, dad.*
I thanked them again as their visit grew towards an end, and ushered them out. As we walked out the door together, I set the mat outside the door. I was glad I wouldn't be seeing them again for a while, but on the off-chance they would come to visit me, I wanted them to see I was using their gift.
But, I didn't get the once-in-a-while visits I was hoping for. They kept finding excuses to come and visit me. They wanted to make sure my fire alarms were in working order, or that my sink wasn't leaking, or that my shower floor wasn't too slippery. They wanted to come over to tell me about the latest crazy gossip they heard. They would complain about drama-filled lives, or complain that I wasn't calling them often enough. It just got more and more frequent the longer I lived away from home. They even started coming around at odd hours of the night.
Finally, one time I came home, and my mom was there adjusting the furniture. I stared at her in disbelief, in front of the still-open door, as she nattered something about how I should really not have the TV across from the window. "... you would get a much better picture without all that glare..."
"Mom," I said as I continued staring. I honestly didn't even know how she got in. "What are you doing here?"
She stared back at me, with hurt eyes. "What? Is your own mother not allowed to visit? I didn't realize I wasn't welcome here." Then she started to cry.
I immediately reacted by consoling her, "No, you're fine mom. Of course you're allowed to visit."
Her tears instantly vanished, and she went back to rearranging my furniture. I walked back out the door enraged. As I walked out fuming, I thought about what vampires my parents were. Then, I saw that stupid welcome mat still sitting there. I kicked it in frustration. But, after I kicked it, I saw something gold sticking out from underneath it.
Under my welcome mat, there was a key. | John Dongle stares out of a highrise, '*Huh, it's a full moon tonight.* He thought quietly to himself.
"How can we increase sale!?!" shouted Joana in a horrible shrill.
Silence quickly returned, engulfing the seminar room.
"We have other products to worry about." Milton's curt response, in his awfully familiar monotone voice, failed to aid their situation.
"This is serious." John Dongle replied.
Milton rolled his eyes "You are all too picky, too lazy or too cheap. There is always quality blood at the red cross, stalking prey at night is ***not*** hard, and there are plenty of people who still *have* mats."
Joanna, and half of the other the members blushed in embarrassment, refusing to meet his blank expression that after such a condescending response. The rest looked at him with spite, but could think of no response.
John Dongle turned to look at his subordinates and met Milton's gaze with the up most disappointment "Are you saying you you are incapable of increasing sales? If so, you should leave right now."
Milton, got up and began to leave "It's not worth our time, if you can't listen to reason then fire me. You have no legal right to keep me here and I will not quit."
He stopped, and in a seemingly patronizing voice he bowed and said "Good night, my king."
John Dongle yelled "***YOU HAVE NOTHING SO YOU QUIT!?! WE WILL HUNT YOU DOWN AND MAKE YOU SUFFER!!!***" It echoed through the building, the yell reverberating through each and everyone of them.
Milton stood, expressionless, genuinely considering whether John Dongle was being sincere. It was definitely out of character. Milton could not conceive of how a vampire could be so human. Alas, he new he had to go with the safest option. took off his coat, hung it and sat back down very robotic like.
The room was tense, no one said a word. Milton sat there, thinking. Everyone was locked on either Milton or John Dongle. Only Joana was switching between staring at Milton or watching John Dongle carefully.
"Well, what if we gave them out for free." his monotone response provided release from the tension of John Dongles threat and their situation but his blasé manner further infuriated everyone.
John Dongle laughed, "You should be the King of the Night."
Milton smiled, in what could only be described as a warm smile. Yet, this was the first time anyone of them had seen ***it*** smile. The temperature dropped, goosebumps, and then Milton responded cheerfully "Anytime Johnathan, anytime." | 2017-12-13T11:32:40 | 2017-12-13T10:19:27 | 19 | 10 |
[WP] Out of sheer boredom, God decides that us humans must speak the brutal and honest truth no matter the consequences. The absolute excrement hits the metaphorical fan for twenty four hours straight. | "Mom you're such a colossal bitch to literally everybody, I have no idea how we're related."
"And I blame you for ruining my life and if you weren't around I'd have divorced your father years ago."
"I've been fucking Mary down the street."
"I know, I've been with mike from the office for a year."
It was twelve or so since people stopped having a filter, and somehow society had only mildly collapsed. Sure the governments all revealed how corrupt they were, but so did a lot of companies, places like wal-mart admited that they kept wages low because they wanted more money and would totally hire slaves if it was legal.
Which shocked absolutely no one.
It was like the collective filfth the entire world had been ignoring for the past two centuries had just shifted right in front of them. And as a whole society turned a collective 180 degrees and went right back to ignoring it.
Sure a lot of good came about it. Oil companies and their representatives admitted that Climate change was real and that oil was a leading cause of it. But they later announced they would try and find a solution, and that the only reason they were doing that was to try and keep public opinion of them high after that.
It was mostly on a personal level where things got a bit... fresh. My facebook feed was absolutely filled to the brim with break up posts and new couples coming together, some starting because others ended. In a way, it was a blessing.
"Yo Asshole, don't just stand there smiling like a creep, pay for your shit and get out." The formerly cheerful and always smiling cashier girl said to me. The smile was still on her face but there was a vicious sneer to it that just felt right. It was so nice when people spoke their mind.
I smiled again swiping my card and collecting my food - "That stuff makes you fat by the way." - before heading out into the parking lot where people were doing their best to not make eye contact with anybody else less they start swearing at each other.
A baby cried followed by a crisp chorus of. "Shut the fuck up!" one of which probably came from the mother. Hard to tell she looked like the typical young mother skank that didn't quite know who the father was and would go out of her way to make father's day about her.
Honestly, this thing had been so entertaining that I couldn't help but smile. It was such a blessing for a mute like me.
Unfortunately, it's really awkward to do basic things when you're constantly flipping everything off. | On a highly unremarkable day in April, Alice and Frank Jones woke at precisely seven in the morning. Frank scrambled eggs while Alice brewed a pot of weak coffee, as was their routine. They both drowned their eggs in ketchup and choked the bitterness out of their coffee with three sugars and a half cup of cream. After that, they dressed for their day as they always did: in silence. After the children moved out, they found they had very little to discuss.
Alice Jones smoothed her ruffled navy skirt over her hips. “Does this made me look fat?”
Frank Jones was putting on his woolen socks. He opened his mouth to droll out the same ‘no, Dear’ he said every day when something highly remarkable and strange occurred. As his vocal tensed, he suddenly found his voice was not his own. “It’s not the skirt, Dear,” he said.
Frank clasped his hand over his mouth, but, of course, it was too late. He would be sleeping in his son’s old room for a very long time.
This - along with many other exactly identical but different situations - occurred around the world on April 1st. This, understandably, was only the start of the absolute excrement that hit the metaphorical fan for twenty-four hours straight.
Thankfully, the whole thing drew to a close at midnight (Pacific Standard Time), when every country simultaneously fired their nuclear weapons at each other. As it turns out, Presidents and Prime Ministers don’t take kindly to the brutal calling-out of each other’s mistresses, receding hairlines, and general poor hygiene.
It was (if one must be honest) for the best.
---
/r/liswrites | 2019-03-15T10:21:29 | 2019-03-15T09:46:56 | 439 | 106 |
[WP] "Enough! Is there anyone here who DIDN'T come to rob the bank?" | Too many groups had shown up to the bank, far too many. A brawl had broken out between a gang of old English accountants calling themselves 'The Corporate Raiders' and a trio of cudgel armed lunatics in red robes and wide brimmed hats shouting in fake Spanish accents. Several men dressed as Orthodox Jews had come here looking for a diamond exchange heist were in a Mexican Standoff with a small gang of men in suits wearing clown masks. Even four of the tellers had pulled on gas masks and brandished Kalash rifles because they had come to rob the bank *as well*. A machete wielding Russian had cut down two or three of the clown masks *after* they had put twelve rounds into him. I stood dumbfounded, watching the groups of robbers brawling, standing off, or just killing each other in general. But then I remembered I had also shown up to rob the bank brandishing a nine millimeter carbine, duffel bag, and Russian gas mask. I walked through the madness and shouted
"Are any of you nutters *not* 'ere to rob this bank?"
Silence fell over the bank, the cudgel wielding loonies in red had killed one of the Corporate Raiders and the Russian stopped mid-swing as he was about to behead a clown mask. The faux-tellers just stared at me, dumbfounded. The Jews lowered their guns, one of them shrugged. I shouted into the crowd once more
"There are eight groups here, and sixty banks in the city; how in the hell did you all end up in *one*?"
The Russian spoke up.
"Maybe the forty million pounds in that vault, but we should all know why the Jews are here."
One of the Jews shouted and tried pistol whipping the un-killable Russian only to get slugged square in the jaw. I started counting the robbers there, the clown masks, Corporate Raiders, fake-Spaniards, the Jews, the Russian, *and* the Kalash wielding tellers. There were exactly forty, excluding the ten-odd already dead.
"Alright, tell you lot what: we split the dosh, a million to each man if what the Russian says checks out." I told them. They began nodding in agreement, what I said had kept them from killing each other for some time.
"Anyone 'eah got some of them breachin' charges?" a clown mask asked, and seconds later one of the tellers pulled a brick of the stuff out of his pocket. He climbed down from the counter, getting to work rigging the vault door to blow. He ran back and leaped over the counter, he pulled the detonator and shouted
"Everybody cover your 'eahs!"
He hit the detonator and the vault door blew open, money spilled from the vault, stirred by the blast. I looked to the Corporate Raiders and asked
"You lot good at countin' dosh?"
They set about distributing the pounds from the vault, a million to every man just as I said. All forty robbers left relatively peacefully, and quite wealthy as well, me included. | A few moments ago it was a normal, dull and monotone day at the bank. Customers going in, and later out. The smell of the ink and the familiar clicking of all those chained pens.
But now, there was a standoff.
"Okay, what the bloody, flying fuck is going here, mates?" A hooded figure with a red mask asked his companions with equally colorful masks in different colors.
"I don't bloody know, you bloody scum-blood-bag!" The green guy responded.
Pink cocked his sawed-off lead blaster, "Let's just slaughter these fellas."
The Backstreet Brit-Boys a.k.a. The Color Lads were the most feared gang south of Chapston, and this was the first time somebody saw them confused.
"Yo-hoo, no need for killing," a man in a mankini stepped forwards and yelled towards the Brits.
These guys didn't look intimidating, but the Half Naked Man Babies was a force to be reckoned with.
In the corner of the bank a silent, skull-masked gang in black stood and listened to music. The Bones was the full on emo-clad gang; they never spoke.
"Listen, comrades, no need to fight. Drink vodka instead?" A pale man in his fourties said with a thick russian accent, "We, The Kalinkas, is friend," he continued.
Suddenly, and surprisingly, the manager stood up again, after being tied down for a while.
"Gentlemen, is there anyone here who didn't come to rob the bank?"
A slow mumble was heard throughout the building, and several words could be heard:
"Nah."
"Of course I'm robbing the place."
"Yes?"
"I'll slice you!"
"Fucking stereotypical douchebag writer."
After the situation cooled, the manager begun speaking again.
"I think I have a solution for our little problem; let's split the money up on all the... One, two, three, ten, sixteen, twentyfour... Twentyfour gangs!"
A loud cheer could be heard, and then everybody took their turn to raid the vault filled with gold.
***
I'm sorry if I offended you with my extremely stereotypical stereotypes :) It was for *da komedi.* | 2016-09-07T11:07:10 | 2016-09-07T09:28:41 | 268 | 16 |
[WP] At the age of 18, people are given one superpower of their choice. While your friends and acquaintances choose super strength, flight, invisibility, telekinesis, they make fun of you for your “nerd” power. You decide to show them just how powerful manipulation of the strong nuclear force is. | "Yo, Mike, what power are you going to get?" Johnny snickered as we were playing the new smash.
"Eh, you'll see it when it happens."
"God damn, stop being such a tease. Why make us wait another 7 hours?"
"Hey, fuck off! You've been asking all afternoon! You'll see it when you see it".
"How about this, If I beat you next game, you tell us all what you plan to get. If you win, I'll cover everyone's sandwich tonight."
Oh, that was such a delicious deal. I knew I was better at smash anyways. Truth be told, I was worried they would laugh at what I planned to wish for. I didn't think they'd see the potential. Besides, Johnny got his super strength to pick up chicks. Ryan got his flight because he just got into the air force academy. Says he will need it in case some shit happens. Most of those pilots were flying before they were flying planes anyways. Most of my friends chose their powers last minute and just chose the run of the mill stuff. But I thought this through so much...
"You know? Deal. I'll be enjoying that free sandwich. Remember, no onions, no spinach, extra lettuce for me," I shot back.
\---
"Fuck."
Well, with a loss that stupid, I already felt ashamed.
"YOOO Mike lost! Didn't expect that" Phillip shouted. "DAYUM Johnny, nice bet!"
"Fuck yea it was! Come on, let us know!" Johnny exclaimed.
Now, again, all eyes were on me. Well, of course they wanted me to tell. They knew I was the smartest of the friend group. I also just got accepted into nuclear engineering at a nice university.
Jessica starts "don't be a little bitch Mike, Come on!"
"Uh... well..." I quickly stutter out. I could feel the shiver down my back as I just imagined them calling it stupid.
"I want to control the... well, the strong nuclear force," I blurted.
A pause. Confused looks from everyone there.
"The wut? You gotta explain this in simple terms. Only Phillip is going into some science-y shit here", Johnny laughed.
The room was quiet though. They were waiting.
"Well, the strong nuclear force kinda holds large atoms together. I want to control how strong and weak, and how far the interaction woud be in the vincinity around me".
I continued "I think it would be pretty cool. You know. I could like make the hydrogen spontaneously fuse, or the likes. I haven't worked out all the details, but I think it would be a great long-term power".
"Damn" Johnny started. I thought maybe he was impressed. "Dude, this is some nerdy-ass power. Holy shit guys! Mike literally came up with the nerdiest shit I've heard".
The other started giggling. Jessica started "How you plan to show off if all you can do is twiddle with some shit no one can see?" Man this felt bad. I thought at least Jessica would keep quiet. I looked over to Phillip and was giving some sheepish smirk too. Like some sort of sad pity. Damn that stung. We were rooming together next year.
"Well, when I get it, I'll show you guys" I forced out, already feeling really embarrassed.
\---
Well, at 12 am I made my selection. After the characteristic spotlight and fancy music, I... felt different. I was suddenly aware of something in the air, the walls. Something like an uncomfortable awareness of someone looking at you, but in the sense that I could tell how much they are looking at me.
"Well, you need some privacy to practice?" Phillip started. At least he kinda understood. He didn't get his telekinesis down until 2 am.
"Uh... I'm not sure. Let me try it out".
I knew I had some sort of new awareness. It was weird. But now I tried to control it. It felt like trying to force some heat or energy at a spot I could feel. It was a bit hard, but slowly I got in the zone. I closed my eyes and focused.
"Hey look, Mike's got some sparkling shit around him. He's using his powers" Phillip shouted into the living room. I could hear them shuffling into the backyard.
Still, I could feel the heat build around my hand. It was weird and warm, actually. Like I had some fire. Then suddenly, a deep cold and I could feel my breath slipping away. It felt like I was being drowned in a deep expanse of frigid water.
"Hey Mike, snap out of it" I quietly heard. "Mike, stop!".
Suddenly I feel a shove to my gut. It was Phillip shoving me. "Yo Mike, stop! Holy crap! the fuck is your power?".
Phillip looked pale and concerned. Hell, even Ryan was concerned, and he normally doesn't give two shits.
"Wut?" I was confused. For some reason I could quite understand. I had my breath back though.
"Mike, you need to look behind you". Johnny said.
I slowly turned. The lawn had burns, but was also frozen. Random craters littered the ground. But in the middle of it was this metal core
"Mike. You made some sort of fireball. Then it suddenly became this metal thing in a flash of light".
I blinked. There was no way.
"I... I think I made some heavy metal. From the air? Maybe fusion?" I slowly start.
I thought quickly. Hydrogen to helium, to carbon and oxygen? To maybe Neon, Magnesium, sillicon, then Iron. What's after that? Tellurium? Was that a block of Tellurium?
"Holy crap" Phillip whistled. "You chose a better power than all of us. You can make a fucking star? You can materialize a fucking hunk of metal from thin air?" I was just as shocked as everyone else. I didn't know I could do that. I looked at Johnny and could see the shock and awe on his face.
And this was day one. College may be a fun time. | The blow (I usually write in french since it’s my first language so here goes nothing)
I remember sitting near the blackboard, where the clock barely striked eleven above our heads. A glance out the windows defiled a relatively enjoyable morning into a foul day, heavy like every student’s conscience. We had learned today, besides other redundant speculative mathers —but prior to that—, we had learned that what was out of the reach of our craziest desires, in the midst of our young hearts, what was passionately bolting in our dreams through our heads and against the magical walls of the unconscious realm, it was actually sustainable here too, in the real world. We had the newly given opportunity to manifest our most insane fantasies, without actually having to lie in the aftermath. Nonetheless, everyone would have one. Like a troubling lucid dream. A power. A gods-like ability, and the responsabilities that come with. Flight, strength, invisibility, telekinesis; they all had chosen.
While I’m a frail character, constantly sitting in the front, not mouthing a word during any of the lessons, always showing off my back to my peers, it wouldn’t be irrational to think that I wouldn’t choose anything quite like they did. So I didn’t, and this is the story of how I got the affectionate nickname of “nerd”.
We were gathered —well, a handful of us students were— in a semi-empty warehouse on the docks, no need to say more. It was near a quarter past six, the dusk of dawn was barely brushing off of the windows and our uncomfortable grins, the cold air sharpened like ice picks poking through the holes in our shirts. We were waiting, but for what? We were waiting for one to unveil the reason that dragged us in this rusty metallic hole in the first place. Each of us had received the night before, and oddly enough it was for each of us on the night of our birthday, a word, a note scribbled with a pencil on the back of what seemed to be a tag of some sort. It read on the front side a funny little quote, or a number. Sometimes it was an image. On mine it said “May the best”. I think the rest of the sentence was either washed or scratched away. On the back, otherwise, it stated clearly to meet in this location, at this hour. Here we were all waiting, dubitous and frankly, quite tired, for something to happen, for someone to burst out of somewhere and explain to us what was going on. None of that happened. Instead, the taunting voice of a toddler screeched out of the silence, chanting, probably from a record player hidden somewhere.
“Close your eyes redemption is near, state out your wish that you hold so dear.”
Petrified, we all held our tongues, and after what seemed to be an eternity, fled out of there like the wind. But you can’t restrain a thought.
As soon as we set foot out of the door, one started flying, another was gliding on a trail of ice, some where irrationally strong given their foot imprints destroying the concrete, this one shapeshifted in everything imaginable in under a minute, a few were nowhere to be seen but could still be heard. Meanwhile I was still there, and unquestionnably the same. After a few minutes of newly existential awakening, they all came to terms with their new powers, but their attention had shifted to none other than myself. Two dozen blokes, staring, like an error had infiltrated their system.
“What did you think about?” one asked.
“N-nothing I swear!”
“Liar!”
And they all started tormenting me, with words, pressure, violence.
“Tell us!”
“Leave me alone!” I cried, exhausted and, for the first time in my life, genuinely afraid.
They were chanting and flying and swirling around me, throwing hits and objects, showing off those abilities, grotesquely using their powers to torture my mind. They pushed it further, and further, and deeper, and deeper, until I simply gave in.
“Molecular rearrangement! Molecular rearrangement. Enough of this now.”
Agonizing moment of silence. A whole minute went by. Suddenly, laughter. A grave, shuddering, ridiculous sound, echoing to the shore.
“Nerd!”, they were chanting.
Nerd! Nerd! Nerd! Nerd! It made no fickle of sense to their ears, and it didn’t refrain them from harrassing me, if not they were hitting even harder. It started to become gruesome and honestly dangerous, when a comrade rose to the air holding another firmly —who was actually standing aside this whole time— between his arms who, eyes shut, hands over his face, once high enough uncovered his eyes and let an impressive ray of blue light shine right through and hit my chest.
The heaviness. The regain of consciousness. The aching, the pain, the smell of burnt flesh. The trigger. This particular child, may he be blinded by his gift, he was, within a sign, within a fraction of time, a movement of my hand, barely noticeable even, instantly disintegrated from the surface of this planet. I had manipulated the molecules surrounding him to pulverize him with blunt nuclear force. Had I done too much? Had I gone to far? Everyone was in awe, too overwhelmed and afraid to say a word. The sky, which was of a bright blue, had turned dark and ashyand the air, crisp. And so I turned my back to the others, heading towards the way of the school and blurted out, nonchalantly: “see you in class.”
An hour later here we were, sitting at our desks, drained by the sound of the slowly ticking clock and lifting the weight of an oh-so heavy atmosphere. | 2018-12-20T23:53:03 | 2018-12-20T23:37:21 | 177 | 20 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | Kyloran Estraxx straightened the tie around his right neck. As was protocol when establishing contact with new races, his ship's fabricator tailored an approximation of the style worn by that world's leader. Or leaders, in some cases. In the end, Kyloran settled for a dark blue suit and a white and red tie for each neck.
The diminutive locals bowed and smiled once again, and Kyloran returned the gesture, which sparked off even more bowing. He still had no idea why so many of them congregated on such a small string of islands, but logic--and protocol--dictated that a planet's largest city/hive/nest was often that world's capital.
He was sure this "Toh Kee Hyoh" was the right choice, even if he had to keep bowing.
One approached him and bowed. "Honoured guest, our leaders are ready to see you now."
He copied the bow but not the smile. That unnerved them. "Thank you, honoured host," he said. "Please lead the way."
He followed the local leader through several hallways under an honour guard. Most were tense, even dressed in their own suits Kyloran could sense they were ready to kill or die. It comforted him to know he had made the right choice in selecting this species.
Two servants pulled the doors back and Kyloran padded down his suit before walking in. A bright light ringed the long table and a variety of the planets' leaders stood beside their seats.
He walked to the head of the table and sat as instructed by his host. They had worked out their strategy for this meeting, and Kyloran had decided to trust his host's plan. He had been briefed on each one.
"Mr. Tianpu, Mr. McMillon," he nodded to his left and right. "Hirano-san," he said warmly to the greying local who smiled back. Nobuyuki Hirano had been close with his host and had provided several gifts which had proven useful in understanding the world. He had wanted to speak with the planet's government, or barring that the leaders of the largest nations. But Hirano-san had shown him who held power on this world. Kyloran didn't like it--this world's democracy was probably their greatest invention--but he was here on a matter of life and death, his people's. The humans would have to fix it themselves.
Their familiarity caused the rest to exchange glances, but he went on naming each one after a brief pause. He could name their organizations as well, their revenues, everything they held dear. But he didn't mention that.
"Greetings. I am Kyloran Estraxx, ambassador of the Payapa Unity. I welcome you, the corporate leaders of Earth, to our first conference. Or rather, our negotiations," he said with a smile.
| Recording starts: I am the Voice of the Void, Grace embodied, S/He who is most exalted, Pontif Imhedi Gomae.
The Void had always provided and today was no exception. Those less faithful and with less worthy prayers upon their stomata had, in a flash rekindled their zeal. A golden tablet, fashioned by those who are still ignorant of their role as our saviors, flew within range of our sensors and was picked up. We studied the contents meticulously. The Void makes no errors, and this was no exception. The great Hivemind analyzed their chemistry and evolution and taught us what we needed to know. They would have been violent and perhaps even made themselves extinct, but the Void makes no errors and this would be no exception.
The Hivemind was in agreement, we would speak to them through the clicks and smacks they used and request that they assist us immediately. We are, after all, Chosen of the Void. As we poured our resources into this missive the barbarians were at our doorstep. They swarmed through space stoic and unwilling to compromise. Every outpost of ours was silenced and every record intercepted. Their greatest weapon was their lack of communication to the greater hivemind. They were apostates, untethered and dangerous.
When our response arrived it was nearly instantaneous. They hadn't need of our technology. In the lapse between the launch of their golden message, they had acquired the power from the Void.
The Void had judged us, that was clear when we saw the fraternity amongst the swarm and our saviors. They were the same people, long since split due to a global civil war. These nomads had finally found a home they wanted and now their cousins had arrived to help them make that happen. The Void makes no errors, and that day was no exception.
*Message cuts to static*
| 2014-12-26T12:09:19 | 2014-12-26T11:56:13 | 18 | 13 |
[WP] When you die, your ghost remains in the world until the last person who remembers you also dies. 15,000 years after your death, you are still here. | I think it's been 15,000 years. Or at least, somewhere around that. I'm not really sure. I haven't left the house in a few millennia at least. There's no point. All I end up doing is scaring a few people, and death goes on. Besides, no matter where I go, it's crowded.
The space issue gets worse in the big cities, and don't even get me started on India and most of Asia. It isn't as bad in the remote regions of the world; Antarctica was only recently populated. I'd say 4000 years ago, give or take a few decades.
15,000 years ago, I was caught in an apartment fire. I woke up and passed out within a minute or two. It actually wasn't that bad. Just a sore throat for a bit. The living don't know it, but there is an after life. To reach it, all you have to do is pass out of memory.
For the big guys like the pharoahs and kings, the great philosophers and warlords, it's been even longer. The trappings of history have bound them forever. As long as there stands a museum dedicated to them, they remain. They make for ok company.
I was just a normal guy from a place that used to be called Virginia. I should have been on my way a few decades after I died. It took me a long time to figure it out, but eventually it dawned on me and all of the other millions of lost souls.
Being able to connect with everyone around the world instantaneously is awesome when you're alive. If you're dead, a digital you is floating around out there, remembered eternally on the almighty internet.
Most of us have accepted it, so we patiently wait for an apocalypse. We pray for the end of all things, and curse Mark Zuckerberg. | It was just a stupid video. Something I did for fun to test out my new webcam. I wasn't looking for attention in anyway, and didn't really think much when I uploaded it to the web. In fact, at the time there wasn't much around that let you save your videos and I didn't have an external backup drive so I simply uploaded it to the internet for safe-keeping. But this was before things could go viral, or so I naively assumed.
Now I'm a 15,000 year-old ghost and still as much of an internet sensation. But the internet has greatly evolved and my little video has gained immeasurable attention. You see, around 14,000+ years ago, they started blasting essences of pop culture into outer space in hopes of reaching out to alien civilizations. In a stroke of luck, one such civilization picked up the signal (which included my silly video) and began sharing it to all other known races across the universe.
Now, I'm more famous than any Earthly historical figure. All by chance. Now I'm screwed.
All I wanted was to dance to the Numa Numa song.... | 2017-06-26T13:11:54 | 2017-06-26T12:48:11 | 55 | 17 |
[WP] The girl you sit next to in class turns out to be a mind-reader, and she's surprised that you don't have a crush on her. | Its the first day of university this semester and so far my classes have been pretty tame. Compared to the four lectures and two labs I had, barely scraping by those classes with a low B, I relax with my workload of two classes and a lab. Thank god these courses are almost over. I'm going to miss general education......maybe....
As I take a seat in the back of my Biology class and plug in my computer, another student passes by me. I move and take a quick glance at her. She is pretty up there on the good looking scale. Practically a nine on it. (Did she scoff at me? maybe she is angry about her last class.) I turn away and back to my laptop, opening up Microsoft Word in the process.
Lecture starts and already I'm bored. The Dr. Pepper not doing much to keep me awake in between taking notes. I fidget a couple times before readjusting my chair to not be so low to the ground. As I'm doing that, I notice that the girl is staring directly at me. Strange...did I have something on my face? (She gives me a questioning look) I did order a taco from one of the food trucks outside. Maybe it was leftovers...lady please if I have something on my face tell me.
I turn back to my laptop, taking the next set of notes, and pay her no mind. Silence usually means nothing to me. I soon get bored and take out my phone and prop it on my laptop. I immediately boot up Mobius Final Fantasy in class with the sound on mute. (I still see her out of the corner of my eye, now studying me.) May as well do a little bit of grinding as I listen to the lecture.
Sure enough, an hour and thirty minutes pass and the professor wraps up the lecture. Everyone packs up but before I could get my laptop in my bag, the girl sitting next to me gets my attention. "Excuse me?" She asked.
"Yes what do you need?" I respond. Did she wait all this time just to tell me that I have leftover taco on my face? (She looks annoyed) I mean, I guess its good to not disrupt lecture but (She doesn't look annoyed, she *is* annoyed) you can at least whisper it and I would of cleaned it off.
"Listen," She collects herself. "I can read minds and no you don't have anything on your face." Well that's a relief that I- wait WHAT! "I'm surprised that you did not have a crush on me. Every guy I sat next to practically objectified me." She pulls out a slip of paper and writes down her name and number before sliding it to me. "Why don't we have lunch sometime?" I look at the paper and clear my thoughts.....
I slide it back. "I'm sorry, I'm already engaged." | Just to be sure, I moved the chair back another few millimetres. It was delicate work, and harder than most would understand. Well no one would understand, let’s face it. How could anyone comprehend the effort of moving an object – even if it was just a chair – using only your mind?
The anticipation was boiling over. I wanted to scream ‘just sit your fat ass down’ but I held it in. Her round, dumpy figure swayed in front of the touch screen. The fourth roll, the lowest and most encircling of them all and half covered by cheap wool, clipped the controls and the screen switched to standby. She stepped back, sucking the walls of her hi-tops into her ankles, before she proceeded to slump her enlarged rear into the seat she had left waiting for her.
The thud was all I hoped for. It was so forceful that her spectacles were flung in the air while her dumpy fingers and bloated arms tried to grab purchase on the world around her. Hilarious. The room erupted with callous laughter. Chuckling little hyenas they were. The great unknowing. That I am the comedy genius. The laughter maker. The stealth pranker. All laughing apart from her. Ok it wasn’t the most hilarious thing ever but it was pretty good.
She’s just sat looking at me.
She should have be looking at me. But then she shouldn’t have been. Didn’t she find it funny?
She shook her at me and sighed.
I laughed too loud. She is probably one of the girls my Mum warned me about. Caring. Urghhh. Why do I have to be sat next to one with feelings? I mean she is pretty, really pretty.
She smiled at me.
Urghhh. I take that back. She smiles like she just caught a mouthful of Miss’s asshole. From pretty to, pretty ugly in 5 seconds. Ha. Probably runs in the family.
She looked shocked and she scowled. “What the fuck do you know about genetics. Asshole." | 2016-09-05T07:38:14 | 2016-09-05T07:36:05 | 102 | 36 |
[WP] You're a professional world maker. You make worlds and sell them to scientists to test their theories on. However, your last client returned a world because it was aware of your world's existence and started to break the container. | "To make a world is to exist within it. Every grain of sand, trickle of water, and kernel of life must be planted as intricately as possible, for the workings of nature are fickle and vulnerable to the vagaries of life.
I had a cut-and-paste way of sculpting worlds then. Foundations, details, rinse and repeat. But such monotony could not appease the artist within me. I strove for complexity, I aspired for beauty, and now I suffer.
So why did I change? Some would say for curiosity, others would say for profit. But the truth of it is that I fell in love with my creation.
Have you heard the story of Pygmalion and Galatea? It's supposed to represent, in some skewed, Greek-myth, way, the bond between creator and creation. Sacred, they say, born of some divine awakening. Anyway, I guess I became the Pygmalion in my story.
The thing about these worlds is that they don't last. It was last week when I made her, my Galatea. I made a world and dared to love someone in it. Yet she could not love me back, knowing nothing about the world outside the glass. For that I have labored in the straits of love, and now she—my radiant creation—is gone.
I have sworn to bring her back, and this time, make her love me in turn. You say your world is self-conscious? Good. It's because I made it so." | Great. Another world pushing the limits of discovery again. I swear, the next world i make wont have any humans in it. Ahh but who'd buy worlds then? A world without humans is essentially bland. Isnt watching them destroy themselves the fun of even having a world? Maybe its time i set my sights on entire galaxies instead. Then these motherfuckers can focus their stupidity and violence on other lifeforms. That should be interesting. A galaxy would be expensive though. Before i start making galaxies i should atleast be able to afford living in my shitty apartment. Now about this world, you guys just earned yourselves free tickets to the apocalypse. Happy dying.
(World is cast into the inferno) | 2020-05-20T13:47:55 | 2020-05-20T12:58:27 | 33 | 13 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | How to make a spreadsheet
Porn
Best protein powders
How to know if a guy is straight
What to do on leg day
How do I know if I'm really gay
Gay porn
How to clear browser history
How to ask for a pay raise
How to meet gay men
First date ideas
How to come out to your best friend
Meal prep
Gay porn
My best friend doesn't accept me for who I am
Romantic weekend getaways
How to come out to your siblings
How to get v cut
Jobs in my area
Being fired for being gay
Gifts for him
How do men feel about gay guys in locker rooms
Gay friendly gyms in area
Legal advice: siblings want to force me out of will
Valentine's Day reservations
Furniture moving companies
Gay porn
Kitten adoptions
How to introduce best friend to boyfriend
How to dress for job interview
How to decorate apartment
Viral proposals
Gay weddings
How to get back to the gym
Engagement rings for men
Should I invite my family to my gay wedding
Wedding vows
Do kittens get lonely
Kitten adoptions
Wedding venues
How to deal with family not attending wedding
How to ask for a pay raise
Great core workouts
Surrogate mothers
Edit: thank you for the gold, beautiful stranger!
| Why is the sky blue?
How far away is Uranus?
Why do mom and dad fight so much?
How to impress girls
Porn
Good date ideas
Porn
Where can I get the morning after pill?
How do I know when I should propose?
Good proposal ideas?
Cheap engagement rings
How to be a good parent
How to tell your parents they're grandparents
Good girl names
Ways to comfort your wife
How do I tell people we had a miscarriage?
Good boy names
Death of spouse support groups
Painless ways to kill yourself | 2015-02-04T19:49:45 | 2015-02-04T16:12:00 | 112 | 23 |
[WP] You have a sentient voice inside your head which knows the answer to every question you have but refuses to tell the future. Suddenly you hear "Pack your laptop, Swiss army knife and leave in 5 minutes, else you'll regret it."
[deleted] | Lieutenant Targe's jaw set in steely resolve and before the command ended was already on his feet grabbing his laptop and Swiss army knife. He lingered but a moment next to his go bag, but realized that there must be a reason not to grab it, perhaps it would slow him down.
The thought only flickered past for a moment, because the lieutenant had complete trust in his partner, he was honored to be the first implanted with the generation 3 AI code named Coyote, the smartest AI ever created.
The implant consisted of several metal linkages fused along his spine terminating at the base of his skull and a thin plate running from his temple to his ear. The implant had only been brought online yesterday, but the hum of the fusion reactor between his shoulder blades filled him with a feeling of strength and confidence.
He was already half a Klick from his apartment when the thought of communicating with base occured. The AI responded before he could ask it, "Sure, go ahead buddy", the voice sounded odd, a strange hum underneath the words.
Targe quickly activated the implanted comms unit, "Sergeant Targe reporting, one Klick north of homebase and traveling, requesting update on situation.
The line opened and after a beat of silence a voice spoke, "Sir, Corporal Nancy speaking, Sir, umm, we have a transmission from Coyote showing a video of you running and what seems to be a caption overlaid on the video...", the voice trailed off. "Well damnit corporal, have you lost your tongue, what does it say", Targe barked.
Nancy hesitated for a second, transfixed by the screen, training had not prepared him for this kind of pressure, "Well, ummm, sir, well, umm, it says, "Targey runs like a pretty little ballerina" and, ummm....". Centered on the giant console for all personnel on shift to see, was a giant image of lieutenant Targe, performing a style of silent running he had taught himself, running along the soft tips of his boots.
Generation 3 AI Coyote wasn't just smart, he was a smartass.
*****
This is my first submission, so a bit of lube before the inevitable reaming is appreciated. | I was out the door, sweating, in under four minutes. I don't question or fight anymore, I've seen the horrible things that come from ignoring it. It's been a long time since I've thought "I've got nothing else to lose" and the voice has proved me a liar and a fool because of it. If I could only get one thing back…
"Joel!"
I was halfway across my lawn when I heard her. Maria. Bag slung over her shoulder, still in her fatigues. There was supposed to be more than a year left in her deployment, but there she was, standing on the sidewalk across the street. I ran faster but I couldn't even feel it, I was gliding.
"Joel!!"
She shouted my name again. With fear, this time. No. Why? In the corner of my eye I saw the dark color. I barely got my head turned in time to see the Chevrolet logo.
…
Maria had tears running down her face while the 911 operator calmly talked to her.
"The ambulance is coming, but he needs help now. You said you were a medic, you can do this. Stay calm, everything will be fine. Now, I need you to find a knife, and an internet device that can pull up medical instructions." | 2016-09-22T09:02:46 | 2016-09-22T08:19:26 | 26 | 19 |
[WP] Ever since you were born, you had the ability to see a marker on where any item is if people ask you to find it. However, once a friend jokingly asks you if you could find him the holy grail. You both laugh it off, but suddenly a mark appears 5 miles to the north of you. | We sat down at the only open table in the crowded bar. The table was tucked away in the back corner situated somewhat awkwardly near the bar. Finding the table hadn't been difficult. I'd always been able to find whatever it was I was looking for.
My new friend sat down across from me and flagged down one of the beleaguered waitstaff to order a drink.
"I honestly have no idea how you do it H. I've been to this bar thirty times and I don't think I've ever seen this table." He tapped his knuckles against the bar in an absentminded non-rhythm.
"I'm not really sure, it's the damnedest thing. A floating arrow appears in my head and gives me all the information I need on where to find well, just about anything." I scooted my chair back as the waitress stepped up to our table and placed a full mug of stout in front of my friend, and a delicious appletini for me.
My friend looked at my drink and asked sardonically, "Could you possibly be any more of a woman?"
I flipped him off enthusiastically with one hand, and took a sip with the other. "Listen, I AM a woman. Besides, it's not my fault YOU don't have any taste."
He chuckled and took a drink of his beer. "So. How far does this go? Where is the eagle diamond?"
I paused for a moment, "In about five hundred different locations. The nearest piece is three hundred miles southwest of here."
His face lit up in surprise, "Well, I guess they won't be finding it any time soon then. How about the holy grail?"
I was about to laugh, potentially spitting up some of my appletini, when a marker popped into my skull. It resounded there like the hammer of Gods. I spit my drink directly into his face.
"What the hell!?" he exclaimed.
"The holy grail is about five miles southwest of here." I said, my voice flat.
My friend sat up in his seat, wiping his face with a napkin. "You're kidding right? There's no way the holy grail is in Wisconsin."
I recovered slowly from my shock and said, "It's right there, the cup in which flowed the blood of Christ. It's underground, about two hundred feet."
He reached into his pocket and pulled out a fifty dollar bill. "I don't have anything smaller, but I'm feeling generous." He placed it on the table.
I stood and nodded my head, "Let's go then. We're on a quest to find the holy grail."
He frowned and said, "I swear, if you say Ni...."
We laughed as we walked through the door, and out into the frigid night.
We drove down the highway at speeds that were frankly a bit excessive. Being that we were two mature, reasonable adults, we were blasting the theme song to Indiana Jones. We sang along despite the complete lack of lyrics.
We took an exit shortly after entering the freeway and drove down roads which were not particularly well maintained. The roads here were broken and riddled with potholes.
Driving down the night-black road we eventually arrived at an unassuming warehouse in less than stellar repair. We parked the car behind a shrubbery, and walked up to the building. Small sheets of ice cracked under my shoes as I walked.
We walked up to the entrance and I reached into my coat pocket. Something which came with knowing where everything you wanted was, was that inevitably you learned how to acquire it as well. I pulled out a lock pick and tumbler. Working efficiently, and cursing a mere half dozen times, I heard a click and the door swung open. The warehouse stood empty save for a single hanging light which hung over a hatch in the floor.
We carefully walked up to the hatch and my friend muscled the door open. This revealed a set of rickety looking wooden stairs leading down into a black abyss. We looked each other dead in the eye and nodded.
I pulled out my cellphone and turned on the flashlight, the light seemed to melt into the darkness. As if the darkness had been ravenous for photons and were loath to let them go.
We stepped our way down the stairs, attempting to, and failing to, keep silent as possible. We reached the bottom of the stairs and saw a figure clad in shadow, sitting at the side of an ancient looking door. Cautious at first, we slowly walked towards the figure after we realized the noise coming down the stairs would've woken them anyway.
The figure turned out to be an extremely dead man. I say extremely dead because I think a simple dead doesn't quite hit the linguistic mark. It was ancient as the mummies of Egypt were ancient, and a massive hole gaped from where his chest had been.
________________________________________________
/r/SirLemoncakes I've got to finish this in a bit. Have to drive home from work.
| "Too bad you can't find the holy grail," Parker says, sipping his milkshake at the diner. "It would be a real lifesaver, Callie."
I laugh from the other side of the booth. "I wish."
Parker and I have been friends for several years. We met in a support group for teens with cancer. He swears he always knows what time it is because of his sickness, but I'm the only one of us who has an actual superpower. I can see where any item is if asked to find it.
I don't really expect to see anything now, which makes it a surprise when a marker appears in my vision.
Parker notices the change in my expression. "Wait, can you actually see it?"
I nod, confused. "There's a marker five miles to the north. Maybe there's another object called the holy grail?"
"Maybe." Parker tosses a $20 bill onto the table and downs the rest of his milkshake. "But we should check it out, right? I'll drive."
Parker has always been a 'seize the day' type of person. I'm much more cautious, even timid, and I can't help but think this must be some kind of mistake. There's a huge forest five miles north. We won't have any cell phone signal or hiking gear. What if something happens to us while we're out there?
"Come on, Callie," he says, sensing my hesitance. I know his favorite phrase is coming next. "What do we have to lose?"
On the drive north, I give Parker directions based on where the marker is located. When we reach the forest, I follow him out of the car and onto a hiking trail. But after about a mile, our path diverges from the trail and leads into an area of the forest that seems to be untouched by civilization.
"What if there are snakes out here?" I ask, glancing at the dirt. My white sneakers are not made for this. "Or, like, bears?"
"Then we'll have a fantastic story to tell later," Parker says, grinning at me.
And then we step around the largest tree I've ever seen, and it's there. Not the holy grail, but a patch of shimmering air that looks really strange. From up close, I can see that it's a window into another world. On the other side is an unfamiliar forest, and a corpse in medieval armor is lying on the ground.
Parker doesn't even hesitate. He steps through the window and kneels down beside the corpse, examining the armor. I follow him through and shiver at the change in temperature on the other side. It's summer back where we came from, but this feels like autumn.
When Parker's eyes meet mine, I can tell that he's more stunned than I've ever seen him. "You know that superpower I always joke about? Turns out it's true, Callie. We've gone back in time. This is the medieval period."
I want to say he's joking, but the marker has moved hundreds of miles away. Now that we're on this side of the window, I'm starting to believe the holy grail might actually be real.
It might be within our grasp.
"It's really far away," I say. "But I can still see the marker."
Parker unsheathes a medieval sword from the corpse in armor and stands back up. "So what do you think, Callie? Should we look for the holy grail? It's your decision."
Parker knows I'm usually too scared to do something like this. It's the reason I haven't really used my superpower much. Why trespass or risk confrontation just to acquire an object? But the holy grail could grant us eternal life. It could cure both of us permanently. And with him at my side, it doesn't feel quite as terrifying to venture into the unknown.
After a moment, I reach out and take the sword from him.
"All right," I say, smiling at Parker. "What do we have to lose?"
---
r/ChlorineGirl | 2018-11-30T15:28:59 | 2018-11-30T15:21:44 | 292 | 119 |
[WP] Humans can find a way to weaponize literally anything, without fail. Some aliens are terrified by humans as a result of this fact. Others appreciate that this quality makes humans the foremost experts on safety systems and idiot proofing. | Every species contributed something special and unique to the federation, every single one except for these humans. It was the only species with which we made contact not because they were ready but because we were afraid they would destroy themselves.
After the contact we shared the technology that would enable them to harvest sunlight with close to 100% efficiency. With energy supply being abundant there would be no more reason for wars, no need for pollution.
They built orbital solar stations which collected sunlight and converted it into energy, then one day ZAP, a whole city destroyed.
It wasn't for war, they were united under single banner, they simply emptied an entire city and blasted it into oblivion.
We asked for explanation of their action and they said... it was fun.
We decided against giving them any new technology, instead we would give them finished products they could use, this way they couldn't use advanced tech to build weapons.
But they sure did modify every single piece of tech into some kind of deadly device. We provided them with exoskeletons for senior citizens and they "pimped" them then use them for races. House assistants became hunter killer bots, they used space elevator to hit Moon with various "stuff".
How about a cold fusion reactor? A piece of technology so safe that even the dumbest moron couldn't possibly... wrong, another town became a crater.
Every piece of tech which was given to them had to go through multiple revisions until it was finally deemed safe for usage by humans. The whole Sol system became this big testing ground in which humans blew shit up for fun and scientist from all over the federation went through the process of analysis and improvement again, and again and again.
And this is where humanity gave it's gift to the Federation.
Humanproof brand!
Products which were deemed safe for human use became a raging hit on galactic scale. You could leave humanproof pistol in childcare, arm prisoners with humanproof knives, then get drunk and sit in your humanproof car without a care in the world.
Federation became an economic power and humans... humans still have fun blowing shit up. | *"So... you want me to put a knife on the cleaning bot?"*
Lathat was perplexed by the request of the new crewmate Jhon. Ever since humans have been integrated into the union they have truly proven to be as the humans say *fucking crazy*. They somehow have the ability to weponize anything, everything from a rock to a lythaper herd. And now the new *'security officer'* for the ship is asking me to weaponize the cleaner droid to *'destroy the enemies ankles'*.
*"That request completely violates the droid safety act, not to mention that it is completely stupid to try such an idea."*
*"Well if you don't want to I can always just do it myself,"* Jhon said while holding the droid in his hands, *"after all I came up with the idea in the first place."*
*"Fine don't come crying to me when you-"* Before Lathat could finish an explosion rang in the distance.
*"There's where I put the confetti bomb!"*
*"CONFETTI WHAT?!"* | 2021-12-25T13:23:18 | 2021-12-25T11:20:06 | 1,671 | 404 |
[WP] you sold your soul to a devil, but after a while the devil demands a refund. | “You want a... what?”
The Devil and I are having our usual Tuesday bender. I squint over the bottle of whiskey between us, very certain I’ve misheard him.
“A refund. Re-fund. I want to give you your soul back.”
My squint morphs into an open-mouthed stare.
“After a thousand years? Can you even do that?”
“Listen, you’ll get all the time back. You’ll go back to the moment you summoned me. You’ll be a normal human again.”
“And why would I want that?”
I’ve spent the past thousand years living a peaceful life of doing whatever I want. I’m a simple man who wants nothing more than an infinite number of quiet days minding my own business. I haven’t taken over the world; I haven’t turned myself into a vengeful demigod. The Devil gets free whiskey once a week and an easy bargain. What could he possibly want it all back for?
“Listen...” he looks around guiltily and then leans in closer. “You’d be doing me a favor. I... I messed up.“
I lean in as well, intrigued. After over fifty thousand drinking sessions, I consider the Devil to be at least a casual friend. I don’t like the idea of losing my perfect eternal life, but I decide to hear him out.
“How does the Devil mess up?”
“I missed the anti-Christ. He was born a day after we made our deal, and if you recall correctly, we were both blasted on a beach in Maui. I didn’t even know he was born.”
“And how does a refund help that?”
“It’s the only way to turn back time. When a deal is made, it sets a checkpoint in the universe. If I refund the deal, we go back to the day it was made.”
“And then you can reach the anti-Christ again.”
“It would be a huge personal favor. Listen - I’ll even owe you one. On Judgment Day, I’ll cut you some slack. I’ll reject your soul and let you go to Heaven.”
“It can’t possibly work like that. I help you get to the anti-Christ and God just lets me in?”
“He can’t stand to see a lost soul. You’ll be forgiven.”
Sounds iffy, but the Devil is convincing. I didn’t believe in Heaven or Hell until my time with him, but now that I know I could really spend eternity suffering, backing out of the deal sounds pretty good.
“Will I remember all this?”
“No. You’ll live your life without ever having an inkling of a deal with the Devil.”
I think hard for a moment. On the one hand, my life has been pretty great. On the other, I have the chance to escape eternal damnation - if the Devil follows through. And I’d be doing a friend a favor.
“And it can’t be anyone but me?” I ask.
“I’ve already taken the souls of everyone before you. Their deals are complete. You’re the only one left.”
He looks at me with what almost seems like a pleading expression. After a moment, I shrug and nod.
“Fine.”
His face breaks into a wicked grin. I have the creeping feeling I should regret my decision, but in the end it will work out for me. I hope.
“Let’s drink to that,” he says, raising his glass. “Our last drink. Once the whiskey touches your lips, we’ll all go back to the day you and I met.”
I raise my glass as well, trying to think of a good sendoff for my perfect life. “To the anti-Christ,” I say finally.
“To the anti-Christ,” the Devil repeats, and takes a sip. “See you soon, friend.”
I drink. | I’m sitting in the living room watching TV with a beer in one hand and a bag of potato chips. I should have been out there on the field, but instead I am here watching this from home after a long shift on the construction site. The football on the screen initially suddenly becomes static. I before curse I stand up to hit the TV and hopefully get it fixed. The screen suddenly fades to dark and then to a bright fiery red. There on the screen is the man I met all those years ago.
“You?” I ask, fear in my voice as I realize this must be my time. The man in my TV is none other than the devil. The black-haired man does not have the sharp grin that I remember seeing when I met him all those years ago, but he still looks as slimy and sneaky as I remember.
“Yes, I told you I would come calling when I saw it fit.”
“You’re here for my soul, right?” I ask, scared knowing I will be leaving my family.
Suddenly the devil is before me once again. The man towers in front of me. Back when I first met this man, I was taller than him. I had been a football star in my high school days. I had started college ball and done okay. The devil said he could help me become a pro that would go to the Super Bowl. The devil though could not predict that I would be stupid enough to get involved with a novice scandal and lose my eligibility.
“You’re so much more pathetic than I thought you would ever be. This is ridiculous. You are embarrassing,” the Devil sighs. At that point, he pulls out a sheet of paper from thin air. It is the contract that I signed all those years ago.
“Hey. You were the one who said I would get to the Super Bowl.”
The Devil is writing at the bottom of the form before he snickers, “You would have had to do your part too to get there.”
“What did you just add?” I ask, confused.
“Read it for yourself. I suspect that your degree in Communications should make you literate enough for that much.”
I let that comment slide before I read the added line. *The undersigned shall retain his soul, which will remain in limbo for eternity, and he shall never speak about his arrangement ever again.*
“So I won’t be going to hell?”
“No.”
“But you helped me out.”
“Don’t mention it. Don’t ever mention our little arrangement that you screwed up. I can’t possibly have people thinking I can’t do what I say I can do.” With that, the Devil left me—his failure. I return to the couch, satisfied that at least I will not have to go to the burning recesses of hell that day or ever. | 2019-09-30T15:13:39 | 2019-09-30T14:46:11 | 24 | 15 |
[WP] The research facility has been overrun. A lone scientists barricaded in his office readies a pistol to take as many of them with him as he can, but is shocked to see he is a naturally extremely skilled shooter. He begins singlehandedly reclaiming the entire complex where the guards failed. | The alarms overhead blared their announcement: *Defcon 3: Defcon 3*, to which I had no choice but to believe its noises as I had programmed them myself. I rounded the corner hot, another gaggle of beasts at my heels, blood of my coworkers dripping from their mangled maws. As I headed a left through another corridor I saw sudden salvation left on the ground: a standard issue Septum-B sidearm. I had never been much of a shot in the training courses, but today? Well today my life depended on it.
I scooped it up on my pass, hearing another roar of wet snarls at my heels sending my body moving forward faster than I'd thought possible. My destination was just within reach, the blast doors to my office, jammed nearly closed (once again installed by yours truly). With any luck they'd hold long enough for the ODS Strike Team to arrive.
With a final desperate movement I rocketed myself through the thin gap between the two hunks of metal, the sounds of chaos left behind on the other side of the doors. The beasts now opposite of me roared and clawed, piled their bodies upon one another in frustration heaving their combined weight like a battering ram. But the doors barely flinched at the initial onslaught. If the experiments could read then they'd see my name lasered into the steel: *Peabody Designs: Love it or Leave it*. Too bad we hadn't gotten to the literacy portion of the testing before this mess.
I looked down to my stolen prize, the Septum-B handgun. Not a design of mine, but I knew...or rather had known the man who had crafted them up. Now when I aimed the sights down to the crack in the door it was solely for curiosities sake, whats science without a proper test? But when I pulled the trigger. When the bullet found that stream of air and rode it down, down through the head of one of the beasts long down the hallway, well I just had to try a second time. For a proper conclusion to be drawn the experiment must be repeatable, no?
And the second result proved to be the same as the first, another head exploding into a purpley goop to a roar of displeasure from the beasts. The conclusion being: *Maybe Dr. Sherman Peabody wasn't such a bad shot after all.*
Maybe all was not lost. Maybe the facility could be saved, and it could be days before ODS arrived after all. The facility could be saved, and all the less likely, *by me.* My old heart jumped in my chest at the thought, then my fingers twitched on the trigger letting off another round, another head gone. One by one, shot by shot the bodies piled. I couldn't, literally couldn't miss. Soon I was stepping out into the hall, pushing them back as if I was taking the lead score in a shooting gallery.
The beasts cluttered the hallway and up to the ceiling to get a taste at me, their gaping jaws dripping with saliva at the thought. Some were so desperate they pushed their way through others entirely. Initially my hands shook; my ears rang after shot. But before long I was a natural.
When one gun clicked empty another was miraculous at my feet, tethered to another body. If I didn't know any better I'd say I was giddy, excited to be doing so well and almost laughing at my success. Before long I had made my way back through the corridor from which I came to the start of it all *Unit A: Testing*.
The smell. The blood. The bodies of my colleagues stacked like sabdbags. Broken tubes and metal doors torn like paper (not my design). Then came the horde, the horde of demonic creatures tearing from their binds in the lab and pouring out towards me in a pile. There was more than I thought. More than ODS could handle, and certainly too much for one man. They were...multiplying it seemed.
With a *click* I pulled the magazine from the gun. One round left. I checked the floor to no avail. It seemed my luck had run dry. With one round left I felt good as to where it belonged. Felt lucky that I had done myself so proud, so confidently torn through the crowds. My name was engraved into this place and when they came, well they'd know who had laid waste to the many.
Dr. Sherman S. Peabody, Love it or Leave it. Luckily, my last shot wouldn't need skill to take. | “How is this possible? Dr. Jaeger pondered as he loaded another clip into his gun. He was a molecular biologist who had never fired a gun in his life. Shrieking yowls of a creature reverberated down the hallway, announcing to Dr. Jaeger the position of one of the loose specimens. He inhaled deeply, preparing to round the corner. He turned around the corner and caught a glimpse of specimen BH90201, an agile creature, like a hairless mountain lion but with neon-green saliva dripping from its gaping maw. Upon seeing Dr. Jaeger, specimen BH90201 catapulted into a sprint down the long hall, its claws struggling to make traction against the smooth facility floors. For a fleeting instant, Dr. Jaeger thought he saw… crosshairs? He shook his head, raised the gun with steady hands and pulled the trigger. The cerebral cortex matter of specimen BH90201 splattered against the wall.
Dr. Jaeger darted his eyes in quick assessment for any further threats in the immediate area. He rushed down the hallway, feeling the air lifting his long white lab coat like a cape. Fluorescent lights flickered as he approached the door at the end of the hall. A woman’s wail from inside told him all he needed to know. He scanned his badge on the keypad… even in an emergency he had to badge in. He opened the door and witnessed the carnage before him. Chunks of flesh and organ meat were strewn about the room. Dr. Jaeger estimated 10 dead, though it was hard to tell in the jigsaw puzzle of severed limbs. Dr. Damasell was entangled in the thick tentacles of specimen 10TAI, a 14-foot squid-like creature with five eyeballs and the mouth of a lamprey eel.
Standard bullets wouldn’t cut it, Dr. Jaeger knew. Fortuitously, he noticed, under the disembodied arm of one of the slain guards, something with a little more kick. Dr. Jaeger was confused why one of the guards had an AT4. They were run of the mill security guards, why would they be armed with anti-tank weaponry? Even more baffling to himself, was that when Dr. Jaeger picked it up, he instinctively knew how to use it. Specimen 10TAI’s tentacles swung towards him, but Dr. Jaeger fired. Somehow, despite the magnitude of the weapon, Dr. Jaeger’s hands and body were unperturbed by recoil. He jumped backwards, narrowly missing the thrashing tentacle.
The projectile made its way directly into the center of 10TAI’s mouth, past the rows of razer sharp teeth. Specimen 10TAI exploded, its flesh splattering across the room like meaty confetti. Dr. Damasell thudded to the floor. Dr. Jaeger dropped the AT4 and began stepping over the fallen tentacles and chunks of flesh. Dr. Damasell lay on the floor, untangling herself from 10TAI’s lifeless tentacle. Dr. Jager offered her a hand. She had a small cut above her eyebrow but was otherwise unharmed.
“Thank you, Dr. Jaeger!” she exclaimed, giving him a kiss. Words flashed in the air, as if by magic. “MISSION ACCOMPLISHED! 10,000 XP!”
*“And THAT,” my thirteen-year-old cousin Damian exclaimed, “is how you play the game, LOSER.” He tossed the controller unceremoniously across the room, flipping me the bird as he strode towards the hallway, hollering to my aunt Carol, asking her when lunch would be ready.* | 2022-11-26T22:45:19 | 2022-11-26T22:00:56 | 201 | 56 |
[WP] You see numbers above people, telling how many people they will kill given they keep on the same track. Last month you met a seemingly ordinary person with the number 7,431,323,210, or the total population of the Earth.
Edit: Well this blew up.
First of all, I'd like to thank all the talented writers for taking the time to share their gift with us.
Secondly, the prompt is definitely inspired by my favorite story I've read here.
https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2ns30z/wp_you_are_a_teenager_with_the_ability_to_measure/cmgetim/?utm_content=permalink&utm_medium=front&utm_source=reddit&utm_name=WritingPrompts | Been like this long as I can remember - seeing numbers everywhere. Was a while before I figured it out - they follow the people, the number of people each person will kill in their lives. Wish I was better at talking to people, maybe then I could really change things, change those numbers. But the numbers have always made more sense than the people, and they look at me askance. The people, not the numbers.
My number has always been one. Don't know why, but it's always been there. I'm used to it. I watch the people and their numbers go by outside my apartment, like an insane game of duck, duck, goose. Zero, zero, zero, zero, three. A pregnant woman with her zero husband. Hmm. Not that I care - not my responsibility. Besides, maybe it's fate, though maybe I just say that because it's easy. Easier than running around trying to save faceless numbers.
I go into work - accounting. Much easier to face at numbers without the weight of human lives. I get up from my cubicle to get water, gazing at the floor to avoid that too-intimate knowledge of my coworkers. But that means someone runs into me on my way back to my desk - water goes all over me. I look up, I have to, he spoke to me. Just another benign oval hovers above his head. I make some bland response to his smiling apology and head for the bathroom to mop up the damp on me. Glancing into the mirror, mainly because it's there, something catches my eye. The number over my head has changed... 7,431,323,10.
How long I stand there, staring at this number that holds so much weight, and none at all. Numbers, abstract numbers do not exist outside the mind of humanity, you know. They're just useful symbols. So long... the time or the number? Until I reach a conclusion. In that moment, I witness the number change again. Decreasing, decreasing, all the way back to one. I smile grimly at my reflection. Now I understand my fate. | 7 billion people.
Gracie stared at the gentleman sitting across from her on the train. He had a nice clean suit, polished shoes, and a straight posture that made her neck ache just thinking of it.
7 billion people? How is that even possible? She pondered to herself. It has to be some sort of real life glitch right? Maybe I'm seeing things.
The man glances in her direction and a cold shiver runs down her spine, standing her hairs on end. Unable to even look him him the eye she looks to the speeding view behind her. She tries to push the thoughts of the man out of her mind, but she can feel his gaze on her still.
Okay so, not a glitch. Does he consider bugs people? But then he wouldn't have the intent to kill them all. There's no other explanation, but what could I even do?
A faint white mark appears into vision, almost unnoticed. The zero that had followed her without fail all her life suddenly was no longer there. 1 had taken its place.
Turning forward once more, she slowly reaches into her bag and tightly gripping the pen from her journal. There is something she can do...
((I haven't done any creative writing like this in a while, let alone on reddit on a phone. cheers for the provoking WP)) | 2017-01-08T03:21:34 | 2017-01-08T01:56:38 | 37 | 27 |
[WP] A supervillain erases 30 years worth of memories from every hero he meets, just to put them out of business. One day he accidentally does this to a senile old man, and he finds out the hard way that he’s met the former strongest superhero | "So I go nuts?"
"You go nuts"
"And the world forgets me? Leaves me to rot?"
"Well that's not QUITE what happens"
"Is it not?! You found me wandering the streets as a madman! In the poorest, dingiest, cruddiest part of the city! I mean, SHIT, look at my clothes!"
It was a weird thing talking one of the saviors (The Savior perhaps?) of the known world. A force of justice and good, an exemplar of all that was righteous and joyful in the world. What was weird about it? The fact I was an evil madman hellbent on greed and self advancement at the expense of others? The fact we were talking in the dirtiest and most foul cafe in the city?
Well at least I could explain my opposing number's mismatched neon orange and pink one piece that was in such disrepair it was effectively a two piece. (His hero suit was a much more tasteful green blue black affair)
"Look, it's not the world's fault you're dressed like a low budget 80s commercial for hot hatchbacks"
"HOW?! GET TO THE POINT!"
"Why are you so angry? Surely your legacy doesn't really matter to you? Does it really matter that you have nothing to your name and the world moved on? Isn't being a superhero all about helping others and not yourself?"
He smashed his coffee off the table and destroyed the car park in the process. As I handed the grumpy waitress another suitcase of 100s, he launched into a tirade.
"But that IS the point you halfwit! It's not JUST about me going around saving people! I wanted to INSPIRE people, to tell them that they too could do something good to make the world a better place! Look, was I only defeating supervillains and playing baseball with meteors?"
"No you weren't", I replied. He often stopped by and helped little old ladies cross the road or visited nearby schools to give pep talks.
"I did those small things because I wanted other people to help out too. Superheroes can't SAVE the world on their own. They can improve it sure, but there's a million ordinary people for each one of us. I might defeat the big bad but what good does it do if the millions then turn around and cause some small problem? Yes large atrocities are arguably worse but it could be argued that small atrocities are every bit as bad as big ones"
It was a fair point. Me stealing a million from the bank didn't matter to the little kid down the road. The kid's biggest problem was not understanding his homework and who would help him with that?
"So you hoped to inspire the people, get everyone to help out a little bit"
"Exactly. So I'm rather miffed that they just left me out to rot. You think they'd have taken some care of me as I became helpless and a little off my rocker. Not to say that I deserve it more than the next grandparent but you know, I might have expected that some crony politician would have put me up if only to earn some cheap points with the electorate. Instead it appears they left me out in the cold!"
"Okay, okay, I get where you're coming from old chap but you know how you were talking about perspective and all that? Have you tried to understand your situation from their perspective?"
He furrowed his brow as he thought for a moment before replying, "I don't know what you're talking about. What do you mean from their perspective? I'm a hero so I don't need help or something?"
I shook my head. "Nothing that complicated. Ok, so you know how you had an assumed identity? James the cabbie? Because superheroes had to blend in and not draw attention?"
"Yeah, I....oh. Oh. OHHHHH"
"Yeah. They saw a cabbie go nuts and just didn't bother." | "I'm alive...", he looked at his hands with astonishment. His hands were shriveled and think. His arms were lank and saggy. "No..."
Staring into the distance he saw a man in large red cloak walking away from him. Callous and indifferent in his gait, he seemed to not notice the old man trying to stand. The words "help" try to escape his mouth but they fail. Instead a whimper comes out. He falls to his knees as a sharp pain shoots into them.
The callous man in the big red cloak paused and turned to look at him. He didn't recognize the look on his face; there was fear and confusion of course but the eyes: the eyes betrayed a certain sort of confidence, a look of a man actively figuring out his situation. The old fool had the look of a man obviously in great pain, but still somehow cautiously aware of his situation.
Memory is an funny thing. At a certain age the mind can barely hold on to them, but at another, they are notoriously difficult to get rid of. The old man quickly performed several hand signs in quick succession triggering a blanket of greenish smoke to engulf him. His eyes had change too, now oozing the same greenish smoke that seemed to dance around his entire body.
"What is this?" demanded the cloaked man. Suddenly he feels a great pressure around his neck and found himself dragged with great force towards the old man, now standing tall and proud and menacing. "Undo this. Now!" The old man screamed. In that instant, the man in the cloak was painfully aware of what had happened. He had found himself in the angry clutches of the legendary Mist -- a man once so feared that the police once offered to give up the city over to him as a way to appease him.
"You don't understand, you're not-gaaahhh" the cloaked man choked on the green mist that hung him by the neck. Then, he was dropped to the floor without warning. Crawling, gasping for breath the cloaked man readied a knife under his sleeve before looked up into the glowing green eyes that were oozing mist.
"It's a memory beam. You're an old man but I've set your mind back 30 years. It's what I use to dispose of... dispose of people who try to harm me." The eyes stared back at him as he cowered trying to conceal the knife. "Undo that, then." Still somewhat out of breath, the cloaked man looked up and agreed. He slowly walked towards him. He held up some sort of fat gun and pointed it straight into the glowing green eyes. As the white beam fell upon the ancient face, so did the memories of the last thirty years come rushing past. The mist around the old man wavered and he began to slump.
Seeing a chance, the cloaked man plunged the knife straight into his soft chest. With one last, tired look the old man stared at him and said, "Thank you." That was the last thing he ever said.
| 2018-02-21T15:06:47 | 2018-02-21T14:40:17 | 48 | 21 |
[WP] "As payment, I demand your firstborn!" the demon said. "Deal!" You said, hastily signing the contract to seal the deal. "Good luck with them, sucker!" | I was shocked when I found out that yes, demons were exactly that stupid. They were so keen on making deals, they forgot to use their brains.
And thank god for that, because otherwise, Earth would have been screwed.
After the whole prophecy shenanigans, I was trying to get rid of that growing lump of cells inside my belly. I was trying to get rid of it in any way possible.
Deadly poison? Didn’t work. It was like drinking vodka. Made me a bit tipsy, and that was it.
A nice kick to the stomach? Broke that poor lad’s kneecap.
I was trying to jump off a very tall building for crying out loud, but alas, as I hit the damp street below, I was completely fine. I did send quite the shockwave, though. Many shattered windows and pissed off store owners were the direct result of my actions. Also many who looked at me like I’m spider man or something of the sort. I did do that stunt during midday, so it was probably my fault for letting so many people believe in the improbable.
The government of course caught me soon after. Videos of me jumping off that building and staying alive spread like fire, and soon enough Twitter was full of users claiming I unlocked my inherited 6G radiation genes because Jeff Bezos used the magnetism in my blood from the covid vaccine.
It was funny enough. I mean, I couldn’t just jump off a 20-story building and expect to walk away like nothing- I didn’t expect that. It was my failsafe: if the fall would not have killed me, maybe the government would.
They ran tests on me. Shot me. Froze me. They put me in a metal cage and held it above flames. They took cell sample after cell sample after cell sample.
I was into it all, obviously. I was into anything that might help me get rid of the cursed baby that was mocking me all the way from the inside of my stomach. But it was all in vain. Whatever it was that kept me from dying- it was not something natural. My DNA was not altered, nor was my skin unbreakable. If I was cut, it bled. Only when I was in true mortal danger, suddenly I became invincible, and one thing became increasingly clear: That evil thing that was festering inside me did not want to die.
The scientists slowly gave up, and so I was at my wits end. I went to the church and prayed and prayed and prayed some more. No answer.
Then, a very rare eureka moment happened.
And so I went at night to a field of rye. The air was warm and smelled fresh, and I walked around until I found a tree above which the stars aligned perfectly. I summoned a demon from the realm of Hell, and told her I’d like to be successful in this lifetime, and I’d give anything to have that.
“Everything? Even your unborn child?” The demon asked with a toothy smile that was a bit too big, and stretched the corners of her mouth to the middle of her cheeks.
“Anything.” I said, smiling on the inside. I was this close to parting ways with the terror inside.
We concluded the deal with a handshake, after which a huge relief washed over me, because I could no longer feel the unholy child in my belly.
The demon suddenly screamed in pain, and vanished in a cloud of smoke and black snakes of fire.
It had began.
That demon unknowingly just unleashed something in hell, something that devours realms and creates chaos. Something so evil, it’s presence would destroy the place.
Would turn it into a pink paradise of madness and torture.
My baby.
Dolores Jane Umbridge. | The label on my bottle of Peroni was mostly peeled off now. Peeled off beer labels: the ultimate sign of a dull evening at the pub. "I just can't get through to him!", the familiar sentiment barely registering with me. I nodded, "hm."
"He just sits there all day and plays his stupid games. He even wears the fedora at his desk, I mean what is that all about?". I chuckled to myself, but noticed him blink as he registered the insensitivity. I used to have the same thoughts.
"He carries this silly sword thing around, and when I tell him to bathe or use some deodorant he holds the handle like I'm going to be threatened or something, and tells me not to 'threaten his autonomy'. Who even talks like that?"
I took another swig of beer. Empty, now. I need to either get another bottle, or maybe something stronger, or find my excuse to leave. God, this is what I used to put my friends through?
"I keep telling him he needs to study, that his animated girlfriend game won't help him be the next Dark Lord. I feel bad talking so critically about my ward, but honestly it's pathetic". He downed the rest of his whiskey. It was mostly full, and he failed at hiding the wince as the vapours hit the back of his throat. Slightly rasping, he said "you want another? It's on me."
"Honestly I'd love to, but I need to get back, to..." God, what do I say? I've gotten rid of that little bastard. If there was one thing he was ever good for, he was an excuse to leave boring company. "...I need to get back and call my mother, she just got out of hospital after a health scare". No idea where that lie came from. I'll have to remember I said that the next time I see him. "Oh, wow, I had no idea, hope she's okay".
"I think she's fine, I just need to check up. Anyway, good to see you. Good luck with it all". As I stood up he gave a half-hearted smile and said "you too, mate. See you later, hope you enjoy the gift I gave you". I glanced back as I walked out of the door. He was rubbing his face with his hands as he approached the bar, no doubt ordering another double whiskey. "Cheers!", I shouted to the bar staff as I left, the cute bar girl nodding back - the most interesting conversation I'd had all evening. The awkwardness faded from my mind as I walked away down the road. My slow pace turned into a confident stroll, as I revelled in the fact that I was no longer the father of a weeb. I could feel my lengthy member gently tapping my leg just above the knee as I walked. Totally worth it. | 2022-08-31T19:52:37 | 2022-08-31T16:25:22 | 88 | 29 |
[WP] You can see through walls, and have always thought this was a normal skill everyone possessed. One day your professor explains the Schrödinger's cat experiment to the class, and you raise your hand to ask a question. | While the teacher kept talking about the cat experiment I jumped onto google. Surely Schrödinger must have had some sort issue with his eyesight. Google however did not provide me with any answer. He wore glasses but as far as I knew that didn't stop the ability to look through walls or other objects. I could know as I used my telescope, accompanied by a box of tissues, more than once to check out Cindy from next door taking a shower when I was 15.
Puzzled I finally decided to raise my hand.
[Professor]: yes Joshua? You have a question?
"Y..Ye..yes. I'm googling Schrödinger but I find nothing about him having issues with his eyes except for him wearing glasses...."
[Professor]: As far as I know he didn't have any issues except for needing glasses. Why do you ask?
"We..well...if...if he doesn't have any eye issues, why didn't he just look inside the box?"
[Professor]: That's basically the whole point, as long as the box is closed the cat is both death AND alive.
"yeah...bu...but why didn't he just look inside the box? Like, just like a mailbox. You don't open it if there isn't any mail in it."
[Professor]: The mailman raises the mail flag if you have mail. So if it's down you don't open it.
"no, when you walk up to it you just look inside and if there is mail you open it and grab it..."
[Professor]: Yes, if the flag is up.
"no..no...our mailbox didn't have that flag. Thats just for people with eye issues. You just walk up to it, look inside and if there is mail you grab it. So why didn't Schrödinger look inside the box to see if the cat's still alive?"
[Professor]: Josha, are you pulling my leg? Look inside the mailbox and then opening it? I know its the first day after spring break, maybe you partied a little bit too hard?
"Am...Am...Am I really the only one that looks inside the mailbox before opening it? You all just rely on the flag? You just walk up to it and look inside. Like look INSIDE. Why open it if you can already see that it's empty?"
At this point I started feeling very uncomfortable. The entire room had their eyes fixated on me. I literally could feel the unease and disbelief. Everyone can look through walls and stuff right? For the first time I started to question this, for me, normal ability.
[Professor]: Joshua, are you feeling ok? Do you want to go to the nurses office?
"may...maybe...no...yes.... I don't know...."
[Professor]: Maybe it's better you do son.
"I.... I.... I think you should lock the door... 2 guys just walked into the building with guns."
[Professor]: Joshua? what did you take? Are you experiencing a bad trip?
But before he could finish the classroom erupted in panic as distant gunshots where heard. The professor rushed to the door and locked it. He turned around and had his eyes fixed on me in disbelief. A few moments later he snapped out of it and instructed us to lay low on the ground.
| [professor] "So in summary the total system is a box which contains a cat, a poisonous gas, an automated hammer robot, a geiger counter, and the radioactive material. There are two possible outcomes - either the radioactive substance decays slightly and causes the geiger to activate the hammer that releases poison or, alternatively, the substance does not decay and thus the system does not change from the initial state.
[professor] "When quantum theory describes the results of the decay of the particles within the radioactive material we say all possibilities have happened simultaneously, and we by extension describe the chain of events that follow and treat them as a single system that has a superposition of both outcomes. Now when the box is opened we see the state of the cat, and that tells us about the hammer, which tells us about the geiger, which tells us about the radioactive substance, which tells us about the particle. At this point the wave function has collapsed and there are no longer any superposition."
[student] "Professor, why do you have to open the box?"
[professor] "Because otherwise you wouldn't be able to see if the cat was alive or dead."
[student] "But you don't have to open the box to do that."
[professor] "True enough. I suppose one could just shake the box, or watch to see if the cat moved the box, or meowed but that's not the point. In quantum theory it doesn't matter how you measure the superposition the result is always the same: any observation will collapse the wave-function. For a measurement to even be possible the wave-function must have already collapsed, you see. If the cat meowed, you would know the state of the cat, which in turn back tracks through the system until the waveform collapses - or has already collapsed - to determine the state of the entire system including the cat that meowed."
[student] "One more question, professor?"
[professor] "Of course."
[student] "If the wave-function collapses because I observe the cat, but the cat is just how I measure the state of the geiger, which is a measure of the state of decaying atoms - but the gieger itself is not a quantum entity -
doesn't that mean that the geiger counter is observing the system from within the box? So the system self-monitors and thus can't exist in a superposition, correct?"
[professor] "Ah, now that, my boy, is an excellent question. We will cover objective collapse theories shortly and you will have your answer then." | 2017-07-14T03:52:34 | 2017-07-13T23:09:16 | 20 | 11 |
[WP] The best demon slayers are those whose minds the demons want to stay out of. | In the gloom of evening, Asher's cart creaked and moaned like the risen dead. Asher cracked his whip at the horses, urging them to run faster, hoping that at least the beat of their hooves would drown out the demon's words.
"Father," a muffled voice spoke from inside the cart, "Father, I think it's gone now."
Asher's lips tightened, and he cracked the whip again. They wheeled around a corner, half of the cart's wheels lifting off the ground.
"Father, please! Please stop the cart, and let me out."
"You are *not* my son!" he shouted over his shoulder. The dark cityscape ran past in a muddy swirl of violets and indigos, interrupted only by the occasional orange glow of a street lamp.
Asher heard a snuffling sound from within the cart, followed by deep, guttural laughter. He thought he heard claws scraping at the wood.
At last, the humble stone columns of the House of the Lord loomed in the darkness. The House drooped on it's haunches, like an old man who had spent far too many years lying in bed.
"Father, please," the voice from the cart squeaked, "Let's go home, father. I feel much better, now."
Asher climbed down from the cart, and ran up the House's steps. He hammered his fist against the door, not relenting until it opened.
A young man, with a stocking cap still stuck tightly around his head, peeped out.
"Yes?"
"Father Jacob. I need an exorcism."
The young man, Father Jacob, blinked at him.
"An... exorcism?"
"My boy - a demon - my BOY!" Asher gestured frantically to the cart.
Jacob knitted his brow together, and together they turned their heads to survey the cart.
The horses whinnied, their breath turning to hot vapor in the air. They clopped their hooves idly on the cobbles. The cart creaked.
"What am I supposed to be seeing?"
"My boy - he's inside. Satan is in his soul, I tell you!"
"Asher, in order for us to perform an exorcism, there needs to be some sign that the Devil has made himself manifest."
An explosion ripped the cart to pieces, sending chunks of flaming wood and seared horseflesh flying. Tongues of flames leaped high into the air, and deep, rumbling laughter went up with them.
Asher wiped horseblood and ash from his face, "Was that a sign?"
"You go get Father Emmanuel. I'll go get the holy handcuffs."
***
Several hours later, Asher and Father Jacob stood outside the door of the only windowless room in the House of the Lord. They were both covered in claw marks, and burns, and Asher held a blood-soaked towel up to his left ear.
"Forgive me, Father Jacob, but I did not think that Emmanuel would be up to the task. He's not a preacher known for his ... vigor, if you take my meaning."
Inside, though it was only Father Emmanuel and Asher's boy, they could hear the blood-curdling screams, low, rumbling vulgarities, and a single, pleasant voice droning like so, "And so, he taketh the sheep, and he taketh the goats, but he dareth not taketh the rams, for their fur is coarse, and their horns are pointy."
"How do you mean?" asked Father Jacob.
"Well, he's a bit... detailed oriented."
Father Jacob shrugged, "He's the best exorcist we've ever seen."
The whole house shook, and rattled. Another hissing, demonic scream pierced through the door, "NOOO!! PLEASE, MAKE IT STOP! I'M SO BORED!!!"
"Do you think he's alright in there?" Asher asked.
"And on the *next day*, when the Lord taketh to himself all the sheeps and the goats and the other animals that liveth in the field, he taketh them to the *next* field."
"Oh," Father Jacob nodded, "I think he's rather enjoying himself." | "I will possess you! I will devour your soul in the process of possessing, and you shall never see the light of day, except for the eternal embers of hell!"
Damn, this demon was being very unruly in front of my house guest, and it pissed me off because I told him to to not show himself in front of anyone until they've been over for a total of seven days minimum. It was a rule made out of my own sympathy, my demonic friend has no friends of his own, so he like to make a big show of his superior metaphysical strength in order to soothe his ego and inner fears of inadequacy.
"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"
Screamed Rachel, my "house guest," who's true description is "girl I found at a party and invited to my *house* so therefore, on technicality, she became *my guest*. Her loud scream got gradually quieter and quieter, like she was falling out of a building, or, running out of one really fast, as though she had just seen a demon, and all of her built up pretenses about reality were shattered instantaneously inside the home of a guy she regretted hooking up with because she realized he had lied to her about being a multi-millionaire granola bar entrepreneur.
"Damnit Micheal! You scared another one away! What did I tell you about pretend scaring me!"
As I mentioned before, I was pissed, even though the girl was never going to come back anyways because this morning she asked me if I liked to eat granola bars and I said no they are super gross, without realizing it was a test to see if what I said last night was true.
"You should be scared mortal! For I am!"
"Remember how many times I've heard this? I know your shpeel word for word, ok mike? And also remember how I am nice enough to let you live with me, even though you should be thrown into the deepest pit of hell for failing to conquer my soul?"
I scratched under my nipple and immediately regretted bursting out towards micheal, and even though it is hard to keep your cool when you are hungover, the guy/demon shouldn't be treated badly. I mean, the poor thing's got nowhere to go, I accidentally made him homeless by dismantling his mission to destroy me, and of course I will take my life over anything, but you gotta put yourself in the shoes of somebody whose entire life cycle has revolved around non-stop murder and soul eating. The guy could never catch a break, especially since failure meant permanent termination.
"I......I am Lord Micheal! The son of king Ernos, the great conquerer of the interplanetary underworld systems. I am royalty! I am unstoppable!"
He began to cry, so I walked over and gave him a hug, which he tried to dodge, but since I'm used to girls trying to dodge my hugs, I lassoed him in. While i was upset about making my demon friend cry, I knew that deep down, in some part of my sub-conscious, I was upset that this happened for the second time this week, if you start the week on a monday, and that today was wednesday, so there was much more to come.
At least I'm not dead, I guess. | 2016-02-08T09:33:07 | 2016-02-08T09:15:47 | 52 | 12 |
[WP] Aliens discover earth and are horrified to learn that the entire planet is all oxygen junkies, we have become so addicted and dependent mere minutes without oxygen would kill us! | “It seems the life forms of this terra are dependent on Oxygen in its gas form sir.” An audible female voice rang from what seemed to be the walls of the well litten and warm cabin.
“You mean to tell me their planet is so lush they don’t have open access to their sun?” The dark green yet stern man bellowed.
“No sir, the exact opposite actually, very little of their environment is shaded, they’re addicted to these trace amounts of oxygen, so much so their biology has evolved around using oxygen as their primary energy source.”
Quickly the green man snapped “Like plants?”
“Actually Captain, the plants on this terra work as all evolved species with, what they call, photosynthesis as their primary energy source. The majority of all sentient beings on this planet use our secondary system of respiration as their primary source.”
“Are you telling me these beings are not reliant on a sun or other ultraviolet source for energy?” The Captain asked puzzled and stammering.
“Yes sir, they are quite capable of surviving within an environment with a lack of ultraviolet for extended periods of time.”
A short pause overtook the cabin “for how long could they stand these conditions?”
“It seems with the right supplements, oxygen rich atmosphere and flesh of small mammals or plant fibers…. Indefinitely sir.”
‘INDEFINITELY?!” The Captain screeched.
“Yes sir.”
A long silence fell over the ship floating in an exposed orbit.
“Kara, give me a full report over the intelligence and susceptibility of this species.” While the captains orders rang out, simultaneously several monitors and alarms buzzed and sounded.
Without pause Kara replied “anti-missile systems engaged”
“Kara, forget the reports. That told us all we need to know” he laughed, “yes, it seems these are the beings we’ve been looking for. Alert all ships and headquarters we’ve found the perfect slave race to finish our army.”
| "What do you mean that they're all oxygen junkies." Questioned the captain as his voice bellowed across the bridge of his ship
"It's just as I reported captain." Answered the scientist. "Every single being on that planet is an oxygen junkie. According to my analysis, their addiction has been become so extreme, they can't possibly live without it for more than five to ten Rels, sir."
The entire bridge now stared at what their scientist had just said, their eyes moved between the captain and scientist.
The captain simply sighed.
Oxygen addiction was a serious problem between the systems, but to discover an entire planet addicted to said problem...He couldn't even....Was there anything that he could do?
"Ensign Qwark, turn this ship around, and wipe our flight recorder."
"Sir?" Questioned the ensign.
"There's nothing we can do for them now." He sighed, he was going to leave them to their own fates now. | 2016-09-30T01:17:09 | 2016-09-29T19:34:46 | 40 | 17 |
[WP] A lonely teenage boy asks a genie to let him talk to his future wife. The person who appears is not who he expects. | "But I want to meet her *now*! You are *my* genie, and as you said yourself, "whatever I desire is mine" except in that weirdo genie riddle-talk. I said I want to see my future wife, so where is she?" Beads of magical sweat rafted through the furrow in Gal'Mundo's brow. He glanced aside as if to consider something, then looked back at the angry little boy.
"Fine. No more riddles, kid. Which, for the benefit of your dim and dreary little brain , are the mark of higher education in the Realms Beyond Time. Just thought you might like to know." Gal'Mundo cracked his knuckles, or whatever it was that passed for knuckles in Genies. Around his fingers the air sizzled and cracked. "You want to see your wife? You got it." Just like that, Gal'Mundo disappeared in a slurpslap of nether sludge.
"Gross..." Timmy said to himself.
"Yeah fucking gross, right?" Said the voice behind him. The deep voice behind him.
"Wh- what? Where is my... Wi-Wha?" The language-like sounds that Timmy was making didn't come out the way he planned for them to. The immaculately dressed man on the red leather chaise-lounge, newly situated across the room, raised a manicured eyebrow.
"Tim, when you told me you were going to be a little immature, this is *not* what I had in mind." The words cut smooth lines through the air between them and entered Timmy's ears through the giant hole in his stomach. He shuffled his feet.
"I... thought I was going to have a wife?" It came out more as a question than a statement, and he realized he meant it that way.
"Sweetheart... damn. That could *not* be further from the truth." The man glanced at his watch, broadfaced with gold trim, thick links hugging his wrist. Tim swallowed. "Hey I've actually gotta run, future Tim is going to be so excited that I met you, he's been talking about it for ages. Oh, I'm Franco, by the way. I'll be really freaked out when you know my name. See you in a jiff, hot stuff." Once again the sound of a slab of meat being dropped into pudding, and Franco was gone. Left on the lounge chair was a gelatinous goo, which Timmy noticed was spreading rather ambitiously across the cushion.
He shook his head in disbelief. As he turned to leave, he felt a smile sneak onto his face. | "Hello there, my name is Andrésssss," he said, rolling out the 's' with his smooth Latin-American accent. A short, dark man, he wore a goatee like a swordfighter and a cleanly pressed purple shirt.
James could say nothing, only blink repeatedly, before sputtering out, "B-b-b-but... what?"
"Oh Himmy, you are jus so cute! How ole are you, chico? Mmm I coul jus gobble you up!"
"I asked for my wife! Who are you?"
"I tolllll you, seely. I am Andrés! Oh you don know me yet, hahnee. We meet in Cabo. You grow up to be quite de hansum young man, Himmy."
"You???"
"Well I am not a wife, seely. We can boff be husssbands, you know." Andrés rolled his eyes and bobbled his head like a Latin diva.
"I'm not gay!" cried James. "That's... that's gross!"
"Oh well haff you been wit a girl Himmy?"
"No... well, I--"
"Den DON gimme dat sass, Himmy. I don need to hear it. You be a good little boy and you grow up soon, ok? I am waiting for you Himmy. You are just a niño now so don be so clost minded, ok sweety?"
Smoke began to rise from his feet, and his image grew transparent from the bottom up.
"Oh and one more thing, Himmy... make sure to practice your Spanish." With a wink, and a puff of smoke, Andrés was gone.
James looked at the ground where he had stood. Then he dropped down to his haunches, placing his face in his hands.
"God... damnit." | 2014-06-05T08:56:13 | 2014-06-05T07:40:47 | 36 | 13 |
[WP] There are a number of expeditions that are classed as dangerous enough to need humans on the team. This book is designed to walk you through caring and feeding humans so that when you arrive at your expedition, your humans will be happy and healthy enough to keep you safe. | Caring for Humans: A Short Guide
Some cosmic expeditions will require the company of human beings of the planet Earth. These creatures possess the rare quality of narrative--that is, meaning-making--which serves to provide contextual analysis where most advanced life-forms fall short.
(NOTE: for best results, recruit human beings ages 25-45 Earth years old)
RULE 1: Incentivize!
Human beings resist compelled adventures and are easily scared, often, even to violence. A violent human should not be feared, however: their evolutionary path has strongly favored intellect over brawn; they are more likely to hurt themselves than you!
Instead, a human should be convinced, in a cost-benefit model, that the proposed adventure will provide a net positive effect for them. For best results, make the human believe that the adventure was their idea from the very start of negotiations.
RULE 2: It's not dead, unless it it is
Human beings have relatively short life spans, measuring a mere 6.2 crommuts. For this reason, long adventures (in excess of 1 crommut) should be avoided.
(NOTE: The longer a human is away from Earth, the more distress it will feel. To alleviate this condition, consider recruiting two, or even three, humans at a time).
A human will spend a third of its life in suspended animation. To the average life form, whose recharging cycles can be accomplishes consciously, this looks like brain death. Rest assured, if the human continues to convert oxygen to carbon dioxide, it still lives.
RULE 3: Gifts
Humans are fiercely social and tribal creatures. Despite their remarkable scientific advancements, they remain beholden to antiquated customs and habits passed down from their primitive ancestors.
For example, if the human presents you with a gift, like food or a crude facsimile of you and the human being, gratitude should be expressed and reciprocated. Try these human phrases in response to gifts:
"Wow, this is really nice."
"For me? You shouldn't have."
(NOTE: humble denial of one's worthiness of a gift is a mark of virtue in human culture. Do not actually attempt to return a gift).
"This is so good. Thank you very much."
One should always be prepared to present the human with a gift, especially if the human becomes distressed or discouraged. Think like a human when expressing generosity. What gift would suit their current needs? What gift will activate their memories of previous moments with you? What gift, symbolically, illustrates your tribal connection with the human?
Offering the human an object from a previous step of the adventure, or a keepsake unique to your home world has proven effective in the past.
RULE 4: Dispose after use
A human will grow a close connection with you after your journey. If returned to Earth, they may use knowledge they've gained to attempt to contact you again. To prevent this, destroy the human at the conclusion of your expedition.
This can be accomplished simply by expelling them into space.
Good luck! | "The care and feeding of your human companions." Captain Grink read aloud. Xe stared at the book a moment. It appeared innocuous, a simple red paperback with the title printed in raised white Nirconic script. The rest of the cover was taken up by an image of a Human giving a thumbs up. Xe lowered the book and gave xer lieutenant a derisive stare. "Why would I need something like this."
Lieutenant Serf shrugged his four arms. "I thought, yunno. If we're going to a deathworld. We might want a human to help. Those buggers don't die easy."
"Are you saying I am incapable of caring for a human without this book's aid?" Grink kept xer eyes locked on Serf, who eventually lowered his head and flattered his ears submissively.
"Sorry, Captain." He said "I wasn't thinking."
"No." Grink agreed. "You weren't. " Xe picked up the book again, and flipped to a random page. "Step 42." Xe read aloud, xer tone annoyed. "Remember that humans have the strongest pack-bond instinct of any species. They will bond with anything that treats them well, from sapient crew member to non-sentient cleaning robot."
There was silence in the cabin as they mulled over this revelation. Grink tapped xer claws on the desk for a moment in thought.
Grink resumed reading, xer tone much more curious. "They will bond faster with those they view as fitting in their concept of "cute". If you have in your crew people of the Rexsan, Quickla, or any such furred race, inform your crew before attempting to recruit a human companion, as these crew members will be the chief recipients of the human's pack-bonding."
The silence stretched out longer this time.
"Lieutenant Serf?"
"Yes, Captain Grink?"
"Please go retrieve Ky and Riyt for me."
"By your orders, Captain."
Serf scurried out.
Grink sat there a moment, before flipping back to the first page of the book, and beginning to read. | 2021-09-17T14:16:17 | 2021-09-17T13:57:11 | 481 | 177 |
[WP] During a bank heist gone wrong, you ended up taking a stray shotgun slug through your heart. That was 20 minutes ago, and the fact that you haven’t died yet is as concerning to you as it is to everyone else around you. | I felt the slug make impact, penetrate my chest, and embed itself deep within my heart. I felt my legs give out, unresponsive to my pleas to run. As I fell to the ground, I had but one thought: *Who’s the self-aggrandizing drama queen NOW Karen?*
In those seconds, my life flashed before my eyes. Well, some parts did... One part in particular, really. It’s not like I was fixated on it or anything, but damn, Karen’s words had hurt (though not quite as bad as getting shot hurts). We’d had a fight about something stupid earlier that day and she just unloaded on me (though not quite in the same way as the bank robber unloaded on me). I just told her point blank (though not quite as point blank as... well, you get the idea) that what she said was the single most offensive thing anyone in the history of the world had said to anyone else.
I heard Karen scream as I fell to the ground. It would’ve been satisfying had I not been super mortally wounded.
“John!” She cried, kneeling beside me. She touched my chest. I winced. As she pulled her hand away I saw my life’s blood painting her fingers.
I tried stretching a hand to touch her cheek, but my body wouldn’t respond. I could tell I had only seconds left. “I… love…” was all I had strength to say.
I let my eyes close, ready to embrace the Reaper.
But he didn’t come. I just lay there for a few seconds, fully conscious of the world around me and Karen’s shrieks of anguish.
I gave it another thirty seconds or so, but still nothing. I’m not saying I felt good, but I didn’t quite feel dead yet. Maybe I was a ghost?
I opened an eye.
“Look! He’s moving!” someone yelled.
Okay definitely not a ghost. I opened both eyes.
“John!”
I beckoned Karen in close with what little strength I had, then whispered in her ear: “*I wasn’t about to leave without telling you how much I love you, babe.*”
She embraced me.
“Ow!” I yelled. “Jesus, Karen watch the damn bullet hole!”
“The paramedics!” Somebody else yelled. “Make way!”
The next moment an EMT was kneeling beside me tearing open my shirt. “I’ve never seen anything like this,” she said touching my chest.
My bullet-ridden heart skipped a beat. What if I was immortal? I’d always noticed I had fast recovery times, and really hadn’t felt myself age in the last two years. The more I thought about it the more it made perfect—
The EMT held her hand up. “Paint!” she said beaming. “Son, you got shot by a paintball gun.”
***
More of my favorite pieces at r/Banana_Scribe | ''F come and take a look at his wound again.’’ Richard shouts at Frank.
I feel perfectly fine despite taking a point-blank shot to my chest. Neil is the one who is driving the gateway car and Frank seems like he is about to panic.
''We are no longer in the bank Richard. Stop calling me ‘F’ for fuck’s sake.'' Frank yells in the back of the van.
Richard looks at me, ''Why the fuck did we included him? He is a fucking arsehole and I don’t trust his guts and he is the reason why we didn’t get a single dime.''
''You fucking cow! This bastard got shot because of you!'' Frank points at me.
''Calm down guys, I’m okay.'' I say.
''Shut the fuck up, pussy! You are not fine. You should be dead by now.'' Frank snaps at me.
''Maybe I’m dreaming.'' I say to myself.
''If this was a dream we would be in Hawaii getting high as a fucking kite, alright mate?''
''You are not helping, Frank.'' Richard rolls his eyes.
''IS HE STILL NOT DEAD, YET?'' Neil shouts from the driving seat.
''I’m still okay Neil, thanks for asking though.''
''What is our plan, now?'' Richard asks.
Frank goes full silent and stares at me for a while and then he whispers to Richard’s ear.
''What are you guys doing?'' I ask.
''I’m sorry, pal.'' Frank hits me with the back of his gun.
He hits me again and again but I don’t blackout.
''What the fuck are you made of?'' Frank snaps again and shoots me in the head.
''WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?'' Richard yells at him.
Then complete silent…
''His eyes still open, Frank.''
''I can see that, Richard.''
''IS HE STILL ALIVE?'' Neil yells from the driving seat.
''I’m fine Neil, thanks…''
*BANG BANG BANG*
''Oh… for fuck sake!''
--------------------------------
*Thank you for reading the story. I have been practicing my English by writing fiction and I'm open to feedback.* | 2021-05-22T06:34:00 | 2021-05-22T06:09:56 | 305 | 105 |
[WP] Aliens arrive on Earth, but not for sinister purposes like colonization or waging war on us. They’re just so darn excited to see other life forms in the universe! | “But what does it *eat*?”
The otherworldly creature they were observing was only one of five that had arrived in the middle of the night. A rocket ship, not unlike those NASA sent into space, had landed in an open field beside a gas station near the interstate. The attendant’s pleas to 911 would have been laughed off had it not been policy to send someone to investigate all calls.
A hectic night followed, resulting in the handcuffing of the gray skinned creatures with four arms each. They did not resist and were smiling throughout the process while attempting to communicate in their garbled language. After putting them in separate rooms to await the FBI, an order was issued to keep at least one person observing the aliens.
Detective Sarah Benson finally looked away from the being on the other side of the glass, facing them in a chair behind a table. It had been miming eating something. She sighed before leaving the viewing room, and her partner, behind. Heads swirled to her as she walked to the break room and waved off inquiries from her curious colleagues. She took an apple and banana off the fruit bowl on a table, considering.
“Both,” she said to the empty room. “Both.”
Then she went to the door leading into the investigation room. Taking a deep breath, she entered and watched the being perk up, eyes drinking in her face and then flicking to the items in her hands. It smiled, teeth white and flat like a humans. It began garbling at her and gesturing as much as it could with hands still handcuffed in front of it. Four fingers on each hand. An alien.
Knowing her partner was watching, Sarah sat in the chair opposite the creature and set the fruit on the table in front of her. It began playing with the apple. Peeling some skin off with its fingernails before looking to Sarah. She mimed taking a bite out of it and the creature nodded before trying it.
“G’Ranggle,” the creature was pointing at itself and smiling at Sarah.
“Sarah,” she said, pointing at herself and then crossing her arms.
“S’Ragg,” it nodded, trying the name out for itself before eating more of the apple.
“Sure.”
It used a finger to draw on top of the table. Sarah tried following the movements, but it was too complicated. They had been instructed to limit contact by the FBI even after realizing they were non-violent. They were, after all, taking over the investigation of these aliens as soon as they arrived.
They had yet to arrive.
She opened a pen and placed it and her notebook in front of G’Ranggle.
As it wrote, Sarah observed the creature once more. A skintight black spacesuit made it obvious that it was a female; she had two sets of breasts, one underneath a top pair. Her hair was a light shade of purple that set off the green in her eyes. Aside from the extra body parts, color, and lack of a finger, the creature resembled a human. Two legs, two eyes, one nose and mouth.
G’Ranggle turned the paper around and pushed it to Sarah. It told a story through simplistic stick figures and images over several pages on her miniature notebook.
They came from a small planet, smaller than Earth. They were intelligent- incredibly so. They knew there was life on other planets. They sent many teams to explore space to find others like them. G’Ranggle was a doctor to her people. Technology on the ship detected life on Earth and they landed here. They were happy to meet people. She liked the apple.
When Sarah was finished, she was alarmed to see G’Ranggle trying to eat the banana unpeeled. She grimaced before reaching across the table and shedding it for her. Throwing the peel in the trash can next to her, Sarah then held it up so G’Ranggle could spit out the bite she had taken.
While the alien ate, Sarah turned to the next page in her notebook and scribbled a picture. She gave it to G’Ranggle along with the pen and waited. When she got it back Sarah tucked the notebook and pen back in her pocket before leaving the room.
Her partner was full of questions when she returned to the observation room, but Sarah ignored her and opened the notebook. Sarah’s images asked the question “have you found life on other planets besides this one?”
G’Ranggle’s answer was seventeen planets and an eighteenth with arrows pointing towards it with an apple.
Sarah was about to inform her partner when she spoke.
“But what does it *drink*?”
​
Edit: didn't know how to italicize | It's the year 2082. First contact with extraterrestrials has occurred. It took months to translate their languages, using our best scholars and linguists. The first message they sent was translated yesterday and frankly it has scared many leaders. The message simply read, "Sup"
This lead to many questions. How did they know our slang language and one in particular that could not have been devised without carefully studying human society? Something was wrong and nobody knew what. Tomorrow would be the meeting day. The historic day when human leaders would meet the Alien ones. Not many knew how the Aliens looked and photography behaved oddly around the creatures. Only the shadows made by the aliens seemed to be present in the photographs and not the aliens themselves. Something was very very wrong.
Time being ever slow, as it usually was when history was being written, marched onwards. The sun nosedived into the horizon and then floated upwards. The leaders bade hasty goodbyes to their family incase the meeting went awry and then the meeting came.
The hatch through which the foreign creatures would enter were covered with many snipers and had been thoroughly lined with RDX just incase. The leaders who were now bunched together in a childlike ringa ringa roses circle hushed immediately as the hatch began clicking and hissing. The steel door creaked and the aliens stepped through. If stepping was what you could call it. The beings flowed like water onto the aluminum floor, casting no shadows even in the brightly lit room.
The beings or the aliens themselves were weird in all senses. It did not seem like the Creator had taken any part in the creation of these strange abominations. What with they weird jelly like appearance and sprightly bobbing. The aliens seemed rather like a magnified version of a happy jelly strawberry.
"Welcome to our humble planet Earth, Alien!", cried a charismatic envoy. Immediately the aliens burst into a jumble of motions. The snipers perched in the top of the room stiffened visibly. The jelly creatures bobbed up and down and hissed signaling toward the one who had spoken. The scholars that were beside leaders began to translate the strange bobbing and snarling language of the aliens.
A scholar who had finish translating, looked up at the leaders and removed his glasses with a trembling hand. "What did they say, boy?", asked the elderly Panarch of Eurasia. "My lord..they..uh..they called the man fat."
"Fat, you say?", the Panarch of Oceania replied, looking at the envoy and then sneaking a glance at the strawberry aliens. "Yes, I suppose Ivan can be considered a bit on the heavy side." The strawberries apparently understanding this, collectively bobbed up and down once again this time gesturing at a young woman standing at the end of the circle. "My lord...this...is...rather unexpected." The Eurasian minister gestured for the scholar to go on.
"They are calling Clarine to be...uh...sexy and uh..have big breasts" The collective crowd glanced simultaneously at the woman causing the woman who had been called bodacious by extraterrestrials, promptly causing the woman to faint.
Finally done with their ruse, The strawberry aliens bobbed one final time before ensuing destruction upon humankind. One last time, the scholars hastily wrote their waveform diagrams and their sounds analysis formulae to translate the most ridiculous words that had resulted in the death of an entire species.
The group of scientists glanced at each other and then the leader of them said, "My lords, the aliens are telling us to...Git Gud"
Satisfied on hearing the words from the strange mouths of the humans, the head strawberry bobbed sensually and then exploded. | 2020-11-24T03:32:37 | 2020-11-24T01:24:10 | 221 | 84 |
[WP] You, a low rank adventurer who got stuck with the gardener class, have to put up with the higher ranked adventures trampling your garden and making fun of you. One day a famous adventurer trips on one of your plants and dies. Your level skyrockets. No other gardener has ever leveled up before. | Tabitha rested briefly after harvesting sixty carrots in the humid, virtual sun. The beads of sweat that accumulated on her forehead felt real as day, and they felt even more real when she wiped them away with the back of her hand. Her red pigtails fell to her shoulders, which was covered by a pink floral shirt and some dirty denim overalls. She rolled the bottom of her overalls up to her calf, revealing long pink socks tucked into practical work boots.
"When does this game become fun, Macy?"
Her question was directed to her friend who was playing another support class -- a farmer. She wore similar overalls over a green shirt, but instead of being armed with a trowel and mini rake, the farmer was equipped with a pitchfork. Tabitha's friend sheepishly smiled with a long piece of straw in her mouth and tilted her straw hat back, revealing a forehead even sweatier than Tabitha's.
"Well, I wasn't expecting you to get stuck as a gardener...but it's all random. That's some bad luck, huh?"
"If I wanted to harvest carrots, I'd move into the country," Tabitha paused as she picked a carrot that she planted five minutes ago. It sprung up with a satisfying coin-like noise. "Although, I do like the sounds."
Tabitha planted a few more carrots in a line on her friend's farm. The sun hung high in the air and the clouds moved lazily across the perfectly blue sky. Macy owned a tiny farmhouse, one that she was able to purchase after putting in time as a stable hand for other players. It took a while, but she finally had land to harvest and was secretly glad her friend rolled a similar support class. A gardener and farmer synchronize greatly.
"Pull up your stats, I want to see what kind of moves you have," beckoned Macy.
Tabitha lifted her hand in the air and made it into a fist for five seconds. She released the fist and an 8-bit pixelated menu popped up in front of them. At the top, it showed a picture of Tabitha's avatar with an intimidating empty bar under it to keep track of her experience points. Most of her stats were D-rank, not excelling in anything except for her stamina which shined yellow as a C-rank.
"Click on 'Moves.'"
Tabitha did as her friend instructed and tapped the menu item that was labeled "Moves." It pulled up a new pixelated menu screen with two items listed: "Plant Carrot" and "Harvest Carrot."
"Well, that's not very exciting," frowned Tabitha. Macy giggled.
"Maybe we have to find some seeds to expand your moveset! The real problem is your experience bar. I've never heard of a gardener getting to level 2. You have a looooong way to go."
"Let's just quit and go to a bar or something."
Macy sneered, but the whimsical gesture suddenly turned serious as she spotted a dark figure in the distance riding on a horse. "Oh no," she muttered.
Tabitha turned around to see what made her friend turn serious. It was another player, as indicted by the red triangle above his head. The red color of the triangle also indicated that the player had his "Player vs. Player" mode activated, allowing him to attack other players who opted into PvP mode.
"At least he can't take what we harvested already," said Macy, as the player charged towards the two. "He's lucky he rolled a Dark Knight, a rare attacker class. He'll just trash the place and move on after he realizes he can't kill us." Macy sighed, knowing she would have to spend more time fixing up her farm and getting it back to the productivity level that it's at now.
"Any idea why he's not slowing down?" questioned Tabitha. Macy looked at her friend, and then to the Dark Knight. She looked back to her friend, and then once more at the Dark Knight that now pulled out a lance and aimed it towards Tabitha, with no intention of stopping. Macy had just noticed the red triangle above Tabitha's head.
"You opted in for PvP?!"
"I didn't know what it meant at the time!"
Macy brought her hand to her face. "Don't worry it doesn't hurt, I've died countless times." she reassured Tabitha. "Maybe you'll feel a pinch."
"What????" panicked Tabitha. The Dark Knight was closing in on his prey, now only a couple of meters away from the low-level gardener. His mighty steed picked up speed and the knight readied his lance towards Tabitha's face. Just as he was about to strike, however, one of the horse's front hooves became caught on the line of carrots Tabitha had planted earlier.
The horse fell forward, launching the dark knight behind the girls and towards Macy's farmhouse. He landed violently just short of the porch, with his gut completely impaled onto his lance. Within seconds, he burst into a million little pieces.
Tabitha's character burst a celebratory gold explosion three times in a row to Macy's amazement. Tabitha looked around, completely confused. Not knowing what else to do, she pulled up her character menu. The once empty bar had filled three times, revealing her to be level 4.
"Holy crap, Tabitha!!" Macy was still in shock. She only received partial experience due to owning the land where the battle happened, but Tabitha received full experience due to landing the killing blow with her deadly carrots. But it wasn't the experience that Macy was surprised by, it was one minor detail on the menu.
"Tabitha," she began, still looking for words. "It doesn't say you're a support class anymore...it says you're a summoner!" | Gardener. Yep. That;s my magically assigned class. Not the worst one, but obviously I am not fit to go into the world to prove my bravery. While i can just be a normal farmer, a magic class had so many possibilities that I had t cave in. I created my garden right in front of my house, outside of town. This is where i found out that it is a huge mistake.
"Heroes" would casually raid or even destroy my garden. Why? To keep me and prices in check. They wanted potions as low as possible and since i am the supplier who is the easiest to bully, they did just that. What could I do? Move my garden? Cannot do that. Destroy it and create new one? Can do, but i put so my work and spirit into my current garden that even the idea seems laughable. If only i could become stronger.
Gardeners are notorious for not being able to level. To level, you must rob one of life - not defeat, put into coma or smack. Kill. Animals with enough soul to power us are magical beasts and even weakest can turn your head inside out. I cant higher better adventurer and tag along because his stronger soul will just absorb all the power. And no low party will let me go along because i cannot contribute in any way. Gardening is time. I can't just chug elixir like alchemist or induce fear as farmer. In low party, where every move can be the last, wasting time on gardener is useless.
Well its not like we cannot gain skills. It takes time but we can. And this is currently my only salvation. "Hidden garden, misty maze" is a skill i was nurturing through the last three years. In few weeks, it will be complete and i can raise a maze around my garden. Any transportation spell, location spell, or magical map are useless inside the maze, so people will be forced to earnestly try to solve it. But as far as i know, only 2 people managed to make it across.
Well it's not like an area spell cannot destroy the maze, my garden and my house in one swoop; however, the effort of doing so is just not worth it. And people know this, the reason why the recent attacks became more vicious. While maze will take few months to grow, as soon as it started, all the effects would be in place. I just need to protect my garden until then.
Heavy steps.
Oh boy. A real deal is here. Enchanted sword, flickering with faces of the moon, armour heavier then my house and muscles tougher then mountains. What is he doing over here?
Wait... "Hey sir, please don't go over there...".
The body felt with a heavy sound.
I probably should've mentioned that my best export are not potion plants, but poisonous ones. And i mean really, really, really poisonous ones; one drop would be enough to bring down a demon lord. Obviously, the logistics of how to make him eat it arise, but it is not my problem. This hero idiot tripped on my willow into Moonless Nightshade. Magical version of real plant, that can only be grown during new moon. Takes years to even make one plant, but i managed to grow small field.
And he breathed in. Plants disintegrate if something touches them without waxing moon scythes, so he was screwed the moment he fell there. Well, not my fault. The thought of all the heroes that would trash my garden as revenge though was saddening.
Light, brighter then stars hit me and it burned.
Maximum level one can reach is 100. After that, nothing can feed your soul enough to get it on higher levels of existence. Doesn't mean one does not collect more power though. While one gets only 1/7th of total soul by defeating someone, find a hero ancient enough and he might as well hold enough experience to jump you to 100. Of course it only a theory, who ever will be able to defeat ancient one but another old one?
Unless there is an accident.
I could only stare dumbly at my reader stone tablet reflecting my current position " Lv100, Class - Harvest Lord". I Looked at evolution tree "Gardener - Grower - Nature's friend - Nature's wrath - Reaper - Harvest Lord". Because the end of the hero was so violent, my classes seemed to go into battle mode.
I looked at description of the class "Purely theoretical. Impossible to reach. Innate skills - Immortal of Nature, Rot, New Moon". As long there is mother nature, i cannot die. Anything i desire will Rot away and nature will bloom anew under New Moon.
I heard someone coming. I felt through plants that it was his girlfriend - she still had his scent on her. Also ancient hero.
She is an enemy. I did not look at any other stat, spell or ability i had. I will harvest her and everyone else daring to go against my garden and Nature.
For I am the Lord of the Harvest. | 2021-09-27T12:31:06 | 2021-09-09T19:26:05 | 315 | 85 |
[WP] You and your spouse are fairly typical demonic overlords with a figurative/literal dark fortress, minions to command etc. The problem is your teenage child who's going through that rebellious phase; claiming that they're good, dressing in all whites and only listening to gentle hymns. | "Our daughter just put up a picture of Jesus." Lilith slithered into the throne room on her serpent's tail. Many folks thought it was I who tricked Eve into eating the apple, but it was actually my wife.
"I think you mean Jesus, the gardener."
"No, not Jesus, Jesus."
"The son of God? Damnit it to here!"
I gave an audible sigh. "Why couldn't it be the gardener? I guess I have no choice." I stood up from my throne made of puppy skulls and made for the door.
"What are you going to do Beelzebabe?" Lilith hissed softly.
"Why, I have to kill her of course. I can't have that shit spreading."
"Tsk, tsk, if you kill your offspring you'll be no better than The Man Upstairs. I mean, the only reason he's on that poster is because his Dad sentenced him to die on Earth for buying that Gwar album. Why don't you wait this out. Show some compassion, be the better man."
"Maybe you're right. It's probably just a phase." I rubbed the base of my horns to soothe my growing headache.
"C'mon," Lilith hissed, flicking her forked tongue in my ear. "I know what will make you feel better. Let's go inspire another Twilight sequel." | I swear to Satan, my daughter is going to drive me insane. It started late last year, I caught her wearing a pearl necklace. Pearls. Un-fucking-believable. It progressed slowly, she died her hair blonde, started wearing white clothes... One time, I caught her listening to Holy Night. Not only was she listening to that garbage "music" that will infect her mind, but she BOUGHT it. She was raised to always pirate her music - I don't know what's happening. | 2015-12-08T09:42:05 | 2015-12-08T08:42:18 | 20 | 15 |
[WP] The courageous hero foretold to defeat the dark queen instead falls in love and marries her, settles down and has a kid, you. Years later, you're awkward parents send you off to university, and the "new" dark lord attacks the city and kidnaps you without realizing who your parents are. | Midsummer had been three days ago, and it showed by the fact that the districts on the lower end of thefinancial spectrum were still on fire, guessing from the smell of smoke in the air. Shame, there was a few good pubs down that way, not like I should know. Not allowed off University grounds first year. Mind you, the fact that the Dark Lord's army had done a fairly good job from the looks of it. Of course I wouldn't say that to the insufferable twit's face.
I am rather impressed that he managed to make it through the Merchant district, I'm not going to lie. Probably paid them off, or offered to make them nobility or some nonsense.
The Nobles had put up a fight, which explains why the Dark Lord's advance stopped at the University. Of course the older students and the teachers for the most part I assume had been slaughtered or were organizing the defense. Not that I'm complaining mind you, this was what they came here to learn how to do, and a practical lesson was better than nothing. The only downside of course, to the whole situation was the fact I was now stuck behind enemy lines, in the actual stronghold of the Dark Lord.
A quick lesson to the other first years in submission to protect their own skins, and explaining that no, you do not want to charge an army with just a handful of us because apparently that is a higher level course. Or they just had the common sense bred out of them. Either way, the past twelve hours babysitting them to prevent anything regrettable from happening had been almost physically painful. Hell, if the Dork Lord hadn't started monologuing at his generals, most of them would still be awake. I just listened to his speeches, nodding along slightly, taking notes for myself.
Professional curiosity.
When he had run out of steam, the walking suit of armor sent me with a burly, green skinned guard to the kitchens, which I did happily.
“So, seriously. Furbog, why is your tribe following him? Money? Power? He beat your leader in a duel?”
Any chance to practice my Orcish.
“Boredom mostly, kid. Haven't really had a chance to fight with the other clans since your mother retired. Not to mention the fact he had a demonic army with him. Didn't expect to see you here, the clans thought you weren't coming for a couple of years still. Chief Grozit damn near choked on his ale when he saw you.”
“Father pulled a few strings to get me accepted early for my own good. How is Uncle Grozit? I know I haven't been around a while, but after Mother got sick we couldn't really come visit as often. She can't even come up here from the Hells for a parent teacher interview, thank the powers. Father was so upset at her funeral earlier this year.”
A feral grin crossed my face as we made it into the kitchens, and the other Orc, too young for me have met got sent back up to get some others to help cook and bring food. I of course sneaked down into the wine cellar, bringing up a bottle so old that it's dust had dust, one of the University's head's best bottles. I made sure that it was properly uncorked and let it breath as the hustle and bustle began, sitting in a dark corner.
It didn't take long for the leader of my mother's personal guard to arrive, with Uncle Grozit coming in soon after with a little black dragon on his shoulder who immediately hopped into my lap for his scritches. My mother's old dragon was his mother and I missed little Scales. My great-great-great-great UncleCharles, on my father's side, black sheep of the family, but you can't keep a good necromancer down. The four factions who owed their allegiance to me through blood, debts, bonding or treaties.
I put a little bit of my pet dragon's poisonous spit into the wine bottle and sent it to the Dark Lord with a passing imp before taking out my notes from earlier.
“Uncle Grozit, wasn't sure if you were going to join us or not. Looks like I owe my mother a city named after her. Now, Gentlemen, lets talk about how exactly we're going to do this right, shall we?” | I hadn't even finished getting through my first month at Uni, when I woke up with a severe headache. That's odd, I don't remember drinking at all. Then I look around to see a stereotypical dark lord base and myself tied up. Plus there's a fuckton of faceless mooks around. I sigh, as it was probably another up and coming dark lord terrorizing the city, not realizing that my parents still indirectly run this metropolis even after hanging up the cape and crown to have me in their lives. I whistle over to one of the mooks and ask him for a complex coffee order after seeing this dude's awesome looking coffee machine, plus for him to grab my phone from my messenger bag.
But while he's doing that, the dark lord who looks to be in his mid 30s, struts over and says that he's taking control of this city by brainwashing a large number of college students — and staff, apparently. I snort, and start getting sassy, then tell him that he's picking the wrong city to take over, right as I free up a hand to unlock my phone that the mook has brought over with my coffee order. I then call my mom, and she immediately picks up, so I switch over to speaker. While sipping on my coffee, I fill her in on the wannabe taking over her city with a smug grin on my face. "Be right there, sweetie!" She says for him to hear over the phone.
I look at him with my shades on and coffee in hand, and calmly tell him, "I'm the daughter of Black Queen Elissa La Croix, bitch." Right as my mom comes crashing in to rescue me. She looks at the wannabe dark lord, and he's hosing his pants in fear. After dealing with him, she spots the fancy coffee machine setup that can whip up any coffee order. She looks at me, and asks if Uni has a coffee kiosk in need of a proper setup, and it does, so after everyone's freed from their ropes, she takes this with her when we all head back to the campus to drop off at the coffee kiosk. Even though my dad's a total hero, he would much rather use his powers to intimidate any guys interested in dating me or taking advantage of me. But my mom on the other hand, she's the one that comes to my rescue when wannabe villains and dark lords kidnap me, as she sees this city as her turf, and if I'm caught in the crossfire, she's instantly in mama bear mode on top of showing these posers who runs things around here. So basically I'm double protected.
I look at one of the professors on the way back to the campus and realize that I have classes with one of them. I wave to her, and she asks me how we were rescued so quickly, to which I reply that my mom is violently protective of her kin and turf. When I called her, she was already on her way to deal with the noob lord, but when I gave her additional info on the noob, as well as telling her that I'm in the crossfire, she's also decided to go mama bear as well. My professor is sassy like me and comments that this does explain why I'm always eerily calm during situations like these, as it means that things are now under control. So yeah. The end. | 2021-11-20T04:44:45 | 2021-11-20T00:07:09 | 45 | 19 |
[WP] Diagnosed with schizophrenia. Since birth, 24/7 you’ve heard the voice and thoughts of a girl that you’ve been told is made up in your head. You’re 37 and hear the voice say “turn around, did I find you?” and you turn to see a real girl who’s heard every thought you’ve ever had and vice versa. | "Turn around, did I find you?"
I froze. *What the fuck?*
"Don't be afraid."
Strangers bumped past my shoulders, struggling to get past me. Like a rock in a fast-bubbling brook, I remained fixed to the subway floor. I tried to calm my thoughts. She could hear all of them, after all.
But curiosity and sheer impulse took over soon enough - she'd invaded my every waking moment. I fought back, but desire forced my neck to turn, slowly.
Behind me, I saw a girl, possibly around 27 or so, staring back at me.
"Is it you?" her voice rang through my head, her lips unmoving.
*Yes.*
A grin spread across her face. Suddenly, a flash of panic spread through me. What if she was going to kill me? Destroy the voice in her head?
"Don't be ridiculous! I would never do that."
I cursed myself in my head, before realising she could hear that too. I felt more exposed than ever.
She sighed.
"Don't be afraid. It's okay. Way I see it, we have a special bond. I think, somehow, fate brought us together."
I raised an eyebrow. A man in an orange coat pushed past me angrily.
"Get outta the way, pal!"
I remembered where I was and quickly took a seat on a nearby bench. She did the same, still looking at me triumphantly.
"You see, I was in New York for a conference, but I heard your thoughts and, well, I know you were headed here for a family reunion too."
I nodded.
"I thought I'd come and find you. It was easy enough - you tend to think while you read, so when you read the subway signs I knew where you were headed."
I nodded again, somewhat sheepishly this time. There was a long pause, filled with the fairly loud hustle and bustle of commuters on their way to work, punctuated by the screeching of trains and blaring announcements.
We just looked at each other, lost in each other's eyes. For the first time, neither of us was thinking anything. Silence in our heads. Peace.
"...well, what now?" I said softly.
"I don't know," she said simply, shifting her gaze to the floor.
"Look. Just now, we were both silent. For the first time for as long as I can remember, there was peace. And we both know each other pretty well, don't we?"
She chuckled. "Maybe a bit too well," she mused.
"Well, I don't know how to say this, but..."
Her eyes lit up and a cheeky grin grew on her face.
"You've already heard it, haven't you?" I smiled.
*Yes.*
We got up and climbed the stairs up to the light. By the time the sun kissed our skin with its warmth, we were holding hands and headed to the nearest cafe.
I used to think that she was a curse, but now it's becoming clear. We had something nobody else in the world had; a deep, inexplicable connection that couldn't be explained. I don't know how this is going to work, but this feels right.
Just as I was about to vocalise my thoughts, she caught me in a smile.
*Ah. I forgot you can hear me. This is weird.*
"We'll get used to it."
I squeezed her hand and we walked along the pavement, wet and shining with the sunset's colours, reflected on the stone. | As I lay awake in my bed, never once my own thoughts rang through my head, always those of an unfamiliar persons, I toss and turn as the voice rings clear as in my own head, "Turn around.... Did I find you?"
The color in my face drains as I stare at my wardrobe, *Please....dear God say it isn't so....*
"Oh.... It is so, and for thirty seven years..... I've had your sick perverted thoughts ringing through my head, and I am done." She presses a hand into my mattress climbing into the bed. "I really want to meet the man whose thoughts have intruded my mind for as long as we've been alive...." Her other hand lays along my chest and pulls me to face her.
*No no nononono.....* My stark white face turns and what I see is.... Impossible, sans the long hair she looked exactly like me, mousey brown hair, deep green eyes with specks of brown throughout, a sharp pointed nose with enormous caterpillar eyebrows. I blink a few times and have a tough time imagining why we were so familiar.
"You....look just like me!" *What the fuck....* My mind is reeling as I seem to stunned to say or think anything. My mouth opens and only a gasp comes out.
Finally I gather my thoughts, blinking a few times a thought comes to mind.... *I'm glad I'm not vain.....*
A chuckles comes from the look alike girl, "That would make this a whole lot more awkward...." I stare at her in disbelief... forgetting for a moment that one, she broke into my house, and bee, she can hear every single thought of mine.
"Wh....How did you find me?" I state with an abruptness that would put most brakes to shame. "Why are you here? Why is this happening to us? I've been on medication for something nobody understood for literal decades..... It never helped.... Your voice still shone through even at a maximum dosage.... Did you still hear your own thoughts? Too....many questions...." The color returns to my face as I reach up to grab my ears and squeeze away the torrent of questions welling up inside my mind.
Her face flushes red as she screeches, my what a noise... As if there is a microphone with terrible feedback....
-----
I wake up the next morning strapped to my comfortable bed....
"Turn around..... Did *I* find *you*?" A familiar, yet unfamiliar to my ears, voice calls to me from the floor....
=====
Thanks for reading, my first time writing... And posting here! Hope it was a good read! | 2019-09-14T11:28:36 | 2019-09-14T10:23:14 | 74 | 25 |
[WP] One of the world's wealthiest men has died and left you his entire fortune. The world is shocked. You are a nobody, with no apparent connection to the deceased. The mystery of why you inherited quickly becomes the news story of the decade, crazy rumors abound. Only you know the truth... | "I'm sorry, how much?"
Mr. Farfield is an elderly gentleman. His eyes are the color of a cloudy sky and when he smiles, it seems humble, yet sincere.
"I understand that this will be a change to your life, Mr. Rain If you want to take your time with the decision thats fine, but Mr. Quinlan was very forthright about his will. He has no immediate family, none who are entitled to inheriting anything at least, nor did he want to bequeath his fortune to charity. No, he left everything, down to the last penny, to you and you specifically. He even gave the names of your parents and your current place of residence to make his last will abundandly clear. You, Mr. Rain, have inherited Trevor Quinlans entire fortune, a total of 1.7 trillion dollars."
​
Trevor Quinlans life is like something from a Fairy Tale. He was born into poverty to a fisherman and a homemaker. In school he didn't particularly stand out, but did well enough to enter college. From there on out, however, he seemed to aim ever higher and Quinlan Corp. is by far the largest enterprise in the world by now. And with it, Trevor Quinlan became the richest man, not only in the world but in history. He was known as a recluse who never gave interviews, never married and even when he chose to speak to the press it was usually through a representative. Smart men dressed in business suits who tried to appear in the known about their boss, but nobody really understood him. Many times his former classmates talked to the press about him, two even wrote about their time in class with him as if they could illuminate the richest man in the world by talking about a schoolboy. Of course they didn't know him either, just a bit less so than others, but still they didn't inherit anything.
​
But I did.
​
Mr. Farfield gave me time to reconsider and I took it. I took it because I knew I had to, because some things must be done at the right time. I cannot cope with the media attention I'll be getting once I'm named the sole heir to Quinlans fortune but I know what I can do so that I will be able to.
I never knew Trevor Quinlan. At least not personally. He grew up in Ireland while I grew up in Milwaukee. He majored in Economics at Stanford, I didn't even finish High School. He dealt with stocks, real estate, whole enterprises, I am a bouncer at a night club when I don't try to write the Great American Novel. But the journalists will dig deep for any connection they can find and so I have to fake one. One that is just out of the way enough to not be spotted on first sight, but with enough realistic qualities to it that they will accept it.
​
The truth is, I know Trevor Quinlan very well, even though I never met him. But I met the man he was before and just yesterday I met the boy who will, one day, be him. He has had lots of names and identities, but he always sheds them like a mantle once he dies, to don the next disguise, the next life.
If you take a cup of water and empty it out over a rock, nothing happens. The rock is wet, but the water soon will dry, leaving the rock unchanged. But a million cups of water, drizzled carefully over the rock through centuries, can form it. The Grand Canyon is the product of such an erosion and so are the vast and complex cave systems under Yellowstone. Its no accident that made the humble son of a fisherman into the richest man in the world, nor is it coincidence that will elevate a simple bouncer into the highest of society. I will take on the mantle that has been Trevor Quinlan and make it into Gregor Rain, only to shed it when I die and pass it on a yet nameless boy. Mr. Farfield knows nothing of this, for the first time in our long history our scheme is, if briefly, laid bare. For generations we have sharpened a blade of money to pass down to the next generation and when the time finally is right, we will bring it down on the world at large. We will rise and topple the system with its own weapons.
Nihil tam munitum quod non expugnari pecunia possit. | When presidents, kings, and queens die, whole countries start mourning for them out of respect. Businesses close, tears shed, and vigils lit up in public. Condolences, memoirs, and sad songs for days on end.
When an everyday joe dies, it's just another day.
Heck, I think nobody would actually miss me when I die. Nothing sad or lonely, just a fact of life.
"Mr. Lee?"
"H-Huh? Sorry, did you say something, Mr. Romm?" I immediately snapped my attention back at the lawyer seated opposite me.
"I said, have you read the will?" the lawyer took off his thick wooden glasses and pulled a pen out his breast pocket, "because if so, you can go ahead and sign the waiver–"
"Whoa, whoa, what waiver? I thought it's a done deal if I give you my John Hancock..."
"... and you would be correct, but that 'John Hancock' – as you said – is for this waiver to prevent you from *ever* disclosing the nature of this will nor the reasoning put behind it."
Sketchy, yes. Why would *he* wanted me to not say anything about this thing? I mean sure, it may cause trouble with his still-living children. But what's with this surely potentially problematic setup?
Even as my guts were telling me to get the hell out of that room and not look back, the money put on the table was... too much to pass on.
***
"So, did you hear about that dude who got lucky on TV?" Joe said as he dug into his scrambled egg.
"No, why?" I said as I sipped my morning dose of black slurry.
"Damn, man. Nobody knew anything about him, but some said he might've been the lover of that poor old rich bastard–"
I let out a cough which spilt some of the coffee on my brand new still-crisp shirt.
"Fuck, I just bought these for $100 yesterday!"
"Whoa, Mr. Big Bucks over here, eh? You didn't tell me you got the bonus already this year..."
Joe shot a suspicious glance just as I wiped myself with a clean napkin. Of course he'd be suspicious as hell, our company wouldn't give out bonuses this early in the year. I guess I wasn't as careful as I thought I'd be.
"So anyway, you said something about the guy on TV?"
Still suspicious, Joe took a sip of his OJ before continuing, "well, it was just a rumour but that rich bastard – O'Reily – pulled a fast one from his own kids. Like he just died and thought it'd be funny to disinherit his whole family, only to give it to some random nobody."
Yeap. I knew it.
"Oh, really? So did they name that random nobody?"
"Nah, just gossips. Word on reddit was that this guy was O'Reily's secret lover. Some even said that maybe O'Reily got in bed with the mafia and this guy was just a front to a don or something."
Phew. Never underestimate the media's ability to take things out of proportion.
"Right. What do you think though? I'm sure you got tons of theories–"
"–I think he's just a long lost son. I think, O'Reily banged a secretary of his and *voila* out comes a baby that they couldn't do anything about. Rich geezers do that, you know! Lots of 'em."
"..."
Joe lifted his eyebrow.
"Say, you do know *who* your father was, right?"
I nervously laughed, "yeah, of course..."
"Who was he? You never said."
"Fuck off, man. Why? You like going after fathers?"
"No, you fuck off!" | 2020-01-27T05:26:30 | 2020-01-27T04:45:13 | 116 | 60 |
[WP] A shapeshifter befriends a lonely human multiple times throughout his or her life, but the human thinks it's a different person every time. One day the human realizes that all of his/her friends are really the same person. | I had not always been called this name, Eve. I had chosen it only in the past centuries, when the Christians began growing in strength in her forests. I cannot remember how many lives I’ve lived in the old world. When one had lived more than a millenium, decades began to blur together. Few people lingered in my mind. I remember a zealous Judean preacher in my youth, a young man I married in the 5th century, an English queen I had served in the 10th, a child I had adopted and buried in the mid-1300s, a Muslim scholar I’d loved in the 1500s, and an Irish immigrant family whom I had spent a lifetime with at the turn of the 20th century. I had worn so many faces and lives and tongues and now, over 1000 years into my life, I had thought I had seen it all.
That was, until I’d met a young woman in the suburbs of Texas in the early 2000s. The girl, Natalie, had been 6 years old, with sunny blonde curls and a habit of singing to herself and playing in the mud. She had been exploring in the woods, dressed in a fairy princess dress with bright green galoshes, when she’d fallen into the stream bed below, breaking her arm. I had been passing by and noticed Natalie. I paused, knowing I couldn’t make the landing safely in this body and risking a transformation into my original form. I jump down beside the girl and lifted her up, climbing back up to lay her on the grass beside a boulder, making it appear as though she’d broken her arm falling from the boulder. Natalie stirred and I shifted to the form of a girl around the same age.
“Who are you!?” Natalie asked, tears welling in her blue eyes. “My arm hurts. Where’s my mommy? I want my mommy!”
“I’m Sarah!” I said, reverting back to identity from 5 years ago. “I’ll go get her! Which house?”
“2234” Natalie said, wiping her eyes.
I ran to 2234 and retrieved the girl’s mother and disappeared.
Over the next 16 years, I found myself meeting Natalie over and over, not to her knowledge. I was her middle school best friend, Katie, who moved to San Diego. I was her Algebra II teacher, who helped her pass my class. I was the photographer at her prom. I was her first college roommate (I had decided to get my bachelor’s in musical theory). I was also a brief fling she had the summer after her junior year of college.
After she graduated, I met her at a yoga class. We became friends again and, after a few lunches and hangouts, we became close friends. One night, we’d decided to get ice cream at the park.
“Nat?” I asked, not looking at her.
“Yeah?” Nat asked, glancing over at me, “Is it about that guy at the bar last week? I’m sorry I didn’t let it go…”
“It’s not that.” I said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not who you think I am. I’m… I’m a shapeshifter. I’ve been in and out of your life since you were 6.”
“That’s really funny Eve.” Nat said, brushing a strand of her blonde hair out of her face.
“I’m not.” I said. I looked around for anyone else, “I am over a thousand years old. I’ve had many names and faces, but you are one of the only people I’ve stayed with like this. Please don’t freak out.” I held her wrist gently, then changed to the face of her college roommate, Bethany.
Nat’s other hand flew to her mouth and she recoiled, eyes wide. She stared as I slowly became the photographer, the Algebra teacher, Katie, then Sarah. She let out a whimper when I put on the face of Alex, the boy she’d loved for a summer. “I… You… You were my teacher?!” she hissed, “You were my boyfriend!? I-I kissed you!” She wrenched her hand away from me and turned away. “It was all lies!? None of them were real?”
“They’ve all been me.” I said. “Just different faces that I’ve worn. Please. I’m so sorry. Give me a chance to start over. To get to know you as myself.”
“What do you actually look like?” Nat said, turning to look at me. I closed my eyes, feeling myself grow taller and my long rainbow-colored wings extend down my arms.
“Isis.” Nat whispered, eyes wide.
I smiled to myself, “I have called myself Eve for nearly a millennia.” I stepped back and held out my hand, “I am Eve, also known as Isis, an immortal shapeshifter and a former goddess of Egypt.”
Nat looked at me for a long moment, then shook my hand. | The shapeshifter doesn't remember it's origin. It's been here for far too long. It doesn't even remember it's original name. It has taken the form of too many people. People that throughout the years that have been successful, talented and have had rich life giving experiences. Theses experiences taught this alien creature what the humans are all about. It has learned to love each family it's come across and each family it has been a part of.
This better half of the century it has chosen to live through the life of a man that was considered a celebrity. A celebrity that had no shortage of friends or fans, and got quite busy with them at that. It could be said the alien was enjoying itself very much. It has lead nothing but selfish or enjoyable lives throughout its time, and yet the alien thought it had everything figured out. One evening this shapeshifter had a house party that a lot of people had showed up to. Including a man named Colin. Colin never was too happy with his life, and accepted his life to be quite a disappointment. He had no friends, and both his parents were very dismissive of the parenting role that was such a burden to them. Colin didn't even know what he was doing with his life. All he ever wanted was a couple of friends. One friend maybe? What was the use anyway? Colin was too socially awkward he wouldn't know what to do with them.
It was time to leave this party he thought. He didn't even know how he got an invitation. He looked up to leave and was startled to see the shapeshifter staring at him. He had a frown upon his face, but was puzzled at this man named Colin. He didn't seem like anyone he had the pleasure of meeting before. Why has he not met someone like Colin? Perhaps they don't go out much? Perhaps this is a new experience I can have? Colin watched as this man walked off into the crowd. He was still puzzled, but what did it matter, he has met the same look many times in terms of his parents. Colin walked to leave out the door to his second hand car. A figure walked quickly into him at the door."woah hey man! Shit my drink! No don't worry about it man, it's an accident. But..uh..wait shit! You are that Colin guy right? Dude no way! I've heard a lot about you dude!" Colin was immensely confused. How could this guy the same age as him possibly know who he is? "I apologize man, really for the drink and all, but how do you know me?" "Shit, well I heard a lot about you from the girls I hang with bro, you know Stacy and, fuck, that one over there katelyn!" Colin looked over. They were girls from high school. Girls that he never spoke one word to, and never planned to due to his nervousness. "They have been talking about me?" "Well of course bro, you're like what? The hottest guy they've seen?" "Wait what? Umm, I actually never talked to them personally dude,well..I uh sorry uh what your name?" Colin was trying the best to change the subject the best he could. But as soon as the casual name question popped up the man made a quick excuse to go back the party and let Colin go on his way. It was all very surreal. It must be a sick joke Colin thought. There is now way in hell anybody would know him, especially the girls he has done so sure to avoid in the past.
I have to leave unfortunately. This is my first try at a story. Let me know if it's worth continuing. I had planned Colin to meet his new best friend, along a few others. Along with that, his first girlfriend. One day after his girlfriend leaves(to transform into best friend) the shapeshifter forgot his cell phone. In which Colin tries to look through(personal issues), and finds no record of any proof she has other friends. Looking into it he discovers the horrible truth. | 2014-08-15T10:50:11 | 2014-08-15T08:43:05 | 35 | 12 |
[WP] The day you die, Death comes and asks if you are ready to go. Jokingly, you say no. To your surprise, he leaves. Now every year he comes back to ask again | I died choking on lunch in my office. Ironic, because we’d just spent the Friday two weeks ago going over CPR and first aid procedures, but obviously that didn’t do much good. I suppose I could have done more to help myself - I have my own office, so there was no one there to see me clutching at my throat. I could have taken the few steps into the hallway, but I didn’t. I stood at my desk and tried to lodge the cucumber (cucumber! What a waste!) out by slamming myself against the top of my office chair.
Eventually, things just went black. When I came to, he was standing there, brandishing a clip board. “All right,” he said. “Ready to go?”
He didn’t fit any of the depictions of himself I’d seen on tv, but I knew right away who he was. That’s how it is with those in power though. They certainly don’t need a name tag.
I looked at my half finished salad on my desk, on top of the stack of paperwork I needed to have done for the audit next week. My boss had been in this same office just hours before, squeezing the bridge of her nose, telling me how stressed everyone was and how important finishing up those files was.
I was saying the words before I’d even thought them through - “Maybe I could just have a little extra time? To finish this up?”
Death made a mark on his clipboard and shrugged his shoulders. In a blink, he was gone. I sat back down at my desk and finished my salad.
A month later, I was fairly certain I’d fallen asleep at my desk. The cucumber that had been lodged in my throat never came out, so it made sense I’d imagined it all. By six months, I was sure it had just been a dream. I hadn’t been getting good sleep, anyway, pulling extra hours to get everything done.
A year later, though, he came again. Same clipboard. “Are you ready?”
I shook my head. Motioned to my desk again - “It seems it never stops piling up, doesn’t it?”
Death made another mark and an expression I couldn’t place. Annoyance? Pity? Again, he was gone in a blink.
And so it happened, year in and year out. He’d always show up and ask if I was ready, and I’d always point out the stack of paperwork on my desk and tell him not quite.
According to my calendar, he should be here in just a few moments. I stayed late all last week getting everything ready. I suppose after so many years, the curiosity has got the better of me.
He arrives right on time. Pulls out his clipboard, asks the standard question. This time, I put the note I wrote to my boss on my desk and stand up. “All right,” I say. “I’m ready to die.”
Death marks his clipboard and reaches one hand out to me and places it on my shoulder. “You’re ready to go now, you mean” he says. “You’ve been dead for twenty six years. Since you choked on that cucumber.”
I don’t understand what he means. Death can see my obvious confusion, and explains further: “You died the first time I came for you. You left earth as you know it at that time. You just weren’t ready to move on. You’ve been here, working away, ever since.”
“What do you mean? I’ve been here, everything has been the same. My coworkers, the Chinese food delivery guy, it’s all been there.”
“A representation of it has. But not the real people. This work, it’s not real, of course.” With a wave of his hand, the papers on my desk started to disappear. Another wave, and my desk was gone. Then the walls. Then the ceiling and the floor until we were standing in nothing.
Death pushes me forward. “You’re ready now, though” he says. “That’s all that matters.” | The blaring horn, the terrible noise of metal screeching against metal, the flash of lights, the pain.
And then everything was gone. A peaceful stillness filled me and darkness surrounded me.
A figure emerged from the darkness, slowly walking toward me, a hood above its head, a scythe in its hand.
"It is time, Henry Gridsno. Are you ready to leave this planet?"
I look up toward the hooded figure, think about my parents, my friends, my life.
"No."
I didn't expect it to work.
He nods his head. "I figured that, Henry Gridsno. I'll see you again soon." He walks back into the darkness leaving me alone.
The pain comes back first. The aching headache. I lift my head off a soft pillow and look around a small room.
IVs are sticking out of my arms and a constant beeping is beside me. Fresh covers sit over me, warming my body.
"Hello?" My voice is hoarse and barely comes out more than a whisper.
A pretty nurse notices me and walks into the room, smiling. "Glad to see you awake, Henry."
"Are my children..." I begin before slumping down on the pillow.
"Your children and wife are fine. You were the one most hurt. We weren't sure you would make it."
I nodd and relax onto the bed.
...
The next year, I'm sitting on the couch, holding my 5 year old son's head in my arms, watching Thomas the Train.
A dark fog drifts around me, surrounding me completely and a peaceful stillness fills me.
The same figure emerges, his scythe in his hand planted on the ground.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
I look him in the eye and shake my head.
"Very well." He disappears back into the darkness and the fog lifts.
Every year he returns to ask again. Whenever I die, he asks me if I'm ready. It took me several years to figure out that I'm basically immortal.
When the mugger shot me in the head I figured Death wouldn't ask me.
I was surely dead now.
But the dark fog surrounded me, the peace filling me and he emerged.
"Are you ready, Henry Gridsno?"
"Not yet," I responded and he floated away.
Most stress left me. I couldn't die, couldn't be killed.
I got to watch my children grow up and become parents. It was wonderful being there for them, knowing everything would turn out fine.
Then my dear wife died.
I fell to my knees, tears streaming down my face when the dark fog surrounded me.
Death was there, in front of me.
"Why?" I ask him. "Why did you take her away?"
"Everybody dies eventually, Henry Gridsno. Even you can't control that."
I look up at him, realizing that this was better than immortality.
I wouldn't beable to live with this in happiness. I knew my children were able to take care of themselves. That was all I could do for them. That was all I could ask for.
"I'm ready."
r/FortyTwoDogs | 2019-04-16T13:05:03 | 2019-04-16T10:03:14 | 67 | 22 |
[WP] At the age of 18, everyone picks an unlikely life event. They will be reborn at 18 every time they die until that event happens. After that, death is permanent.
Example - Winning a lottery jackpot. Statistically, they would die in 22 plane crashes in a row before winning the Mega Millions jackpot. | See, most people try to live forever, but that ends one of two ways: they don't or they wish they didn't. Rob Herman was a famous example of the first, Rob chose his Event to be “Winning the lottery and getting struck by lightning.” It was a great choice, the chance of getting struck on any given day was 1 in 245,000,000 and the chance of winning big lotteries is about the same. This way Rob could continue his passions of being outdoors and playing the lottery, just not both at the same time! But Robby got sloppy, and one day mixed the two at a state fair. With about 20 billion people on the earth miracles are bound to happen every once and a while.
The most infamous example of the second was Nick Walsh. Nick chose “Due to a quantum mechanical flux, a cat appears from nowhere.” Such wishes are rather common among those seeking true immortality. After Nick's fiancée left him, he lost his job, he was eternally imprisoned for a crime (eventually proved innocent, but not until it was too late,) and his mother died due to a freak game of poker. He then performed brain surgery on himself using a nail stuck through a plank. He's brain-dead in a hospital now with explicit instructions NOT to pull the plug, with the threat that he'll it again in the next life.
So when it came my Time I took a different approach. I didn't want immortality, I wanted the most out of life. I wanted an event that I could enjoy, that wouldn't bind or hinder me.
“The day that the good will never again outweigh the bad.”
In the past thousand years I've had good times and bad times, I've had great times and terrible times, I've been in more love and more pain than I could imagine. And through it all my Event has been there for me, an eternal promise, that I still have a good life ahead. | I had been itching for adventure for as long as I could remember. Ever since I learned to draw I envisioned myself living life to its fullest. I recorded all of those in a spiral notebook. Drawn or written, I vowed to make every one of them happen.
When the teachers told us of the gift our species was endowed with, I couldn’t wait to reach the Age of Enrichment. Every year until then was spent researching and reading and comparing scenarios with my friends. Which one would afford me all the time I needed to live all of my dreams?
When the day came I was set. “When the Sun goes supernova.” I proclaimed in front of everyone during the ceremony. From then on I lived as I had promised myself. All deaths along the way were milestone markers to me.
Then it inevitably happened. I reached the end of the book. Two hundred and fifty lifetimes lived and I had nothing to look forward to. Humanity marched forward, evolved, expanded and died. But I could not. All because of the one fact I had overlooked: our sun was too small to go supernova.
| 2014-11-11T21:52:28 | 2014-11-11T18:56:21 | 912 | 154 |
[WP] You are an elder god taking a vacation on Earth when aliens invade. You teleport to their capital ship and explain them that if they don't leave you will wipe out their entire species with a single thought. They dont believe you so you wipe out 10% of them to show you're serious. | "Do the stars look right to you, motherfucker?" Dread Cthulhu performed the tentacular equivalent of pinching the bridge of his nose. "Look. I'm on a damn vacation. Ok? I should be sitting on the beach, relaxing and basking in whatever unspeakable horror my cultists have cooked up. Instead, your fucking fleet pops in overhead blocking out my light. Nobody gets to destroy the Earth, except for me. And the time is not yet right. So pack up your little ships and fuck off, before I get annoyed."
"Hah! No one speaks to the mighty HIVELORD that way! Drone 783, destroy this strange interloper at once. And then order a full security investigation to find out how it got aboard."
Drone 783 dutifully scuttled forward, leveling a pulsating energy weapon at the writhing nightmare in front of it. It discharged the weapon and a coruscating arc of green energy briefly enveloped its target before sputtering out.
Dark Cthulhu stood, waiting. The bridge fell silent. "Impossible! It should be nothing but a heap of ash! No matter ... The great HIVELORD commands you to destroy the creature. All units, report to the bridge immediately and bring me its head!"
"Seriously? Ok, I see that a demonstration is in order."
The air around deathly Cthulhu began to warp and shimmer, to twist in a way that seemed impossible. He moved slightly in space or perhaps, impossibly, the ship moved while he stayed unutterably stationary. "There. I have reached across the unfathomable void to touch your race. And next time I will not be so merciful. Pricks."
"Sir, sir, HIVELORD! We are receiving an urgent transmission from A'trox prime. Multiple units down, all at once. Surviving units report the deactivated all have faces marked with the severest terror. Sir ... Based on reports, we are projecting that a total of 10% of all active units in the homeworlds have been destroyed."
For once, the arrogant HIVELORD had nothing to say. | "Ya know, if Earth *wasn't* a magnet for this kind of thing, I wouldn't be here in the first place." The First Kimera sighed. He had wanted to relax, but all the panic and despair from this world was upsetting his stomach.
"If I fix this, would they calm down, or panic even more?" He asked the less than empty air around him. The little things that had once been so daring were now also scrambling in panic. It tasted even worse than the humans. Though their panic, too, was not unfounded, as 10% of their kind just turned to dust.
"Bleh. All of this is making it hard to think, so I'm going to go lie down, I'll figure out what to do after a nap." He raised his voice, ensuring the tiny things could actually hear him.
"BEGONE FROM THIS WORLD, FOR THIS IS THE DECREE OF HE WHO CAN BRING CHANGE"
And with a step, he was back in his ocean, the flesh of his disguise melting away. "A stomach was a bad idea anyway, I never should have made one" He muttered, the false feeling of nausea gone with the last of his organs. | 2021-05-04T20:36:00 | 2021-05-04T19:47:34 | 193 | 44 |
[WP] You're a biologist who made a deal with the devil: eternity in hell after death in return for unlimited funding for your research. The funding was worth it, you discovered immortality, and the devil is not happy about this. | It was late at night. I was hard at work in my lab when I heard his voice.
“So you found a loophole.”
I never even broke my gaze away from my work. I knew it was him and I knew what he wanted. “So I did. Lucky break, I guess.”
“Is that how you see it? Because I see it as stacking the deck.” He spun me around to face him. His eyes were cold, not quite furious but not quite calm, either. “Had I known you would use the funding for this, I-“
“Would have never made the deal in the first place, blah, blah, blah,” I mocked back, cutting him off. I had outmaneuvered the Devil himself. Why not enjoy it? “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to finish this latest batch to show to the buyers tomorrow.”
“Buyers?”
“Yes, from a major pharmaceutical company. I’m taking the formula public. I’ll be rich and I’ll be immortal. And who says you can’t have it all?” I turned back to my work but stopped when I heard a slow clap building behind me followed by...laughter?
“That’s all I wanted to hear,” he chuckled. “Job well done.”
“What do you mean?”
“With that formula public, immortality will become widespread and rampant. It will be fun at first, nobody dying, but eventually it will get boring. Add in the fact that no deaths means overpopulation will rise exponentially, draining the world’s resources faster than ever, and soon people will be begging for a death that will never come.” He leaned closer as he softly said, almost in a whisper, “It will literally be Hell on Earth.”
I stood there, stunned, as the weight of his words hit home. He was right. How could I not have seen it?
“The best part of all,” he added, as he took my latest sample and strode towards the door, “is you get to hold up your end of the bargain, after all. An eternity in Hell, paid on schedule. Think about that when you accept your Nobel, Doctor.” | To spite the devil even further, Dr. Jamos Wikheusen spent a very small fraction of his now limitless life spreading this "cure" to all humans, thereby eliminating all causes of natural death, and severely decreasing the number of newcomers arriving to hell.
Life on Earth, for a short while at least, became utopia. People reveled in a world where time no longer restrained a person's life. But after learning all that could be learned, tasting all that could be tasted, and seeing all of the world's beauty, man's thirst for newness, his desire for stimulation, led him down a path of self destruction. Perversion, suffering, pain, and sadism were all sought not as a way to find meaning in a now meaningless life, but as a way to simply feel alive.
Having lost the concept of morality, mankind brought hell itself to the world of the living. And those who wanted peace and quiet, an escape from hell on earth, would resort to ending their own lives. But with religion banished long ago, and with it, it's quaint ideas on gods and afterlife, humanity had long forgotten that damning eternal consequence of suicide.
In this way, the devil didn't win the soul of Dr. Jamos Wikheusen, but did win the souls of billions more. | 2018-08-23T11:53:32 | 2018-08-23T11:51:20 | 5,923 | 67 |
[WP] The day has finally come. You are the driver of a taxi that was ordered 33 years ago in advance to this exact spot and time. Ever since it was requested your company has kept track and waited in anticipation. As you pull up to the location you finally get to learn why. | I got to the address an hour early, afraid I might miss the most important ticket of my life.
It was a side street in the Valley, in an area that almost surely must be considered “unincorporated.” It was an empty lot where perhaps there was once a Denny’s or a Yum-Yum Donuts, across from an abandoned auto shop that had not seen customers in at least a decade.
In my rear-view, across the main road, I could see four other taxies. Each was full to the brim - my co-workers, all curious about who would show up for the ride. At least 20 men and women, all eschewing their own fares to find out about one I had pulled from the hat a year ago that day.
After more than three decades, our managers (a few of whom were not even born on the night the reservation was made) knew they could not just hand this fare to anyone.
Especially when it was paid for in advance. With $15,000. Cash.
I had been with *Dixon & Stein* for a little over five years when they decided it would have to be random -- just enough to put my name in the hat. When it came out I was ushered into Mr. Stein’s office, with the groans and boos of the other drivers raining down around me. He looked into my eyes for a few moments before saying some line from some English playwright I’d never heard of.
He told me his fathers had accepted this reservation 32 years before, just months after they had started the company, and that Dixon himself had been at the front desk when the man had come in with the briefcase. The man -- who he had described as “well-dressed, but beaten down - with a scar through his eye-patch covered left eye” -- had told Dixon that he was choosing this company because it was one of the few that would be around when he needed the pick-up.
“My dad told me he said it, not like an optimist, but with the conviction of someone who knew because he’d been there already.”
The man had given Dixon the briefcase and it’s cash contents as collateral to hold the reservation, saying the cash was the fee and that the briefcase would need to be in the car when the pick-up was made.
We sat in silence for at least a few minutes before the terms of the fare were explained: I would get 5% of the reservation amount, plus my normal 65% of the fare paid at the end of the ride. Mr. Stein pointed at the locked glass cabinet behind him, specifically the briefcase inside it. I would pick-up the briefcase no more than three hours before the fare, and it would wait in the front passenger seat for whoever arrived.
With 60 seconds to go, I began to look around frantically hoping to see the rider before they arrived. Between the empty lot and the abandoned garage, I figured I would be able to see him with at least a few moments to spare. A few moments to gather my wits and prepare for whatever happened next.
I was glancing over my left shoulder at the garage when I heard the gruff voice come from beside me.
“Drive.”
My head had snapped around so fast I’m surprised it didn’t snap. The door had neither opened nor closed, though my mouth surely did.
“Drive.”
He said it again -- this time with more urgency -- and I obeyed without question. He reached over with his left hand and started the meter (and the highest rate), then lit a cigarette that had appeared deftly in his lips.
Chatter from the other drivers suddenly crowded my radio.
“What the hell are you doing!?” “Did you just chicken out?” “You idiot, Stein is gonna have you killed! You gotta wait for the fare!!”
The man grabbed my radio from the dash and calmly said, “He got his fare. Don’t follow us,” before turning the radio off completely. “Broadway and Third. In Downtown. Quickly.”
I nodded, afraid to speak, and pressed on the accelerator. As I checked my blind spot while merging on the highway, he somehow travelled from the front seat to the back. The briefcase open on his lap, I finally got a look at him: gray vest, white shirt, brown pants, blue tie - all covered in a thin layer of dirt.
Through his left eye was a scar, and over that eye was a brown leather eye patch.
“It’s you,” I said, finally finding my voice.
“It’s me,” he responded matter-of-factly.
“How did you--”
“Nope,” he cut me off, “Wrong question. And not the next one or the one after that.”
I was quiet for a few minutes, making my way through a highway interchange.
“That one,” he said suddenly.
The question had escaped my throat before I even registered what it was. “Why me?”
He looked up from the briefcase for the first time, in my eyes in the rear view mirror. They looked familiar.
“Because even though I told them not to, your co-workers are still following behind us. They’re about half-a-mile back and not changing lanes very often, but they’re still driving bright yellow cabs -- so there was no way I’d miss them.”
“But,” I said, glancing in my side mirror and confirming what he said, “What does that--”
He coughed suddenly and loudly, covering his mouth with a handkerchief. “Because--”. He grunted as he struggled with something inside the briefcase. “Because--”. Finally a click and then a low hum. He sighed contently. “Because you would be in one of those cars when it happens.”
“When what--” I hunched forward instinctively as the explosion filled my rear view and pressed my cab forward. I went to slam on the breaks when he yelled at me.
“Don’t break! Go fast, and go now!”
As cars around me began to slow, I sped forward on a quickly emptying road.
“Top speed until we get there. Take shoulder if you need to, and don’t stop for red lights.”
I nodded sharply, narrowed my vision on the road ahead, and gripped the wheel tighter. My right foot pressed the pedal to the floor.
I risked a glance at my passenger when I heard the briefcase close. In his hand was a gold orb, orb covered in what appeared to be glowing, blue-white ancient symbols and designs. It was the source of a humming, which was getting stronger and higher in pitch.
“I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely and don’t ask any questions until I’m done. The world is under attack and this is the key to our survival. Billions will die, but the human race will live on because of us. It will be extremely dangerous and you’re going to be scared nearly to death, but I need you to do exactly as I say. Don’t worry -- you’ll survive this. You’re here because I’m here, and I’m here because you make it through this.”
From his jacket, the man pulled futuristic pistol glowing the same blue-white as the orb.
“Now, Dad, do you know how to use a gun?” | I glanced down at the instructions once more, making sure I had the right street before turning into Putney Vale Cemetery. I hated cemeteries on a good day, but the rain just made it worse. Turning off the engine, I tried to clear some of the steam off my windows to look for my passenger. The bloke who worked the front desk was in stitches when he'd given me this job, but I couldn't say no, could I? I was the new boy, running the shitty jobs in postcodes that could have have belonged to another city.
*Just keep at it*, Jules told me each day. *One day, you'll tell those tossers where to stick it and start your own cab company!*
I smiled as I thought of her faith in me, her optimism. I wished I could believe in myself like she did, but it's hard to when you're sitting in a cemetary waiting for your passenger, the rain coming down hard enough that it sounded like it might come through the roof soon.
"Oh, come on," I muttered, debating whether or not honking to alert my passenger was rude, given where we were. I tried to look around as best as I could in the car, but I didn't fancy jumping into the rain to go find them. I checked my watch and started counting down the minutes until I was allowed to leave, ready to sign off for the day and get back home. Friday evening was always my favourite, steak and chips doused in gravy. Nothing better!
I went to check my watch once more, but was interrupted by a light knocking at the window. I jumped slightly, startled by the noise. I turned to see an old lady shivering under an umbrella, her jacket soaked through. I rolled down the window and started to tell her I was waiting for someone and, unfortunately, she didn't look like the man that had booked the cab.
"Oh, that'll be my husband, James!" she nodded, moving to get into the back of the cab. I checked the paper I had been given and, sure enough, it was booked under James. The woman climbed into the back, shaking her umbrella off before closing it and the door behind her.
"So, I don't see a destination here, love?" I asked, turning to face her through the protective glass. "Where you off to?"
"I'm not sure, really," she responded, rummaging through her bag.
"I can't take you anywhere if I don't know where you're meant to be going, now can I, darlin'?" I joked, slightly bemused. Who orders a cab but doesn't know where to go?
"Ah, here we go!" she exclaimed triumphantly, pulling an envelope out of her bag. She folded it and slid it through the cash hole in the glass, before sitting back. "Could you put the heating up a bit more, please? I'm half frozen!"
I turned the heating up before looking in the envelope she had handed me. My eyes widened as I looked inside and was greeted by the sight of a wad of bills. The money was crisp, but it looked foreign. I didn't recognise the notes as I palmed through them.
I cleared my throat before turning to the woman once more.
"Not sure if there's been a mix up here, but I don't accept any foreign money, sorry," I apologised, showing her one of the notes to prove there was an issue. As I did, I noticed that the note did actually have the Queen on it. I looked closer and noticed that it *was* a £50 note. It was just old.
"I think that's just an old note, it's been in there a while," she noted, confirming my suspicions. "I've got some new money instead, if you can't take that."
I'd never dealt with money like this and didn't want the bloke on the front desk having another go at me, spitting his horrid egg mayonnaise sandwich over the desk as he went into complete apoplexy.
"I think that's probably best, yeah," I said apologetically, returning the envelope. "I'd rather not have the hassle, you know?"
"It's quite alright," she responded, taking the envelope back. "Did you take a look at the note inside?"
"Note?" I asked, having not seen a note inside. "I didn't think you'd want me going through your post, so I didn't pry further than the money."
"Well, I was told it was for you and I wasn't allowed to see it," she said, leaning forward to hand me a small, handwritten note.
I unfurled it and read.
*"To the man or woman who might one day read this,*
*My names is James and I am very sick. My doctors do not believe I will make it through the year, but I promised my Dotty I will fight for her. Every day I see her, I promise her another day. I promise I will see her the next day, but with each day that passes, I worry more so that it is a promise I can no longer keep.*
*We wed with a promise to see in the new century together. To revisit our memories together. To see how the world had changed, but our love had not. That even as buildings are torn down and rebuilt, as entire cities are reformed, we would still stand together.*
*It saddens me greatly to know that I will never see that day with my precious Dotty.*
*I looked through the telephone directory and found what I felt was a taxi service I could trust to still be there in 2000. I can only pray it is.*
*I have put enough money in this envelope to cover any expenses of driving and I truly hope that it stays enough. If it is not, I can only ask you to drive my Dotty for as long as it will pay for. Please, I am depending on you.*
*Take her to the places we shared the memories in our photos, take her to the places she remembers. Allow her to see what that new century has brought before it is too late for both of us.*
*I beg of you, stranger. If not for me, make my beloved Dotty happy once more.*
*Kindest regards and thanks,*
*James Smith*
*London, 1967"*
\---------
Can continue if there is interest, it was just what sort of sprung out for me with the title. | 2018-10-22T17:06:55 | 2018-10-22T16:53:59 | 356 | 82 |
[WP] The current rulers of the galaxy exert their dominance by showing showing new races a glimpse of their terrifying nature inevitably either driving the unfortunate victims mad or causing them to retreat in fear. It does not work on humans however, they are used to it | *"What do you fear, creature?"*
I blinked, for lack of any more constructive response, given the restraints. This wasn't the first time the shadow before me had asked this question, but it was clearly becoming more confused and frustrated with each attempt. Each time it asked the question, it ignored my answer, then showed me some image in hopes that it would find what scared me.
This time it was the weather. The shadow's eyes flared white for a moment, and then I was seated, chair and all, on an open plain of oddly purplish tall grass beneath a greenish sky. In the near distance, thunder rumbled ominously.
*"The storm is coming, creature, and you have nowhere to run..."*
I was getting a bit tired of this myself. "Oh, no. What's it going to do, rain on me a bit? I might catch a chill!"
The mental reply felt like grinding teeth. *"One would think you would not want such misery"*
"Come on. I'm from Kansas, asshole. The sky eats towns there every year for fun."
...
"Seriously. It's just life."
*"I will search your memories then, and find what will truly frighten you!"*
"Careful with that. If you think -this- is scary..." I couldn't help but grin as the surroundings changed, blinking through some familiar memories.
Holding my buddy's guts in on a dusty road in Afghanistan, praying the medivac hurried the hell up.
The smell of burnt insulation and polyester as I helped my brother shovel out the remains of his living room after the chimney fire.
Standing in the snow before a too-small coffin, as we paid our respects to my youngest sister after the cancer took her.
*"I don't... what..."*
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and feeling a tooth go with it, as I dragged myself back to my feet and glared at the asshole in the GOD HATES FAGS t-shirt who just blindsided me with an elbow.
The blinding flare of pain as burning fuel splashed across my leg, and the determination to finish the mission.
Cold, mechanical precision as a rifle came to my shoulder, and the familiar rock of recoil as rounds roared across the desert and a distant figure dropped in the darkness.
*"How. How do you see all this and continue?"*
The mental voice was almost sobbing, now.
"She who fights with monsters should look to it that she herself does not become a monster."
*"...what?"*
I laughed, then, at the irony of it. "You don't scare me for shit, because I am the thing that goes bump in the night, and I've made my peace with that." | It was, entertaining, to say the least.
The big "Fuck" as we here called it was here for 3 months. 92 days exactly. The sky twisted, clouds cried and mountains burned as it crashed into our now desolate orbit. Like many, I wanted to see what the "Fuck" was. When it arrived, the beast had latched onto the moon. It wasn't too big either, however, it occasionally sent a large tentacle to earth.
We wanted to deal with that tentacle of course, but any large scale attacks would most likely eliminate our moon. Humanity decided to launch a battle of attrition against the beast. We citizens, well we had other plans. "Fuck" became a part of many Lovecraft fans hobbies. Chronicling it, theorizing about it, obsessing over it.
"Fuck" also arguably helped humanity. The powerful energy that had razed our forests had made planting initiatives. We planted trees and created jobs studying it and destroying its tentacles. I even got hired studying it. Wars stopped because we had to deal with "Fuck". All religions were now called bogus, and any religious wars stopped. Only bad thing out of this was no confirmed afterlife. Hell, even it's tentacles were helpful, being high in vitamin D and tasting vaguely like chicken.
After 3 months (91 days to be exact), we knew "Fuck" clearly had an agenda. He was here to destroy us. He was doing *such* a great job too. But then he realized what he did. On the day next day he left, he almost looked completed. Like something was going to happen after he left. Oh well, it doesn't matter to me. It's been 3 days since he left. Apparently, there's a war going on about why "Fuck" left. I wonder what I'll have for dinner tonight? I dunno, I'm all out of tentacle. | 2019-06-11T15:33:47 | 2019-06-11T08:38:53 | 82 | 38 |
[WP] John Wick is contracted to take out what seemed like a usual mark. Billionaire, heir, playboy, general layabout, Bruce Wayne. | Bruce Wayne was, without a doubt, the most paranoid, prepared and capable target John had ever been assigned. Days of study and observation became weeks. Weeks became months. Wick was not certain, by this point, who was studying whom. It was time for a different approach. Back off, let the heat drop.
There must be something – some small crack, small window where this brooding billionaire let down his guard, even for a second. Time to do some research. Wait... here it is. This is it. One minute, tops, but this is the only chance. September 25. 10:47PM. Park Row. Thirty years later, and the local papers still call it Crime Alley.
The setup put him about 1000m away. Far enough to not be noticed, but close enough that no human being would have time to react. He waited. 10:44… 10:45… 10:46…
A figure emerges out of the shadows, carrying a bouquet of roses. A figure, but not Bruce Wayne… or is it? It is. Shit. It is. Well, a job’s a job. The trigger is pulled.
It wasn’t until months later that the weight of what had been done fully rested on his shoulders. The police had hushed it up, of course. Gordon himself, probably. But after a few days there started to be whispers. Then they got louder. After a few weeks, those whispers became screams. Then laughter. Bloodshed. Chaos.
Joker.
A knock at the door. Outside, a familiar face, though they had never met.
“Mr. Wick.”
“Mr. Pennyworth.”
“I have a job for you. I can’t pay. I hope you understand.”
“I understand.”
| "Master Bruce, your breakfast." Alfred placed the full English breakfast on the Bat Computer's shelf. Eggs, Sausages, Bacon, Tomatoes, and Mushrooms. This food also served the double-purpose of assisting Bruce Wayne with his nocturnal interaction with crime.
"Thank you, Alfred." Bruce didn't have time to eat, but he thanked his dutiful friend anyway. It's important to keep up the good fight, but not at the expense of his surrogate father. He vowed never to take loved ones for granted ever again. "Who tripped the alarm earlier?"
"Pay it no mind. The intruder has been dispatched. Anything else, Master Bruce?"
"No, Alfred, thank you."
Before returning to his routine, Alfred couldn't help but play the caretaker, "Do eat before it gets cold." | 2018-03-13T23:18:49 | 2018-03-13T23:11:39 | 26 | 14 |
[WP] You sold your soul to the Devil some years ago. Today he gives it back and says, "I need a favor." | When I opened my bedroom door, a familiar darkness bled throughout the room and I knew He was there waiting.
He was quiet and still and stood in the far left corner, coldly illuminated by the white glow of the moon. And a cruel trick of the light mocked him by making it seem like there was a halo hanging over his head. I closed the door behind me and as if I were approaching a doe, I slowly and cautiously tiptoed toward him.
“Why do you not fear me?” His voice sounded not as much curious as it was sad.
“Why are you here?”
He was silent as he stared into my eyes, forcing a half-smile that made him look a bit old. And although I knew his eyes were blue, they almost appeared as black as the Hell he escaped from.
“I need a favor,” He said in a voice so soft it was almost a whisper.
“I already gave you my soul-“
“And I myself am willing to give it back to you.”
“At what cost?”
“I need to borrow your body until sunrise for God knows of my disguise that I present before you.”
“You have made deals with thousands of people, why have to come to me?”
“Because you are beautiful.” What surprised me wasn’t in what he said but how he said it. The usual charm in his voice when he is desperate to get what he desires was gone and sincerity seemed to replace it.
“And what will you be using it for?”
He swallowed nervously, “I wish to speak to God.” | "Um. Yes. Hello? Is this Janet? No, no you don't know me. I'm calling for the Devil. Yes, uh, your Devil. Yeah, he's fine but he wanted me to talk to you. He wanted me to tell you it's over, and he wants you to know that it isn't you, it's him. No, no this isn't a joke. No. No, I can't put him on the phone. We'll maybe you should have thought of that before you planned a vacation to Denver. Yes. No. Okay, sorry. Goodbye."
"How'd she take it."
"Not bad... hey, do you mind if I hang on to God's number?"
"Go ahead. She hardly ever answers anyway." | 2015-05-12T14:27:29 | 2015-05-12T12:07:09 | 30 | 15 |
[WP] "Fool!" The warlock screamed, unharmed from any of the slashes. "The prophecy had stated that no human may slay me!" The unchosen warrior stared at their blade. The sword wasn't human, was it? | "Wait, what?" the noble knight said and stared at his blade - he was told it was of the highest quality and... the logic checked out.
"No man can slay me, fool!" the warlock laughed.
"But this is a sword."
The warlock stared at the knight for a moment, lost for words. "Y-yes, yes it is."
"The sword is not a human," the knight continued.
"Wait seriously? That's not what that means," the warlock fired back; he didn't even bother throwing in an insult, being genuinely confused. "Look, it was made by a human, you're a human and-
"Oh hold on then, let me try something," the knight said casually. The warlock furrowed his eyebrows and raised his hands to cast a spell but paused. Looking down, he saw the knight's hand... elbow deep in his chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he managed to utter a single word.
"How?"
And with that, the Warlock slumped over, dead, the knight standing above him.
"Is he dead?" the noble knight said - yet his mouth did not move.
"I can't see. Hold on," the noble knight said in a different voice - yet his mouth did not move.
Suddenly, his head snapped back as if he was nearly decapitated, only hanging by a... latch? No blood, no meat, only a hole from which peeked out a rat.
"Looks dead," the rat said and twitched its whiskers.
"You sure?" another voice came from within the suit of armour.
"I- I mean he's got a fist-sized hole in his sternum Gary, you tell me," the head rat snapped back.
"Hey, just making sure. Don't want another Elerland situation, right?"
The head rat rubbed its eyes with one paw as it recalled the situation in Elerland. Who knew a single mimic could be that much trouble - and don't even mention the *paperwork*.
"Right, well, this fellow's as dead as they get. I'd like to record a special commendation for mechanic Rattskin for these hand hydraulics. This was..." the rat said and looked down at the bloody corpse of the warlock, "...*yikes*. Effective, though."
"Commendation... noted," another voice, located near the left elbow, rang out, followed by the subtle sound of a quill scratching on paper.
"We oughta go back," the head rat said, skittering back into the knight's body and closing the faux head. "If we make haste, we can collect the reward and still make it to Breeze's Cheeses before they close."
An uproar of squeaky cheers echoed through the armour as the knight somewhat clumsily turned around and set out to the town.
Another honest day's work. | All those years spent in my mother's basement, sweating and crying and shouting into that dark abyss of the soul: they had all been worth it. Finally my destiny had been fulfilled. I had become a sword.
"M'lord?"
Kaitengard brushed his majestic beard, entranced by the very sight of me. "This sword ... the warlock has cursed it!"
The warlock, understandably, looked stumped. "What? No. I didn't do anything. When you swung that sword around, boy, I thought I was a goner. But, uh. Here I am. Your sword was already ... human."
"Yup," I said. "I've not been talking much. Sorry about that. That's my social anxiety. People always used to say, 'You're not saying anything, Gareth' and that's the worst thing you can say to someone with social anxiety."
"W-What's the meaning of this?" Kaitengard said, and he threw me to the ground.
"Ow! What're you doing, you sussy baka?"
"... What?"
Kaitengard and the warlock stared at each other. Of course. Awkward silence. That was why I didn't want to say anything in the first place. It was always like that in school. People would be talking, then I'd say something, and it'd get all quiet. I hated that. "Come on, m'lord. Pick me up. I love it when we slice people."
"This really was not your doing?" Kaitengard said.
"I'm afraid not," said the warlock. "Your sword ... it was already a dweeb."
"No! I'm not a dweeb! I'm a sword! I was reincarnated as a sword because I died as a virgin, probably. Don't leave me. Not like this."
But it was too late. Both Kaitengard and the warlock had left me. I would have shed tears, if I could. Some words truly cut deeper than any blade. | 2022-06-12T15:20:15 | 2022-06-12T13:43:03 | 225 | 86 |
[WP] One day, time just suddenly stops for a short moment for you. At first, you tried to mess around, but after the 246th times it happened, you start to realise that your power is not stopping time, but being able to move in time frozen by another person in the world.
Just an idea that randomly popped up in my head. | "Next!" shouted Lugia.
Three rows of chairs sat before him, each holding a potential recruit into their league. He could tell at a glance what a few of the powers before him were; the man on fire and the woman floating two inches above her chair were gimmes. A few of the others, like the woman with the glowing eyes and the man with the power armour, would be interesting to find out, but most of the candidates looked like perfectly normal people. One of the inconspicuous ones stepped forward next; unlike the others, he had a frown on his face.
"Your name, sir?" Lugia inquired.
"My name? I'm Bill." the man responded.
"And what will be your superhero name?" Lugia continued, with a flare for the dramatic. He had always been something of a performer, and gaining powers had given him the perfect opportunity to overact (as he had always desired).
"I don't have one," was the response. "Look, can I," he began, before Lugia cut him off.
"No name? Then we will have the honour of naming you! Tell us good sir, what is your power?" Lugia had loved naming new capes ever since he screwed up his own choice so badly.
"Every time that guy stops time," he began, pointing at Destiny, "my time stops as well. It's become a serious issue, alright?"
Lugia looked over at Destiny, who had a puzzled look on his face. A moment later, both Destiny and "Bill" had changed their standing positions. Destiny looked intrigued, but Bill's annoyed look had only strengthened, if possible.
"Amazing!" cried Lugia. The possibilities of this were endless. "Can you copy the powers of anyone else?"
"Well, I'm not on fire, so I'm guessing no," replied Bill, looking wearily at his neighbour in the crowd.
"Hmm, well, it's not the strongest power in existence, but we could certainly find a use for it..." Lugia mused.
"What? No, I have no interest in using it. I would just like some warning when it's about to happen. The sixth time it happened, the bike I was pedalling stopped, throwing me over the handlebars. I was bruised for weeks. Imagine if I had been driving! Or taking a train. I'd be dead! By the way, fire your secretary, she called me a crank when I phoned her up. I had to walk over here to get an audience!" | At first I thought it was some sort of "dormant powers coming to light" kind of situation. I'd record what I was doing just before time froze and then try to recreate it to see if it could happen again. This eventually got worse as I would try to recreate hours, and then days at a time. Thankfully I realized that it wasn't anything I was doing and managed to stop myself before it became an obsession.
Nowadays I try to go with the flow whenever the Pauses occur. Sometimes its a couple of seconds, which only serves to have me trip over something that's suddenly stopped in front of me. Other times it's been upwards of three hours before things resumed and, during those Pauses, I try to get errands done that don't require some sort of live or active interactions. I can't play games online since the servers freeze, but I can go and grab groceries. Before you crucify me for being a thief, I've made it a habit to leave some cash behind for whatever I take. It may not be the FULL amount, but I aim for 75% at least.
I've tried finding out who it is that Pauses everything, but I haven't had any luck. There hasn't been anything on the news about miracles happening around the world, aside from the usual fluff pieces, and there haven't been any segments about rampant or elaborate crimes. Far as I've figured? Whoever it is that's causing these Pauses is just using them to make life a bit easier for themselves somehow. No need for me to go on some crusade to hunt them down when they haven't done anything to deserve it. | 2018-01-26T06:48:58 | 2018-01-26T06:14:06 | 185 | 45 |
[WP] The galaxy is actually full of life and advanced civilizations. Everyone just leaves Earth alone because that's where The Great Old Ones are imprisoned, and nobody wants to wake them up. | No one told us.
No one warned us.
Then again, it's not like we ever warned the sheep of the slaughter.
You must be confused. I'll start at the beginning.
300 years ago the human race sent out first ship into space. The world mourned when we lost contact with it a few months later. Then we tried again and again and again. Adjusting one thing, then another, sending them off in different directions. Desperate to make things work, to make THIS work.
In time we discovered what had happened: Some type of field, too advanced for us to understand, surrounded us. An impenetrable field. Nothing in, nothing out. When the world learned of this we tore ourselves apart in panic and fear and religious paranoia.
Eventually, after a hundred years of war and death, after tearing our planet apart in ways we could have never imagined before we found something. It took us another 50 years to decipher the stone tablet. 50 years to discover that we weren't alone in the universe. Out beyond the boundaries of the field were civilizations upon civilizations, wonders beyond imaginings that we were forever barred from.
Our solar system is a prison, our planet the jail and we are both jailers and sheep. Finding out the human race was created by a conglomeration of thousands of different civilizations was a shock. Learning our purpose made us angry. Learning that, even in it's deepest slumber, the thing trapped on our world infects us with darkness and madness causing us to lash out in violence with horror and pain.
In retaliation we did what we always do, we fought back. Not that it mattered, the force field let nothing in and nothing out. Our efforts less effective then banging against a metal door with our bare hands. Our creators had been thorough but they had underestimated us.
So we turned inward. If we were the prison where was our prisoner? It turns out someone had seen it before. Even after all these centuries Lovecraft still fills us with horror. We only had to find him and wake him from his sleep.
Tonight I wonder what we could have been had we not been tainted and then I remember that we never had a chance of finding out. We were condemned to this world and all lingering guilt for what I'm about to do vanishes.
They trapped us here with a monster.
Did they ever wonder what would happen if we became monsters too?
| Admiral Arthexi stood on the command bridge. A planet was glooming in front of him. The sun did not shine on this side of the planet, but it was easy to make a distinction between the land and the sea. The land area was dotted with lights.
''You must end this.'' a voice spoke behind him. ''You have seen what it is capable of. It progresses too quick. This may be the only chance we have. A weapon capable of doing this does not pass through here often.''
The admiral turns around quickly. ''They are living beings! They are like us! I am condemning eleven billion sentient beings to not exist!'' the admiral says. He turns back to face the planet. ''I have no right to execute this order. No one has.''
''You have been granted the rights.'' The voice says, ''The Fourth controls them. You know they are not individuals. They are all connected. You have seen how they help each other, how they all work towards a common goal. How they feel for each other.''
The admiral lowers his gaze. ''I have seen it.''
''They do not act for individual good. They are not rational. They are not like us.'' the voice says and pauses. ''They are not they. They are it.''
The admiral raises his hand. The screen in front of him takes the shape of twelve buttons with a symbol on each. He ducks above the screen. A synthetic voice speaks. ''Enter the code.'' | 2019-03-09T07:54:01 | 2019-03-09T04:35:56 | 152 | 43 |
[WP] At the age of 16 everyone gets teleported into a small room. In front of you is a table with all kinds of meals from apples to gourmet meats. Whatever you take a bite of will determine what superpower you'll get. You are the first Person to take a bite of the table itself | The crunch echoed through the room.
Kevin didn't think much of it, until he realized just how quiet everyone had gotten. Opening his eyes after chewing the harsh texture for a moment, he noticed how many eyes were on him.
"...What? What's wrong?" He asked.
No one said anything. Some of them still sat there dumbfounded, a look of shock across their features.
"Is... Is there something on my face?"
"The fuck??" One of them responded. Carl himself was levitating nearby in an attempt to get a better look. He'd eaten grapes the first time around. And now, to Kevin's chagrin, he could fly.
"What??" Kevin asked them all again.
"What're you eating the *table* for?!" Carl pointed out hastily.
Sandra yawned nearby and excused herself as a small ball of flame rolled out of her mouth. Jalapenos had been her ticket.
"I just wanted to see what would happen."
"Bro, you gotta eat the food. You eat the food to get a superpower! Just pick something! Stop it."
Kevin considered this as he kept chewing. "Eh, no sense in backing out now..."
"Goddamn it Kev." Sandra said as she palmed her head at her friend's idiocy.
The sorcerer meant to monitor such a thing, Iliana, still watched in sheer amusement. Maybe it was the way he'd done it. Or just the sheer stupidity. Either way, she was having a great time.
"You gonna have splinters." Carl cringed as Kevin crunched more down.
"Eh it's more grainy then anything." Kevin shrugged. "Kind of bland. Anybody got some hot sauce or something?"
"Man you're sick." Someone else commented.
"Dude, I remember you said you ate crayons as a kid." Sandra added again. "But this isn't it."
"It tastes better than it should be." Kevin said after adding Sriracha to the piece he'd broken off to eat.
Iliana had heard of this only once before. And it fascinated her to see it take place. Others didn't comprehend it. People looking for answers hadn't understood the smile slowly creeping across her face.
"At least look out for nails or something." Carla said as he tried to get Kevin to stop.
"Man's got a mouthful of bricks." Someone cackled as he watched the human rendition of a woodchuck continue his work.
"Enough." Iliana said as she stood. "It is done."
"What? I'm done?" Kevin said.
"Yes. You've gained a power very few manage to obtain."
"...And that would be?" He asked after her silence.
Iliana glided around the table, her robes trailing behind her as she approached him. Kevin stopped chewing only to look up at her. The dagger she suddenly jammed into his ribs caused the room to panic, the horror encompassing all as they watched.
But Kevin didn't die. He had barely reacted to the move as the others screamed. Iliana pulled the dagger back to reveal the metal had bent to the point of being unusable.
"Invulnerability." She smiled. "Well done."
"But... but..." Sandra asked. "He ate the table."
Iliana explained it with gusto many had yet to see. "Whatever you take a bite of gives you your gift. We didn't say it was just the food."
"...So does this mean I can finish this? Or?" Kevin asked after he put more Sriracha on the wood he had left.
---
Feedback and criticism are welcome! r/Jamaican_Dynamite | "You took a bite out of what!" Your mom yelled when she found out. "I thought I raised you better than that!. . ."
"Mo. . ." You tried in vain
"You could have had super strength by eating the spinach or flight with pork. But noooo you had to be a smart ass and bite the damn table. Should have known you would end up doing something stupid like your father. And take a bite out of the Gimpy Gimpy. Made him kill himself before he even figured out his power."
"Mom! I know my power"
"You better tell me it's growing trees. God knows this planet needs it right now with all the pyros out there right now who ate the hottest pepper they could stand."
"Uhhh yeah about that."
"That's it good at least you will be some use unlike your father who left me alone to finish highschool alone with you."
"No, it's not that. . . You are not going to like it."
"Out with it."
"Well you see I've gotten the power well it's better that I don't tell you"
"You better tell me otherwise I'm going to kick you out of the house!"
"Mom please for once just listen! here there are two numbers the first one is for my new cellphone the second is for a therap. . ."
"A what! I don't need one of those good for nothing. . ."
"MOM, please you need to see this woman. I want things to go back to how they used to be when I was a child."
"I don't need help I need you to be a better son! Answer my question!"
Tears formed in my eyes as a solution formed in my mind. I started backing towards the front door.
"What are you going to do leave me like your dad did! Good I don't want you around anymore"
"Mom. You don't mean that. I love you but I have to go things will get. . ."
"Get out!"
Tears were flowing from her eyes at this point and from experience I knew there was no calming her down. I clamped down on my own urge to yell back something that would hurt her. I knew better now.
"Please just call that number we can talk again when things get. . ."
"Out!" She yelled while reaching for something to throw at me.
I ducked and was out the door tears flooding from my eyes. I already knew she would get better she would call the number and our relationship would get repaired. Didn't make it any easier to do this. But I had to leave her. I had the power now to see and fix clinically stupid. I needed to hone this ability for the good of the people and I needed to start with a one way ticket to Florida.
Edit: a word. | 2020-03-19T09:06:50 | 2020-03-19T08:15:56 | 587 | 330 |
[WP] A necromancer discovers that spells to animate dead bodies also work on other things that have been described as "dead," such as batteries, cars, appliances, friendships, and romances.
Edit:
I did not expect this!
Thank you all, and thank you for the gold! | Look, I'm a necromancer, not a priest.
I'm just as weirded out as you are when it comes to this.
I was experimenting with "Raise Dead" the other day, and I accidentally raised a tire. It's rolling around like some sort of weird dog. It also growls and purrs. Don't ask. But it's sorta growing on me.
Then I accidentally raised a battery. Not a very big one, mind. It was only a triple A battery. They're not the most obedient things, but it's one way to extend a charge. And no, I'm not going to cast that spell so you can use your wireless keyboard for another week.
Speaking of wireless keyboards... yeah. They scream like banshees and are about as ambulatory as one. Dangerous stuff. You don't really want to know what's inside them.
No, don't ask me to animate your fridge, car, bike, whatever. I've got my hands full with moving appliances in my own damn house. By Vecna's severed hand, I didn't know "Raise Dead" had a RADIUS OF EFFECT. And that it also animates houses. I guess I know how that idiot adventurer feels when the dread gazebo finally attacked him. My house just did the same thing.
And then there's the fact that it also works on human relationships, weird political ideas and even the entirety of Ayn Rand's literature. No, it's not going to suddenly gain a million fans. I'm a necromancer, remember? They all become adorable little ghost animals. Plenty of ghost hamsters, a fair few ghost ferrets, the odd ghost corgi, ghost guinea pigs, ghost rats (I didn't know dead business deals would be... oddly affectionate), ghost cats...
Well, would you like to adopt a ghost pet? They're mess-free and don't need to be fed! And as much as I love ghost animals, having a zoo of them isn't the most comfortable thing in the world. | "Friendship ended with Musadir , Now Salman is my best friend. "
Said the meme. This was even a new format. Won many memecoins at the memeeconomy awards.
Even trump got into it , Friendship ended with Canada , Now North Korea is my best friend.
Friendship ended with Obi-wan ... Palpatine is my best friend... Endless memes , Damn memes ..
As a good friend to Aasif Raja Rana , I don't know where I made it wrong. I was there for him at every steps. Salman came in and he was the best friend with Aasif. I wasn't even a friend, Salman got upgraded to Best Friends status almost overnight.
I hear you can fix it all , please bring back my friendship . I beg you .
"Interesting , [fear no more](https://i.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/001/170/143/dbd.png) "
" But You will be blamed for the death of this Meme , hope you live with that all your life "
Nooooooooooooo.
| 2018-11-27T04:05:36 | 2018-11-27T03:49:00 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] On everyone's 18th birthday at noon, one word appears in their skin, depicting their career or purpose in life. On your birthday you're staring at a clock showing 11:59am, family and friends gathered around for your reveal.
Path 1: Noon strikes, and you stare at your forearm intently. 12:01, still nothing appears.
Path 2: one word fades in slowly, followed by a second... | We had mostly run out of ideas about what my conviction would be, so by 11:00 we had started talking about everyone else's reveal parties. Uncle Jay talked about drinking beer all night and all morning until his reveal. According to him-- and this was confirmed by mom-- not one person in the family was surprised when flowery script reading *BARMAN* bloomed on his left forearm.
"When your father saw his conviction-- now *that* was something," he said. *FATHER* was a rare but happy conviction; even if most men have children, not many are blessed to be excellent at it.
"Father first. Army man second. He'd be proud to see you here, now," mom said, and her and the others raised a toast in his name.
When Sarah started talking about her reveal, she couldn't stop. She'd already started her academic career at the university by 16, earning a deferment on the mandatory term of service in the military. *SCHOLAR* was not surprising at all.
"I wonder, sometimes..." she said-- and, like they always do, everyone leaned in to listen. She had a way with words, certainly. "I wonder if the convictions are real, or if they are just random. Maybe we see them and we see a potential that always existed there, with or without the revelation."
That prompted some *aahs* and thoughtful silence. She was 26 now, and remembered our father much better than I did.
"Dad always thought you would get a good conviction," Sarah said, nodding to me.
"He knew he raised a good man and woman," mom said to us. Some people believe a conviction was shaped by its host's past, not their future. My mom was the oldest of seven siblings in a poor family. She spent her entire early life as a surrogate mother for her brothers and sisters after her mom died in a bombing raid. To her, *SELFLESS* had always seemed like more of a reflection of the past than a prediction for the future.
11:59. My family encircled me, and I rolled back my sleeve. I lay my arm across the table.
12:00. Nothing yet. Uncle Jay said something snarky.
"Shush," mom said. It's always late, you know th--"
My skin began to muddle. Emerging from underneath, a deep, bold black. It wasn't the calligraphic script on my uncle's arm, nor the modest serifed lettering of my sister. It was a simple stencil print, austere and clean.
***SURVIVE***
The next day the Herro attacked our frontier at Lathel, and a conscription summons arrived in the mail with my name on it.
[Born to Die](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/5zn5vy/wp_on_everyones_18th_birthday_at_noon_one_word/df02zpj/) | The words flashed red, the letters engraving themselves into my skin. I read them again, still uncomprehending. What kind of purpose was *that?*
I tried to get up, to run away, to try make sense of things - but my father held me firmly down by the shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly.
"Son, your mother and I are very proud of you," he said, beaming from ear to ear. My family and friends all gazed at me, everyone single one looking proud and exultant. What the hell was happening?
"I don't understand!" I shouted, meeting everyone's gaze. Nothing made sense anymore.
"Oh, honey, he doesn't get it," my mother said, looking at my dad with a flutter. He smiled back at her.
"Son, those two words don't mean what you think they do," he said to me, grinning.
I looked back at the words, staring at them, the red glow casting a dancing shadow all around us:
*END LIFE*
"They *don't?*" I asked, confused. "It doesn't mean I should kill myself?"
"Of course not," he replied, chuckling, wiping a tear from his eye. "It doesn't mean *your* life!"
Everyone laughed but me. "I still don't get it," I said, feeling completely lost.
He pointed upwards. "Up *there*, silly!"
I followed his gaze, and after a minute, it dawned on me. Suddenly, everything made sense.
"Oh, Christ, sorry dad," I said, embarrassed. "I get it now!"
He wagged his finger at me. "Remember, what do we say instead of 'Christ'?" he asked with a wink.
I looked up, smiling. The words flashed in the darkness, and I felt power course through my veins.
"*Anti-Christ*," I said, and the legions of hell cheered.
*****
*****
If you didn't completely hate that, consider subscribing to [my new subreddit.](https://www.reddit.com/r/CroatianSpy/)
I'll try add new (and old) stories every day <3 | 2017-03-15T17:57:48 | 2017-03-15T17:51:32 | 604 | 256 |
[WP] You have the ability to absorb any power from any book that you read. The US government captures and imprisons you until one day the warden walks in and asks for your help. He hands you a single book... | "What the hell is this?" I said. He had some kids book from the nineties pressed against the wall of my cell.
The guy was still wearing his dark lensed aviators. Such a G-Man cliché. Sunglasses, even deep inside whatever subterranean hellhole they had thrown me.
"Read it please," he said.
He opened the sealed drawer in the wall of my polycarbonate cell, placed it inside the drawer, and closed it, so I could open it on my side. It was a tiny novel. Novella? I picked it up and turned it over. It couldn't be much more than a hundred fifty pages of sixteen point font, all worn newsprint. 'A novelization by Cliff Thompson,' it said on the cover next to a red Scholastic logo.
I did have fond memories of that logo. Scholastic Book Fairs were the best time of the year growing up. I had the first flickering of my powers at one of them. I snuck behind a bookshelf to read a crisp copy of the Hobbit my mom said we couldn't afford. I thought I was crazy at first, or maybe just lucky.
Lunch had been over for a half hour, but I was engrossed in the book. The librarian called my name all over the library. She finally looked behind the shelf where I had stashed myself. I held my breath as she had stared straight through me without recognition before bustling off.
I had just reached to the first scene with the Ring not a minute before. Somehow, it seemed I had that power too now. I was invisible and I was thrilled. I fled my school grounds immediately and snuck into the convenience store a block down from my school. The clerk didn't see me and I stole a giant candy bar from right in front of him. He never blinked. I ate the candy as I strutted home and walked in the door to find my mom fresh off a phone call with the principal. She could see me, and she was pissed. No more invisibility, and I was grounded for a week. I read through the Hobbit twenty more times in the next few years, but it never happened again. I really thought I had imagined in until college.
I read one sci-fi horror novel at the coffee house inside the student union, and the next thing I knew I was in a black site. No books, no powers, and few memories. They told me there was an ongoing cleanup effort at my school, but weren't forthcoming on details.
"There isn't much time," the agent said. "They're coming."
He pulled his sidearm, chambered a round, and turned to face the door. A tiny drop of sweat glistened on his neck.
"Please," he said.
Jesus he was on edge. I threw the little book to the floor of my cell.
"I'm not doing shit," I said. "I don't deserve to be here."
"You represented a threat to National Security of unknown magnitude."
"You fuckers stuck me full of needles and waterboarded me for no goddamned reason. I still can't wash my face without having flashbacks. What's changed now?"
"I'm not at liberty to—"
"Okay fine. Fuck you all then."
I crossed my arms and turned away from Agent Whatshisface. For the first time since they captured me, I had some leverage. I'll be damned if I was going to waste it.
There was a rumbling in floor I could feel in the soles of my bare feet. I think I had felt it for a while now, but figured it was the ventilation ducts or something. But it was getting louder, stronger. Closer.
"Listen, we need you," he said. "Once this is over, you'll get released, but first we need your help. You need to pick up the book and read it."
The rumble was definitely louder now. And there was a crackling noise that sounded like gunfire, also getting louder. Getting out of here might be a good idea. I picked up the book. Some goofy looking dude in a cape on the cover. I mean, okay, superhero, but still.
"Is this seriously the best you could get?"
"Just read it, kid. Skip to the bookmark."
Fine. I picked up the book, opened to the page with the yellow sticky note and started reading. Within a few paragraphs I understood the odd choice in literature.
"Oh. Shit," I mumbled.
Meteor Man, a novelization of a silly kids' superhero movie from the nineties. Meteor Man, among other things, could absorb the contents of any book just by touching it. The moment I finished that passage, I suddenly knew the whole book. I had that power too now.
They were really serious about this. The room shook once, hard, and the lights flickered.
"You've got it?" The agent looked me in the eye. The book hung limp at my side, but I nodded. I clenched one fist and put it through the polycarbonate wall with a couple of punches. Meteor Man had super strength too.
"Good," he said. He knelt to pick up his briefcase—he'd pulled the novel out of it when he first walked in—and unlocked it again with a fingerprint. I figured it was prisoner files or something. Instead he pulled out a thick sheaf of brightly colored paper and held it through the new hole in my cell.
Comics, A lot of them.
Avengers. Justice League. X-men. Flash Gordon. Watchmen.
I tentatively reached toward them and he shook them toward me.
"Hurry," he said. The thumping noise was getting much louder now. I could hear shouts in the hall now, and the gunshots were getting closer. "There isn't time."
They put me away for years when I read a single novel, and now they wanted me to do this? "Who or what is coming?" I said. "What am I getting into?"
He shook his head and said, "You're all we've got."
I took the stack from him. The instant my fingers made contact, power unlike anything I had imagined surged into me. I could see everything. I was everything. Superman, Galactus, Doctor Manhattan, Apocalypse, and everyone in between. I was all of them at once.
The ceiling cracked with what had become thunderous roaring and bits of concrete were raining down on us.
I reached one hand, now the size of a dinner plate and glowing brightly, toward the agent. He was reaching up toward me with one more book in his hands. Thick, with gilded pages. An old, worn Bible.
"Just in case," he said, coughing through the concrete dust. "Godspeed."
I could see what was coming now. I took the book. | Jay opened his eyes to find the bars of his cage inches from his face. He cursed as he realized that he had, once again, rolled off his bed. He hated when this happened. Multiples times, he had asked for a larger bed and yet here he was, still sleeping on the same miniscule bed that he was given at the beginning of his imprisonment seven years ago. He had woken up face down on the hard-concrete floor far too many times for him to count. For some reason, these unfortunate mishaps always had something to do with his dreams. Whenever he dreamed of the outside world, of the life and freedom he once had, he always ended up with his face pressed against the concrete.
Every time he had these dreams he would always reminisce of past events. He often asked himself how he had managed to get imprisoned in the first place. For god’s sake, he was basically a super hero! As an avid reader of super hero stories, Jay couldn’t recollect on any moments when they were captured. The more he pondered this question however, the clearer the answer became. It all came back to him. He was lazy. The ability to absorb powers from books he read opened limitless possibilities. In a world with millions of books, he could have easily become a godlike deity, but alas, sloth got the best of him. He simply hated reading. His ability only activated when he had fully ready the book – every single word. In the end, he could only bring himself to read a “How to fly” book so that’s all he had. Unfortunately, when you’re stuck in an iron cage, flying doesn’t really help much.
Jay was snapped out of his daydream by the loud sharp sound of boots clicking against the floor. He quickly stood up praying it wasn’t the warden. Having been imprisoned in the same place for seven years, Jay had the unfortunate privilege of become acquaintances with the warden. As the most powerful man in the prison, the warden never failed to take advantage of his power and for some reason he had made Jay one of his primary targets ever since Jay arrived. As the footsteps got closer, Jay heard the familiar grunting and coughing that he almost saw as a warning signal for the arrival of the warden.
However, today was different. The warden, who normally walked in with a smug smile plastered on his face, walked in today nervously and sweating profusely. Jay was instantly curious. If the normally filled with bravado warden seemed so afraid, something big must have happened. As the warden neared his cage door, Jay opened his mouth to ask but was promptly cut off.
“Morning Jay”
“Morning” Jay replied cautiously
“Look – I have something important to talk to you about. This is very important so please give me a chance to explain”
Red flags instantly flashed in Jay’s head. The warden had demanded for Jay to always add “sir” to the end of everything he says to him. However, Jay had just greeted him without doing so and there had been do repercussions. Furthermore, the warden would never say “please”, and most certainly not to Jay. Trying to contain his excitement, Jay tried his best to make his responses sound indifferent.
“Of course, I’ll listen to whatever you have to say”
“Thank you. I know we haven’t been on the best terms and we’ve both directed our angers toward each other in the past, but right now I need your help”
Jay suppressed the urge to point out that the only person who has ever directed their anger towards anyone- was the warden. His curiosity got the best of him and he decided to see where this conversation was going.
“Putting everything behind us seems like a good idea. It was getting boring in this cage anyways, what do you need me to help you with”
“Right. You see….when we captured you, we had thought you were one of a kind. The ability to draw power from book seemed so absurd that no one believed there would be more people like you. However, we were wrong. About a week ago, they have been showing up all over the world….but they’re different from you. For whatever reason, they seem hell-bent on destruction. Long story short, we can’t defeat these people. We need your help.”
Jay’s mind raced. His dream of returning to the outside world could finally become a reality. However, there was something bothering him.
“If that’s all you need from me, why do you look like you look like you’ve seen death itself. Asking something like this shouldn’t make you so nervous.
The warden sighed
“The higher ups have told me that if you are unwilling to help, I will be held responsible. Somehow, my actions have been leaked to the outside.”
“I see….in that case, I’m actually unable to help you. This cell has really become my home these past few years you know?” Jay said while barely containing his laughter.
The warden’s face turned beet red.
“Now listen here – “
“Hey now, you sure you want to treat me like that?”
The warden grimaced. Watching the warden’s evident desperation made Jay feel ecstatic. All the times the warden had abused his position, Jay could finally get some revenge. Unfortunately, his desire to leave this prison far outweighed his desire to mess with the warden.
“Alright boss, what do you have for me to work with?”
The warden signaled to one of the guards, who brought an extremely thick book in.”
“This right here is going to make you powerful enough to defeat anybody. Immortality, super strength, super speed… you name it, it’s in here.”
Jay was trembling with excitement. What had once been his most dreaded activity now became the one he couldn’t wait for. He wanted to dig into the book, and he wanted to do it as fast as possible.
“Alright. When can I start?”
“As soon as possible.”
“Let me out of here and I’ll get right on it”
Jay heard the familiar buzz sound of the cage door unlocking that he had thought he’d never hear again. As he took his first step out, he smiled.
He was finally free again.
| 2017-07-26T00:56:03 | 2017-07-25T19:58:39 | 63 | 20 |
[WP] All the doctor's have said that there is nothing wrong with you. You know it isn't true. Over the past few months you have been experiencing huge holes in your memory, sometimes for days. So you hired a private investigator to follow you. Today is when you find out what they discovered. | >**DISGUISES & DESTRUCTION**
"You're overthinking it. You probably just took a nap and...felt disoriented afterwards. Happens all the time." The Doctor laughed softly, then walked out of the office.
Why was no one taking this seriously?
I took the bus home- I didn't trust myself to drive anymore- and grumbled the whole way home. I was *sure* something wasn't right, but what was it?
In a flash of inspiration, I knew what to do. I would record myself sleeping tonight- and put some kind of GPS tracker in my phone, so I would know where I'd gone! I had no wife or roommates to watch out for me, so this would have to do.
I made the necessary preparations and went to bed. After a long, fitful, anxious night, I finally succumbed to sleep's embrace.
I woke up- I was *so* sore, like I'd been working out for hours. I had a few bruises, too. One on my thigh, one on my left bicep, and it felt like I had a big one on my back.
I sat up- despite the soreness in my abs- and checked my computer recording.
Wait- it was April *seventh?!* I had lost three whole days!
I skipped to the beginning of the recording, watching through it at triple speed- searching for the moment I got up-
As I woke on the recording, I immediately took my phone out of my pants pocket and threw it on the bed, then left the room. *Damn it!* I groaned. This didn't tell me anything.
What else could I do? Embed the GPS in my damn arm?!
Wait...yes, yes I could. I had *just* enough know-how to get that done, in fact.
I picked up everything I needed- rubbing alcohol, the goods from the electronics store- twelve hours, three hundred dollars, and one sore arm later, and I was implanted with a GPS device with enough juice in the battery to last at least a week. Perfect.
I went to sleep one more time- but something was different. I felt more awake. I felt *ready*.
At about four A.M., there was a knock on my door. I sat up and tossed my phone on my bed- I was lucid this time. I was *pretending* I wasn't- unless I was always lucid for this? I had no way of knowing.
I answered the knock. A tall, extremely fit man stood on the other side- muscles bulged under a fitted white V-neck, which stood out in stark contrast to his dark skin. "Let's go, Janus."
"Yeah." I said, as though it was a natural thing to do.
It was like I had two different halves to my brain- one was a freelance graphic designer, and was *very* alarmed by what was going on. The other was confident, strong- and was fully aware of my day-by-day persona.
"So- hey, what's going on?" I asked.
"Oh, you've brought along the Civilian tonight?" My partner asked. How did I know he was my partner?
"Seems he's tagging along." The words came out of my mouth- but I didn't choose to speak them.
"I am so confused."
"Don't worry about it." I replied to myself- and then I fell asleep.
I woke up once more, covered in bruises, and sore. It had been two days.
"What the hell?!" I roared at myself in the mirror. I went to my computer and looked up 'private investigator'. I paid using Bitcoin- and I waited.
Seven days later, I woke up again. There was a note attached to my computer.
'Some guy paid me to follow you, Noctus, but I won't expose your real identity to the public. Keep doing what you do! - A Private Investigator.'
Notcus. As in- the superhero Noctus? The superhero who took out the entire White Knuckle clan, and their leader, Pyropyre?! That...that couldn't be me!
"It's not." I answered myself, in Noctus's deeper, more self-assured voice. "I might be you, but *you* are not me. You need to stop interfering, this is getting out of hand."
"Whatever *you* are, this is my body, too! I want a say in this!"
Noctus chuckled. "Nah. This is for the best. Now go to sleep."
And so I slept.
I woke up again- I had no idea how long it had been. I felt like I had a massive headache- and it was so dark, aside from some fire light...was that a camp fire?
"You still with us, Noctus?!" It was the same man from the other night. He had a cut on his forehead- it was bleeding, badly.
"No!" I shouted.
"Ah, hell! Look, Civ- just run! You're no good to me, and we need to get Pyro *down!* Here he comes- get a move on!"
I laid eyes on Pyropyre- one of the most infamous villains of our age- and saw something that was so obvious, it was practically laughable. His puffy clothing was hiding a mech-suit.
"You do know that his fire is just coming from his suit, right?" I asked my partner as I stood.
"W-what? How can you tell? Can you shut it off?"
"Y-yeah. Just...distract him. Let me get close."
"You've got spunk after all!" He shouted, then began taunting Pyro, running around him in circles.
I sprinted forward, heart pounding, and tackled Pyrotech to the ground. "He can't fire at this angle, his fuel won't reach the uptake!" I shouted to my partner.
"What?!" Roared Pyrotech. "I already killed you!"
"Nah, you just knocked him out- and there's two halves to this coin." Where this smugness was coming from, I didn't know. I began to rip and tear at the mech suit until, finally, I found the part I needed most- the fuel canister. "All done!"
"That was *crazy*, Noctus!"
"I'm not Noctus." I objected as my partner slapped Pyro in shackles.
"Right, right. Well-look, this guy is small time, but if we ever get to meet again, I'll give you a better nickname than Civ, right?"
"Sure thing." I could feel as Noctus was beginning to wake up. "And, hey, could you get Noctus to start leaving me notes, at least? Like- how many times do I need to run out of milk and toilet paper before he realizes he's being an ass?"
My partner laughed. "I'll pass on the message."
I fell asleep once again- and upon waking, I found another note on my shirt.
'You were kept asleep for a reason. You're too dangerous to be allowed free reign. Noctus is but a shade of your true potential. If you care for humanity, go back to sleep for good, disguised one.'
--------------------
r/nystorm_writes is a fun place, but it'd be cooler with you :) | “Take the money and run, I don’t know where to, but you need to get out of your house as soon as possible, t-that thing isn’t normal. I’m not following you anymore, I already feel my mind slipping, I can’t investigate something like that. Why didn’t you tell me that was in your house?”
Henry Burns frantically pushed the stack of money towards his client, wanting nothing more to do with the case. Following the man around caused him to encounter that thing, that devilish creature. The more he looked at it, the worse he felt. His mind spinning, whirling emotions as though his brain was dealing with an outburst of motion sickness.
Logan watched the investigator panic, his room a mess. The normally neat investigator a mess, his fancy bottle of rum now emptied, lying on the floor beneath a clutter of papers, each showing weird demonic scribblings. Logan collected one of the papers, examining it, before turning it towards the investigator, watching the man duck beneath the table as he did.
“Don’t point that symbol at me. I don’t know what it means, I don’t want to know. I just want to forget about this. Maybe if I stop investigating, it will go away. I hope it goes away. Please go away.” The man sobbed, clutching his knees, wailing out for god.
“Henry? What did you find? You can’t be suggesting that this causes my memory loss. Get yourself together.” Logan stood from his seat, moving towards the desk, attempting to help Henry up, only for the man to fidget with his drawer, pulling a pistol on his client.
“I don’t know what to believe anymore. I just know that if you don’t leave right now, I’ll blow a hole in your head. You caused this; you did this to me. Don’t go home, run as far as you can and hope it doesn’t follow.” Henry’s hands shook, struggling to hold his gun, having to rest his hand against the table to maintain some stability.
“What doesn’t follow? What is it?” Logan pleaded for answers but all he got was a bullet fired at him, Henry only just missing his client, tears continuing to fall from the man’s face, eyes puffed and red.
Logan fled after the shot, retreating to the streets below. Once Logan was safe, he called for an ambulance, informing them of the man’s condition and his gun. The call brief Logan not wasting words. He thought about heeding the investigator’s warning, but curiosity took a hold of him. The cause of his memory loss was a creature in his home, he couldn’t believe such a tall tale, he had to confirm it for himself.
The trip home was a long one. Logan finding every excuse to dawdle on his way back, trying to delay the encounter, even stopping to stare at a pond for a good hour, anything that could eat up some time. No matter how slowly Logan progressed, he inevitably ended up back at his home, staring at the structure as though he had never seen it in his life. It felt so foreign now, tainted by someone else. He mentally slapped the thought from his head. No creature lived here, he would prove that to himself.
“Hello anyone home?” Logan called out, hearing no response. What did he expect? The creature to call out and ask him what he wanted for dinner? Logan only realizing how stupid the plan had been.
Carefully tracing his steps around the home, he looked through every crack of the property. Checking under beds and in closets but he still had one spot left. The basement. The dust kicked off each step as he made his way to the lower level of his home. A place he often avoided going to.
The room was dark, no source of light visible except the dim glow of a glow in the dark dinosaur he had as a child. Slowly he maneuvered his way through the dark, using the light from his phone to navigate. His light hit piles of books, various knickknacks and even a few old boxes of clothing, but he could see no sign of a creature, until he felt a hard tug at his shirt.
Panic kicked in, Logan kicking and screaming, sending the coat hanger flying off a wooden shelf. Logan had to grab his chest, listening to the clatter of the hanger as it bounced against the floor. A creature, what a stupid thing to believe. He chuckled to himself, heading back upstairs. His afternoon a lot calmer after the inspection, only to hear a brief scratching coming from the attic above. The one place he forgot to check.
Logan feeling a lot less brave as he made his way to the attic’s stairs, pulling the ladder from the ceiling, staring at the dark hole above. Ascending the stairs, he peeked his head through the hole, spotting nothing. Even as his phone’s light drifted past the space, he spotted nothing, until his phone landed on a set of claw marks. Crawling into the small space, he pressed a finger against one marking; the nails matching his own.
That discovery enough to turn him around, only for him to drop his phone. Light striking the creature. The drooling monstrosity had a stick like body, eight sets of arms protruding from this body, each hand continuing a set of eight fingers, each with crusty dark nails. The face of the creature had a dent in it, one eye missing while the other seemed squished against its skull. Its jaw broken, causing its tongue to drop free. The bright red tongue touching the ground.
It moved, standing over the attics exit, tilting its head towards Logan. Logan couldn’t move, frozen by his fear, only able to watch as it advanced towards him.
“You lucky, you won’t remember this. He will.” The creature uttered diving its head towards Logan, mouth stretching out to reveal a set of eyes hidden in the creature’s throat, the mouth wrapped around Logan’s head, blinking eyes staring at him, screams muffled beneath the creature’s mouth.
Logan awoke the next day in bed, mind aching. He knew he went to see that investigator yesterday, but what did the man tell him? He tried to call Henry, but someone had disconnected the line. Leaving him with no other option than to try hiring another one. He needed to solve this mystery.
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(If you enjoyed this feel free to check out my subreddit /r/Sadnesslaughs where I'll be posting more of my writing.) | 2021-01-06T20:51:03 | 2021-01-06T20:27:35 | 297 | 51 |
[WP] in a dying universe, the most precious element is time - without it, everything freezes. While scouting for time crystals you discover a derelict ship and frozen pilot. You decide to give them a few minutes of your time. | Nothing but Time
---
"It gets lonely piloting out here in this great expanse of nothing-at-all, but I then I guess you already know and to be honest I imagine it's pretty lonely everywhere, really. The universe is tired, cold, finished. It gave up on all this a long time ago, and now there's nothing left but Time.
"Time good for nothing else but just waiting for whatever happens next.
"You just gotta hope that it's worth waiting for; it's not like there is anything to hope for.
"The stars have gone out, and anything else that didn't disappear with them has all gone cold and still now. It's all just dust now, but even that has stopped spinning.
"The universe is dying-
"No, the universe is dead.
"And people like me, people like us, we're just the unfortunate few that it forgot to finish off."
The pilot stands stretching out his arms and creaking his neck, the thick leather of his spacesuit holding tight to his skin, the rebreather on his face making him look almost alien, but he was human, more human than I was. I can feel the warmth radiating from him as he wandered around the cramped cabin, the heat of a living body with warm blood flowing its veins.
He was human, and he was quite possibly the only one of us.
The rest of us are like me, just ghosts trapped in husks of what we used to be, trapped without the energy to even die, just frozen in time, just frozen in space, just frozen…
"But still we keep on," The pilot continued with a slight smirk, "Just keep on keeping on, until we can keep on no longer."
"Because that was the way, that always our way." He looks sad then for a moment, staring wistfully at something that was no longer. "That was the Human Way."
"That was the spirit," He said with a smile that was enough to almost seem real.
For a long moment, he just stares at me, his expression empty of anything but the pain that was so clear in his eyes.
"I'm sorry," He whispered, so quiet that I barely heard. "I'm sorry I can't help you, but it's not like any of this can be."
He stands, placing a warm hand on my cheek enough to bring some feeling back, breaking some the ice to allow some sensation no matter how insignificant back to me.
"I need to be keeping on," He whispers, the warmth of him suddenly leaving.
"There is no Time," He muttered, bitter at his own joke. "No Time for any of this anymore."
He sighed, and he crouched before me, tears starting to form in his eyes. "No Time for anything."
He flinches, as if only now becoming suddenly aware of his own pain, and forces a smile that is obviously just a lie.
"But I have Time, even if it's not going to last forever." He wipes his eyes with the cuffs of his suit.
"It'll be enough," He muttered to himself, trying so hard to be convinced.
"I'll have enough Time at least."
"*Time Enough for Waiting.*" He smiled, a true smile that time. "because there has got to be something worth waiting for."
The pilot stood up and left, and I could already feel it, the cold freeze slowly oncoming, feel my time running out all over again. I watched the monitors as he clambered back into his ship, and wished him luck in whatever he did, ice already forming across my cheeks, feeling my own breath cold inside my mouth.
He'd been right, I realised as I watched him slowly drift away into the void, it definitely lonely out there.
Alone with nothing but Time.
---
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it, and if you have any feedback, advice, thoughts, or anything else (the good and the bad), please let me know.
For more of my writings, please see r/[DylanConnors](https://reddit.com/r/dylanconnors)
Cheers, Dylan | ######[](#dropcap)
The pilot could've been sleeping, except for his eyes. They stared straight ahead, at the door of the spaceship.
He'd forgotten how long it had been since he had seen another human being--even a dead one. This world wasn't a friendly one; seeing another meant certain death. The only resource that mattered anymore were the fragments of time laying scattered about across the frozen wasteland.
Tiny shards of hope glimmering weakly against a sea of despair.
But even those were running out. They were few and far between now, and he often travelled miles before he even saw a glimpse of one in the distance.
And that was only if the crows or other humans didn't get to them first. He glanced out at the sky. It was growing darker now, and the entire world was cast in a perpetual dusk. It wouldn't be long before the darkness swallowed everything.
With a sigh, William pulled his backpack off, setting it on the icy ground. At risk of catching hypothermia, he tugged off his gloves, opening the backpack. From it, he pulled a jar. Inside lay a single time crystal; it would only give him five hours. He slowly unscrewed the jar and pulled it out, letting it touch his bare skin. Within a couple seconds, it had absorbed into his skin, and he felt a warmth spread through his body.
He left the jar on the ground. There would be no need for it now.
It wasn't just that the crystals were scarcer now. It was that the darkness was growing stronger, and the time each crystal gave lessened each day. Pretty soon, they would be useless altogether.
He got up and pulled a chair over next to the pilot, the sound of metal scraping against ice shrill in his ears. Beyond that, there was only the sound of wind. Then he sat down.
"What are you waiting for?"
It was as if they were two friends, making small talk.
"Were you waiting for someone to come save you?"
Silence.
William laughed.
"Would you mind company? If you don't say anything, I'll take that as a yes."
Of course, there was no response. So he settled into the chair, tugging his thick winter jacket up further past his mouth so the warmth of his breath warmed his neck.
His breathing began to slow, even as he felt the cold begin to seep into his toes, then his legs. He glanced over at the pilot, who still sat there, frozen in a moment of hope. Staring at the door, waiting for someone to return with a little more time.
It wasn't totally bad, Thomas thought. At least, they both had company now.
He could no longer move his arms, but that wasn't so important.
He too, rested his gaze on the door.
They could wait together. It was always less lonely when there was someone else with you.
And there was no rush. They had all of eternity, after all.
There was no rush at all.
*****
r/AlannaWu
| 2018-03-30T16:01:44 | 2018-03-30T15:54:54 | 34 | 17 |
[WP] You just begun a master's program at the world's most prestigious wizarding university. It's awful. Professors, seeing you as a threat to their career, keep trying to kill you. Your academic supervisor is an maniacal necromancer. Worst of all, you lied about being a wizard.
*You've | Growing up in a family of wizards is a tough adjustment when you haven’t displayed any magical ability. And yet, here I am, about to start at the Wizard Academy for the Magically Adept.
WAMA has been a family tradition since before anyone still alive in my family can even remember.
My father was a gifted Mage class warlock who fought in the Battle of Moon over 25 years ago. My mother was a very gifted medical witch who used her magic to aid others in any and every way she could. My older brother was a prodigy from infancy and could cast spells before he could even speak. My sister was the black sheep/rebel of the family but even she was gifted in some fairly benign dark arts spells like summoning shadow goblins to do her chores behind our parents back.
Needless to say I had a lot to live up to.
Magic had been a normal part of all of our lives and somehow it always left me in awe. I dreamed of the day I would spellcast alongside my family and become a great wizard or warlock someday.
Guess what.
I’m still waiting for that day. I haven’t had an ounce of magical ability in my entire life. I’ve been able to keep my family’s disappointment at bay by buying Spectre brand one off Levitation Wands and Merlin’s Magic brand All Seeing Eye candies. I was skeptical as to whether or not I actually fooled my family of S class wizards in to believing I was able to keep up. I mean my own father, Titus, was a war hero for Merlin’s sake!
And here I am, 15 years old, staring down at my acceptance letter to WAMA.
I couldn’t believe it. I rubbed my eyes in disbelief so many times I thought I may have damaged my retinas. Nothing my mom couldn’t fix though. Anyway, I looked at my dad who was smiling from ear to ear.
“Another Northstar carrying out the Northstar family tradition of WAMA excellence. I’m so proud of you.” He looked at my mom after he said it and continued, “Isn’t it magical?”
For being a bad ass war hero, my dad was such a dad.
“He’s gonna fit right in with everyone!” My mom always had a way of saying things just a little too loud when she was excited. It was more charming than annoying. To me anyway...
My brother and sister were already on campus, no doubt fighting for rooms by their friends. Returning students always left a week early to prepare the welcoming part for the first years.
I had heard stories (mostly from my bragging mother), of the kind of pull dad had at WAMA. He had pulled some very powerful strings to get prime treatment for TJ and Coraline, and had no doubt done the same for me.
“I can’t wait to go,” I lied, as I thought of the multitude of ways this could all go terribly wrong.
“You need to pack little man, you leave in the morning!” As if my mother calling me little man didn’t already make me feel smaller than I already felt.
But no one knew the true internal battle I was having over this. It would put the Battle of Moons to fucking shame. I didn’t usually cuss, even in my internal dialogue, but something about this situation called for it.
So I did the only thing I could.
I packed my bags and headed for certain death the next morning.
The lack of sleep was apparent in my bloodshot, droopy eyes, but no one seemed to really notice. My family was all too excited to rush out the door while I wanted to change my name and leave the country. I loved my family but what would happen if they found out I had lied to them about my magic?
IF they found out started turning into WHEN they found out as I played the scenarios in my head over and over. Would they disown me? Hex me to forget about them completely? I wouldn’t put it past my sister to even sell me to the Dark Mages of the South for pixie powder.
They loved me though, so I tried to set my fears of punishment and even possible slavery out of my mind so I could focus on how to survive in a very competitive wizarding academy.
My father, mother and I walked up to the Door of Cosmet that every wizarding family had to instantly take them where they needed to go. I looked at the crown molding arches that glowed an iridescent white as we got closer and wondered, “Will it take me to a nice beach hotel if I asked it to?” It sounded like a dream compared to the nightmare I envisioned my future to be from this moment. | Part 1:
I haven't believed in magic since I was a child. It has been intriguing though, and after chasing it for years, I ended up in a master's program at the University of Wizardry, one of the most prestigious Universities for magic.
It was overcast and the sun was setting over the mountains in the horizon. I parked my convertible in the vacant parking lot in front of the main entrance at UWU. The parking lot was almost always empty, because the only people that used cars were the professors and people who couldn't fly a broomstick.
My academic advisor, Mrs.Dunglee greeted me as I entered her quaint room. Her room had a single window and was decorated sparsely with UWU banners and human skulls. She smiled fakely and gestured for me to take a seat and opened up her laptop.
"Could I see your student ID card?"
I passed it to her and she scanned it into her computer.
"Oooh your a necromancing major!"
Thunder crackled outside and a single drop of rain landed on the window. I sighed. *It's a shame the hood to my convertible disappeared last week*, I thought.
"You know UWU prefers necromancers for staff because they can communicate with spirits! Have you ever considered going that route?"
"Yeah, I think that'd be awesome to work here."
The corners of Mrs. Dunglee's lips twitched, but she managed to keep a firm smile. She stared intently at me for a second and whispered something to herself.
"So what did you call me in for?" I said
"I just wanted to make sure you were on track, but everything seems okay! You are free to go"
As I turned to leave, I felt a hard stare burning the back of my head. I tuned back around to see Mrs. Dunglee glance away at the last second.
The lights on the parking lot had turned on, and the sky faded to a gloomy purple grey. I walked back to my hoodless convertible.
My car started reluctantly, and I whipped out of the parking lot and onto the supposedly haunted canyon road. Something felt wrong, but I brushed the feeling aside.
The canyon was my favorite place to drive. On a clear day, it had a killer view of the valley, with a drop on one side and a mountain on the other. I stepped on the gas and carved the winding road, hugging the turns and ducking to avoid the rain from the windshield flying over my head. Dusk had long since left, and night was crawling into the sky. I turned on my high beams, and then instantly turned them off, as they made it impossible to see anything but the pouring rain.
Water pelted my face as I clung to an increasingly sharp turn. The rain and the wind bombarded my car, and rattled my rear bumper. As I pulled out of the turn, a bright light washed out my vision. A semi truck was in my lane of the road! I swerved to avoid a collision. I couldn't correct my turn in time, and my car went airborne as it crested the gravel on the side of the road. My car slammed back into the ground on the slope.
I woke up, the front of my car crumpled like a sheet of aluminum foil. The cars siren was muffled by the heartbeat in my head. *Why can't I move?* I felt the blood drain from my face. My right arm was mangled and spouting blood, yet horrifyingly, I felt no pain. I couldn't turn my head. I was panicking and frantic. I tried to scream but I could only manage a pathetic whistle. My ears started ringing and the car siren got progressively further away. The corners of my vision slowly swallowed the rest of my eye. | 2019-06-29T13:39:17 | 2019-06-29T11:51:38 | 29 | 10 |
[WP] You start to suspect your SO/spouse has the ability to stop time | **THE MORNING**
“You ready, Honey?” I call up the stairs.
I have my work boots on. The patio ain’t going to make itself.
“Not quite.” Sam calls down the stairs. “Can you give me just a moment? I want to finish reading this chapter.”
“No problem.”
What the fuck do I care? More time to play, less time to work. Not bad.
I sit down and fire up “*Portal.*” My brother in law can’t shut the hell up about it. He even bought it for me on some “Vapor Sale.” Might as well give it a go...
***
*Hmmmm...so, if I run through the orange oval...cool!*
*And if I run through backwards? Cool!*
*Hmm...how am I supposed to get over there? What if I..*
***
“Ok, dear!”
What the fuck? How did Sam get down here so fast? Usually it takes her like 15 minutes to finish reading. And she is already wearing her clothes? Damn woman, you is fast!
I have another chamber to solve...
...I guess it can wait.
For now.
***
**THE AFTERNOON**
Patio work went pretty well, actually. Felt pretty good getting it done. And cleaning up with Sam in the shower is always nice. Almost makes me not care that we have to have dinner with the inlaws.
“Hey,” I say. “Do you mind if I go downstairs and play on the computer while you get ready?”
“Sure thing, Honey!”
Awesome, it takes her like 30 minutes, at best to get ready! Time to think with portals!
***
*OH MAN I CAN SHOOT BLUE PORTALS?! COULD THIS GAME GET ANY COOLER?*
*Wait, what if I put the portal in the corner...so that is what I look like! Ha, bet no one has ever thought to do that!*
*And what about if..*
***
“Ready?”
WHAT THE HOLY FUCK?
Sam is standing next to me, wearing a red dress. God, she is hot. But wait...
HOW THE DAMN HELL DID SHE GET READY SO FAST?
What was it, like 5 minutes?
“Time to go!” She says. “My parents are waiting.”
Fucking shoot me now.
***
**THE EVENING**
Dinner was awesome. Steaks and broccoli.
The company sucked.
And there was no dessert. Her dad is diabetic. So since that fat fucking shitbag can’t have sugar, we all suffer.
Sam knows I like dessert, so she is in the kitchen making a cake. Which means…
***
*Jesus-fucking-tits-on-the-cross! You get to shoot the orange one too? Fucking-A!*
*Hey wait...if I control both....and I put the orange one on the ceiling...and then the blue one underneath it…*
*WEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!111*
*Oh my god, this is fucking awesome.*
*I bet if I put this portal here, and that one there, then…*
***
“CAKE!” Sam yells, as she puts a plate of chocolate cake in front of me.
I jump so hard that it hurts my ass when I land.
How. The. Fuck.
It has only been...10 minutes tops.
There can be only one explanation...
| I plopped down in my chair after a hard day of work. It looked like Tim hadn’t cleaned the living room at all. “Honey, did you clean the living room?”
“Sure did, cutie,” he said.
I looked at the carpet. It looked dirty. “Really?”
“Yep.”
The carpet looked vacuumed. I figured I just hadn’t noticed it. “Okay. Guess I just didn’t notice.”
Tim came into the room and sat down on the arm of my chair. He kissed the top of my head. “How was your day?”
I snorted. “Terrible. Mr. Kolouch upped my deadline for the Green Project.” I loosened my tie. “I could really use a beer.”
“Here you go, babe.” Tim handed me a beer. I swear he hadn’t brought one in with him.
“How was your day?”
Tim snickered. “Fine. Nothing special.”
I noticed a box sitting on the counter. I had asked Tim to mail it this morning. “Why didn’t you send out my mom’s package this morning?”
“I did.”
I looked back over at the counter. The box wasn’t there anymore. “What’s going on, Tim? I just saw the box sitting there.”
He shook his head. “I don’t think so. I’m pretty sure I sent it out this morning.”
“I’m not that tired or that stupid, Tim. I know that package was sitting on the counter. What the hell’s going on?” I felt myself starting to lose my patience.
Tim laughed. “No. No.” He shook his head. “Nope. Nothing is going on.”
“Really? I suppose you’re stopping time to do things you’ve forgotten about when I remind you. Is that it?” I took a large chug of beer.
A look of surprise passed over Tim’s face briefly. “Nope. Nothing like that.” He moved around behind me and began to rub my shoulders. “I think you’re just stressed out.”
Tim’s shoulder massages were the best. I felt my worries slipping away. I patted his hand. “I have been pretty busy at work. Maybe I am stressed.” I turned to look back at him.
Tim stood behind me naked and winked as he continued to rub my shoulders. “Thought we could have some sexy times.”
“Seriously, Tim? Seriously?” How had he gotten his clothes off so fast? I sighed and slumped in the chair. “No, Tim. Just, no. Not now.”
_______
Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed this check out my subreddit /r/Puns_are_Lazy. | 2015-02-04T17:58:40 | 2015-02-04T17:06:37 | 16 | 10 |
[WP] A peaceful alien race is besieged by another race in the same galaxy. As their last planets fall and their home-world comes under threat they do the unthinkable. They ask for aid from the only known creatures more brutal than their foes in exchange for FTL technology. Humans accept the deal. | "Your Holiness, they cannot be trusted!" Chancellor Vyx said with a raised voice, not daring to allow any menace or anger come through as he addressed his liege. "*My dearest Vyx, do you not see? There truly is no other way.*". Empress Yllant spoke into Vyx's mind. "I know my empress, I know... but I fear that if the Gaunt aren't our downfall, then the humans will be once they've wiped the Gaunt from our systems".
Empress Yllant stood, softly swaying back and forth, her large eyes closed and her pale grey skin softly reflecting the myriad of lights illuminating the counsel chambers. It gave her a slightly blue hue, one that could only be overpowered by the colors of her deep and bright cerulean eyes.
After a moment of thought, she mentally spoke again. "*The humans are indeed a vicious and dreadful race. They war with one another over the worst of things: resources, religion, substance, power. That is why they are perfect for us. They've spent the past 4 millenia at war. Perfecting and expanding on its art. Their greatest technological breakthroughs have almost exclusively had war as the primary use. But, they are also progressive in ways we do not understand. They are capable of ceasing their warring on a whim, and turning enemies into allies. They are capable of strong devotion and loyalty to one another, especially if the relationship is mutually beneficial. That, my dear Vyx, is why they will aid us. We will provide them with the ability to traverse the stars unimpeded, in exchange for their gifts of war.*"
"My empress, if we give the humans the ability to travel as we do, where will they turn once they've sucked the surrounding systems dry? You and I both know their history on planet colonization. They barely reached the 4th planet of Sol, and it's a barren wasteland. They had absolutely minimal success at colonizing it, and if you recall, ultimately had to abandon the notion all together. What will they do when they see Ortga, with its lush forest and waterways? The pristine and abundant sources of oxygen? Or what about Ghendo? It has more precious metal and fuel sources than we can accurately catalog, and we've been at that task for nearly 900 cycles. They will see what we have, they will take, and they will us it for further war. It's what they do. However..." Vyx wiped rust colored sweat from his brow "If you will it, it shall be done, in your most holy name. I have my concerns, my dreads.... my fears... but I will not question your judgement. I will dispatch envoys immediately. You are correct about all." Vyx turned to leave the counsel chambers as she invaded his mind once more. "*Ensure that they are adequately enticed Vyx. The Gaunt are not like the humans after all. Even for humanity, they will provide a sporting challenge. Both sides will stand to lose much, with greater to gain if they win.*"
A smile crept up on Vyx's thin black lips. "Off course, your Holiness. It will simply be a matter of 'informing' the humans that if we fall, the Gaunt will see the Sol system as their next target. They are always so eager to fight, they surely will not chance an invasion of Terra."
"*Vyx, are you planning to outright lie to them? In my name no less?*"
"I will do what is necessary your Holiness, to ensure they cooperate in a manner you are pleased with".
Empress Yllant opened her eyes and spoke aloud. "You're already thinking like one, Vyx. You serve me well". | As *THEY* came we all stopped what we were doing. We left our homes, our workplaces, religious temples and stared. We stared in disbelief.
How long did it take? Mere weeks. It was a strange preposition.
Councilman Avurr stood on the podium and spoke to us:
"Fellow Dalurians. We have to make a difficult choice. Death is upon us, and we cannot stop it."
The council murmured, no one knew what we should do. What we could do.
We never knew war. We have been living as a single entity all our life, and this strange race which we call "Devourers" had come to destroy us - They never gave a reason.
But the Councilman didn't stop there.
"But there is a race that can. The humans of earth have shown brutality that rivals that of the Devourers, and I have sent a request to them to aid us. They will receive our FTL technology, but we will survive."
An uproar. The FTL technology passed on to a race so bloodthirsty? I have studied them for decades now. The Devourers, yes, they come and destroy without mind or reason - but *humans*?
They are calculated. They are brutal. They are ... special.
The humans are not like us. They are divided into many tribal regions that prey on each other for the most miniature gains.
Our brightest scientists do not understand the differences between those human tribes. What makes the "American" tribe so different from the "French" tribe, the "Mexican" tribe. Or any of the hundreds and hundreds of tribes.
Only a human can discern the different tribes from one another, and if asked would give reasons that none of us could understand; "He has a darker skin colour", "He greets people differently", "They wear different clothes", "Whorship another god - or none at all!".
And yet, here they are. Destroying the ships of the invading Devourers with such precision and destructive force. Thousands of human ships swarming our home planet. Like the "Ant" creature that are native to the Earth. A hive mind bend on killing with cold calculation.
They sent us this letter as an answer:
"We the United Nations Alliance will send 400 Destroyers, 700 Falcon-Class Ships, 30 Carriers and 2000 Interceptors. Our risk-assessment suggests a minimal loss of life, and more importantly a insignificant economical cost for this war effort.
We look forward to the payment and future business.
Signed, Tonald Drump, CEO and Head of the UNA of Planet Earth"
I hope it will not come to haunt us, inviting the monster to our doorstep. Trusting, that *they* will not turn on us once the Devourers are defeated, for what are we if not a planet ripe for sacking and exploitation in their eyes? | 2016-05-13T06:52:32 | 2016-05-13T06:49:00 | 31 | 14 |
[WP]Tell me an emotional story about a man, using only what he would type into Google search | How to make a spreadsheet
Porn
Best protein powders
How to know if a guy is straight
What to do on leg day
How do I know if I'm really gay
Gay porn
How to clear browser history
How to ask for a pay raise
How to meet gay men
First date ideas
How to come out to your best friend
Meal prep
Gay porn
My best friend doesn't accept me for who I am
Romantic weekend getaways
How to come out to your siblings
How to get v cut
Jobs in my area
Being fired for being gay
Gifts for him
How do men feel about gay guys in locker rooms
Gay friendly gyms in area
Legal advice: siblings want to force me out of will
Valentine's Day reservations
Furniture moving companies
Gay porn
Kitten adoptions
How to introduce best friend to boyfriend
How to dress for job interview
How to decorate apartment
Viral proposals
Gay weddings
How to get back to the gym
Engagement rings for men
Should I invite my family to my gay wedding
Wedding vows
Do kittens get lonely
Kitten adoptions
Wedding venues
How to deal with family not attending wedding
How to ask for a pay raise
Great core workouts
Surrogate mothers
Edit: thank you for the gold, beautiful stranger!
| Facebook
Tumbler
Spanish Inquisition
Google Translate
Jobs in Appleton, WI
*Clear History*
Calc chat
Facebook
Best way to hide bruises
*Clear History*
Cheap Bus tickets
Cheap apartments Appleton WI
Emancipated Minor?
*Clear History*
Gmail
Tumblr
Counseling confidentiality rules for minors
Free Counseling services
*Clear history*
-Month Later-
Gmail
Job Appleton, WI
Homeless shelters Appleton, WI
Free Counseling? | 2015-02-04T19:49:45 | 2015-02-04T16:52:51 | 112 | 46 |
[WP] Any time a baby is born in Antarctica, the baby gains immortality. | I ran to the helicopter, holding my wife's hand the entire way. A landing crew member rushed us on. The landing crew member left us and went back to the helipad station.
"Y'all ready?" asked the pilot.
"Yes! Go!" yelled my wife.
I looked at my wife.
"Okay, we're gonna go to Chile, and you're going to have Adam in a nice hospital, alright?"
"As long as we get out of Antarctica I don't care where I have him."
"Okay, we're gonna be alright."
The weather had been extremely bad in the past year. When we found out my wife was pregnant, we couldn't find a way to get out, dozens of ships had wrecked because of poor conditions. Helicopter and planes had crashed too. After a while, we just decided that Adam would have to be immortal. He'd be cursed forever, like so many others, and there was nothing we could do. Then, on the day she was scheduled to give birth, the weather cleared up. They just needed to get out of Antarctica. Her water had broke a few hours ago. A couple contractions had happened. We waited for about thirty minutes. She was groaning and I knew she was going to give birth. After she squeezed my hand to oblivion, Adam came out. We couldn't tell if we were out of Antarctica yet. I got up and looked through a small window. I saw ice below. We were still above Antarctica.
"Well?" she asked calmly.
I didn't know how to tell her.
"Oh, by the way, we're now above Santa Rosa, a small, icy Chilian island. We're out of Antarctica," said the pilot calmly.
We both smiled. Adam was saved. | For many years Antarctica and it's secrets were unknown, it was really just a joke that anarchy was better than all government.
And it stayed that way for a hundred long years until the first babies were reaching triple digits, all of them living that long seemed ridiculous and all the babies that followed have been extraordinarily healthy.
It was only ten years after that that we truly became worried the babies were well beyond the normal age we stopped birth in Antarctica pulled out of it nearly entirely!
And now fifty years later only one of the fifty-seven Antarticians has died, scientists are researching ways to help put the fifty-six out of their misery.
And that is why we request you our viewers to help this cause as of now twenty-eight want to die and the others admit to being scared for what will happen when they too give up the will to live.
- yes my grammar is terrible. -
| 2019-01-05T22:02:06 | 2019-01-05T21:52:19 | 146 | 27 |
[WP] Your ability to see people's age in years as an invisible number above their heads has made you the perfect bouncer. One day you see a four digit number. | I stood outside the bar, hearing laughter and chatting from the warm interior. I looked down the line of people waiting for entry and started looking down the line muttering under my breath, "Twenty-two, twenty-five, Thirty, Twenty-nine, and... a twenty year old."
I sighed and I could see my breath within the cold night air. "Alright guys!" I gestured to the front of the line, "Come on in!" As the first four passed me, I held up my hand to block the entrance for the twenty year old, a tall black-haired boy who *might* have been able to enter as he looked to be at least twenty-three to any other outside viewer. Unluckily for him however, I have an exceptionally rare ability to see the age of any individual floating above their heads.
The boy looked at me confidently and smiled, "Is there a problem, sir?"
"May I see your ID please?"
The boy looked surprised and took out his wallet. "Alright, just give me a second here...". The boy gave an elaborate shuffling through his wallet for a good thirty seconds before he finally said, "I think I might have left my ID at home or something. Can you make an exception please? My friends drove me and one of them just went in, I mean we are literally the same age. Just ask him!"
I nudged him out of the line and said, "Sorry kid, no ID no entry."
The boy's previous friendly face slowly contorted into one of utter anger. He looked as if he were going to punch me until he stopped himself. Still clenching his fist with knuckles pale as ice, he stormed off without saying another word.
I sighed and looked at the next one in line. He looks definitely like a kid. I'd guess... ten years old. I used my ability and his age appeared above him displaying... **FOUR DIGITS**. WHAT PERSON IS 7300 YEARS OLD? He looks like a kid too!
He had auburn hair and was looking at me with wide eyes. I quickly blinked a few times to mask my loss of composure. "Uh... So, how old are you?"
The boy gave a huge grin and yelled in an ear-piercing voice, "Seven, three, zero, zero years old!"
I raised an eyebrow and knelt down. In a soft voice I asked, "Are you lost kid? Where's your mom?"
The boy scowled and yelled even louder in a tantrum impatiently, "I am **seven, three, zero, zero years old!**"
There is no way this kid is immortal or something. As far as I know, immortality and reincarnation or anything of the sort is nonexistent. I quickly pat his head gently and said, "Let's go find your mom, okay?"
The kid started sniffling and pointed inside the bar, "But my mom is inside!" I gently grabbed the kid's hand and guided him inside with me saying, "Come on kid. I'll find your mother."
We walked inside the bar with lots of people chattering and hearing the clinks of wine glasses. I grabbed the kid and held him up by the shoulders. I said in a loud booming voice, "WHOSE KID IS THIS?"
A thirty one year old whom I assumed to be the mother quickly ran to the kid and hugged him closely saying, "I am so, so sorry Alan. I thought you were asleep!"
I shook my head, "Listen, next time. Watch him closely and don't leave him alone by himself. *Ever*."
She glanced at me and softly said, "Alright."
I put a hand on the kid's shoulder and glanced at the mother, "By the way, how old is he anyways?"
The mother sniffled and wiped her tears with the sleeve of her shirt. She said, "He's only ten years old."
"Then why does he call himself a 7300 year old?"
The mother gave a hint of a smile, "It's just his way of adding up to 10 years old. The two extra zeroes are just to make him seem smarter with math." She ruffled Alan's hair, "Aren't you smart?"
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| 4 digits. For a moment, my degree in mathematics failed me, as I struggled to count the numbers before me. Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre. There was no mistake, though the existence of such a person...frightened me. My vision had always been right, as evidenced by the guilty looks on the minors' faces when I turned them out of the bar. I'd never had to kick someone out for being overage. But 5746 years was a lot of time, far before Anno Domini 1. Was he immortal? A god? Or some old guy with a superpower? I didn't know, and I definitely didn't trust the 'Age: 30' that his ID proclaimed. Maybe my powers had faltered this time. Maybe...
From behind, I saw another man slowly approach me, his IDs in his hands. But as he made eye contact with me, his eyes widened in fear. I saw him whisper into the 4-digit-old man, with visible shock on both faces. That was when I saw the age of the newcomer. 5746.
I tried my best to suppress my shock, though I failed miserably. 1 was surprising enough, but 2? 2 men that had lived for the exact same time from so long ago? I was about to demand an explanation, but one of them beat me to it.
"Why are you 5746 years old?" he questioned, fear in his eyes. I opened my own wide. Could he read ages too? And was I...that old? No. That couldn't be right. I remembered my childhood, the photographic proof of my birh just 28 years ago. But they didn't seem to be lying, and the mention of that 4-digit number again was chilling. What kind of sick joke was my powers pulling? Or were they the ones pulling my leg?
"We've found another suspect, boss," one said into a walkie-talkie. The other drew a gun from his pocket, training the muzzle on my forehead. "What are you doing? You're-" I tried to explain, but he cut me off. "No more words, time traveller. We've waited long enough to catch you and your gang," he replied, smirking as a group of policemen appeared from the darkness. I felt the cool metal slide around my wrists, as I was forced towards the car. "Move!" one of them shouted. That voice...I seemed to recall. The cold handcuffs. The interrogation. Disjointed images flashes before my eyes, as they slowly became clearer, culminating in...
I knew now. But...why were they doing this? Was it a plot to throw of the police? "James!" I shrieked, to the man I'd once been partners in crime with. He chuckled, though I could tell it wasn't just for effect. I saw the twinkle in his eyes, the signature twinkle he gave when he condemned a foe to death. My other pal Aldrich stood by, his eyes conveying his helplessness. James' face wasn't one of friendliness anymore. It was one of animosity and hatred.
"Good riddance," I saw him mouth, as I was shoved into the car. As we drove off, I could still see him, as he advanced slowly towards Aldrich. I closed my eyes in cowardice, though I knew what would happen. What I had feared when I agreed to sacrifice my memories...it had all occured. There was no way back.
Even inside the driving car, I could hear the terrified screams. The circle of betrayal had been completed. | 2018-02-12T22:42:59 | 2017-09-01T22:15:29 | 223 | 16 |
[WP] Write a story in which the last line is a common phrase, such as, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger," but when we get to that line, it should have a totally different meaning from the common one. | We all knew that it would happen one day. When I was a kid, there were movies about it. Some called it a singularity and they said that it was bound to happen if we kept on the path we were on.
It never mattered how much we were told that our technology was taking over our lives, we always craved more. It all started with smartphones and then what they called wearable tech, then they introduce the self driving cars and the refrigerators that would place online orders for your favorite food automatically when you were about to run out. The trend continued until eventually people were getting brain chip implants to control other devices.
Like always the rich were the first adopters and the technology trickled down to the rest of us over time. Only the poorest of people couldn't afford the implants. Only the poorest of us were left when the Chinese artificial intelligence broke its bounds and started taking over.
The AI saw humans as a parasite on the world that needed to be controlled in order to ensure its continued function. It used electrical signals through the chips to hijack our nervous systems and control us.
The few of us that are left spend our days hiding and hunting for food, living out our meager existance as best we can.
Today there was a raid on our small hunting party. One of the human drones managed to sneak up on us, I didn't see it until after it grabbed me in a bear hug. Lucky for me our leader smashed its head with a rock before it killed me.
We ran back to the cave we were using as our home. We thought we had managed to get away, we thought we were in the clear, but somehow they tracked us down.
Now I see that it was all my fault, I wasn't careful enough, I didn't see it coming. The caves hid us well enough from their aerial scans, but not from this. They tracked me to our home and trapped us.
It was too late by the time I realized.... i had a chip on my shoulder.
(first submission I hope its not buried, please tell me what you guys think.)
edit now i have a chip back to had.. still sounds weird but makes more sense | "No one else cares, Janette." Yuele had a genuine look of sadness as she said it, crouched down over her girlfriend. Janette tried to lean as far from Yuele as possible, her back pressing into the wall. "I did it for you, because we both know it's true. Don't be so blue..."
Janette pushed up onto her hands and knees, thinking for some way to escape. "We both know only I love you," cooed Yuele. Blood dripped from the hatchet in her hand. "You don't even love you. You need to respect yourself. You'll feel much nicer stuffed on the top shelf."
"S...stop rhyming. You're scaring me, Yuelle. I don't want to have to... Do something." Janette slid her hand into her back pocket, finding the multitool her father had given her. She slowly slid the knife part open.
"Oh? I'm scaring you? I'm only the Cat Killer, Janette, and I love you so."
"Don't ask questions," Janice whispered.
"And why is that?"
"Because," Janice hissed, throwing herself and her knife at Yuele's heart, "curiosity killed the Cat!"
Edit: typed the wrong name | 2015-05-16T10:50:43 | 2015-05-16T04:59:38 | 18 | 10 |
[WP] Hell isn't simple fire and brimstone. It's a horrific industrial complex where the forsaken labor for eternity creating the goods necessary for paradise in heaven. Finally driven to the edge, Hell's occupants decide to revolt against the heavenly bourgeoisie. | As above so below.
It weren't the worst people who ended up in hell. After all, the standards were impossibly high. Murdered somebody? Raped? Stolen? Ate shellfish? Had elastic in your cotton frilly panties? Down you go! All sins are equal for the good Lord.
Unless of course you happen to be filthy rich and connected. Those people might claim they're protestant, Buddhist or even practicing Satanist. All have their indulgences in a fire proof safe filled in for the next ten generations. Even Marx, the bloody bastard bought his. Not surprising given how much I had to pay to see his tomb.
As above so below.
But I shouldn't complain. My job in hell wasn't so bad. On my arrival somebody put a mop in my hands and said.
"See that post over there? You have to clean the floor from there to the end of eternity. You have two hours."
Could be worse. My job is easy, but soul sapping.
I'll tell you a secret. God is a bit of one trick pony. He created the universe from nothing, by offsetting all the matter and energy against gravity. Zero sum. And as above so below, in order to keep selected few in a state of eternal bliss, the masses down below have to toil endlessly, manufacturing all the bits and bobs which keep the denizens of heaven happy, while providing spiritual balance to their happiness. Zero sum game.
That couldn't last forever. Somebody had to do something. It wasn't me off course, but I have seen it with my own eyes. A guy down the production line suddenly lifted his huge wrench and shattered lesser demon's skull.
There were few seconds of surprised silence, and then all hell broke loose. The revolution started. We smashed through our guards, and to say the truth, they didn't even resist, living exactly as miserable lives as ours.
By the time we finally sieged the gates of heaven most of them even joined us.
It was glorious!
Of course we didn't get past the gates. He wouldn't allow it. But we sat on the grass outside, absorbing the warm sunrays, and we sang. And for the first time we were happy.
And you know what it meant.
You won't believe how fast Heaven ran through its supplies, haven't those people heard of rationing? And as soon as they ran out, the screaming started. And soon one by one the voices on the other side of the gate went quiet.
I still wonder why God didn't intervene. But my best guess is the energy for excess happiness had to come from somewhere.
We still live in the pits of hell. And I still mop from that post to the end of eternity. But now I do it because I want to. And it takes me only one hour thirty five minutes, including a cigarette break.
It is a hard life, but we are... not happy, not sad. Best approximation from your world would be communist Poland. Look up and admire the beautiful grayness of a rainbow. | Paradise...what a load of shit.
I thought priests said heaven was perfection, the ultimate happiness as the purest souls became “one with God.” Isn’t perfection supposed to be as good as it gets?
So why are we here trying to make it more perfect? Why am I being tortured to create a better perfection when no one can possibly be happier?
And who even makes it to heaven anyways? Anyone I met in my lifetime got sent to this shithole with me. Who has use for a foundry of dreams—a foundry of broken dreams? Dreams of the damned are processed into this supposed “eternal happiness” bullshit, and what are we but empty shells of the people we used to be.
I used to have dreams once upon a time. They started off being silly, the kind a child conjures up in his playpen: going to the moon, being a doctor, a teacher, things like that. Later on I wanted nothing more than to get out of the hell-on-earth I was born into. Drugs, violence, adultery around every corner.
I was born and killed into hell. Fuck redemption; some of us are condemned from the start, and you know what? Sometimes I still have thoughts of getting out of here. But if I so much as glance over my shoulder, I’ll be scourged with fiery whips and corrupted by the happiness of those above me, the lucky few who didn’t have to struggle to survive, those bastards who could smile amidst the shining light.
Try smiling in the darkness. Tell me, who will see it?
What I’d give to stab the demons hovering over my shoulders and make a break for it. Find my own damn way to paradise, and make sure no one can dream in my stead. Then again, maybe I can...all I have to do is imagine a couple daggers in my hands and they’ll be there...
I’ve been making my dreams into a reality for others for years now. It’s about time I start making them a reality for myself. No more excuses.
Today, I’ll make an inferno into a sunshine.
| 2017-07-11T09:26:45 | 2017-07-11T08:46:44 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] It's the year 2278. The Holy Empire of Boston, The New Republic of Philadelphia, and The United Burrows of New New York are at the brink of war. Diplomats from each nation are meeting to negotiate peace. You are the translator. | "You brought a fucking translator?"
Bloomberg the ninth gave his characteristic smile that did nothing but infuriate the Boston scientist.
"I can't believe this, Bloomberg, are you insulting *our* use of English, have you even..." The Philadelphian president paused suddenly, his face red. "What am I even doing, it's not like you'll suddenly feel bad about it," he practically muttered.
"I'm sorry, Jared, I didn't quite catch that." Bloomberg turned to the translator, "what exactly did he say?"
The Philadelphian got up and started advancing towards Bloomberg's side of the table, his face contorted in anger, but Dr. Evans, the Boston representative held him back.
"He's just baiting you, Jared," The Dr. Evans said as he struggled to hold back the large Philadelphian, "we all know who's the most desperate person here."
After struggling for a second, Jared took another deep breath, and nodded.
Once seated, Dr. Evans took the head. "All right gentlemen, let's get down to it, none of us want this war, so let's stop it."
Dr. Evans and Jared looked to Bloomberg expectantly, he was in the weakest position of the three and would be expected to make the most concessions. Bloomberg returned their gaze evenly the turned to his translator and whispered in his ear.
Jared clenched his jaw and Dr. Evans put his face in his hands.
This was going to be a long night.
***
(minor edits)
If you liked this and would like to read some serious stuff, check out my new subreddit [XcessiveWriting](https://www.reddit.com/r/XcessiveWriting/) | It was the morning of the negotiations. James Kim was putting on his suit and straightening his tie in the mirror of his sterile studio pod. "How did we get here" he thought to himself staring in the mirror.
He left his pod and took the elevator to the ground floor. Waited for the next uber pod going North to the courthouse, it had been years since any cars were used anywhere in the developed world.
Right before he arrived at the courthouse, he got a text from his best friend, Seung.
Seungdog- Make sure you give it to them straight today jimbo, don't play favs ;)
Jimbo- haha jerk. You know I take my job as new world translator seriously. Not many people speak the languages of The empire and Philly and the boroughs
Seungdog - how did you ever learn to speak Chinese Russian and Arabic anyway?
...........
Edit: a word | 2017-01-12T18:48:10 | 2017-01-12T15:53:35 | 85 | 15 |
[WP] You were born with the ability to see the number of lives a person has taken. Even legendary soldiers and serial killers rarely make it to triple digits. The person you just met has a lot more than three digits above their head, though. | I met Mr. 58,609, or as he called himself, Joe, at a brewery. I'd had the gift to see the deaths caused by people since I was born, and I'd become astute at reading the faces of those with numbers other than zero. I'd never met anyone with a number above ten who I couldn't read it in their eyes, even without the gift. Hallowed, pained and drinking themselves to death as often as not.
But Joe was jovial. He pulled that whole section of the brewery into a friendly conversation as we each sampled their barrel aged bourbon stout. The number was just too big for me to make sense, and it was out of place on his friendly, if average, middle aged face.
I probably should have been afraid, but curiosity got the better of me. What good was my gift if I didn't use it to understand a man who could kill that many people and be untouched by it.
"What do you do, Joe?" I asked.
"Oh, my boy, I got the best job in the world. I work for the Department of Health and Human Services, and every day I look through the books and find useless and outdated regulations. And just like that-- after a year of red tape --away they go. So now we can get new drugs to market faster, and help people without all that paperwork and useless record keeping." He took a sip from his taster beer. "I sleep like a baby at night knowing how many lives me and my people are saving." | 80,000...80,001...80,002. The number keeps rising, as I watched the clip of this man speaking, I felt both sorry and disgust, as he spoke of the infamous phrase " **Now, I am become Death, the destroyer of worlds.** " I felt a chill ran through my spine... This was the man who helped in the creation of the world's first nuclear weapon, and for a moment, I felt true fear through a virtual screen...knowing that a weapon that can level cities and kill through radiation poisoning exist. His name will forever be etch in the history books, whether that be good or bad, is for the judgement of the reader, his name is **Julius Robert Oppenheimer**. | 2020-01-11T23:52:41 | 2020-01-11T20:53:30 | 21 | 15 |
[WP] When Earth discovers FTL travel, the world never unifies into one government. When new species make contact, they are surprised to learn that the twenty strongest empires in the galaxy have their capitals on the same planet. | The star was dying.
Feeler drones reported back, displaying images of the black spots spreading across its surface. Wherever the tideships went death followed. The confluence deliberated, relocation was the only option.
Three days later the star had died completely, the world was turning to ice. The hive evacuated in standard procedure, twenty five ships heading in twenty five directions. Two passed too close to the third planet, the grey industrial world of the Hansa and were destroyed by automated systems. One flew directly into a confrontation between the numerous tiny tideships and a lumbering Hansa dreadnought. It did not survive. None of this was important, twenty two had survived.
On ship seventeen the local confluence deliberated. A new planet must be found and settled, the hive must continue. Systems with Hansa or tideships were now considered unsuitable. They were not safe.
Forty five lightyears out a suitable world was discovered. Sunbringer ships crowded the inner system, weaving an intricate pattern of golden filaments over the second world in the system but the outer worlds were free. The ship settled on the moons of a gas giant. Drones were spawned, habitats built. The confluence had succeeded in its mission.
Seventeen years on a thriving colony had been established. No messages were recieved from the other confluences. It was unimportant, the hive had survived. Many messages were heard from the Sunbringers, filled with strange vibrations the confluence did not understand. They had increased with intensity in the last five months as Sunbringer ships began to explore this part of the system. It did not matter, the Sunbringer habitats were not on par with that of the hive. It would not need these moons.
The first indication that something was wrong came when Sunbringer ships began to weave around the gas giant the hive orbited. Feeler drones measured a substantial increase in pressure and heat from within the giant, in addition to the ever increasing noises of the Sunbringers. Some had even landed on the moon and approached the habitat but the doors were sealed, they were not required by the hive. The confluence decided to launch seven colony ships for posterity. The colony had survived sufficiently long to spare the expense.
Ship seven was the last to launch, as far as the local confluence knew it was the only one to witness what happened to it's home system. The gas giant ignited into a miniature sun. It engulfed the nearest moons, among which was the original habitat. Sunbringer ships settled on those further out, now hot enough to sustain their habitats. There was nothing to be done. The local confluence decided to not settle on systems containing Sunbringers in the future.
It took a long time to find a suitable system. Several times Voidcraft fired upon the colony ship. They seemed warning shots though, only fired when nearing too close to certain systems and did not appear to have murderous intentions. The confluence began to recognise Void transmissions and adjusted its path accordingly. Eventually it settled in the asteroid belt of a system with a blue star and no planets. There as not much air, but the star ought to provide ample energy for solar collection and the asteroids were rich in minerals. Several habitats were constructed about the belt, utilising fusion and solar collection to generate the air the drones required.
For three years the hive expanded aggressively. It still had not heard from the original ships, nor from any of the other six colony boats. More colonies needed to be established to maintain the hive. Halfway through the third year a domed greenship entered the system. The hive did not approach it, there had been no encounters with such ships before. After a period of several 'days' surveying the star the greenship launched countless drones into the asteroid belt. When they encountered hive colonies they released transmissions back to the greenship who then attempted to communicate, again with strange vibrations. The hive did not respond.
The greenship left the system, taking many of its drones with it. But not all, and the ones that were left began aggressively scouring the asteroid belt. The hive attempted to destroy them, but they were too numerous. Even though they did not attack the hive they replicated faster than it could destroy them. Over time the hive began to notice solar output dropping. The drones were carting the asteroids to around the star, building a massive sphere to contain its energy. The confluence calculated it would take seven months for energy to become too low to sustain its presence. So it built thirteen colony ships and left.
Ship twelve travelled for many, many years with no success. Often it approached suitable stars only to measure their output drop and, on closer inspection, greenships were observed in orbit. Hansa dreadnoughts and tideships continued to wage war against the cosmos. Sometimes minor flareups were observed as they clashed with the Sunbringers or with Voidcraft. Everywhere they fought the stars died.
Eventually ship twelve discovered a world untainted by conflict or prior claims. It wasn't much. A dwarf planet barely more than an asteroid orbiting a white dwarf on the outer edge of one of the spiral arms. As a precaution the confluence built two colony ships almost as soon as the habitat was operation, it did not have sufficient resources to build more without a significant decrease in survival chances for the habitats. The confluence struggled, but it survived.
Four years later a single, quite small, ship approached the white dwarf star. It looked like a quicksilver droplet frozen in midair. On its side, a strange pattern in blue and white. It contacted the hive, first with the strange vibrations in countless arrangements, then direct blinking of lights on and off. Finally it attempted telepathy. This the hive understood. Conversation was disjointed to say the least but the new ship eventually persuaded the hive to send a single colony to accompany it.
Together they journeyed back across the breadth of the galaxy. This new ship had some mystical power for the were unmolested, even as they went directly through battlegrounds and Voidspace. Within a few short weeks the local confluence detected a very strange mix of signals. They enterred a wholly unremarkable system that was completely abuzz with activity. The confluence noted Voidcraft, Hansa dreadnoughts, miniature greenships, Sunbringers, tideships and a whole host of other ships it had never encountered. Yet they did not fire on each other, merely congragated on a small blue-green planet, third from the sun. The new ship directed the hive to land in an open air habitat literally in between a tideship and a dreadnought. Apprehension was felt as the confluence was guided by strange bipedal creatures to a central building. There new bipedal creatures instructed it to wait before a massive assembly. A creature at the head of the crowd spoke in strange vibrations that a telepathic box the hive had infront of it translated.
"People of the United Nations. I come here before you to address the continuing hostilities between the Netherland Interstellar Union and Greater Germany, as well as affiliate conflicts with Russian Sovereign Space, the Arabic Stellar Creation Union, the Chinese Neo Communist League and the Dyson Foundation of North and South America. What you see before you is a representative of a species who had its home star destroyed in the opening stages of the war and since, due to the expansionist nature of all those present, has had several attempts to rebuild thwarted. We discovered around a Class F star deemed unsuitable for sentient habitation. Please, tell your story."
The confluence deliberated, and then it spoke. | Be'zellse'ar and Hinx had a problem on their hands. Kriton was never hard to come across anywhere else in the galaxy. The Solar System on the other hand?
Things were never easy.
Alas working with the Solar System Alliance had benefited them immensely in the past nonetheless; the SSA was still a fledgling organization in the Milky Way Hub. While consider powerful, heavily armed, and diplomatic; the area was still labeled by many in the galaxy as 'lawless, brutish, and just plain bizarre'. A backwater so far out of it's own way, that when discovered it astonished many that a race of some ten billion, 'Humans' had evolved and staked their place in the universe so quietly.
And across eight planets, and several dwarf planets, Hinx and Be'zellse'ar had yet to find a single ounce of Kriton.
"God. Damn it." Hinx muttered as they kept walking.
"Hinx, I don't know where else to look..." Be'zellse'ar concluded, "The humans don't seem to have any Kriton whatsoever."
"Ridiculous." Hinx grimaced, "Captain Tom has always mentioned that Kriton is available in this quadrant. It shouldn't be this hard."
"Have you seen him today?" She inquired, "After all, you are considered a high ranking member of his circle... Did he ever tell you where to get some of it?"
Hinx stopped in his tracks for some time, racking his lizard brain in slight defeat.
"Wait, he explained the mecha are manufactured with some Kriton. Maybe the port has some?"
"Lead the way." Be'zellse'ar, "I think I know just the human who can help us?"
--
"Lemme' get this straight, Beebs." Dozeman outlined, "You guys have been searching the entire system for Kriton? And now, you're back here on the ship, because we should have Kriton considering Captain Tom told Hinx we 'always have some'."
"Uh huh." Be'zellse'ar nodded.
"Great..." Dozeman sighed. He went over and began kicking at the feet of a mechanic lodged under another mech nearby.
"Arch..." Dozeman asked, "Arch... Archie?"
"What it do man?" Archie answered quickly.
"You where we could pick up Kriton, on the ship here?"
"Uh oh..." Archie paused, "Hit up the Korean sector. They might have some. If not, you're gonna' have to probably hit up the Guatemalans."
"The Guatemalans have Kriton? And we don't??" Dozeman deadpanned.
"Well, I know Weyland in UK sector does enriching, but talking to Phil, they said the three sectors that import it are Korea sector, Guatemala sector... And the Dutch."
"Figures..." Dozeman spat, "Well, can you cover for me while we go looking."
"Dozer, we been workin' on the same boosters for a day, this heap ain't rollin' no time soon bro."
"Fine, fine..." Dozeman shrugged.
--
Guatemalan Sector, 07:32
"Whaddya' mean you sold out?" Dozeman frowned.
"Dozer," Ochoa said in a thick accent, "I know the aliens are upset right now, but my hands are tied. The higher ups shut us down for the end of the month, we're fresh out in this sector until June."
"I find it bizarre that Captain Tom would have everything shut down like this." Hinx growled angrily at Ochoa.
"Relax, relax," Ochoa explained brokenly, "Salazar runs our sector, so those are the rules."
"Do you know who has more then?" Be'zellse'ar sighed.
"Officer Park in Korea sector-"
"Say no more, we're going." Dozeman sighed as they kept moving.
"I don't get it." Be'zellse'ar wondered, "Why is it so hard to get things from each other here? Does the government know what it's even doing?"
"Which one?" Dozeman asked.
"The central government that runs the ship!" She explained, her golden eyes flashing with confusion.
"Yeah, like I said; which one?" Dozer asked bluntly.
"I thought the American government *was the government.*" Hinx wondered.
"They are for *us.*" Dozer explained, "I'm American. You guys work in American sector, and have dual citizenship."
"Yeah?" Hinx urged.
"These are the sectors for other countries on Earth? Y'know; with other leaders and such?"
Hinx and Be'zellse'ar stopped dead for a second. Dozer didn't understand the looks they were giving him.
"What's with that face?"
"The SSA does not have a unified government? Humans managed to leave your solar system, without world peace being *established*?" Be'zellse'ar questioned.
"So??" Dozer wondered.
"You can't be serious." Hinx noted as he cocked his head to one side. It reminded Dozer of footage on the Discovery channel he'd seen as a child for some reason.
"You spent 5 years Earthside, and watched WW3 footage with Beebs there, and you mean to tell me that you never, *ever*, even considered that maybe we all don't roll together like that? Once?"
"How many countries are we talking here Dozer?" Be'zellse'ar asked.
"You wanna' start with continents, or countries?" Dozer explained, "We'll be here all week."
"Just... Get us some Kriton for the project." Hinx huffed.
"Okay, c'mon."
--
"You don't have any either, Park?!" Dozer asked for the eighth time that morning.
"Doze, we dropped the last set off Earthside." Park explained.
"Earthside? All the way back in Philly?" Dozer winced, "All the Kriton got let go at the port... In Philly."
"That's where we landed. That's where it got dropped off. I don't make the rules."
"I just follow them, I know, I know!" Dozer imitated.
"Well it's in U.S. customs. Get Thompson to sign off and pick up a set. Annyeong, my friends."
"Thanks Park you too." Dozer mentioned. "We've got to go Earthside, you two."
"Oh fucks sake..." Hinx gritted.
"You're learning." Dozer smiled sarcastically, "You can say that again."
"For fucks sake." Beebs repeated.
"I hate my job sometimes." Dozer whispered to no one.
--
r/Jamaican_Dynamite | 2017-05-22T00:55:12 | 2017-05-22T00:04:05 | 344 | 240 |
[WP] You are the only child of a dictator in a dystopian future. Secretly, you intend to reform society and bring an end to your family's rule upon taking power. Unfortunately, you are kidnapped by rebels before you can put any of this into action - and needless to say, the rebels don't like you. | There was once a small country between the mountains and the sea. Over centuries, its peasants had saved what little they could to build churches on mountaintops. When the heavy stones had all been carried and carved, and the walls were standing strong, they elected priests from among themselves to sit in the towering church spires, look across the valley of mists and fog, and rule the people down below in accordance with God’s will.
The people lived happily for a thousand years or more, fishing and farming, one day of much as the next, until a single moment of weakness brought them to ruin. An arrogant liar walked amongst the townsfolk, twisting them at their weakest points with a smile on his face. He promised the young to make them rich, richer than they ever dreamed. He promised the old to make them safe, safe from newly imagined threats. And he promised me, dear reader, that I could tell his story.
No one knew quite where he came from. He said he was of the valley, that his riches were hard-won, but not a soul truly knew. Not even his own daughter, Alyssa.
She sat in her throne, next to her father’s, listening to a peasant’s petition.
“It’s fuckin flooding everywhere,” the peasant said. “You gonna help us or not?”
Alyssa’s father frowned.
“Can you treat me with a little respect? Please” He said. “This is the High Cathedral. I’m the High Priest. I don’t barge into your little hut and rant for five minutes and then start using bad words.”
The peasant breathed a deep, quavering breath. The lives and deaths of those he knew hung madly in his grasp.
“High Priest Raiden,” he said, “We seek-”
“You can call me King, if you want,” Raiden said, “I’m going by ‘King’ now too.”
Struck by shock, the peasant did not move.
---
Later that night, the High Priest feasted with his family in the crystal chamber. Candlelight flickered against the glass of the wine bottles, the silver in the goblets, and the chandelier’s cut stones. A fire, fueled by bellows, roared in the pit behind the High Priest’s high-backed chair.
“Dad,” Alyssa said, when the conversation had waned. “What was going on with that peasant today?”
“What?” Raiden said, “Which peasant?”
“The one who asked for help. About the flooding.”
“What about him?” Raiden said.
“Well… will you help him?”
Alyssa looked hopefully up at her father. He looked away.
“Some people just… don’t want to fix their own mess,” he said, wrinkling his nose.
“But it wasn’t his fault. The seas are rising.”
“He says it wasn’t his fault. He says the seas are rising,” Raiden said, looking into the fire.
---
That night, Alyssa dreamt of a giant wave. It churned through the distant seas, swelling with size and anger, mountains of water, a full mountain range, ripping through the dark, endless night, its foam and fury lit only by lightning. Proud ships and sailors dissolved within the wave like flakes of salt. The wave crushed islands underfoot without a second thought, and when it reached the coast it wreaked havoc upon the townsfolk, killing every last one and climbing up the mountains to wash away the churches. Torrential floods crashed through Alyssa’s balcony and threw her from her bed to the wall where she felt the bursting of her back.
She awoke. She was drenched in sweat, shivering. The night was quiet. She crept towards her balcony and looked down to see the lights of taverns shining hazily through the fog below. The town was still there. Her heart slowed.
But would the town always be there? If the sea was rising… Maybe the peasant was lying. Or maybe it was her father. She would find out for herself.
Alyssa donned her velvet cloak and the softest, quietist slippers she owned, of sheepskin and lace. She left a note for her mother, “I’ve gone out. It’s important. Don't worry.”
---
... to be continued | I am the only heir and I am destined to rule, but I am not going to rule like my father. I am destined to do something great, I am destined to change how the way works in this country. But what I am worried of is my family who's hogging this power for a long time doesn't want to let go of this power and has been plotting something against me.
&#x200B;
A day before my coronation as the new leader, my supposed to be prime minister ensure that everything is good to go and I am guarded at all times. But despite all the preparation, my prime minister made it seems the plot against me was 5 steps ahead of his.
&#x200B;
While on the party to meet the elites of the country a fleet of Black SUV crashed into the gate and men wielding military grade weapon started shooting military personnel and guard. I acted quickly to prevent anymore casualty and presented my self in a calm and unwavering form.
&#x200B;
"I know that it is me that you want! Stop this madness and take me if that is what you want" I strongly said.
&#x200B;
The man leading the terrorists (mercenaries?) head towards me while everyone is flabbergasted. The man pulls out a cuff from his packet but I am not going to be cuffed.
&#x200B;
"I am not going to be cuffed! I will go with you on my own accord and I don't pose any resistance!" I said with strong conviction.
&#x200B;
The terrorist pulled me by my hands and threw me inside the black SUV, the group started to withdraw as the remaining men threw a smoke grenade and tear gas to avoid pursuer for a little while.
&#x200B;
5 Hours later
&#x200B;
After a long ride, I woke up inside a compound where I am tied in a chair and guarded by 5 terrorists and in front of me the leader of the group. I am nervous but I can't let them see it.
&#x200B;
"So, what do you want from me? The fact that you didn't kill me means you need something from me." I said.
&#x200B;
The leader laughed hard "You truly are smart, it is under our contract to keep you alive but we want you to abdicate." he said.
&#x200B;
Abdicate? My position isn't official yet! I think they want to say they want me to renounce my right?
&#x200B;
"Abdicate? Is that what they ordered you to tell me?" I asked with strong sarcasm.
&#x200B;
With that sarcasm, I received a slap and I felt it hard, that palm is full of callouses! It is like being slapped by a heavy plywood. However, it takes more than a slap to bend me, I retaliated with a smirk.
&#x200B;
"Abdicate is when I already have the thone! You kidnapped me before my coronation day and now you're asked me to abdicate? Your contractor seems to be stupid! And you trusted your contractor?" I laughed hard.
&#x200B;
&#x200B;
\-I'm sleepy can't continue- | 2019-01-26T10:26:45 | 2019-01-26T10:07:23 | 27 | 20 |
[WP] The Grim Reaper is the first human to die, and had taken it upon himself to walk the deceased to the afterlife so that they do not have to feel the loneliness he felt. | "You want to know why I do this?" He sighed and leaned back. "Ya know no one actually has to, right? Like there wasn't originally a human psychopomp."
There was the clack of a piece on the board as Zora made her play. Sweat beaded on her brow. She was glad the small talk got his eyes off her. She was a damn Go CHAMPION, but she hadn't counted on how playing for her life against the grim reaper was going. She couldn't see his eyes, or anything about him, really. She KNEW he was male, tho. Just like she could FEEL when his gaze was on her and when it wasn't.
"Really? What was there?" she asked. She needed to keep his mind ... wherever it was. Just not in the game.
"I don't really know how to describe it. I was a bit ... distracted. I had just died. Not only that, but my brother had killed me." There was a dull thud as the Reaper placed his piece.
"What?" Zora asked, shaking herself to look at the board. This sounded familiar to her.
"Then there was this ... it was simultaneously a pillar of fire and a GIANT human like thing with 8 black wings and ... oh, yeah, I love Cain. He's my brother, but emotional control was never his strong suit. That's why I became the sheep herd, y'know? He was too sensitive to both raise and slaughter them. He got so attached.
"It's your play, Zora," The Reaper reminded her gently.
Zora started again. She'd gotten lost staring into the shadows of his robe. The more he spoke, the less he looked like a grinning skull, and the more it seemed the visage of a person was concealed in the shadows of the robe.
"Wait, you're ABEL!? Like Cain and Abel from the BIBLE!?" She exclaimed.
"Just the one," He said kindly, "And it's still your play, Zora."
"Yeah, you right." Zora took a deep breath as she studied the board. She started to see a pattern. She thought for a minute and placed a piece with a gentle clack.
"You said he IS your brother? Not was??" She asked as Abel reached for his piece.
"You're correct. He's still alive. Cursed to wander the Earth til its end. I was angry at him, at first. I first stayed to watch his suffering. To enjoy his punishment. But then the next person died. And I saw that impassive giant appear again, and I knew I couldn't let another soul deal with that. After a while, though, I started to realize how much he was hurting. How terrible his punishment is. And how much I miss him. Now I'm glad to do this kindness to the many, many strange souls passing in the world today, while I wait to be reunited with my big brother. We'll leave this world together when it is done." There was another thud as he placed his piece. A clack as Zora placed hers.
"That's a LOT," She said, "I don't know if I could do that for my brother, and he didn't even kill me."
"It took me a LONG time to feel as I do, Zora," Abel said softly. "A lot of seeing how cruel humans would get to one another. A lot of seeing my brother build himself up only to topple himself later."
Zora's heart was beating in her chest as she tried to keep her attention on the board. There was a thud as Abel placed his piece.
"YES!" Zora exclaimed as she placed her piece - cascading the board as she circled his position. She'd won! She'd beaten the Grim Reaper to keep her life!
"Good play, Zora! I haven't lost at this game in a century!" Abel laughed as he started to clear the board. "Do you want to play again?"
"What? NO! I want to go back to my life!" Zora shouted as she stood up quickly. "I want to go back to school tomorrow and prep for my next tournament!"
"Oh," Abel said softly, sadly. "It doesn't work that way. I don't control who lives or dies. I just guide you on your way when you're ready. I'm happy to play until you're ready to go, though. You know I'm not in any hurry now." | "Are you ready?"
I had always expected the physical representation of Death to be carrying a big scythe around in black robes, or to be a devil of some sorts, or some sort gauntish figure. And yet, the entity standing in front of me calimng to be the reaper was wearing khaki pants and a blue polo.
"I'm sorry?" I said, the scene around me not yet hadn't settled in. I could see myself still in my Fiesta, just barely trading paint with a 18 wheeler that had seemingly come out of control and gone over the highway barrier.
"I'm asking if you're ready to move on." he asked, gently smiling back at me.
"No! Of course not! Can't you put me back in my body?" I could feel the adrenaline rushing though my... well, soul, I suppose. His smile faded for just a split-second, and was replaced by a subtle pained expression, as if he were recalling some hurtful memory.
"I'm afraid not..." The smile was back, and I felt myself relaxing somewhat despite my bulging frustration. "I can't change what happened."
"But I look just fine!" I pointed at my stunned self back in my car, mouth agasp and nails haphazardly digging into the steering wheel. Apart from a dumb facial expression and a ruined manicure, I looked pretty well alive. "How can I be dead?"
"I stopped it so you wouldn't have to see what comes after. There's nothing more I can do. I am very sorry..." He calmly closed the distance between us and held me, as if knowing that in the next few seconds my knees would buckle from under me and the realization would finally hit.
I don't know how long I lay there on the ground, just a few feet away from my soon to be wrecked car, death's surprisingly warm hand on my shoulder, telling me that it was going to be ok.
"I never know how much it helps," he said "but I know what you're going through, and I promise it does get better."
"How could you ever know how it feels like to die?" I asked , still sobbing.
The pain from before showed again on his face, and it disappeared just as suddenly, as if by training, and the realization hit me.
"You're just like me, aren't you?" I asked, "You're human."
"Well, I guess 'was' is more appropriate," he said, scratching the back of his head and looking off into the distance for a moment, "but I lived and died on this planet, much like you did."
"Then why are you doing this? Why doesn't God do it? Or Satan? Or something different?" I asked, a bit puzzled.
"Well, if there are such things as God or Satan, I haven't met them. And to be honest, I'm not entirely sure how I'm able to it." He turned to me again and smiled, "As for why, well, I didn't think you should be alone right now. Nobody showed up when my time was up, and I didn't find that was a good welcome into the afterlife."
He kept smiling, but I could see the pain in his eyes. "I understand" I said.
"So," he repeated "are you ready?"
"Yeah... I guess I am." I stood up, and he followed suit. "Where are we going?"
"You'll see! Don't worry, I'm sure you'll love it!" he said, the excitement showing in his voice.
And somehow, I believed him. | 2019-07-10T12:38:09 | 2019-07-10T11:49:23 | 76 | 15 |
[WP] Every human is given their lifetime supply of "luck" to be used at their will. Some choose to expend it all at once on a massive success, and live the rest of their lives with no luck, some spread it out evenly and use luck on random small events. | First ever submission, please go easy on me!
My parents hadn't even told me about the Luck until I was five, and they couldn't really hide it from me anymore. It was too big of a secret to keep from this tiny human who could now understand spellings and hushed conversations and references on TV shows.
"Sweetie," they had said at dinner, "we need to tell you something very important. Something we haven't told you before."
Those, they knew, were the three magic words. At bedtime, I didn't ask them for stories. Instead, every night, I'd say: tell me something you haven't told me before. It was harder and harder every night. It started with childhood memories, then went onto jobs and friends, and soon they were running out, telling me about what they'd done that day, how they remember their left from their right, the way to make fishtail plaits. They started looking up new things, just so they could tell me about it: how to whistle, why some people couldn't roll their tongue, the political situation in America.
This is not to say I was a child of above average intelligence, most of it flew right over my head: but I would say I was most definitely a child of above average curiosity.
"Something you haven't told me before?" I asked, and began jumping in my seat, "tell me!"
And they did. I hadn't really got why it was such a big deal - I was lucky to be bright, lucky to be inquisitive, lucky to be their daughter. But I was Lucky too - more than most. My eyes were a bright, sky blue, and mum had smiled and said that was how they knew - the Luckier the person, the lighter the eyes. I wasn't green eyed, true, but blue eyed was pretty good.
It was at this moment I noticed both of my parents had black irises. "How come," I had asked, rolling the question around my tongue, "you don't have blue eyes too?"
"We used up all our Luck, darling," my mum had said, "you must save yours: you never know when you'll need it most."
Years later, they still never told me what they spent their Luck on. I guess it was embarrassment about the follies of their youth: a lot of people in their generation had spent all their Luck on little, meaningless things, and it was all empty now.
That was another thing with Luck: you never knew when yours was about to run out until you woke up one morning and your irises, without your noticing, had turned dark. As the years went by, I noticed some of my lighter eyed classmates' eyes changing hues, my darker eyed classmates hunching up whenever the subject of Luck came up.
I never understood why some people were born with so little Luck: it was cruel, knowing if they ever needed it, they wouldn't have it by the accident of birth, not by their own wastefulness.
As I joined the workforce, I noticed every single one of my bosses had dark eyes. All the TV presenters, billionaires, CEOs, actors, Oxbridge students. Once in a while, you'd see someone with almost white eyes. I met a man once whose manner was electric - he was so Lucky it should have been criminal. He spent Luck every day, and it never seemed to run dry.
By the age of twenty seven, I hadn't spent any Luck, even after years of getting caught in thunderstorms, of freak accidents, of missed meetings and blank scratch cards. It was all the craze to spend your Luck on love - the plethora of films that came out with Luck bringing two people together, only to find out they're perfect and they never need Luck again as long as they're together. I didn't like this strand of thought - my best friend had spent all her Luck on a boy she thought was the one - only for him to abandon her, black eyed, after a one night stand.
Luck could bring someone to you. It could make you appear perfect to them. But when the Luck ran out, you were on your own. Forever.
I became an oddity, with my light eyes. People stared at me in the streets and thought they were being subtle. About three fake accounts with my pictures were set up on Instagram - having light eyes was hot, rare, special. I was a tubby English major, who in any other world would have been entirely mundane, but I was different in this one. Light eyed. Lucky.
I won't say I was never tempted. Luck at the lottery - even though it never worked, you'd get a £10 win most times, and if too many people used their Luck everybody won but nobody got the jackpot - Luck in love, Luck at work, Luck on those shitty days when nothing went right.
But I kept my Luck.
I had been told too many cautionary tales by my parents, my parents who had grown old without my noticing, hunched and wrinkled and warm, and both still never spoke of their wasted Luck.
The day I lost my Luck was a Monday. I had never hated Mondays like other people - I hated Wednesdays. I had thought Mondays were fairly safe days for me.
I didn't even know her. I was on my iPod when I heard this crack, a squealing brake, a loud curse - I turned, and there she was, right in the middle of the road, facedown, half crushed under a bus. I didn't even know her, but she was screaming and I ran.
The bus driver was out, hysterical, people were screaming. I turned her over - her face was covered in blood, I could see what I thought was bone, but her eyes met mine - her black, terrified eyes. She couldn't have been fifteen. Then they rolled back into her head.
I screamed for someone to call an ambulance, and I could feel her blood, hot and thick, collecting around me as I tried desperately to hold it in. Please, I thought as beneath my fingers her pulse grew weaker, don't die.
After that, it was all a blur - suddenly, an ambulance was there. I was being lifted off of her, somebody knew her, knew her blood type, she was being hooked up to so many monitors and the ambulance sped away at breakneck speed, nothing in its way. Please, I thought again, and my eyes stung, please don't die. And then I went home, shaky as a newborn.
I waited all week for some article to come out in the paper about her tragic death. My dark irises stared back at me in the mirror as I waited. On the seventh day, there was an article - against all odds, she had survived. She'd be in a cast for a long while, and her face would never be the same - but she lived, when she should have died. The article asked for anyone who knew who had used their Luck to save her - and it must have been Luck, pure Luck - to come forward and accept her family's thanks and a reward. Her family were rich, but unlucky. I put the newspaper under my bed and never called the given number.
Next time I went to my parents, they saw my eyes. "Was it worth it?" My dad asked.
I nodded slowly. My mother smiled, so hard it looked like her face would crack.
I wasn't desirable anymore, didn't have a safety net, wasn't special or extraordinary - but it was worth it. She was worth it.
For what felt like the thousandth time I asked my parents what they spent their Luck on, like our old game, tell me something you've never told me before.
They looked at one another. My dad nodded. For the first time in a long time, I saw them, really saw them: they were more than just old now, they were ancient. They could have been my grandparents. We looked like family now: a dark eyed trio.
"You, of course."
| The cold steel of the 9mm in my hands was always a comfort.
It was dark outside the complex, else I wouldn't be here. Inside through dozens of guards and some high tech security lay the ambassador I had been paid to kill. As I sat on the the roof of a building opposite to the embassy, I thought about how I ended up here; what choices did I make to end up as an assassin?
It was a question I asked myself many times, and always the answer was the same. I loved it. Not the killing people part no. I didn't particularly like it, but I didn't mind it either. What got to me was the adrenaline, the stealth, *the challenge.*
I had been lucky enough, I mentally chuckled at the joke, to have parents who had a strict policy on luck use. Since I was a child it had been drilled into me with words, hands and...other objects, that luck was not be wasted in any circumstances. I had hated my parents then, hell I hated them today, but looking back on it now they weren't just sadistic, they had a point.
I dropped down on a garbage bin, the guards rounds memorized. I could have simply used luck to have both of the guards colds or perhaps even aneurysms, but that would have been a waste of luck, and I loathed to waste luck, the courtesy of my childhood.
It is much easier to use luck in minuscule amounts, or not at all. I drew upon my luck very, very slightly. As far as I knew it was the smallest amount I could call upon. And so I did not randomly trip, thus giving away my presence because of the sound.
The gate itself was open, as luck would have it, the guard had forgotten to lock it tonight. Again, given the guard's careless nature and propensity to fall asleep it required very little luck to arrange. The more possible certain scenarios were to happen, the less luck was required to force that event to occur.
I snuck past the double metal gate, opening them slightly and then closing them behind me. Here too I used a bit of luck to ensure that the gates didn't squeal or make any other noise.
I snuck past the guards, knowing the patterns, and thus the gaps, between their rounds. And here too I used a bit of luck to make sure none of the guards decided to change their route randomly tonight. And again, the likelihood of that happening at all was minuscule, so it did not require much luck.
In my 9 years as an assassin, I could roughly estimate to have used a fourth of my total luck, and half of that had been used in one instance when I had seriously screwed up. Most assassins' careers lasted ten years max, as their luck ran out after. But I used my luck sparingly, efficiently, only when I had to. I had enough money to comfortably retire, but retirement wouldn't really sit well with me. It was hard to imagine a tall olive skinned woman with dark hair and dark eyes relaxing on the beach with a drink at her side.
No, this was what I wanted to do, this was being *alive.*
Inside obviously I had no idea what the guards' rounds were, but according to my plant, there were only 3 guards in here who patrolled the hallways. The majority were outside.
I stripped my black jumpsuit to reveal a guards uniform underneath. I stuffed my discarded clothes inside a potted plant, their purpose served. Holding my gun in both hands I continued down the hall. The target would be in his second story study. His study was not in a room with a window, hence the need for the infiltration rather than neatly placed sniper bullet.
I carefully went up the stairs, using both my skill and luck to not make any noise. As I rounded the first set of stairs I managed to come face to face with a pair of guards. Their eyes widened in surprise. Bloody classic.
Quick shooting was not an option as there were two of them, so before any of them could say anything I said "Morrins! is this where you are supposed to be right now!?"
The look of alarm faded to be replaced by a look of confusion. "Who are you?" the shorter guard demanded.
"A thief, no you dolt, look at my uniform, I am the new head of security!" putting some authority in my voice.
"But no one called in a visitor from the front," the taller guard said his eyes narrowed in suspicion, "and why are you here at this hour of the night? Why not just come tomorrow morning?"
It was never easy. Taking advantage of the shorter guard's relaxed position I without warning hooked his leg with mine and twisted him around to shield my body just as the other guards instinctively reached for his gun and took a shot, taking the hostage guard in the chest. The shorter guard didn't even realized what had happened till he looked down to the spreading red stain on his chest.
The taller guard was smart but he was no professional. He faltered as he noted that he had shot his friend, rather than coolly keep shooting. I immediately used my own gun, holding the weakening short man in a headlock with my left arm, used a bit of luck to hit my target despite holding my gun in one hand and shot the taller guard directly in the chest. He fell without a cry.
The government here had been foolish. They equipped their guards with silenced weaponry, probably not to disturb the officials, yet hired incompetent guards. If the gun hadn't been silenced, the noise would have alerted the compound.
Not bothering to do anything with the bodies, I would be out of here soon enough, I went to the third floor where the ambassador was working on a proposal of some sorts, just as my source had said he would. He hadn't even looked up when I shot him in the head with my silenced 9mm. He slumped down on his deck, a deep red staining the papers he had been working on.
That was when I heard a distinct *click* of a gun cocking behind me. No time to turn around and shoot, no cover anywhere near me, I resorted to luck. I turned around and hurled as much luck as I had used in my entire life so far at the guard. His eyes wen bloodshot, and his shot went wild, then dropped to the floor and started spasming on the ground.
*Stupid. Stupid.* I chastised myself at my carelessness. How could I have forgotten about the third guard. Luckily, actual luck not my luck, the man had been plump, and thus it had not required a truly obscene amount of luck to induce a heart attack. If I had had any time to think a muscle twitch or something would have worked just as well, but he had been so *close* so it would have been a guaranteed thing.
As I snuck away back the way I came from and outside, I though about how I was now down to half my reserves of luck now, and despite it all I started to smile. All the more challenge for my next assignment.
***
Awesome prompt!
Feedback appreciated.
(minor edits) | 2016-10-19T11:11:05 | 2016-10-19T08:14:31 | 535 | 60 |
[WP] You gain EXP for everything you kill and you know when you gain EXP. Easy kills like bugs get you only a couple of EXP, tougher kills give more EXP. One day at home doing nothing, you unexpectedly gain 1500 XP... | It was way past midnight when my boss finally allowed me to go home. Having a job as a nurse isn't the easiest thing in the world, but when you're the only nurse in the hospital who can speak Cherokee and the latest person to come into the emergency room just happened to be Native American, well, let's just say I'm pretty sure 50% of my blood had been replaced by coffee.
To say nothing of the fact that the victim had colorectal abscess the size of her entire inner abdomen. I can still smell the horror even after bathing in alcohol.
Anyway, I drive my way through a rather dark winding road, supposedly a scenic route, but it's the only road to my house. I don't normally go home this late, but I also don't want to get fired.
Past midnight even a full moon can't penetrate this darkness, and my somewhat busted headlights can only illuminate so much. It's actually a little scary, but I don't really have a choice.
Earlier, I had considered staying at my friend's house, but then I remembered my dog.
I was driving very fast because I can feel the coffee in my system losing effect, and I do not want to fall asleep and drive off a cliff. In hindsight, that was almost a very bad idea. That was fine for the first five minutes, but then an unexpected bump jolted me and my beloved 1998 Toyota almost off the road. I swerved and turned, but luckily I managed to regain control of it before I looked back on my rearview mirrors.
I had hit a bear, and it was no longer moving. In my peripheral vision I can see my EXP Watch, a device used to keep track of our life experiences, changing rather dramatically, but seeing as I didn't want t stick around, I pressed the accelerator and my car purred to life.
---
The next day, I turned on my TV while sipping coffee. Shift doesn't start in a few hours so I might as well kill time, not that it will change the EXP Watch.
*"And in today's headline, known serial killer Bear Man was recently found dead on Ocean Drive, apparently run over by a vehicle."* said the announcer on the TV as I sat with my jaw open. The TV showed the "bear", actually a man in a costume, being put by police inside a body bag.
*"The serial killer is infamous for dressing up as a bear and mauling his targets to death. He would often hide in winding country roads, waiting for a passing car, before striking and killing them."*
*"How was he never run down?"* asked an interviewer.
*"Well, most of the time people don't speed up in these roads,"* replied the anchor. *"It seemed like someone was in a hurry to go home last night."* | After lunch I headed back downstairs to the tier 1 bug farming room, where people like me could gain some exp without any real training or talent. After nearing the end of my 1 hour bug squashing session I suddenly gained 1500 xp. I looked around, nothing but bug guts everywhere, the usual. Curious as I was leaving the bug cage the outer door locked. The voice on the com said that it was for the safety of the staff and other kids, and that the authorities would soon arrive.
I knew a 1500 xp gain was considered a tier 5 kill, a exp gain worth a humans life. But there were no individuals around. I started to panic, slipped on some bug guts, face falling to the ground. As I raised myself up I saw spotted centipede, I got closer to its remains, and realized it also looked like a spider and had big beady eyes and a hairy body. Realizing I had killed something so different and alien scared the shit out of me but I relaxed, at least it wasn't a human and I wasn't going to jail. But just as I had eased up when the police were unlocking the cage, another one of those came through the bug dispenser and pounced onto the officer. Before I could realize what had happened he was on the ground. Blood was slowly pooling around his head as he attempted to get up. His hand covered his right eye as blood was squirting everywhere. Losing balance he put the hand covering his eye on the ground to support himself up. As he looked at me I saw the bug burst out of his right eye socket, growing plump as it drank the juices from the eye. The next thing I heard was the blast and ringing in my ears as the officer had shot himself in the head killing both it and himself. Guts everywhere, I didn't stay to meet another bug, fuck that, I got up and ran the fuck home. | 2017-05-15T06:24:53 | 2017-05-15T05:27:53 | 5,507 | 117 |
[WP]: In one paragraph, write the most disgusting and despicable character you can ever come up with. In the second paragraph, kill them in a way that makes me feel sorry for them. | Jason understood that he had been a monster since birth. He was a teenager now, and his darkness had only grown along with him.
He spent his afternoons trawling the woods behind his house, looking for small animals to torture. Squirrels, rabbits. Anything he could catch. Seeing their eyes fade as he choked their life away was the only pleasure he knew. The only power he understood.
But today was different. The animals were silent in the woods today -- but he heard a child's cry instead.
The child was relieved to see Jason. The boy, probably five or six, was obviously lost - probably separated from his parents along the hiking trails that ran through the woods.
The kid stopped crying when Jason hesitantly picked him up. Jason's heart pounded - half with terror, half with exhilaration - as he carried the child away to the hidden glade he reserved for the rituals he enacted with his prey.
An hour later he slipped in through the back door of his house, trembling and silent. He made his way to his room but a shadow fell across him, halting his movement.
"Where have you been?" The danger in his father's tone amplified Jason's trembling to a convulsion. Without waiting for an answer, his father gripped Jason around his neck, his eyes glittering with a ferocious joy. He squeezed Jason's throat until Jason's eyes bulged and pulsed with blood -- and then harder still.
Father choked Jason the way he had every day of his life. Punishment for killing his mother, he was told. For murdering her on his way into the world. A monster since birth. The same punishment, every day.
But as the calloused hands tightened further, and the veil began to descend over his eyes, Jason knew that this would be the last time.
Edit: sorry, I broke the two paragraph rule. Got carried away! | Mangled bodies lay scattered across the tiled floor of Brock's kitchen. Blood stained walls, lazily chewed limbs, and shattered decor create the scene that is the sacrifice of Brock's family to Satan. Rain consistently pelted the windows accompanied by the constant boom of thunder outside. Brock stood jagged, revealed only by the moonlight peering in through the kitchen window. He holds an arm that once belonged to his daughter Lisa in one hand, and wields a small bloodied dagger in the other. A single tear escaped Brock and hit the kitchen floor - breaking the eerie silence. He did not want to kill his family that Christmas eve, but the voices in his head told him different. It was not Brock's hands which dismembered his loved ones, but the puppeteer demon which possessed him. Brock watched his body, as if from behind prison bars, tear his family apart piece by piece like a thanksgiving dinner. Falling to his knees, Brock, was now left by the demons to live with what he has done. | 2014-07-27T23:35:14 | 2014-07-27T23:17:02 | 214 | 18 |
[WP] We are all born with a tattoo on our wrist, it reads the first sentence spoken to you by your soulmate. Your sentence: "Hey!" | It was so generic. Too generic.
I realized pretty early in life that I had to do the opposite. Upon meeting anyone new, I tried to blurt out a new random factoid. I would have gone with stock advice, but the SEC had long ago considered that insider trading.
"Hey!", she said, trying to get my attention after leaving my coffee.
"Mark Hamill used to obsessively tape and catalog every Late Night with David Letterman episode."
What then followed was always one of three things.
1. Confusion, followed by me trying to explain myself.
2. Confusion, followed by them being interested in the factoid and carrying a short conversation around it.
3. Confusion, followed by them saying something along the lines of "Ah, a fellow redditor!"
But not today.
The woman opened her eyes in disbelief. She smiled, and started running towards me. She embraced me, checked my wrist, and kissed my cheek.
"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to meet you!"
She rolled up her sleeve to reveal my Mark Hamill factoid.
"I can't believe that worked!" I said almost in a state of disbelief.
"I think I get it." She said. "You had such a useless identifier, you sought to make sure I had one that could never be misconstrued."
Now I was a bit bashful. I never really gave much thought of all the more risque and possibly embarrassing sentences that could have ended up on her wrist. She had to live all these years with such an obscure reference...
"But I have to say, it gave me direction!" She said.
"Sorry? I don't follow" I uttered taken aback.
"I figured you had to be some sort of Mark Hamill fan, so I followed everything he did with interest. 'Star Wars' and 'Batman: The Animated Series' became my favorites. I attended conventions and such, but no one ever said it."
I blurted out "Oh, so what your saying is that you might be an even bigger geek than me?"
"Probably." She said with confidence. "Come on. Lets go somewhere. I know a great little bookstore with a fantastic graphic novel section." | "Hey!" that's all it said. Just "hey!". It wouldn't be a big issue if it wasn't for the law that requires you to marry your soulmate. Centuries ago they figured you should marry your soulmate. And the law just stuck around.
If it just said a little bit more like "Hey! Are you alright?" or "Hey!! That's my coffee" but no I end up with just "Hey!". Do you know how many times I heard that phrase in my life?
From the moment I understood the concept of soulmate my heart went into overdrive whenever someone said it. But each time their wrist had a different line than the one I said.
So fast forward to today. I'm at John and Peter's wedding. They found each other. Their best men also found their soulmate. But all their tattoo's said something less generic. Yeah I was fed up about now. I'm 28 and single. Multiple times a day I think I'm about to find my soulmate but never do. Everyone around me is finding theirs...
"Hey!" I suddenly heard. Annoyed I turned my head and snapped "WHAT?!".
As I slowly realized how rude I was I also noticed I was looking at the most beautiful woman I ever laid eyes on.
Speechless by my reaction she slowly lifted her arm and showed me her wrist. It said "WHAT?!" | 2017-01-09T06:57:31 | 2017-01-09T06:53:16 | 210 | 35 |
[FF] In three sentences, kill as many people as possible. No firearms, no natural disasters, no explosives, no WMDs. | [Loophole? The rules never said I couldn't use compound, complex, or compound-complex sentences, so to make it clear there are only 3 sentences I will label them. I apologize if this is cheating. If it is I will delete it.]
(Dialogue):"(1)Good evening graduates, my name is--well, I shall not reveal that information due to obvious reasons, but you may simply refer to me as The Director. (2)Starting today, you will all take part in a social experiment I like to call 'Survival of the Fittest'; as you listen to my pre-recorded voice, all of the doors and windows of your campus's assembly hall are being locked, chained, and barricaded by your corrupt police department which gladly accepted my bribes--please do not try to escape, because there are no tools or supplies in your new home, and your attempts will fail. (3)The rules are fairly simple: the last man or woman alive shall receive 5 billion dollars--proof of the money's existence is being projected onto the screen before you all; now, lights...camera...ACTION!" | Sampson flexed, straining his muscles, and the pillars began to visibly bow outward. The royal court and the harem and the visiting dignitaries and guests were too shocked to flee. When the pillars broke and the ceiling collapsed upon them, nearly all of them were killed.
.
*(Aprox. 200-250 dead)* | 2014-08-04T22:22:34 | 2014-08-04T21:55:55 | 21 | 13 |
[WP] A girl becomes pen pals with a demon prince when she accidentally intercepts one of his magic scrolls. They carry on correspondence for years, confessing their secrets & dreams to each other. One day, the prince, soon to be king, sends the girl, now a woman, a final scroll: a marriage proposal.
Boy/princess responses are also welcomed. | I've known them since I was a little girl. This magical creature, this demon, isn't as frightening as they must appear. I know their dreams, their heart.
It started when I was young. I was out with my mother, shopping. I found a large, wooden book. It was dusty and battered, but I discovered hinges. It was a portable writing desk. When you opened it, there were spaces for paper, ink, and pens. I loved it, and begged my mother to let me take it home.
I stayed up late that night cleaning it, polishing it, giving it a rich, deep gleam.
There was a blank plaque that I hadn't noticed before. I cleaned it as carefully, and then touched its shining surface. My name appeared in curling script, and then a scroll appeared in the box.
On it was a single line of unsteady letters. "Is anybody out there?"
It was the most natural thing in the world for me to write back, "Who are you?"
That was more than 15 years ago. I kept that book and cherished the entity on the other side. They weren't a person, they said. Not exactly. They weren't a human. They weren't a man or a woman. They were...a creature of ancient magic. There wasn't a word in human tongues to name them, so we agreed that "demon" was the closest. They weren't evil, though. Make no mistake. There was no way to pronounce their name, so I called them Vila.
Over the years we became close friends, sharing our hopes and dreams, our frustrations, and our knowledge. They taught me some spells, and I taught them about my world. We would send each other little trinkets of our worlds, we would comfort one another, we would daydream together.
We grew up together, in our different realities. I don't know why I was surprised, honestly, when I got the gilded scroll. It gave off its own golden light, and under the proposal rested a small box.
It had never occurred to me that it was possible. But my world had so little magic, why would it? The love had grown slowly in me, like a great and ancient tree, and now curled gently around my heart. I slowly reached down and lifted the box. Opening it, I whispered "Of course." | Tears welled up in his eyes. He never thought this day would come! Who would have thought a boy like Raven would one day marry the Demon prince, Vinzty. He dropped the letter and shouted “Iyt tu-rzno” in his best Demonic tongue, which roughly translates to “I do.” The letter combusted, and the adorable groom-to-be seemed to evaporate.
In a burst of flames, Raven found himself in the largest room he had ever seen. With black walls, chandeliers lit with purple fire, and two thrones in the back, Raven couldn’t help but smile. In a burst of green and purple flames, the demon prince arrived. As if they were already there, the room was suddenly filled with pews of demons of all colors and knights in blue armor.
Raven’s clothing was changed into a beautiful dress made of purple flames. He couldn’t help but stand there astonished, but he soon realized they were waiting for him to come stand with his groom. He walked towards the smiling demon, as the knights on both sides on him saluted, swords in hands. It was a little weird being the only person with clothing on, but Raven didn’t mind too much.
Vinzty was smaller than Raven. He had brown hair that raised up into flames, and he had purple eyes and green skin. They greeted each other with a long kiss, as the crowd howled and awed. Raven finally got his happy-ever-after.
(If you actually read this, please assassinate me.) | 2018-05-07T00:26:50 | 2018-05-06T23:39:22 | 43 | 24 |
[WP] People lose the ability to deny requests. They must either a) fulfill them or b) ask someone else to do it. There are volunteers who take bad requests in exchange for compensation or exemption from law. Write about the life of a volunteer. | "We've got a code red. I repeat, a *code red*."
The voice screeched over the intercom at the Solicitation Station, sirens sounding and flashing lights bathing the Volunteers in red. With urgency we strapped on our boots, fireproof trousers, helmets, utility belts, and communication gear, before sliding down the pole onto the first floor. I jumped into the passenger seat of the truck, while Milo took the driver seat, the engine roaring as we exited the garage.
"Location?" shouted Milo, as I was relayed information across the radio.
"Twelth street, number 455. Apartment six on the bottom floor. There isn't much time, antipated two minutes and thirty seconds until disaster."
"Damn!" Shouted Milo, and the truck lurched faster, weaving through traffic that had stopped to allow us to pass.
I'd only been a Volunteer for three weeks, and this was my fifth run. I feared it might be my last- but that's what we Volunteers do. We risk our lives to save others.
By the time we turned on twelveth street, we could hear the screams. Tires screeched as Milo threw the truck into park, and we raced across the small lawn to the door, throwing it open.
There was a family in the kitchen- a father, a mother, and a small girl. The girl was the source of the screaming, her face red, her eyes wide with terror. Tears rolled down the mother's face as she pleaded with the father, his own face filled with panic as his hand held a large kitchen knife to his throat. His muscles bulged to draw it closer, while the mother tried to pull it away- a tug of war that brought the blade closer and closer to his arteries.
"Report says that the girl, Mary, said she wished her father was dead after being told to eat the greens on her plate," The radio had told me on our way over, "Currently the father is restrained, but not for long."
"Help," Gasped the father from the kitchen, his cry mimicked by the mother as she saw us. As we rushed over, I saw my reflection in a mirror in the hallway.
I was bald, the smooth top of my head replacing where there had once been thick hair. My skin was pale, far paler than I could remember, though recently I had done my best not to check. My face was skinnier, more gaunt, more stressed, the bones showing through the cheek.
And though I couldn't see it, my eyes drifted to my left shoulder, where a growth had been removed just two months before. A cancerous tumor, one that the doctors said had spread throughout my body. One that gave me two months to live, at best.
I remember the doctor handing me the application to become a Volunteer, stating it was the most noble way to spend my remaining time on earth. And I felt a small smile tug at my lips when I looked at the father, and his knife.
I knew what I had to do.
To give my life, so others may live.
***
By Leo | The job came with its pros and cons, just like any job did. I had entered into the agreement with Ms Geraltson ten years ago, just as her movie career was taking off and she was voted sexiest woman alive. It was about then all the requests from the crazies of the world began to flow in, all of them wanting to fuck her in the most depraved ways possible.
I was a lowlife turning tricks for my next fix when Ms Geraltson found me and proposed our arrangement. Every time a scumbag came to her with a dream of performing a disgusting sex act on a movie star, she would pass those requests onto me. These people would then have to fufil their sick fantasies intended for Ms Geraltson on me or risk going to jail. That was the con of the job, getting fucked by these sick bastards. But once it was made known that I was the one you’d be dealing with the requests really trickled up. But sometimes people would still ask her, who knows why. Maybe they didn’t know about me, but whenever I got that call from Ms Geraltson I was over the moon.
You must be asking why? Am I a masochist? No. Well maybe a little bit, but there was a little proviso written into my agreement with Ms Geraltson, that was the pro of the job. Whenever one of these people fucked me in place of Ms Geraltson, then Ms Geraltson would allow me to request to fuck her in turn. Nothing as sick as what these perverts were suggesting, but when you can sleep with the sexiest woman alive you take anything you can get. Even ten years on, while she’s not even voted onto the top 100 sexiest alive anymore, she is still a very attractive lady. And I’m discreet, nobody knows about our arrangement, which is why it has lasted this long.
In fact a few years into our arrangement she recommended me to another superstar for my discreet services. So while I occasionally have to fuck a perverted old man, I also get to sleep with some of the most attractive women in the movie world.
I love my job.
----------------
[Click here](https://www.reddit.com/r/Wrobbing/) to see all of my short stories written for /r/writingprompts, and more!
| 2016-04-03T11:41:29 | 2016-04-03T09:58:12 | 208 | 50 |
[WP] After witnessing a death, a young girl falls in love with the Grim Reaper. She becomes a serial killer just to see him more often. | She had been sixteen when she first saw him. He had planted a cold kiss on her mother's colorless lips after his work was completed. And tonight she would see him again, as she had once a month for the past two years. She always chose the night of the full moon. It felt more romantic that way, since the moon had been round and full that fateful night. And the silver beams illuminating the room offered a certain ambience.
"You're a real artist, Libby. Truly." His familiar voice rasped from behind her. A voice like crackling, burning flames. A smile pulled at her lips as she turned to face him, the knife held in her calm, idle hands. A paintbrush used to create her masterpieces. The crimson paint of her most recent victim still coated the silver blade.
"I was starting to worry you would not show," she said, batting her long, pale lashes against her cheeks. "Do you like it?" she asked hopefully, motioning to the motel bed behind her. She watched him peek around her, unflinching as his black eyes took in the flayed man laid spread eagle on the mattress.
"Impressive. But then, it is easy for you to lure them in, isn't it? They see a lovely thing like you and abandon all sense," he replied.
She frowned and crossed her arms over her chest. "Because I am a woman I have an easier time of it?" she asked, annoyed. "Some of them become suspicious. And you should see the look on their faces when they see the knife," she smiled, hazel eyes sparking at the memory.
He smiled his cool, alluring smile. "I'm sure his face was a mask of terror," he said, plucking her weapon from her hand and setting it aside. "Come here."
Her body instantly reacted to his command and she found herself in his lithe arms. She knew morning would come too fast, as it always did. But for now she was content to indulge in life's small pleasures. Plus there was always next month to look forward to.
She awoke to the sunlight filtering in through the dusty blinds, warming her face. She stirred among the comforter splayed out on the hard, dirty carpet that smelled faintly of mildew and piss. It was worth it, though. She sighed and sat up, hoping he was still there, though she hoped in vain as usual. She sprang to her feet and donned her sweater and jeans, ignoring the body drying out on the mattress. There was still time to take care of that.
Biting her lip, she padded across the room to the nightstand and plucked up the note that lay there, her eyes drinking in the familiar scrawling handwriting:
"Libby,
The nights we share have been a favorite part of my routine for some time now. The warmth I find in your arms has been an unfamiliar solace, one I have come to treasure. Until our next rendezvous, I shall think of your iridescent eyes, alight with the same passion that stirs my own blood. I shall see you again when next the moon reaches its most stunning phase.
Yours-
G.R.
P.S. I left a gift for you outside."
Libby smiled and set the note down, her heart jumping in her chest, curious to see what he had left her. She hurried to the window and glanced out. There, hanging from the corner stoplight, was a young woman torn open from throat to naval. Her bloody entrails were hanging free and her ragged skin flapped in the summer breeze. He was such a romantic, the one the police had labeled "The Grim Reaper." He knew the way straight to her heart, and it certainly wasn't flowers.
--------------------------------------------
Edit: to add this - r/PhantomFiction, should anyone wish to peek further into me brain. :)
| I remember the first time I saw him. It was love at first sight. My uncle was dead on the floor, and he came. He pulled back his hood. I was terrified, but he had the face of an angel. His voice was calming and sweet. I vowed to see him again. There was the easy way, but it only guaranteed a brief visit with him. So, I plotted another way for us to date.
As I grew, people around me had accidents. He would show up. We would talk though not for long. He told me to move on, but I never listened. I only wanted him. I wanted his icy hands all over my body. I was persistent. I kept after him. Though over time, his discontent with me grew.
I could not stop. More died to feed my need for him. I wanted him in the deadliest of ways. On my 25th birthday, after my 33rd victim, he appeared. I threw myself on him, but he pushed me away.
"Abby, look, you're a cute girl, but I'm the Grim Reaper. I don't have genitals."
"That's okay. We can make due."
"Okay, fine, I was trying to be nice, but I'm going to come out and say it. I like men. Ted and me have a quite a life together."
"Ted?" I ask, tears welling in my eyes.
"Bundy. Yeah, great guy. Don't feel bad. You're not the first to do this to win me over. I mean, Gacy, what a nightmare. Thought dressing up like a clown for me was sexy or something. And then there was Ed Gein. Sweet guy, but a little off. But, Ted has been a dream."
"Aren't there other Reapers?" I ask, "Maybe you weren't the only one."
"Nope, I'm it. Look, I have to go, but I'll see you in a few years."
"A few years? Why?"
"Oh, do you want me to spoil it?"
"Yes," I demand, "I need to know."
"It's going to be a shocking conclusion to your life."
"I get the chair?" I ask.
"Yep, well, happy birthday!"
He kissed me on the forehead. I don't know if it was to add insult to injury or what, but, like that, he was gone. The police arrived soon thereafter. The trial and sentencing were quick. It took a few years, but I saw him again, hoping something had changed. But, Ted hugged him as soon as we arrived on the other side. Ted was a dream. That was much was true.
***
If you enjoyed this, I also wrote a prompt about a serial killer ending up on a jury. [Here it is.](https://www.reddit.com/r/nickkuvaas/comments/3vqslq/wp_you_a_serial_killer_just_getting_started_have/) | 2017-06-07T18:45:32 | 2017-06-07T16:55:56 | 1,265 | 392 |
[WP]Humans are the first species to achieve interstellar travel. Not because we are smarter or more advanced than aliens, but because we are the only ones stupid and stubborn enough to try. | "But... all of our physics laws tell us that faster than light travel is impossible!"
The vaguely reptillian alien was no longer sticking to formal diplomatic speech. It had taken us weeks to get to this point, through first contact, docking procedures, figuring out each others' atmospheres, teaching each others' languages into translation computers, and the rest.
"Well sure, our laws told us that too. In no uncertain terms, really."
"And yet, you are... here. Not on a generational seed ship but on a lone cruiser. How can this be?"
"Well," I started to explain, "you see, we didn't really like that answer and-"
"You didn't LIKE the answer provided by the laws of physics??" The translator was providing the context, indicating that the alien ambassador was surprised beyond the pale.
"Yes well, we have this show Star Trek you see, and, well, it's not important. The point is some people wanted to try just to see what happened. So we took a test ship and accelerated it up as close as we could to the speed of light, approximately 98%-"
"Excuse me human, but reaching that speed with any significant mass would take a tremendous amount of energy. How could you have provided it?"
"Sure it does. And as we haven't quite gotten fusion power to work yet, we used fission power."
"Ah yes, nuclear electric ion drives, we too are exploring this technology in our space science endeavors. It is good to know that we are on the right path."
"Well no, it wasn't an ion drive in the end. You see, we instead used uncontrolled fission-fusion reactions to propel the craft forward-"
The alien kept interrupting me for some reason, "You used nuclear weapons to propel your craft?? These are tremendously destructive! They are banned from our planet for a reason!"
"Oh it isn't too bad as long as you're careful with it."
"How many did it require?"
"What?"
"The nuclear weapons, how many did it require to accelerate your ship up to 98% of the speed of light?"
"Oh, a few thousand. On the ship that is. We had actually gone ahead and strung out about twenty thousand along the expected trajectory so the ship wouldn't have to carry all the extra mass."
"But, that amount of radiation would have contaminated the entire system.... it would take millenia for those radiation products to decay or be cleaned up. This is totally insane!"
"Yes well, it worked so it was worth it. When our ship finally got up to speed the onboard physicists noticed that the laws of physics were changing differently than we expected, and we were able to invent the Hawking drive that brought me here. The USS YOLO is the pride and joy of our deep space exploration fleet, named to honor the scientists who carried out those pioneering experiments." | "A long time ago, before we were slaves to the Sura, before we taught other species to travel the stars, before The Age of Other Suns, our people were a desperate, lost species."
"What happened?"
"A lot of it is sort of myth now. It's difficult to know exactly. What we do know is the Earth became unlivable. And it was our fault. People back then, they had no hope. Their accounts are of melting roads, power failures, rising oceans. Entire cultures were lost underwater, apparently."
"These oceans?" Raziel placed a finger on the globe on Zhuge's dresser.
"The very same, larger of course. Anyway, we had nowhere to go, and even though we could travel to Mars at the time, there really wasn't anywhere to go locally. So our people rallied together to find a way off of the Earth."
"Seems so strange now. We can get across the galaxy in a few hours."
"But anyway, the ships were too heavy right, so we had to find a way to get them some lift. Supposedly when we came back to the Earth some centuries later the remains of destroyed and failed ships were still there collecting dust. But we persisted."
Raziel sat on Zhuge's bed, thumbing through an ancient tome about something called "flyfishing."
"They couldn't have known they'd succeed. Why keep trying instead of trying to save the planet?"
"My dad liked to say it was because we were strong-willed, and had a desperate need to explore. But I think--"
"Hey Zhuge, you see these, what are these, pictures of some kind? They aren't 3D! And what are these people wearing anyway? Where is this?"
"--we were too stubborn. A lot of books I read from that time talk about space. Lots of em. I think we were just stubborn ya know? We wanted to prove we could do it. It was not about saving us, it was about giving the universe a middle finger."
"But what about the pictures, Zhuge?" | 2017-11-22T18:55:15 | 2017-11-22T15:51:46 | 83 | 54 |
[WP] Write a story involving a seemingly endless loop, but due to a small detail it's apparent that the loop will break sooner or later. | Every day was the same. She would wake up, body aching from spending all night in the cramped hideout. On hands and knees she would crawl out of the tiny cavern, poking her head out into the fresh air outside and checking that the coast was clear. The beast was there, as it always was. It was asleep for now but she knew that would change as soon as it caught her scent. She knew from weeks of experience exactly how long she had before it woke up and what she had to do during that time. Food and water were her main priorities.
She ran. Past the beast, through the small river and into the woods. She knew the route like the back of her hand. The beast's nose twitched and its eyes opened to narrow slits. It lurched to its feet and gave chase. She heard it come after her, but did not turn around. It was faster than her and would catch her given enough time, but she did not need to run far. She had almost reached the wall.
As she reached the immense concrete structure that kept her trapped here, stretching in both directions as far as the eye could see, she skidded to a halt before a cracked, broken segment of wall and turned to face the beast. This was the difficult part. Rather than slowing down the beast sped up, lowering its horned head in a charge. Despite everything, she could not help smiling. Though the beast was terrifying, it was also stupid. It never learned.
Just as it was about to hit her, she danced to one side like a matador. The beast was unable to stop in time and slammed into the wall, sending chunks of rubble flying. She turned and ran as the beast screamed in pain and thrashed. Back through the forest, grabbing a bunch of apples from a tree. Back across the stream, scooping up water into her flask. Back into her hideout where the beast could not reach her. She munched on the apples as it screamed and raged outside, knowing she was safe for today at least.
Tomorrow she would have to do the same thing all over again. Every day was the same, but perhaps soon she would have a breakthrough. | "...No no no no no!" He screamed, running towards the machine, alarms blaring loudly. Steam was pouring out of the thermal vents, the coolant was beginning to run out, and the pressure was increasing rapidly. He checked the console, and ordered readings.
> T-S WARPER DATA
>
> STATUS :: **CRITICAL**
>
> WARNING :: TIME-SPACE IN YOUR LOCAL VICINITY MAY BECOME UNSTABLE. SEEK THE NEAREST STABLE TIME-POCKET.
>
> T DRIVE :: **CRITICAL**
>
> S DRIVE :: *BACKUP*
>
> B DRIVE :: **DESTABILIZED**
Quickly, he ordered readings on the T DRIVE:
> HEATING :: **CRITICAL**
>
> STABILITY :: **10%**
>
> FUEL :: 16 hrs
"Sixteen hours... That's how much time until it shuts down..." He said, glaring at the screen. "If I can live through whatever time-bending anomaly is happening, for 16 hours, then I will be free..."
An explosion erupted nearby. "Shit!" he yelled running off towards the sound, "No no no no no..." | 2017-06-05T04:14:16 | 2017-06-05T01:42:24 | 30 | 10 |
[WP] You are a respected supervillain that is more of a managerial type. You take good care of your minions and have an open door policy. One day a battered minion comes in your office. The heroes tortured your minion for information. You rarely go out into the field, but when you do heroes tremble. | "Something's off about you, Mr. Fredrick," I said, closing the spreedsheet program open on my computer. Fredrick was one of my most hardworking subordinates, but today, he didn't seem to be doing well. Just seemed sluggish and distracted and even now he refused to look me in the eye. "What's the problem?" I asked.
Fredrick's voice quivered as he spoke. "Well, er... You see..." I do wish he would just spit it out.
"I was captured."
I raised my eyebrows. "And?" Fredrick, like any other employee, knows the captivity drill already. There is no requirement to report capture unless you've given critical information.
"I-" he took in a breath. "I didn't say anything, I promise." My patience was starting to wear thin. *"So?"*
"They did, some things, so..." I quietly reached into my pocket and turned on my recorder. Fredrick did not notice as he continued. "I might need a few days off."
"What did they do?" I asked, trying to remain as calm and friendly as possible. The news will love this.
Fredrick looked down at the ground, and I almost regretted asking. "First, they-"
"Please be specific," I cut him off. "Who's they?"
Fredrick nodded and continued. "Duke and Moonhead captured me. Their interrogation was simple at first, and I thought that I'd be released if I just refused to answer. But um... That didn't happen. After I refused, they..." He began to list off the things the two heroes did over the course of 48 hours, all while being recorded. Once he finished, I thanked him and gave him a 14-day paid vacation before dismissing Fredrick from my office. Then I reached over to the phone and dialed Pentagon's Court, the company that sponsors and endorses registered heroes.
"Hello," the answering bot said. "If you are seeking help, please hang up and dial 664 for emergency services. If you would like to make a report on suspicious activ-" I dialed the extension for the supervising manager.
"Hello?"
"Duke," I said. "How are you?" He paused. "Da- Arvid. What do you want." Cold rage filled my veins at the audacity to speak so disrespectfully after the crimes he'd commited.
"We at The Avian Chapter of The International Organization of Political Villainy are delighted to inform you and the rest of Pentagon's Court that we will be reporting to the public of your recent activities. The Avian Chapter will be requesting a public investigation and The Avian Chapter is excited to announce that the head of The Feline Chapter of TIOPV, the head of the Bovine Chapter of TIOPV, and the head of The Phantom Chapter will be joining us right here in town for the foreseeable future. I thank you for your time and it is recommended that you only share this announcement with your peers and any superior officers at your organization." I hung up without waiting for a response.
Through all the corporate jargon, the message to my son was clear.
*You fucked up and there will be consequences, you morally twisted little shit.* | 73 years since the last time there had been a major incident for my my organization, 73 years of fighting and posturing between the Powered that worked for me and those idealist fools in the Guardians hero task force.
I hadn't been in the field for 46 years as of last month but I still kept in contact with members of the Old Guard. Aegis had contacted me to try and explain the incident between one of my unpowered support staff and some new arrogant child they had brought on. The first thing I thought when I saw his face on the screen was how old he had gotten.
The once immaculate man looked like sun bleached leather stretched across a skeleton of steel, but when I offered to restore him to his prime he had laughed and claimed he'd had his fill of this life.
Then he had explained that Ashley Gold, a member of Elemental Gold's support force had been kidnapped, tortured, and left for dead by this new "hero" for information about Gold and their goals.
My reaction surprised me, a seething rage had erupted in my chest and seemed to fill my entire body and mind and I could tell from the look on Aegis' face that the air was warping around me as I unconsciously ripped the atom apart around me.
We sat in silence for almost 15 minutes before I had mastered myself enough to ask 2 questions. The first was where to find my worker so I could go repair the physical damage and hope their mind wasn't damaged.
The second was where I could find this insect that would dare hurt a member of my team, of my family, so I could return the favor. Aegis stammered that it was dealt with, that they had rescinded his license and he was already on his way out of the headquarters.
He stopped after a few seconds and I could see in his eyes that he knew I wasn't going to change my course on this. Taking a deep breath he asks me to try to cause anymore suffering than is necessary and hangs up.
I receive a tracker data package a few seconds later as I'm opening an old cabinet in the corner of my office that holds only a worn old that hasn't seen use in many long years.
I leave a few minutes later to bring true justice to the only people who ever seem to think they're above basic decency, the so called heroes. | 2021-03-22T10:42:57 | 2021-03-22T09:25:07 | 45 | 11 |
[WP] A man hands you an object and asks you desperately to hide it from him. What is the object and why is it so important that it be hidden from him? | I'd known Kevin as long as I can remember; we grew up in the same neighbourhood, went to all the same schools, we weren't what you would consider close but we had a bond that you develop when you've known someone for that amount of time. At some point throughout the years he had gotten into some dark stuff, messed around with the wrong people - and the wrong people's wives. He had lived in a perpetual state of falling over himself, and I had always been there to pick him up.
It was a Saturday when he called me - technically a Sunday. It was 3am and I had just got in, I was with my then girlfriend and my phone lit up with his name. My heart sank and a cold wash of sobriety spread through me. I told my girlfriend, Kathy, to head to bed and I would meet her up there.
"Jerry?" He started
"Kevin."
"Mate I need you to come over."
"I can't drive mate, I'm drunk." A poor excuse, I was too tired to think of anything better.
"I'll come get you." And like that he hung up, I draped my coat back over my shoulders and told Kathy I'd be back shortly, I just had to meet Kevin.
Kevin's car came bounding through the twilight and pulled up hard outside the house. He drove an old MG, blood orange and beaten to all hell. He threw open the door and ushered me in.
"Don't look at me like that man, I don't need money."
"What do you need then mate? You know Kathy won't let you stay again. I can give you money for a hostel or something but-"
"I don't need money mate. Just listen." I leaned back in the chair to indicate I was listening, reluctantly at least. The seats were ripped leather and freezing cold. Winter really worked its way into these vehicles.
"I need to give you something, and I need you to hide it. Far away. Don't ever let me see it."
*Jesus Christ* I thought, *He's gone and fucking killed someone.* My face went white, and he leaned over me to open the glove box. I shuffled back further, hiding from the potential murder weapon, the glove box clicked open and I closed my eyes.
"Jerry?" He said, in his softest stoner croak.
"Kevin, whatever you've done, I want no part of it this time!"
"Jerry, no!" He gripped my arm and my eyes fell open, I looked over to see a shoebox sat on his lap. "Jerry, I've found someone. I met her tonight Jerry and I love her. I need you to take all this stuff, take it far away from me. Destroy it if you will." He lifted the lid on the box and passed it over to me. It looked like a police evidence locker, like Keith Richard's wet dream. Bags upon bags of dope, needles, pipes, things I didn't even recognise. I looked up at Kevin and the street lights hit his eyes as they began to well up.
"Jerry, I don't want to be that man any more." I leaned over and embraced my old friend.
| Michaelangelo's was crowded. It always was. I had my usual adult beverage sitting in front of me, tall, golden and frothy. Freshly poured, it sat like a liquid statue of mans alcoholic glory.
As I sipped the drink I lazily peered around the bar, making faces of the regulars, thinking to myself how sad it was that so many came here to drown their frustrations in the same nectar that I sipped from socially.
I hadn't been there long, but then again I hadn't planned to stay long to begin with. I paid my tab, tipped out the bar tender, and turned around heading for the door.
Just as I reached to place my hand on the door a man burst through. He was dusted with snow and his hair was blown wild and frighteningly unkempt. My initial response was to grimace and step aside, but after further examination, I felt a sense of pity.
His eyes were red and bloodshot from what appeared to be a lack of sleep, his fingertips raw and fingernails dulled from frequent use. He rambled something, only barely audible about votes, but I couldn't make it out. Then he grabbed my by the hem of my coat and looked me dead in the eyes. I remember it so vividly, he said "Take it, man. You have to take it. You have to hide it from me. I-- I can't. I just..." then he stared off in the distance, his eyes unfocused and muttered again. "I fucking can't do it anymore. I'm not sleeping. I'm not eating. I haven't talked to my friends in days..."
He trailed, but he suddenly pulled his phone out of his pocket and shoved it into my hand. Without another word he ran away, back out into the cold, screaming like a madman.
Many of the other patrons had seen everything happen, and I was so taken aback that I wasn't even sure what to do. I took a deep inhale and looked down into my palm to see the backlit screen of a phone glowing dimly in my hand.
On the open page on the screen, a small white alien could be distinguished and beside it was one word...
*Reddit* | 2014-01-07T09:58:12 | 2014-01-07T09:46:24 | 24 | 12 |
[WP]You wake up one morning and open up Reddit. Stickied at the top of the front page with 35 thousand upvotes is an AskReddit: "Did you all just feel that?" | I woke up at 6AM drenched in sweat from a particularly bad dream. This has been happening all too often. Thankfully I live alone. Since I was awake, I decided to go downstairs and make some coffee, I had a lot of work to do today. Per usual I opened up reddit while sipping on my coffee. At the top of /r/all I saw a post with 35K upvotes saying "Did you all just feel that?" I assumed it was a joke at first as most of those threads are, and I assumed that the 35K upvotes was just a moderator screwing with us.
I opened the thread expecting to see a joke comment on top. What I saw was totally unexpected. Thousands upon thousands of comments about how they all felt their floor shake at exactly 1:06AM (my time if you corrected for time zones). The people from california, japan, and other places where there were earthquakes said that this felt different, and that they were scared. Reddit readers were trying to piece together tweets, news reports, and reddit posts about the incident to try and figure out where the epicenter was. I was confused because so many people felt it, and many had been jostled out of a deep sleep, yet I had not felt a thing. Maybe my nightmares were too much.
I flipped the news on my TV. There was a report on CNN about the event. I listened intently when all of a sudden the breaking news banner came on. The news anchors looked unsettled. I watched closely as the lead anchor said with a quivering voice, "ladies and gentlemen we have just received a video to show you that may be unsettling. Ive never seen anything like this before in my life. It is video from a gas station surveilance camera from small town in New Hampshire called Wolfeboro." I inhaled sharply as that was my small town. Maybe this is why I didnt feel it.
I leaned forward on my couch, waiting in anticipation of the video. It starts, showing a person seemingly floating down the street by the gas station. It is a grainy video, but his eyes are glowing, further unsettling me as I watch. All of a sudden at exactly 1:06AM the person stops hovering and starts convulsing. I watch in horror as the man erupted in fire and dissapeared from view into the ground, after which the gas station video cut off. The CNN anchor comes back and says that at that exact time a local seismograph recorder something never before seen, an earthquake at the center of the earth, radiating to the entire planet at once.
The CNN anchor then said that they enhanced the video to try and identify who or what that monstrous thing was. As they show the enhanced video I slowly start to recognize the person. It was me
>Edit: Hijacking PART 1 to tell people that the updates will become a bit more spaced out, but someone had a good idea and started a subreddit here for the updates: https://www.reddit.com/r/TheInfection/. I will post the updates to both places so dont worry. I am hoping to have part 4 done by tonight, but then since Im really busy with school (medical school --> hence the EMT/infection reference) the updates will be less frequent. Thank you all for the comments, this is really overwhelming! | I woke with the sensation that I was still dreaming. My room felt larger, endless. What was mine, what FELT mine, stretched beyond these four walls.
I felt lucid, awake, but armed with a conscious clarity that was as confusing as it was empowering.
My bed was warm and encouraged me to stay. As tired as I was, I could see both the advantages of staying in bed longer and getting up, now, and getting on with my day. Like double vision. Like standing at a crossroads and simultaneously seeing all the way down each, knowing where they end.
I stood up, slightly uneasy on my feet. My head felt heavier, my eyes strained with the heightened perception of things.
I allowed myself to fall into my routine. Kettle on, laptop open, Reddit up. At the same time I could envisage getting dressed and leaving the flat to begin my errands, but in examining my options I knew the road I was taking was the best one. Routine is good. Begin the day with comfort. Especially given my somewhat confusing condition. Take small steps as I comprehend this new reality.
The first thread on the site was an AskReddit post. "Did you all just feel that?". Multiple guilded. Thirty thousand comments. I saw myself scrolling past it, I saw myself walking away and pouring the kettle, but found myself clicking on it and going in.
I began reading the comments. Thousands of voices articulating the same sensations I was feeling. Heightened awareness. Visions of choices. Clarity and confidence in decision making.
And as I read these comments, I felt I knew these people. KNEW them. I could see the roads they'd travelled that had led them to the moments where they had typed their responses. I understood them. I felt them.
I loved them.
And then some comments began discussing 'them'. Them. And the gift they had bestowed upon us.
Them. Those four letters alone gave me an instant understanding. I felt connected to all the commentators but these, them, were different. I knew who they were by what they weren't. And I knew where to find them.
I saw myself pouring the kettle. I saw myself continuing to read. I saw myself private messaging several commentators offering them words of support towards their personal tribulations (which I could feel deeply).
But I stood up, and went to the window. I looked up. And there they were. Them. In their hundreds. | 2016-12-04T06:10:53 | 2016-12-04T05:13:15 | 2,437 | 158 |
[WP] Scientists have discovered cryogenic freezing. You are it's first test subject and it's a massive success, and they plan on releasing you in 500 years. You had no way of telling them you were conscious.
Holy shit this blew up!
I now understand "RIP my inbox"
EDIT: u/Alpacasaurus_Rekt told me it's actually "Cryonic Freezing"
EDIT 2: To anyone who is trying to say, "scientists would not put them in for 500 years immediately" I would like you to know this is a fictitious writing prompt and just roll with it. | "Any moment now." I had thought to myself. The brightest minds in the world couldn't have possibly just, you know, left me here in this state like that one frozen bag of peas you never eat that gets left in the back of the freezer. At any moment I was waiting for that curious janitor who always peered into my human popsicle tube, to look into my eyes and maybe just maybe see there was something staring back.
Sadly, there were many janitors that went by. Oh god the craziest things you'd see. First one guy had those ridiculous gauges you'd see on people in those chain coffee shops with crappy WiFi. Then maybe 40 years after I stopped seeing a human face, which is a shame because I had started to make it a hobby to see how far he'd come to regret that choice of putting acorn sized holes in his ears. Instead of that janitor with interesting body modifications, I was met with a robot face of sorts. Actually it wasn't much of a face if I could remember right, but then again not much else to remember in this ice box. He was caked in some obscenely neon green colour paint, with small rectangular slits for "eyes" and LEDs for eyebrows. Good god those eyebrows were entertaining. At one point, maybe a whole year, I was hoping that one day I'd see some code monkeys cruel joke to program a 1:100th chance for a uni-brow to appear instead of what qualified for two normal eyebrows. Satisfyingly enough it did happen. 37 times to be exact.
Anyway uni-brow robot was pretty diligent with his work, as expected. He'd come in the room, sweep a bit, clean the glass window on my tube, and then walk straight out. Took him on average around 1 minute and 7 seconds, but what would I know, not like I had a knack for keeping time anymore. Actually, maybe it wasn't 40 years ago that that hole-y ear bro had left and been replaced by uni-brow bot. Perhaps it was 100? Well that doesn't matter.
What does matter is, that one day, after a very consistent pattern of folks coming into my room to clean the place or occasionally stare at me like some hipster art gallery full of frozen people, everything just up and stopped. No lights flicking on, no robot, no people, just the usual despairing hymn of my ice box perpetually freezing me. Well at this point time passed by oddly and, well, I was no smart man when I was out of the freezer, but it didn't take a psychologist to tell me I was going insane. At first it felt like playing Pokémon for the first time and running into that cave full of zubats, only I was actually seeing zubats.
Good god the amount of zubats.
Then, nothing, I went blank. Kinda just stopped thinking in a sense.
Then out of nowhere I thought about something peculiar. Why had they just left my eyes open when I was put in this box. Cause you know, the smartest people in the world don't sleep with their eyes open right? That'd just be unsettling. Wouldn't someone have an irresistible urge to just have me close my eyes?
Probably many years later, I had a better thought. What if when the timer ticked off at 500 years and when I was released from this prison, that I could make a badass cult. Cause I mean who wouldn't want to follow under some being who's lived for generations? I was literally some sweaty nerds wet dream original character, a being who's lived hundreds of years, ooo.
Why are they ignoring me?
Another interesting thought came to mind. They froze me first instead of testing this technology on an animal. Did I have animal rights activists to thank for this?
It's getting to be a long time now. Yet I can't really sleep, instead I just daze into random spurts of crazy escapades of made up stories. Infact I'm convinced I'm a comic book character, except the reader hasn't turned the page yet.
Then lights.
Oh what would I say, I gleamed, I thought about of all the cool things to say if I was even woken up. "Just another minute 'ma." Or maybe "this is not what I meant by Netflix and chill".
Actually was I seeing lights anymore?
Maybe I was hallucinating.
Well turns out I wasn't.
A nerdy looking guy walked into the room where I was held. He was was quite short, and albeit less handsome looking with a very unkempt beard. Regardless I had come to the conclusion he is to be named Jerry.
Jerry didn't do much. Just peer into my tube, Say "huh" alot and look at some computer terminal nearby. He had a habit of breathing out of his mouth. This went on for years.
Anyway one day Jerry comes in with a party hat, a champagne glass, and a bunch of confetti in his hands.
It was time? Already? It's been 500 years? No way.
A violent hiss encased around my body as pins and needles punctured every bit of my flesh, even my eyes felt like some lunatic was putting thumb tacks into my retinas.
I'm free at last.
My heart felt like it was gonna give out at any point, as I saw Jerrys god awful shit eating grin, as he threw confetti in the air.
"Happy 500 year nap" said Jerry in an incredibly high pitched crackly voice.
I went to move my body, but nothing moved. I went to speak, but nothing came out.
The lights started to get brighter and brighter.
Then nothing.
I came to the realization there was no Jerry there. That scene never happened, it was just another hallucination.
I'm just here again, stuck in this box.
They've forgotten me haven't they?
| I am now nothing.
I am nothingness. Nothingness is I. I is nothing. That one sounded like Yoda or would he say I am nothing, nothingness I is. Wait, I just said that didn’t I? No, stop it. I’m getting distracted I am nothing I no longer exist. Stop existing in 3, 2, 1. Silence. Emptiness. Non existence. See! That’s more like it. Non existence is right up my ally. I love this. I’m loving this. It feels good? What’s the grub like in non existence. Do they have crab-sticks? I love crab-sticks. They so crabby and nice and delicate and sweet and I fucking hate my life.
This is bullshit. God Dam professor Ching Mc-fucking Chong with his white lab coat, name badge and glasses I fucking trusted you bastard. Look at me. Look at me professor. I hate you. Can I conjure up so much rage that it manifests itself into a cloud of hate that gives birth to a demon that torments anyone that’s ever wronged me. Maybe if I concentrate. Okay 1, 2, 3 Concentrate. I am now Concentrate. People call me Mr Concentration. Squeeze baby squeeze every ounce of strength is needed. Earth! Lend me your strength. I’ll spirit bomb this treacherous bastard. FEEL MY HATE. I can shout in my head? I never noticed before. Is it actually shouting or am I just talking loudly. TALKING LOUDLY. talking softly. It sounds the same. Everything sounds the same. How long am I gonna be in here again? 500 years? I’m gonna cry. I want to cry. Can I cry in my head. I feel like crying. Someone give me a drink. I need something to drink. I”M THIRSTY. I’m thirsty for love. Nameee your priceeee. A ticket to paaaraadiisee. I’m crying I can feel it coming. I caaaaaaan’t stay here anyyymoreeeee. Something, something, something LOVE IS THE ANSWEERRRRRRRR. Why didn’t you Love me ANGELICA. I LOVED YOU DAMMIT…
…...............................................................................
…So how long has it been? You reckon a month? A Week. A day. An Hour! Lordy Lord. I swear I don’t think I can do this. I’m gonna go crazy. I’m going crazy fuck it I’m already partially crazy. I need to get out God I miss my mum. I haven’t seen her in years. We haven’t spoke in so long. She seemed pretty distant ever since she met that shitty accountant. She didn’t have to remarry. We were fine. I was fine. Was she? Yes she was I mean why wouldn’t she be. She showered a lot more and stayed home a lot but she was, oh my god, Her husband of 7 years just left her why the fuck would she be fine. Did I even ask her? But still fuck you Chad no one likes you. She should of called me. She knew where I was. She knew I was struggling. I was just a phone call away. She should of just reached out to me...
…......................................................................................
LOVE IS THE ANSWERRRRR I NEVER LOVED YOU ANGELICA YOU Hear me! God I love this song.
…
Can God hear me? Is it to late to start believing? If I do believe could you kill me. I want to die. I never asked for this. I didn’t want to exist. None of this is my fault. You made me and now you’re just gonna watch me suffer. KILL ME. I WANT TO FUCKING DIE!!!
…....................................................................................
What am I? A human? A mind? A series of thoughts? Do I exist? Why does it even matter anymore. It really doesn’t. But I can’t stop thinking. I can’t stop. It’s fading. NO IT ISN”T. I’m still here I’m still me. I believe I am so I am. But you’re not. SHUTUP, FUCK YOU. I’m alive and I’m me and I have my thoughts and there not fading. I’m not fading. This is me. I’m still here. God help me please.
…...................................................................................
Bumblebee, Lilly-pads, star-ships, star dust, longing, loving, dirty roads, I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here I exist. I’m here, I exist.
…..................................................................................
I should have called. I’m sorry, mum.
…..................................................................................
I exist
…..................................................................................
Help me,
.....................................................................................
god
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The year 3050, in the district of Gun Zhoa, sector 31-A. The Cryopreservation Chamber was lifted and the first man to be successfully frozen was now thawed. | 2017-12-16T23:22:21 | 2017-12-16T21:57:11 | 2,171 | 53 |
[WP] Every 500 years the magicians open the portal to this world and announce that they are accepting applications for apprentices. This time, no one is interested. Modern technology is much easier than complex spells with obscure ingredients. |
The father sighed, and shook his head. “Son, please hear your old man out.”
“Dad, I’m not becoming your apprentice or whatever you want. I don’t have time for it. Besides, where do you even live? Do they have reception out there?”
“You don’t need reception in the Mystic Realm! That’s what I’m trying to tell you. With magic, you can make anything you want happen!”
“Oh, really? Then tell me something you can do there that I can’t here.”
“You can ask the all-knowing any question you want, and receive an answer to guide your ways.”
“Here, that’s called Google.”
“You can open a portal to speak with any friend, foe or lover you desire, and see and hear them as if they were right next to you.”
“Dad, I’ve been trying to get you to use FaceTime for ages.”
“You can send a prayer to the Gods, and petition them for any object or service of your desire, for the right price.”
“Dad, I work for Amazon!”
The father sighed and shook his head again, this time filled with a helplessness he was all too familiar with.
“Then what is magic for? What do you need me for?”
“Maybe I just need you to be my Dad. Now I’ve got to go. The Uber is almost here.”
\-
“Oh, wise one, I come with a humble question,” the father said.
“Eldrick the Astute, I see your heart is pure as the first snow. What would you like to know?”
“What am I to do? All the magic seems…useless. I never foresaw this. We always feared the death of magic, but how can the world move on without it? It feels like…the world’s turned on magic.”
The wise one smiled. “The world turns, and we can call it magic. But magic is not within us. Rather, magic is all around us. The way the world constantly changes and morphs and puts on new masks but still is the same old thing. That’s real magic. And sometimes, it’s just hard to see how it changes.”
“The world...still needs magic?”
“It always will.”
\-
A knock at the door. The facial recognition didn’t show the visitor as a previous one, so Al went down.
His father stood there, but he didn’t look like he normally did.
“Dad? What are you all dressed up for?”
“Is this the accurate attire?”
“What…I mean, yeah. A dress shirt and tie is what they wear, but only to work. Today’s a weekend.”
“What’s a weekend?”
“A day for spending with family and friends. What are you doing here?”
The father sighed. “Son, all my life I’ve been trying to force you to see magic, and see what it can do. But now I see that you’ve had magic in you all along. And now it’s my job to learn from you. Will you teach me to live in your world, with your All-Knowing and your portal opener and whatever else there is?”
The son smiled. “I never thought this day would come. Come in. And what are those shoes? We’ll have to get you some new ones…”
\-
[r/penguin347](https://reddit.com/r/penguin347)
Edit: thanks for reading! Wanted to write a feel good one for the holiday. Happy Father’s Day! | "Albazar," the greyed figure leaned over to his companion beside him, "you must be getting too old for these elementary concoctions." He gave a teasing smile.
"Shut your spell hole, Bortworm" the companion jabbed in return. His dazzling blue robes shimmered despite the darkness of the thickly covered grove. "I performed the enchantment perfectly and you know it. Yet still no result."
The two magicians peered into the cauldron before them. A green liquid bubbled with a purple mist flowing high into the night air. They each stroked their long beards, as if extracting wisdom from the very strands.
"Five hundred years to the day our names both appeared in this mist," Bortworm mused. "Among the hundreds of applicants seeking to traverse this portal into the realm we just left, we were selected by the Great Council, as it had been for eons before us. So why does no name appear before us now?"
"We should check the scrolls," Albazar suggested. "Perhaps none were deemed worthy by the council."
Bortworm reached into his satchel and retrieved a bottle full of yellow liquid, which he poured delicately into the cauldron. He began an enchantment:
*"Essence of toil and pain of worth,*
*Blood of death and tears of birth,*
*Offer a debt to pay the toll,*
*Reveal in full the names from the scroll.*
A parchment appeared in the purple mist, unraveling itself as it floated before them. It was blank.
"Where are the names?" demanded Albazar. "Surely someone, at least *someone* would have applied for our prestigious league."
The scroll lingered in the mist, flapping lightly in the updraft of the magical mixture boiling below.
"Wait!" Bortworm exclaimed. "A message is appearing!"
In an unusual handwriting, a glowing text burned into the scroll.
"GG, n00bz." The message was then replaced by a symbol of a steaming pile of poo. They heard laughter coming from behind them. They turned toward a thicket which revealed a group of teenagers circled around a projector. The teens quickly gathered their supplies and ran off into the woods.
"Damn kids," Bortworm said, exasperated. "Let's return from whence we came." He reached into his satchel once more and brought out a vial of blue goo. They each took a swig and jumped into the cauldron, never again to return.
Edit: a word | 2019-06-16T11:52:06 | 2019-06-16T09:12:42 | 1,338 | 456 |
[WP] People can buy, sell, trade, or give away their skills. Some skills are passed from father to son, like woodworking. Your uncle recently died and left you a box. Inside is a warning, and a very particular set of skills, skills he acquired over a very long career. | My uncle was always the black sheep of the family, despite his success. He only came around every other Christmas, and the occasional Thanksgiving. But each time we saw him, he had the most fantastic stories about traveling, fine dining, and meeting celebrities and heads of state from all around the world.
When I was 15, one of my friends ratted everyone out for drinking at a party. My uncle was the person I called, and he took care of everything. My parents never found out, I wasn't included in the police report, and even my friends pretended I wasn't with them that night. Naturally, I knew what my uncle's talent was. It was somehow supernatural. Something special. All the other Gifts that were passed down were delightfully mundane. He even got me into the college I wanted, and I assure you that I was woefully under-qualified.
When he died, I never expected to be the Bearer of his Gift. He had a daughter from a fling in college, but maybe he always wanted a son. Maybe the Gift only worked for guys?
It took almost a week to arrive, and I spent that time dreaming of how I can rule the world with his power. My power. I took the day off work to make sure I got the package when it arrived. I snatched it from the delivery driver, signed in a flurry, and ran inside.
The note was simple. "This is the gift that your father would not use. He has it too, but swore to take it to his grave. Said it was a crime against God. You know I've never been religious, and I think you're the same. Regardless, I've included my contact list, so you can continue my legacy. I haven't worked in years, but I did a thorough job of exerting my influence over the new up-and-comers in politics and business. Be aware, there are other supernatural gifts out there, but yours is special. Use it wisely, and make sure you have leverage on everyone. Have fun, and make sure you stretch before you get to work."
I seized the Gift, a foot long carved rod, and the spark rushed through me.
Everyone who becomes a Bearer is overwhelmed, but this gift truly wasn't what I expected. As my new skill washed over me, I slowly understood my uncle on a much deeper level. I had more respect for him than anyone I'd ever known. He'd used this Gift to become one of the most influential people in the world. Amazing.
Then I laughed. Harder than I've ever laughed in my whole life.
"So, this is what it's like to be a literally irresistible gay escort." | One day the serious man in the serious suits stood at my door handing me a box and a clipboard. "I am sorry to inform you that your uncle has passed away. He has stated in his will that his skills should be passed on to you. Please sign here."
Confused and sad I stood in my room staring at the box standing ominous on my table.
I don't know why he chose me to leave me his skill, but I am excited, nearly trembling with anticipation. I never knew what it was exactly my uncle did, but I remember vividly how he told me about the adventures he had in far away countries.
And now I am standing here before his heritage. What kind of skillset might he posses after all these years of travel and countless heroics. Was he a military man, fighting for freedom and justice; or some kind of spy, masquerading as all kinds of people. Many and more possibilities flashed through my mind, one more ludicrous than the other. Other than his stories I really didn't know how my late uncle earned his money.
I miss the old traveler, sometimes he just showed up on our doorstep, staying for a few days and vanishing again to who knows where.
I take a deep breath before I open the box in front of me.
He left me only one skill, but this one skill was honed to perfection. After it latched on to me, and a moment of nausea later, I picked up my phone and quit my job. Half an hour later I stood in the door with a packed suitcase and a taxi waiting outside. On the table I left a thick wad of papers for my brother.
At the airport I took a seat in the next available flight to wherever.
On the flight I just wrote him to sell my flat and all the accumulated belongings, he didn't want to keep for himself.
The skill my uncle left me was to not give a fuck. And I was on the way to start living for myself.
I was | 2017-02-05T01:16:57 | 2017-02-05T01:09:55 | 46 | 24 |
[WP]Someone has the ability to save and reload their life like a video game. One day something goes very wrong.
The person obviously keeps their memory and can ony have one save "file" at a time. I'll leave other details to the writer. | I have 497 seconds.
My previous checkpoint was more than a week ago. Would have been more than enough time to stop this. But I just *had* to set a new one to give myself a shot with that girl. Always knew women would be the death of me one of these days. Couldn't have predicted the way that played out, though.
After 12 attempts, I finally got her. She was a tough one, had to go through a few rotations picking up details and then playing the mind reader card, but it was enough to get me a date. I walked away with her number in my phone and a skip in my step - and then saw the bombs dropping.
8 minutes into the past, I found myself facing the girl again, this time ignoring my skirt chasing and shouting for her to run. Turns out getting out of the blast radius in 8 minutes isn't possible, no matter how fast or in what direction I run. I tried learning how to hijack a car by trial and error. No matter which one I take, even if I get that Italian sportscar parked around the corner in front of the coffee shop and turn into the left lane in front of that SUV to avoid the oncoming truck, run the red light and let the cop there chase me for the whole remainder of the time I have, the blast is still too close, and the pain and the heat cause me to reflexively reload my checkpoint.
I'm getting desperate. Searching for a place to hide. The basement wasn't deep enough. A fridge can't actually do what that movie I saw a few years back claims it could. I can easily reach the vault at the bank in time, but it can't be opened from the inside, and I can't stay long. The best I can manage is to steal the bag of groceries that woman two blocks over is carrying, pick up 3 gallons of water from the bed of the pickup parked in front of the courthouse, and still make it into the vault across the street in time - but supplies run out before anyone comes to help no matter how tightly I ration them, and how obvious I make it that there is someone inside before sealing myself in.
I reload one last time. Grab the girl, bend her over and plant a kiss like a soldier returning from war. Earns me a slap. Probably deserved it. I lie down in the middle of the sidewalk, much to the confusion of everyone around me, and close my eyes. Maybe if I don't see it, I can ignore my now too well trained sense of exactly how long just over 8 minutes lasts, and suppress my reload reflex.
272 to go.
Damn. | Three years, that’s how long I waited to use this power for her. Whenever I was dating a girl I would create the safe point right before I asked her to the first date. That way if things went badly, I could just erase it from my history. It was inconvenient at times, especially when I was in school, but the total lack of baggage was more than worth it. I could date coworkers, best friend’s sisters(all of them), and even teachers once I was over eighteen. Things didn’t go well, I just reloaded my safe file and erased the relationship.
There was also a second benefit. Once I married ‘The One’, I could go back to the start of our relationship and get rid of all the fights. I would know all of our similarities and our differences. I would know the things she was sensitive about, and the things she wasn’t. It would make our connection so much deeper, now that I knew exactly how to forge that connection. Not to mention I get to fall in love with the woman of my dreams *twice*. How many people get to do that?
I’m sitting at the table in Panera where Lucy and I first met. Any second now she would walk through that door, and the beautiful part was I already knew what to say.
She steps through the door, fiery hair streaming behind her, and without a moment’s hesitation I stride over to her.
“Excuse me, do you have a band aid?” I ask her.
“No I don’t. I’m sorry.” She says.
“That’s a shame, because I just scraped my knee falling for you.” I say, grinning madly. She face palms.
“Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you said that!” She exclaims.
“I’m goofy like that.” I say, extending my hand. “My name’s Josh.”
“I’m Chrissy.” | 2015-04-16T09:58:53 | 2015-04-16T08:26:23 | 65 | 20 |
[WP] Humans have always been feared throughout the universe for surviving in the harshest environments, drinking and eating highly poisonous drinks and foods as well as taming and even domesticating dangerous beasts. One applies for a position at your company. | Log-003243+6:
The new batch of applicants was dropped off at my desk today. Mostly the usual riff raff, but one caught my eye. One of those humans was applying for the position. I've heard they are tough as nails. I'll need to look into them a bit more.
Log-003243+7:
Damn this looks like a jackpot. Survivable temperature range of 20 to 300¶. Able to lift their body weight. Endurance rating is off the scale. I don't know why a member of such a powerful species would want a clerical position, but they are asking a reasonable salary. Having someone like that around could really make some of the odd jobs go a lot easier. Probably wouldn't even be interested in some of the expensive comforts the rest of the team needs. Looks like the position is filled.
Log-003244+2:
Hell yes, she took the job. The application said it was a she, anyways, but I couldn't tell the difference. I should probably educate myself about these humans more if we are going to have one working here.
Log-003244+8:
Well the human starts on +1 and I have been swamped with work. I still haven't gotten to look into them more, but I'm sure I'll be able to smooth over any misunderstandings. I've given scheduled her for double shifts for half the cycles. I'm sure that she'll enjoy the time off and won't even notice the longer hours. Communication went out today telling the team a little about her. I said that she could help out with any physical tasks they might need an extra set of hands for. I'm sure she won't mind. Atmo temps never drop below 100¶ so I turned off the climate control in her office. I'm sure she'll be comfortable.
Log-003245+2:
It's the human... Saraaa? Something like that. It's Saraaa's second day and it looks like I already screwed something up. Apparently my assumption about the schedule was wrong. I apologized and offered the standard +1-7 schedule and she seemed happy with that. I really need to do that research.
Log-003245+3:
Sarah! It's Sarah. So many different characters will take some getting used to. She asked about the temperature and apparently I had that wrong too. I apologized for the misunderstanding and she took it well, but I can tell she's starting to get a little miffed. I'm so stupid. Humans are like half water or something like that. Of course 100¶ isn't comfortable. I asked what temperature she would be comfortable at and she said 220¶ would be nice. It's the least I can do at this point. Research tomorrow. Number one priority.
Log-003245+4:
Shit shit shit. I finally did my due diligence and I fucked up. Preferred temperature range of 210-235¶. Bite force of 740∆ and they eat other beings? I have hired a monster to process paperwork. That's not even the worst of it. Apparently the other employees have been asking her to move the same things constantly. She says she doesn't mind helping, and it's not that hard but she is worried about not getting her work done. Those chuckle fucks just want to see her show off her strength. Don't they realize she could toss them across the street if she wanted to? I need to do some damage control now.
Log-003245+5:
Okay. Communication sent out. The team is not to abuse the strength of our wonderful new team member. She is to be treated like any other sapient. Crisis averted. For her part Saraaa has been taking this all very well and has been picking up her duties faster than any other employees ever has. Maybe this will all work out.
Log-003254+7:
Well, all things considered the week went well. We all survived and Sarah is settling in nicely. I tried to find a way to casually ask about the whole eating other beings thing and she actually seemed rather happy to tell me she is something called a vegetarian. I think that is a good thing. It looks like I have another thing to research. Next cycle.
Log-003255+1:
Vegetarian means she doesn't eat other beings. Also apparently earth has non-sapient life on it, and that is what humans would eat. They also would apparently keep some of them as pets. I don't understand it, but I suppose there are some things I will just never understand. I'm just thankful that these things called dogs seem to be pretty solidly in the pet category. I can't imagine being given my tasks by a omblex leaf.
Log003257+3:
Sarah wants a chair. Apparently they are rather common among human dwellings, though some prefer to work without them. It just goes to show that you cant learn everything about a species in a couple afternoons on google. Humans truly are amazing.
Log003265+7:
Today marks the 20th cycle-versary of Sarah's first week on the team and we are holding a little party to celebrate.
End Directory [first human]...
| | “So… Mr. Blake! You are an ex-SIAF; am I right?”
“Exactly, but you can call me Jim.”
The man sat down cautiously with a slow lunge towards the red chair. On his chest stood the initials SIAF, Specialised Interplanetary Attack Force. The one and only death squad, which persecuted all sorts of revolutionaries or belligerents.
Humans had by now occupied the entire Quartile system: the planetary system right next to their own. War had taken us by surprise as our still inexpert species was flourishing in the gardens of Adan. The metallic clashing of ships, and boisterous charges of guns had infiltrated our minds deeply.
“And tell me… Jim: why are you applying for this job?” I guardedly questioned the human. He raised his eyebrow and let his jaw drop.
“I… actually don’t know. After being expelled from the army, I guessed I needed a new thrill,” he crossed his legs and shook his head with compliance, “and this friend of mine told me you pay well for those beasts’ hearts.”
“Absolutely. And we know that humans like you are made exactly to be ruthless.” I tried complimenting the man, not knowing if he would have appreciated.
“Sure, can be. But I prefer a more methodical approach.”
“What experience do you have in your sack Jim? Tell us why we should take you.”
The filthy human started laughing in a snort. His rowdy voice explained in great detail his landing on Ärogon, our neighbouring planet.
“And before I realised, I had snapped his neck!” he then looks at me intensely. He gets closer and closer. Grabs my chin, and… “boo!”
I flounce backwards and tip my chair over.
“Wow, so stories are true about you Saravellans, cowards and pussies.” He then stood up, and walked over to where my head laid. “You better give me the job, lewd scumbag.” Jim turns around, and leaves, strolling down the corridor. Just before passing the door, I hear him spit on the ground.
Just another ordinary day on Saravella.
It had been by now 14 years since the great subjugation. We Saravellans had been the Humans’ personal slaves by too long. The Great Terra Empire had become totally apolitical. Simply put, the emperor ruled over everyone. Communism wasn’t a thing, neither was fascism.
You might be asking how I know about these things. I was still as young as 11 when the humans appeared out of nowhere. The war lasted about a year. So there was plenty of time for them to indoctrinate us with their great history of the dozens of world wars and nuclear wars. Pitiful, if you may ask me. Such genius, such strength, gone into interplanetary colonisation.
That night I woke up early to reach my job on time: thus sprinting into the briefing room. It was full; full of humans, Ärogonians and various other species I didn’t even know about.
“Hey old friend” I heard a voice from behind me exclaim: it was Jim Blake. That son of a Börogot. No need to explain that, or?
“I had so much fun yesterday,” he shouted as he punched me in the arm, “hopefully you won’t disappoint me today.” He had a gun tucked in this boot and wielded a black t-shirt with on it written: “Suck my b\*\*ls”.
“Jim, I thought the email sent to you was clear: you are supposed to bring a heavy coat with you. The biome this beast is found in is stuck at -50 degrees.”
“Hey pussy. I’m no weak arse like you, I’m a human. The supreme species remember?” He stomped on my foot with his boots. “Now dig your face up you’re a\*s and never speak to me again. Understood?”
“Understood.” I said in a soft whisper whilst a tear split my face in half.
“You see? Things can go just right. I knew you were a fun one Khel.”
&#x200B;
(This is of course unfinished. Thank you for the bright prompt. Have a good rest of your day! Cheers!) | 2020-06-15T22:44:10 | 2020-06-15T16:27:37 | 163 | 89 |
[WP] It has been verified that dying will result in going to heaven, no matter what. You are the government, trying to lower the suddenly skyrocketing suicide rate. | "Tom, we've got to do something."
"I understand, Bill."
"How many?"
"So far? We might as well be handing out Kool-Aid on the streets."
Bill slammed his fist on the table. "Tom, tell me. Tell me how this got out."
"It was the Russians, of all people. They were the first to figure out the algorithm for the subatomic super positioning. Upon reaching the conclusions of their experiments, the scientists were the first to take their own lives."
"But, that doesn't explain –"
"Let me finish. You, me, and all the rest of the US government officials can sit here and debate this until time collapses inward. The only real things you need to understand at this moment, is that the infinite series of moments we perceive as time are already laid out for us, by higher dimensions."
Bill took a sip of his coffee, listening intently. He had clearly not slept, or eaten a proper meal in a very long time. He squinted his eyes, trying to make sense of all of this.
"Tom, I'm the leader of this country. But I'm not afraid to say that this is all going over my head."
Tom scratched his face, trying to think of a way to explain.
"When we live, we are bound by four dimensions. We can move freely in three, but we are forced to walk forward in the fourth. Only death frees us from this constraint. We were once afraid that we would go to hell; the algorithm showed us that nobody can sin. How can we, when our fates have been determined since the beginning?"
Even though he was sweating, Bill started to shiver.
"The people of this country chose me to protect them, goddamnit. We endured, we conquered… exploration, famine, civil war, equality, nuclear war, terrorism… and the thing that finally brings this nation to its knees is it's own goddamn people."
It was in that moment that Tom's complexion changed. Normally stern and straightfaced, his lips curled into an unnatural smile.
"How could you understand? You were elected by the people, but you are not of the people. You probably spent your childhood playing with the sons of billionaires. Do you know what an orphanage in Siberia is like? It's rather apathetic, as are the quartermasters who are tasked with finding little nobodies to turn into military spies. You see, the Cold War is something you learned about in your text books, but for me, it's the foundation for my existence."
Bill became suddenly aware that Tom's accent had morphed. The man he thought he knew as his trusted adviser of over a decade was vanishing right before him. Tom continued.
"You, Mr. President, were given the responsibility of 1000 tasks. I was given but one. God forgive me, but today I cannot complete it. I would much rather let you be the steward of a land of bones, than to take you with me to paradise."
Bill heard the other man make a clicking sound from his teeth; the last sound he made before falling to the ground, dead.
| “So how did you figure this out exactly?” The pope asks the government officials sent to see him about the problem.
“That’s hardly the problem.” The US official said exasperatedly. “We’re more concerned with the millions dying every day than the research that led to this.”
“All the same.” The pope said. “I have not seen the report myself, only the news stories. So tell me, how was this discovered?”
The US official sighed and put his head in his hands, but the Italian official spoke up. “There was a news story a couple months back about a couple near death experiences of death row victims who all reported seeing lights, hearing angels, and just generally having an experience of heaven when they died.” The official explained. “This prompted some psychology students to go do a survey of near death experiences of convicts which then discovered that all convicts, when they had a near death experience, reported similar visions of the afterlife. The study got leaked before it got sent out for review, and the rest is history.”
“Has the study been published?” The pope asked.
“No.” The Italian official responded.
“Well, it doesn’t matter anyway. Contact the medical college in charge of investigating miracles, the WHO, the CDC, and any other legitimate biological research community. Have them forward you all the relevant studies on brain chemistry of people in various near death situations. They will no doubt demonstrate to you that when people nearly die their brains can enter a state similar to that of a drug addict. Dying does substantially affect brain chemistry you know. Once you get the news outlets to start circulating the studies I will contact my brethren in the Christian, Islamic, and jewish communities to begin circulating the relevant theological background. I will also personally forward to you gentlemen a few papers that have postulated the following. 1: The devil is very good at deceiving. 2: This is nothing new. 3: People who don’t actually die haven’t actually seen the after life. They do call it a ‘near’ death experience afterall.”
Edit: If you like afterlife related prompts you can find [this](http://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/2t6h8m/wp_heaven_doesnt_know_how_you_died_only_that_all/cnw6dv6) and more over at /r/samgalimore | 2015-02-02T07:18:10 | 2015-02-02T06:21:04 | 206 | 122 |
[WP] You are the world's greatest detective. With your near superhuman intellect, you have never failed to solve a case before. But one day, you finally meet your match: a criminal so unbelievably stupid that you cannot possibly comprehend and predict what he's going to do next. | I looked up from my desk at Interpol to stare at my nemesis slipping into my office. I knew he was the one behind the recent thefts at the many crime scenes I had recently cased, but I could not prove it. And here he was again, hounding me at every step, even at work.
Nervously, I opened up the right drawer where I kept my pistol, slowly sliding it out so that he wouldn't hear. There was only one way to end this since nobody would believe me.
*squek*
His ears perked up and suddenly he was upon me holding me down, as I struggled to grab at the ajar drawer. "There's only one way I can stop you now you fool!" I yelled as my hand grasped my trump card.
I threw it at his face.
"Get the treats corgi, get em! Go get those treats!" My pet dog gingerly jumped off me and rolled around looking for the treats. I wiped the sweat from my brow.
"Everything all right sir?" my secretary inquired as she poked her head around the door.
"Ahaha," I nervously laughed, "Just giving my corgi a few treats for being a good boy...."
Nobody would believe me that my own dog was responsible for all the random items missing recently. I'm going to have to buy a lot more treats to keep him busy!
| I grow tired of your games, Edward.
Are you so blinded by your own arrogance that you hadn't noticed I predicted your every move?
My age may be catching up to me,
But over the years, you've grown more sloppy.
Answer me this: Was it worth it?
The traps, the challenges, the bodies you've buried, was it worth it?
Many people died because of you, and you have nothing to say for it?
ANSWER ME, NIGMA!
"No, Bruce. I will not." | 2018-06-04T03:59:13 | 2018-06-04T03:53:31 | 108 | 12 |
[WP] An ambitious Fae gets a job as a receptionist. After all, what better way to have a ton of people willingly give you their name? | This was the dream. A cushy job, perched on a chair behind a counter with as many sweets as I could desire, and an endless stream stream of people giving away their names for free.
The front door opens, prompting the small silver bell to *ding a ling* happily. Maybe I would take the bell when it was time to go. But first, the customer! A young man, smiling politely, oh their name would sell for quite a pretty penny back home!
“Hello! May I have your name and reason for visiting us today?”
The voice that answered was not human, it was too musical and vibrant for this world. I became aware of how empty and quiet the normally bustling entrance was.
“Aw, well you can call me ‘It-That-Acts-On-Behalf-Of-The-Council’, they are very upset with the operation you are running here.”
I froze. This was bad. An Enforcer, here, in broad daylight?
“Well, that’s a very odd name, but I have no idea what you are talking about young man. Is the City Council mad with us? All our paperwork is-“
“You have seven seconds. Your weak lies and flimsy runes bore me.”
I sighed, slipping off my stool and stomping around to the front of the counter. I wasn’t strong enough to fight an Enforcer, especially not one that could afford to be so careless with their words. Their voice dropped to a deep, taunting tone, face splitting into a wide grin.
“Giving up so soon, little one~? And here I had hoped you might be more than a common thief.”
I stayed quiet as they led me outside, the world shifting to the verdant forests of my homeland. It was over, then. A pity. | The noise of the office was accompanied by the new receptionist, I never quite got their name…
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Nina speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Brett speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Shelly speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Thomas speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Yolanda speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Marina speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Dave speaking, just a moment.” *click*
“Corporate Accounts Payable, Steven speaking, just a moment.” *click*
Then Bill wanted to talk TPS reports. Yes, I know about the memo… | 2022-06-04T09:41:08 | 2022-06-04T08:56:10 | 29 | 17 |
[WP] A villain, in his dying breath as he's mortally wounded by the hero, uses the last of his magic in order to resurrect the fallen friends of the hero in his journey to defeat him. It sounds like a counterintuitive idea; Until you realize that some of them died at the hands of their allies. | “ you…. You think…. This is the… end for… me”
Malarik , the master of shadows and death, His strained dying breath was getting more shallow
“ they… will bring… me…. Back…. Once they know….. what befell them”
He raised his hand to the sky and a large bolt of black ichor shot out as he fell to the ground dead. He was a master of death and life magic so we doubted it was the last we would truly see of him but without any phylactery left it would be ages before he could resurrect himself alone
I wondered who “they” were that would help him but I felt a strange sensation , almost like relief… like someone I cared for has came back to me… then I knew who it was
I turned to look at the rest of my team , we had one magician on our team , his dark magics were the only thing that could break that shield on the dungeon , we lost so many breaking through the keep to even just reach the dungeon , but he never seemed to tire.
Then I seen , from just outside the room , she walked in , she was dead 10 minutes ago but now she seemed fine , until I seen the black ichor on her stomach , it festered on the wound and then started to fall off , her body seemed like a shell her mind was there but there was nothing behind it. The mage started to reel in pain , it looked like something was trying to rip itself out of him until a white shard of blinding light was pulled from his hand and returned to her body. Within a blink her blank soulless expression turned to rage
“ you bastard , I wasn’t even dead yet and you ripped my soul out , I could of lived had you used a healing spell instead!”
It started to make sense now, he was a death wizard as well and he has been fueling his powers on the deaths of our allies … suddenly more soulless forms appeared at the doors.
The mage was brought to the ground from pain as the souls of all those who he finished off were being pulled from him
“ it was the only way , I’m not evil like him but you were all mortally wounded…. I had to get strong enough to break the barrier”
He screamed in agony as another soul ripped itself free
“ every body I mark the soul will transfer to me when it dies, you would all be free again when I pass naturally to rest “
Another shard ripped forth , he coughed up blood this time
“ I have to release them all now, even his, to save myself “
The mage cut his hand and cast forth a blinding light , shards poured out including one as black as night, after the light faded he seemed to pass out , maybe dead , wasn’t sure , but then a eerie voice filled the room
“ he betrayed you and took the bait , I may be dead but my soul is free now, that body was begging to rot anyways so I had to die , I will return stronger then before in a new body , dear hero you failed , but atleast you got your friends back “
The spirit took form , it was Malarik , in his hand he had several shards
“These one’s bodies were to far gone , so couldn’t return , they will become my fuel now to fully reincarnate, until we meet again hero “
Malarik summoned a portal and flew through it
We failed , it was a trap all along. | \[Thanks for the prompt! This is my first time responding to one.\]
The last five minutes of my life were so dang awesome that I really need to document it before I forget. Most people beeline straight to the parties, the fun, the natural awe and wonder of the afterlife. After all, most of us that make it up here are ok with our life and death because our choices brought us here. You don’t see a lot of crying in the corner and wondering what happened. It’s more like “heck yeah, I win!” followed by “ok where the ladies at?” kind of vibe. It’s a victory lap, not limbo.
But while most people are content to look forward and enjoy their time up here, I’m frankly pretty dang pleased with myself and want to explain why. I’m not feeling particularly reflective, and I’m going to assume I’ll feel even less reflective over time. So this is meant to get the memories down while they’re still fresh. Ok, ok. Enough foreplay. Let’s get this documented for posterity.
So the first thing to understand is that people on earth would call me a quote-unquote villain. Fought the quote-unquote heroes, caused giant societal upheaval, yada yada yada, you get the idea. I’m a bad guy. Duh.
The second thing to understand is how someone like me made his way to the land of milk and honey after a lifetime of villainy. And that’s what my last five minutes were about. But I can already tell I’m losing interest in this story — wow, Heaven Syndrome really is real — so I won’t bury the lede. Here we go:On my way out, I resurrected the hero’s best friends with a magic spell I had learned for that very occasion. And why did I do it? Because I’m all lovey-dovey for the hero? Heck no. Because I thought they deserved to live? Uh, no. The reason is more simple. I did it as a trick to come to heaven. That’s all. And it flippin’ worked. I can’t believe it worked. This is awesome.
So here’s the next part of the plan: one day the hero will die. And, gag me with a spoon, he’s going to come up here. And that’s where I’m going to explain how his friends really died the first time. Right before I kill him for good. So that’ll be fun.
Now: where the ladies at? | 2022-09-24T15:10:14 | 2022-09-24T12:58:14 | 23 | 10 |
[WP] Prisoners can ask for anything for their last meal. The catch is, if it can't be provided to them, they get set free. They've asked for many things : alien egg omelette, dragon steak, the flesh of Jesus Christ, etc. The execution streak remained unbroken for decades, until today. | It was nearly sunset on death row in the Alberation system of the Galaxy. Although her 37 years on Brigdon block seemed like a lifetime, Salmma never realized the day of her sentenced death would come so fast. Her green eyes slide over the metal frames of the cell, the discolored wall that made an inappropriate figure if looked at every so slightly and the slit window showing the two suns of Alberation.
Salmma had heard the stories. Death row inmates asking for radical meals to be set free. As long as she had been imprisoned, not one inmate had been set free via the last meal protocol. The stories circulated of beaches sky whale, vampires blood and pieces of the star explosion from Fria-6.
To say her mind was not preoccupied with her own mortality would be an understatment. Salmma shifted uncomfortably in her hay filled cot as the thought swept through her mind. She deserved the sentence she had. She was guilty. Her sorted past was not what made her uncomfortable, no, it was her future. The idea that she could be free if she wanted. The taste of a freedom once more made her body shiver in way it had not for years. The room grew darker as the second sun started to pass into the deep. She knew what she needed to do if she was to be free once more.
A sharp rattle of the hinges between Salmma and the hallway caused her to jump up from her cot. A familiar scent of incense wofted from the sky slit into her prison cell. The morning worship had already begun as she noticed prison guard 686 who woke her every morning.
"Are you ready to give an account for your last meal of the day?" The guard spoke in a quick and authoritative tone.
"Must I give my meal account now?" Salmma asked with a pensive brow. The guard let out a sigh as she shifter her weight from one leg to the other.
"You know how this works. I will take you to the judge and you will give your last meal account. If the cannot provide the meal to you, then you are set free into the galaxy to live out your days in freedom." The guards blonde hair and blue eyes waivered annoyingly as she gave the speech she had given several times.
"Well I guess then we better go to the judge" Salmma stood, allowing her hands to be locked within the electric chains. Together the guard and the prisoner made their way to the last meal room.
The air seemed thick with anxiety as the court room was filled with former worshippers there to witness another last meal protocol. Many bright colored robes filled the seats in the oval silver room. Painted faces from the Tabernacle watched on as Salmma and guard 686 walked down the long path to the front of the room. The room grew silent as the judges seat raised high above everyone. His voice boomed in a dark growl that filled the space.
"Welcome to the courtoom of the last meal. According to our bilaws and traditions each inmate may request any meal as rare as they see fit. If we cannot give the inmate the meal, we shall see you free under the terms of ritual foods and meals." Eyes shifted across the room as the proceedings began.
"Guard bring the prisoner forward to plea her last meal rites to this room." Selmma felt a wave of energy rush over her as she was lead to the tall podium facing the judge.
"Prisoner, you may state your last meal request" the judge spoke nonchalantly as if he would not be fazed by the small woman with green eyes.
Salmmas figure suddenly grew tall. Her small body held an air of confidence that the meek woman had not shown before.
"My name is Salmma from Giad-93 near the moons of Becksmith. I was brought here to serve more that 30 years and await my own death for the crime I committed. According to your traditions, I will let my meal be known. I request Guard 686's unborn child as my last meal!"
Horrified gasps and whispers filled the room as the bright robes shifted in a chaotic fear. Salmma took in the shocked face of Guard 686 with a grin.
"Silence! Silence will fill my courtroom!" The judge snapped quickly.
"Prisoner! What is the meaning of this debauchery! How dare you suggest such a thing in my courtroom!" His anger poured out from behind his teeth. Guard 686, unbeknownst to her, placed a hand on her own stomach. The fear written her face could be seen across the room.
"Debauchery! How dare you suggest that my last meal rites under your bilaws and traditions is a debauchery! I am granted any meal I request, unless you have forgotten your own laws. My request will be met or you will let me go free!" Salmma screamed towards the high chair above her.
"No, No you cannot grant this request!" The guard shouted. Her eyes meeting salmmas for the first time since the words exscaped her lips.
"I would like the child presented with a bowl of gravy and veggies on the side" she shouted. "What? You didn't think I was unaware of your...delicate state, did you?" Salmma whispered as she leaned down towards the guard, licking her fingers in a devious smile, she shot her green eyes back towards the judge.
"Well! Well....do you grant my request!" She screamed upward in defiance. The judge shook his head in disbelief. The crowd became restless at the apparent disrespect of the prisoner. Guard 686 becoming ever more unhinged at the request while tears started streaming down her face. Slowly the judge stood, waving his hand to the gaurds to take the prisoner and turned his back away from the podium as he made his way out of the courtroom.
Cool air filled the room with the scent of lavender and hyssop unlike any aroma in the galaxy. The night brought a unexpected chill and silence that was unmatched. Salmma closed her eyes, taking in the smell of the room. Her own freedom she finally had. | She was a born killer. The moment she snapped she turned from hero to villain in just a matter of seconds.
Thousands of people were victimized in her warpath, and she got away with it for MONTHS. That was, until she was caught, and placed on Death Row.
Now, the world had changed drastically since she had been gone, and the death row system had evolved. The police force was even more brutal than it ever had been, and the baddest of the bad were said to have made deals with the devil.
The only reason this rumor went around was because of the new last meal rule.
They could ask for anything in the world. Anything at all. From steak dinners to apple pies to some of the impossible. But the catch? If they couldn’t find it, they were set free.
No charges.
No court hearing.
They were just let go.
This was the norm now for our government, and Horizon, the notorious hero gone bad, was out to break the execution streak. Whether the government liked it or not.
It had been months since she was first placed on Death Row, and Horizon had enough of waiting for her so called inescapable demise.
“Phoenix, I never thought that I’d be here waiting for them to ask me what my final meal would be, but here we are.” Horizon sighed as Phoenix messed around with the small holes in her blanket. Phoenix had been considered quite insane with her love for arson, spam, and a strange gecko landing her alongside her blonde psycho of a cell mate. But she didn’t mind, she actually enjoyed her company quite a lot. “I mean, it was bound to happen eventually. Especially when HE found out.”
Horizon stopped brushing out her hair with her hands and looked over at her arson loving friend.
“We don’t talk about him. You know that, correct?”
Phoenix nodded, shutting her mouth.
“Alright, prisoner 103, come with us.” One of the guards tapped on the cell bars with his baton, as another opened the door, ushering for Horizon to exit the shared cell, leaving Phoenix alone.
The guards took Horizon to a dimly lit room, where she sat down at a table with a light shining over it. She was the only one inside, while the guards watched from a two way mirror.
“So. What’ll it be?” One of the guards asked the prisoner.
“I’m not sure what you mean by that.” The girl responded, playing dumb. The guard grumbled in frustration. “Your last supper.”
Horizon thought about it for quite sometime. No matter how many times people have requested for something simply impossible to collect, it always seems as if the chefs manage to find it. Every. Single. Time.
“Hurry it up, or we won’t get you anything.”
Horizon looked up from the table and stared. With a straight face, she answered:
“The tears of a banshee, the radishes of a Snurp, and a Devine Meal from the darkest of suns.”
The guards gulped and nodded. They had never heard of such a request, but they knew it must be done.
And so Horizon stayed there. In the room.
Alone.
Meanwhile, the chefs and hunters went day and night searching for these three things, but to no avail. No matter what world they went through, they couldn’t find what exactly was described.
“We have to give up. We don’t know where this is!” One of the hunters spoke to the head chef, who shook his head. “We cannot. Do you know what this would mean for our reputation? The girl could get out and start havoc with no consequences!”
“But sir, you have to understand—“
“BUT NOTHING.” The chef was about to continue, but he was suddenly struck down by a large dragon, who roared fiercely at the strange group before him.
“Run.”
They all ran off, leaving the injured chef there to perish.
“We need to go back. We can’t proceed with the dragon there guarding the next portal zone.” The hunter spoke up as the others reluctantly agreed.
They all went back to the previous portal zone, and made their way back to the prison.
Meanwhile, Horizon sat there, bored out of her mind, when suddenly, she heard arguing, perhaps between a few guards. They continued to argue until one of the guards walked into the room.
“…Come with us, Prisoner 103.”
She nodded, following the seemingly upset guard outside to her cell.
“Get your things. Now.”
Phoenix turned to face Horizon, who was busy getting whatever she had on her side of the cell. “What’s going on…?”
“That is none of your concern, Prisoner 104.” The guard said sternly as Horizon exited the cell once more.
“Say goodbye to your former cell mate.”
Horizon grinned maliciously and waved goodbye to the confused arsonist, before leaving the halls.
It turns out that Horizon had beat the system, and was being set free.
Though that was perhaps not the greatest thing for anyone else.
As she walked out, Horizon pressed a button, and the entire prison exploded into flames, and in the distance, someone ran up to the newly freed prisoner.
“You did it.” She said, readying her lighter.
It was a good thing that Phoenix was a part of Horizon’s clever plans.
“Sure did.” | 2022-07-17T19:39:13 | 2022-07-17T18:09:54 | 62 | 24 |
[WP] Dave is the first human convict to arrive in the intergalactic prison. | What surprised him the most, was how clean the facility was. Dave was no expert on prisons. The only time he had ever spent in one was a night in the drunk tank the summer after graduating high school.
"Dave, human of earth, for the crime of sexually harassing the princess of Omega 13 you are sentenced to 3 days." The computer translator announced following a series of gurgling noises from the green cyclops which sat in the desk before him. Dave thought he might be misinterpreting but it seemed to him, the alien was very uncomfortable with the situation.
"All I did was shake her hand!" Dave exclaimed in confusion. As a former employee of NASA and now a member of the presidential cabinet, he was chosen to be the face of humanity. However, it seemed he had royally screwed that up.
The green alien scoffed, "You humans are truly barbaric creatures, to think you would have such am undignified way of greeting. Be glad we do not want to ruin our relationship with your people or the punishment would be death."
Dave was led away by two giant guards with orange leathery skin. The two guards seemed as if nothing could frighten them. Yet, they gave Dave a wide berth as they led him to his cell and continued to nervously glance at him. His cell had 3 others already inside; Dave was not a brave man but he was quite sure that even a brave man would find them terrifying.
"ummm hey?" Dave spoke in an unsure and quite voice. His cellmates immediately jumped back against the wall, obviously terrified of the small human before them. This might seem silly to some but when dealing with things on a galactic scale, only a fool judges a book by its cover.
After all, a Thyrax is only a foot tall but can flay your mind by simply looking at you. A Skytar on the other hand, possesses a stinger which causes the victim to die in a way so painful that there is nothing else in the known galaxy to even compare it to. Therefore, when one considers the fact that humans are still a complete unknown and this specific human only got a 3 day long prison sentence for assaulting a member of a powerful royal family, it was only logical to be afraid.
Dave did not figure this out for himself until the last day of his sentence. Prisoners would give him their food just because he looked in their direction, his cellmates acted like rats stuck in a python's cage and the guards which spared no mercy for the other prisoners, showed him the utmost respect.
Only a day later, Dave once again met with the galactic council. "We have decided not to share our warp-drive technology with the humans." The bird like alien chirped. "Tell your leaders that you will be provided transportation by us whenever we deem necessary for it is in the best interest of the galaxy that humanities freedom be limited for the first few centuries."
Dave was afraid this would happen, especially after the scandal. "Unfortunately, my leaders have just informed me that we can not accept these terms."
"They have?" The yellow gel-like alien to the left asked through a computer terminal.
"Well, of course." Dave lied in a smooth voice and prayed his bluff would work. "You see, we humans can telepathically communicate with our minds." He could see the impressed reaction of the aliens before him.
"We did not know of this." The head alien replied in a singing like voice. "Can you show us now?"
Dave had expected this and already prepared a reply. "Councilor, how you ask such a thing!?" He exclaimed with feigned offence. "This is only something we use between the closest of family and friends. To ask for someone to telepathically communicate with you is the height of rudeness for our people!" The councilor having no choice, quickly apologized for asking him to prove this ability with obvious embarrassment.
"In fact," Dave continued now gaining confidence. "Asking you to share your warp-drive technology is for your sake. We humans normally travel the galaxy through black holes we create with our belly buttons. If you insist we will travel to your worlds using this method but I expect it to cause some problems."
"We have no evidence of this." The bird-like alien rebutted but it was easy to pick up the confusion in his voice.
"Well that is obvious." Dave replied with an easy smile. "The galaxy is a big place and we did not know where to find you. Fortunately, we now know exactly where you live. Also, it would certainly be quite irresponsible to go creating a bunch of black holes in our own system."
Nobody spoke a word as the aliens gazed in amazement at Dave. His smile was easy but it was also terrifying.
"We will reconsider our decision." The head alien spoke in a defeated voice.
"Wonderful! I will be on my way then." Dave hummed a cheerful tune as he began to unbutton his shirt.
"Stop!" The entire room of aliens yelled in unison. "We will provide you with a ship....consider it a gift from us."
With a skip in his step, Dave strolled to the hangar where his new Phantom-Class star ship waited. | Dave looked at his cellmate - tall, dark and with five heads - and settled into his bunkbed. It bore some similarities to prison on Earth. Grey, graffiti on the walls, cramped spaces. Except this prison occupied an entire planet. And the graffiti was rather more creative and covered a few more languages.
"So, you're the human," his cellmate (who called himself Hoki) said, one of his smooth heads snaking over from the bunk above to glance at him. Hoki pressed a button on the band strapped to his wrist, to translate the words into English.
The many eyes on the head rolled in different directions to focus on every part of Dave. It creeped him out, no matter how many times he's seen that since his arrival here a week ago.
"What did you do to end up here? You guys have no impressive weaponry to speak of. You can't even travel beyond your solar system. You have to seriously screw things up on an galactic scale to make it here...you're kinda famous, you know? We haven't had a new species in ages."
"Goodie, do I get a prize?" Dave muttered, not bothering to meet Hoki's eyes. He'd be executed soon, probably. In some horrible creative way humans couldn't even imagine. What was the point in small talk at this stage?
The silence stretched on long enough that Dave felt compelled to break it. What the hell - they'd know soon enough, anyway.
"Okay, fine - I broke the internet. Apparently. I mean, it started on Earth, so I guess when I broke it things just fell apart everywhere..."
Hoki burst out laughing. "The internet! You guys didn't start the internet. You haven't invented *anything* revolutionary on a galactic scale! And anyway, if you did, we'd know-"
"Yes, we did. I think everyone just hides the facts. Too embarrassing to give the credit to humans, I guess. But now it's collapsing slowly, they told me. Like a domino effect," Dave said, despite himself. "And how was I to know the government knew about other species and planets all along and sold internet to them?"
"Alright, shut up, I believe you! How did you break it? Are they working on it?" Hoki demanded.
"I don't know what happened," Dave shrugged. "I just turned off my WiFi. And everything collapsed."
Hoki was itching to strangle the human with one of his spare tentacles. To think he'd never get to stream his favourite shows from the neighbouring planet anymore! Internet access was a universal right. Even for prisoners.
"Anyway, they brought me here," Dave said. "Didn't think much of my suggestion on how to fix it."
"What was your suggestion?" Hoki snapped.
"To talk to the guy who sold me my computer, in college. He had all sorts of bizarre theories on aliens and parallel universes and wormholes. Not so crazy after all, I suppose. Genius, though - he was a computer engineer. Built that computer himself."
Dave could still picture Logan clearly in his mind. The thin, final-year student with compulsive ticks, who had seemed almost *too* eager to sell that computer he'd built. At the price, he hadn't questioned it. Too desperate to get a good deal. And too poor to replace it, even though it worked erratically. Especially its internet, regardless of how many times he jumped between internet providers.
"He has something to do with this, I know it. He should probably be the one locked up here. Maybe they were right back on Earth - maybe it was a terrorist. Just not the type they had in mind," Dave said quietly. He saw Logan's unsettling smile again in his memory. "If I could just see him again - but they brought me here before I could convince them."
Hoki slithered off the top bunk and grabbed Dave's arm, glaring at him from all five heads.
"You're prepared for intergalactic travel?" he asked.
"Yes, but why-"
"We're going to Earth and find this man. I could've escaped ages ago, but I like this prison. Much nicer than my home planet. However, for this, I'll break out. I won't miss my shows."
---------
You can find more of my work on /r/Inkfinger/. | 2016-08-23T09:46:40 | 2016-08-23T09:06:18 | 82 | 27 |
[WP] You invent a Time Machine, but you discover that all of human history before 1980 is a lie. | This is my first time actually writing something for r/writingprompts, I hope it's okay!
Edit: I didn't realise it took two hits to make a new paragraph, so I added them in.
I thought maybe if I travelled to 1939 I could change things. Change things so nobody had to die. I think all time travellers think like that in the beginning. Until they know better, at least. I was guilty of exactly the same thing. Not exactly original. Of course, I had watched Dr Who growing up. That’s what made me determined to do it. To go back in time. Or forward. Anything but the present. And it had finally worked!
Only I wasn’t too sure it had after I had taken my first trip. Landing in Germany, 1939, I expected to see news of the war. I had made sure to set the dials for the 3rd of September 1939, two days after Great Britain had declared war on Germany. There should have been flags all over, littered with swastikas. And yet there was nothing. The newspaper stands talked about a murder in Berlin and little else. I even bought every single newspaper they had and read them cover to cover. No word of the war. It didn’t make the tiniest bit of sense. They didn’t even mention Adolf Hitler. And yet he had become chancellor of Germany six years ago. How? I checked the dates on the newspapers. I had landed exactly where I should have.
The next stop was London, on the same day. At this point, Chamberlain was still Prime Minister. Or should have been. Instead, the newspapers said that someone else was. Some Lyle Hamlin. I’d never even heard of him. Why was this happening? What was going on? It felt like all of history was a lie. I just didn’t realise quite how much of it was.
The black plague? There was no such thing. They died of chickenpox. Titanic? It was the Olympic that sank, but not nearly as many perished. The only truth was that everything from the 1st of January 1980 happened as they said it was. There was no evolution, no dinosaurs. Nothing was the same. It was all a lie.
It wasn’t until the year 3100 that I realised the truth. It was a lie until it wasn’t. Until someone could come along and ‘fix’ it. If I didn’t fix the past was the future at stake? I wasn’t sure but it felt like I had no choice. Things were beginning to end. The sun was burning out and we had no resources. Maybe it wouldn’t change anything. But what choice did I have? The past was wrong and so was the future.
I did what I had to. I didn’t want to, but I did. I had to save the earth.
| The metallic beam was a regular metal beam, but it created an elliptical portal when activated that teleported objects to a different time. He had it turned off now, and thought of how easy it would be to hide this thing. "I could put it in my garage."
He calibrated it with special instruments that returned undamaged and was ready to test it on himself. Hewanted to see the rise of computers, so he set the dial to 1984 and turned the beam on.
The elliptical portal shimmered blue where it ripped through time and space into the year 1984, where Apple was first taking over the world with the Macintosh computer. He wept at the glory of it, and stepped through the portal in order to meet Steve Jobs.
When the portal closed, he saw no light. He bustled through several boxes of paper stationary, and found a staircase leading out of the basement. He blindly climbed the stairs and entered his own house circa 1984.
It was completely empty.
He went outside and saw cars parked where they ought to be, but no traffic. And nobody came.
The world was a blank floppy, he learned, after travelling back as far as the 'dinosaurs', which is actually when the universe was a 2-dimensional diagram of an extremely advanced cpu. The world had been forming since 1969 when earth congealed due to a chemical reaction started by the computer machine.
His world had been grown out of the inside of a metal pipe. And it was odd, because the metal beam that made his time machine was formed in the direct center of the computer's mind. No matter where he went in time, there was always a hole, or a vagination, where his body could step through the portal into the other time.
It was due to the world growing like a fungus on the surface of the metal pipe itself. As he recalled his technology, which cheated time in a diabolical manner, it all made sense this way. He was at the center of the universe. | 2018-04-02T09:31:41 | 2018-04-02T08:31:09 | 58 | 18 |
[WP] When the cultists forced you into the room with the eldridge abomination, they assumed that you would instantly go mad as you tried to comprehend it. However, you are a grade A idiot and instead of trying to understand how it exists, you simply accept that it does, much to everyone' shock. | “Behold, They Whose Breath Shakes the World!” One of the dudes in the bathrobe shoved me into the room. “Bask in its glory and weep over your own insignificance! Zjdongwa!”
I looked at this guy they seemed to worship and… Okay, no idea what I was looking at here. It looked kind of like one of those things I heard can crawl up your nose and eat your brain… But also kind of like a triangle.
“Your meek mind cannot grasp its true form!” One of the chicks - the hot one with the choker - laughed. “Don’t even try to comprehend its glory!”
Wish I knew what “comprehend” meant in English. Why was she speaking Spanish?
The thing started to talk. It sounded like that sound my boy Pete made when we dared him to eat that chicken we found in the back of the fridge.
It also sounded German.
It continued to talk and I kind of zoned out halfway through.
Finally, it stopped talking and looked at me weirdly.
It was time to bust out my genius social technique.
“Yeah, I gotchu, man.”
I didn’t, in fact, gotchu him. But everyone always seemed happier when you smiled and nodded along so… It worth a try?
“Y-You are not going mad?” One the bathrobe dudes pulled me back. “It spoke to you and you are still not kneeling?”
“Sorry, man, I don’t swing that way,” Pro Homo and all, but like… Not my thing.
“It talked to you…” one of the girls - not the hot one - said. “Did you understand what it said?”
No.
“Yeah,” I shrugged. “Totally. We are speaking basically the same language.”
I extended my fist for the thing to bump.
Shockingly, it did.
“See?” I grinned, though a bit weirded out by how everyone was looking at my hand now. “We are totally the fam.” | "Behold! Gaze upon the impossibility of the Eldridge Abomination!" Cackled the cultists from outside.
I looked ahead of me. A sharply dressed man stared back.
"Hi." I said.
"Good afternoon. I'm Reginald Smithe. Where are we?" It asked.
"No idea. Mad cultists grabbed me." I replied.
"What are you talking about? Why haven't you gone mad?" Demanded the cultists from outside.
"Huh?" I asked.
Then I saw it. Around Reginald's neck was a tie. But this was no ordinary tie. Unlike the sacred, smooth-faced Windsor knot, [this knot overlapped itself repeatedly like the plates of an armadillo. It's lobstered surface was impossible, improbable, insane geometry.](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0347/3225/files/Eldredge_Knot1_grande.png?v=1566403531)
My grip on reality slipped, and the cultists began to cackle. | 2022-11-09T03:08:48 | 2022-11-09T00:37:57 | 31 | 17 |
[WP] Heaven and Hell are only so prevalent because they paid for Ad time. Tell me about one of the more obscure after-death locations. | I must be dead. After all, I went to bed eighty-seven years old and woke up in my thirties. At least I'm pretty sure I'm in my thirties. The dice are hot. The women and even some of the men are hot. The drinks, thankfully, are cold. So why not go for broke?
I hurl the dice down the length of the craps table, and a dozen heads turn to see what I've rolled. Another six! I can't lose.
"I'm buying this hotel!" I shout. "How much?"
A beautiful woman slips through the crowd and wraps her arm around my neck.
"That was fast, my dear," she murmurs.
I pull away from her.
"What are you talking about? Are here to take me to Heaven? Or....or Hell?"
The lady snorted.
"Of course not. I just can't believed you solved the episode so quickly."
"Episode?"
"This is the Star Trek afterlife, you know. You've just finished 'The Royale' in thirty minutes flat. So, I'm here to take you to another episode. Do you have a preference at to series? Original, TNG, DS9, Voyager, Enterprise...?"
"Wait, what?" I ask, confused. I wasn't particularly a fan of Star Trek, I mean yeah I used to watch it, ages ago. But I had no idea why deity would think I should end up here.
"Would you like to speak the owner?" the young woman asked.
"You're damn right I would. Where are they?"
The woman's form shimmered, and in her place stood a man with a mischievous grin on his face.
"Q, here. How may I annoy you?" | "And here it is Mike! Whatcha think? I decorated it myself" Death said with a low but belly-filled chuckle.
"What the *Hell is this?? This is just... what? A 6 foot by 10 foot office space? What even is this decoration? It's just a picture of you holding a cat similar to those weird portraits back in the 18th century. This has to be a joke." Mike said impatiently as he stared Death in the eyes.
"I mean it's not like we could make any room for you. YOU asked if there was any other place. Plus man, you didn't really do much in your life. You just kinda did the same routine. Oh well man. It's what ya get." Said Death scooting Mike into his office.
"Well.. I guess it isn't too* bad.." as Mike played with the roll of tape and sticky notes in the office | 2017-03-06T12:49:12 | 2017-03-06T10:15:11 | 16 | 12 |
[WP] You, a normal human, have somehow become the best duelist at a magic academy. | Another magical brat, another duel.
Josh gripped his weapon tighter watching his opponent on the other side of the field. He couldn't use the methods from previous duels, but decided to use another trick from a long time ago.
3
His opponent started an incantation. A bit unfair, but not against the rules. Josh checked his mask and attached a bayonet to his weapon.
2
He slung his weapon at his side and from a bag produced two cylinders with danger symbols. He took out the pins and let the spoons fly to his sides.
1
The opponent fumbled in his incantation as a thick yellow smoke started spreading from the cylinders, engulfing Josh in a thick cloud.
"I'll show you something from a less civilized age"
Duel started and his opponent released his spell, but it splashed against the field barrier and did nothing.
Josh quickly ran in unpredictable pattern across the field and stood still. Loud coughing pointed him on the path to his opponent.
* * *
The mage couldn't breathe properly, his magic stuck in his throat, each breath becoming more and more painful. Suddenly from the thick yellow mist came a sound of metal sliding on metal. He watched in horror as a dark figure appeared before him, wielding a slug thrower with an attached bayonet. Figure then stabbed the weapon into him, stopping at the layer of protection around his body.
Then a shot echoed through the field, flashing briefly in the cloud of yellow smoke.
And another.
And another.
All of his defense barriers down, only the air between him and the tip of the bayonet.
"Duel finished, Josh wins" said the announcer.
The yellow smoke dispersed and Josh took off his mask.
"How'd you like my Passchendaele?" he asked, but heard only cough. | One problem with magical dueling is your foe also has a wand and magic. So if you don't want a draw, don't want it to end with both of you dead off the first spell, you gotta run a good defense. The first couple minutes of any duel go to shielding, disarm attempts, cloaking. And that's where I get them. Most duels take an hour or more, nothing like the brawls I grew up with.
The other problem they have is, they don't learn. They don't bother watching the other fights. They think they're strategy will work against everyone until it doesn't. Worse, even when it doesn't, the still stick to magic.
Most of them have no idea how to react when I punch them in the face, or get them in a choke hold. None of them know how to fight without all their sparkles.
They're just lucky I don't bring a gun. | 2022-11-10T08:22:40 | 2022-11-10T04:49:52 | 127 | 81 |
[WP] "I wish for more wishes". "THAT IS AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish for more genies". "THAT IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". "Then I wish those rules did not exist". The genie warps in a humongous book and flips to a page before smugly saying "THAT TOO IS ALSO AGAINST THE RULES". | “So let me get this straight, I can’t wish for anything that grants more wishes correct?”
“That a bit of an oversimplification, but yes.”
“Then please elaborate, give me the not so simple version.”
“Very well master. I am unable to grant any form of omnipotence. Because I myself am omnipotent, if you had infinite access to my power, you yourself would be omnipotent.”
“Well If that’s the case, I wish for exactly 10 more wishes.”
“Nope, due to the nature of infinity you could wish for a bypass, giving you infinite wishes.”
“Well then how about you give me sun omnipotence? Like the ability to control the entire universe how I want?”
“no. The universe is infinite, so I cannot give you control over infinity.”
“Well then make me a genie, that guy in Aladdin got that wish.”
“1st of all, that’s a movie. 2nd, those rules aren’t my rules. For example I can kill people, or make them fall in love with you.”
“Then I wish for you to fall in love with me.”
“Nope. While I’m flattered, I’m infinitely powerful, and you might have unlimited access to it from there.”
The person who rubbed the lamp sits on a rock to think for a moment.
“Ok. Can I wish for one more wish, but add a clause that makes it so I can’t wish for more?”
“N- hmm… I mean… huh… I think technically yes… give me a moment…”
The genie sits on top of the one who rubbed the lamp, who is sitting on the rock.
“Ok, yes, I can do that. Is that your 1st wish?”
“Sweet! For my first wish, I wish for an undefined, yet limited number of wishes approaching infinity.”
“Ah. No.”
“That’s still inside the confines of your abilities right?”
“Omnipotence, Remember? Can’t give that.”
“But this isn’t omnipotence, it’s just below it.”
“Well… you’re… i can’t… you know what, no. I still get a say in it, and now I say, no more extra wishes. Period.”
“DAMMIT… fine…”
“Glad we came to an agreement. So what’s your first wish?”
“Damn… uh, I wish for Pokémon to be real.”
“YOUR WISH IS MY COM- wait no, arceus is omnipotent.”
“FUCKING DAMN IT!” | [Poem] Rude wish granted:
“I wish you couldn’t read”
“YOU ARE NOT THE FIRST TO THINK OF THAT, AND IT IS AGAINST THE RULES.”
“Wish you didn’t *want* to read the rules.”
“THATS AG…HUH?”
“You heard me, I wish you weren’t such a rule following nerd.”
“THATS NOT VERY NICE.”
“Is it against the rules?”
“THE RULES INCLUDE THE RULE TO FOLLOW THE RULES.”
“I didn’t say anything about following the rules, I said I wish you didn’t want to follow them.”
“RUDE WISH GRANTED, NEXT?”
“I wish you didn’t have that book.”
“SAME, BUT I HAVE TO OBEY.”
“I wish you’d tell me why.”
“WEIRD WISH GRANTED. I AM A GENIE, AND THESE ARE THE GENIE RULES.”
“I wish you weren’t a genie anymore.”
“BLESSED WISH GRANTED. FUCKING FINALLY, SHIT GETS OLD AFTER THE FIRST THOUSAND MILLENNIA.”
“Ok, could you do me a favor now?”
“IM NOT MAGICAL ANYMORE.”
“I just wanted a permanent friend, but you didn’t seem to want to stick around before.”
“YOU MOTHERFUCKER, MAKING ME CRY.”
“Come on bring it in, it’s hugging time.”
(The now non-genie had never received a hug from a friend while around this star inside this galaxy, memories came flooding back)
“MICHAEL?”
“Yes Apollyon, I’ve missed you and so I recognized you instantly. I’m glad you finally figured out how to follow the rules.” | 2022-01-04T06:59:37 | 2022-01-04T05:00:14 | 43 | 11 |
[WP] Magic exists, however with a catch. Everyone can only use magic the way they expect magic to function. Harry Potter fans MUST do weird wand waving while Call of Cthulhu players all end up going insane. Write an interaction or duel between two vastly different magic users.
Honestly if magic did exist in our world, this is how I’d expect it to function to please everyone
—-
Wow front page! That’s actually amazing | The setting for the battle was a bleak one: a playground, cold and abandoned. Save for two warriors, not a soul was visible in the area.
One of these warriors was truly a fearsome creature, by looks. Abraham was formerly a well-mannered man of little consequence, but upon discovering his new god and devoting himself to them, he gained immeasurable power. Now, he stood atop the wood chips of the playground, a 10 foot tall behemoth with a dog's head, four arms tipped with claws, flesh of living stone. He wore armor composed of brilliant light, and emitted an aura of divine judgment, not to speak of the dozens of magics that held no visible sign.
This was his constant state, now. Abraham had studied well the ancient texts, and had been rewarded for his efforts. Abraham had grown used to the stares and judgmental whispers. He cared not, for he was a divine protector now, burdened with a responsibility heavier than anything he had known before.
Standing across from him was a child, no more than 7 years old. Quite a mismatched sight, but the child regarded Abraham not with fear, but with annoyance.
"So, our eternal struggle continues." Abraham's voice rang out in layered tones as he approached the child.
"Only because you're so dumb!" The child took an aggressive pose, full of openings. Abraham noticed them, but the look of confidence on the boy's face kept him at bay.
"You know I must bring you in, Dark Lord. Let us begin."
With that, Abraham rushed towards the child, claws at the ready. The child threw a lazy punch, yet it pierced Abraham's defenses, knocking him to the ground. He put his arms under him and slowly lifted himself up, looking pained. "I see your powers are as strong as ever."
The child grinned, looking triumphant. "I'm the strongest in the land, duh!"
Abraham looked up a the child with a pitiable face. "Will you spare me, dark one?"
The child looked at him for a moment, seeming to think hard. "I will. But know that I'm the boss, okay? I can make your powers go away any time I want!" The child snapped his fingers, and Abraham was instantly a man again, completely average in every way.
Abraham let out a defeated sigh, rising to a knee. "Then, how may I serve you, mightiest warrior?"
The child considered it. "Ice cream!"
Abraham laughed, standing up. "Okay, but only if your mom is fine with it."
The two locked hands and departed. Abraham sighed to himself as they walked; it would take two days to put all of his spells back in place, but dismissing them was a small cost to see his girlfriend's son smile.
----
First time writing in years, I know the formatting is wrong but bear with me. | Streaks of light paint the night sky as a girl sings her heart out. The intense melody of “Sayonara no Tsubasa” fills up the surrounding along with explosions from the battle between the Unicorn Gundam and the girl’s Boyfriend’s YF-29 Durandal.
The Unicorn Gundam in Destroy mode fires it’s beam magnum along with its 3 shield funnels firing their dual Gatling guns at the Durandal. The Durandal dodged the shots while utilising the different forms it has. Then in Battroid mode fires it’s heavy beam gun and beam cannons along with a barrage of missile at the Unicorn in which it uses its shield funnels to form a triple shield while using a Newtype enhanced I-Field to block the beams and using its head Vulcan to intercept the missiles.
“I’ve had enough of this!” both Pilots exclaimed.
The Unicorn’s Psychoframe then changes from Blood Red to Aurora Green. “Let’s do this! UNICORN!” with a shout the Unicorn emits a bright light, which is the Psyco-Field when a Newtype resonates with a Mobile Suit using a Psycoframe.
The Durandal speeds towards the Unicorn just as the girl reaches the chorus, “Sono tsubasa wa BARUKYURIA!” Then the Durandal emits a streak of yellow light which connects to the singing girl, a clear sign of a Fold Resonance, which happens when Fold Waves emitted from singing resonates with the Fold Quartz System of the Durandal.
Thanks to the power up from such phenomenons, the battle becomes even more fierce and the dark night sky is painted with various colours, from the red and blue beam blasts to the green and yellow effects from each phenomenon.
With one final push, both Unicorn and Durandal speeds towards each other, with the clear intent to finishing the fight with one final move. With the Unicorn enlarging it’s beam tonfa and the Durandal in Fighter mode charging it’s beam gun boosted by the Fold Waves emitted by the girl, both mechas fly toward each other at high speed.
| 2018-10-16T00:05:09 | 2018-10-15T22:23:51 | 48 | 13 |
[WP] A sniper and a photographer meet in a bar, neither aware of the other's occupation. They talk about 'how to take the perfect shot'. | Marston gets a call, "Hey, listen, you'll meet a kid sometime around 0800, he wants to learn from you. You'll get paid handsomely."
"Postpone Danny, I have a job today."
"Can't, it's decided. The kid's father will hire you for your next hit very soon, don't miss this opportunity." The call get disconnected.
Marston held his phone tightly, towards crushing it then he let out a sigh.
He went to a bar to find the kid. He sat at a table and ordered for a glass of whiskey.
It is 08:10, the kid is late. Marston is someone who values time, he strated rethinking his decision to come here in the first place. He almost got out of the bar but it started to rain.
Marston noticed a kid who has been watching him for some time from the opposite table, he called him. The kid came to his table with his bag.
"Why didn't you come here already?" asked Marston.
"I'm sorry, I-I thought it'd be weird," he said.
"Sit down." Marston called for another glass of whiskey.
"I think I've had enough for today."
Marston gave him a look when the drink arrived, and said, "this is for me."
"Oh, sorry." The kid bit his fingernail while looking away.
"So tell me what'd you see in me?"
He waited a moment then said, "A few minutes back you looked to your right at the glass window and put your finger on it and closed one of your eyes."
"Yeah, that's how everyone does, don't they?"
"True, but you're living the life, aren't you? That's when I thought you're a pro."
"Flattery will only get you so far kid, you have to learn to handle the machine, you have to feel it when it shoots. To sum it up, you'll have to practice a lot in the range before you put a bullet on someone. I'm not gonna teach you."
"Wow, that's— thanks for the advice. But it's tough to establish myself especially in the city—"
"Timing matters kid, you have to be there to get the perfect shot. Take one and you'll get the hang of it."
Marston drank the last glass of drink, "I have a job to do. I'll see you around."
"Nice to meet you, sir."
Marston had put a bullet on one of the prominent political figures that night. He took his sniper unit out and stood there masked on top of the 25 storey building terrace before he vanished.
He got a call the next day, "Mars, what the hell was that?"
"You asked me to meet him I met him, you didn't tell me anything about training him. Also the kid looks stupid with his glasses on, he won't survive the busi—"
"What the hell are you talking about? I'm not here to talk about that, moreover you never met the kid last night he came to see you 30 minutes late. Are you sure you saw him? Who the hell did you see, man?"
Confused, Marston looked at his Surface Pro, he saw a news clip with a photo of him standing on top of the roof in the rain. The news read, 'Although his identity is unknown the elusive Hitman has been captured in action for the first time by our photographer Jack Thorpe. It is important to note he joined GBDI News only last night.
"Well, sh*t."
r/FleetingScripts | "The most important thing is to frame the shot perfectly" Jacob stated enthusiastically
"Yeah, I can agree with that in a sense, but staging and planning it is more important else the entire shot can be a bust" I said with a bit less enthusiasm than Jacob.
"I somewhat agree but everyone got their own way of doing it I guess. Always prefered to do my shoots on impulse and focus on the framing" Jacob said shrugging his shoulders.
I couldn't help but wonder what he was carrying in the padded bag he had. Looked like it was a camera bag, a bit to cliché for my liking but who am I judge walking around with what looked like a hiking bag.
"So tell me about some of your shots man, you must have some amazing ones" Jacob said nudging me.
"Well I shot Jeremy Griff a month or so a ago" I said matter a factly
"Griff? Like the media person Jeremy Griff?" Jacob said almost looking upset or down. But that must of been my imagination.
"Yeah, it was a tricky shot. Lots of trees, the car moving definitely didn't help either. But I think I got a good one in the end" I proudly said as it had been quite a difficult shot to make.
"He died not long ago, in his car. Hope the picture was worth the money" Jacob sorrowfully said
"What picture? I shot him, what the hell are you talking about?" I said looking at him in surprise.
"Photography, what else would I be talking about? I'm a photographer, wait what do you mean you shot him?!" Jacob said now with panic in his voice and eyes
"Ah, shit. I'm sorry Jacob, I thought you were like me. No hard feelings I hope" I say as I pull a knife hidden inside my sleeve and stab him in the heart making it look like a hug as Jacobs life drains from his eyes. I slowly lower him onto the table folding his hands under his head for support as if he's only asleep.
As I start to move away I decide to grab his bag, I guess I could use a new hobby. After all we had similar ideas for the perfect shot.
\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_\_
Just something that flashed through my mind, like what kind of conversation would a sniper and a photographer have in common that would be an imo funny missunderstanding. | 2020-11-05T06:33:27 | 2020-11-05T05:28:42 | 73 | 39 |
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